trees just one second before the bright light hit his eyes. To change what happened.
God, what I could have done, he thought.
But Archie couldn't take himself back. And he wondered what good it would do if he could. He knew he'd come up that walkway again, be caught in the light again, take a bullet in his head again.
And what had happened to Gwen would happen to Gwen again
He'd have no power to stop it, really. Because he didn't know why. He didn't know why any of this had happened. Until you understood why, what was the point of going back?
Archie twisted quickly to the side and vomited the meager content of his stomach. Tears burned from his eyes and the catheter pulled a green arrow of pain through him. He smelled the foul aroma of his body. He heard a buzzer go off, and another.
Then the crimson rush of motion again, and hands upon him, voices bubbling forth. More of this horseshit about being someone's miracle. He lay back and shut his eyes tight and tried to go under to the warm deep water where he was safe and invisible. But he couldn't get there. Just couldn't slip beneath himself.
Then her voice again, ordering him not to descend, not to go down.
Up, Archie… that's where I'll be. Free and open in the sky.
So Archie lay on the bed while they handled him and imagined himself in a beautiful blue sky. So hard to go there, though, with the noise and activity all around him. And he realized this was his world now. It was the only place that would have him. Loud and painful and shot with colors that made no sense. Gwenless and loveless and stripped of everything that was valuable. Indifferent, needle-happy and catheter-mad. Urgent but pointless. This is the world he was part of now.
There was nothing he could do about that. It was like being born again.
Then, in his nauseous despair, Archie heard Gwen's voice again.
I love you, Arch. I'm still your girl.
I want to be with you, he thought to her. I want to be with you so badly.
Be with me. I'm up here waiting.
If I can find out why, maybe I can go back and make it all come out right. If I understand it I can make it go our way.
Find out why, Arch. Make it go our way.
I will. I can.
When Archie woke up again it was early afternoon and Sergeant Rayborn was sitting next to his bed. Again- though for only a split second-he thought she was Gwen, that this whole stupid thing was only a nightmare and everything was really very okay. But it was just the sergeant. She didn't look as angry as before, but she had the kind of face that could get that way fast. Standing back near the wall was her partner, Zamorra, the Golden Gloves guy who dressed like an undertaker. More history, coming back to his mind one image, one memory at a time.
He let his eyes roam to the small framed picture on his bed traydark-haired beauty with smart eyes. That's her, he thought.
Gwen.
'How are you feeling?' the detective asked.
Archie raised his eyebrows and let them fall. 'Good,' he whispered. He wasn't trying to whisper, it just came out that way.
'Can we talk for a few minutes?'
Archie nodded. He saw her little notebook and her pen. He remembered wanting to be a homicide investigator someday. She had tough eyes and a pale blue face. Zamorra's was pink.
'May I have your full name?'
'Archibald Franklin Wildcraft.'
'Address?'
He gave it. It was strange, bringing up this bit of information, was inside him and true but not substantial.
'What did you do in college, Archie?'
'Played baseball. All my life.' This was a much heavier memory.
He looked again at the little picture on his stand.
'What's your rank, Archie?'
'Deputy Two.'
'What's your assignment?'
'Patrol. Days.'
'Can you tell me the name of your partner?'
'Damon Reese.'
'Describe him to me, can you?'
'Six feet, one-ninety. Brown and brown, big nose.'
Rayborn waited. Then nodded and wrote.
'Archie, what happened the night that Gwen was killed?'
It took him a moment to think of the words, order them, then gather his strength to form them. His memory of that night was filled with gaps. Chasms. With the same black nothingness that was now Gwen He thought he could fall right in. The older stuff, like playing baseball was clear.
'I don't remember everything.'
She didn't look up from her notebook for a moment. When she did, her eyes fixed on his and Archie felt like he was being seen without his clothes on.
He watched her make a note, then look at him, waiting. 'Tell me what you do remember.'
'I remember that Gwen was there. It's hard to picture her that night. I can see her from years ago, but not from that night. She's like a… ghost. A good ghost. A party. Friends. A rock in the house. The walkway by the pool. A bright light. Then this.'
'Do you know how the rock got into your house?'
'I remember a noise.'
'Someone threw it?'
'I didn't see.'
'Did you throw it?'
'I don't remember throwing it.'
Rayborn looked at her partner. Archie was sure that something was being communicated but didn't know what. It was hard to understand. His mind seemed to follow things, then there was a big soft gap, and the meanings fell into it. And he knew the meanings were there, but he couldn't reach them. Like trying to touch a ball that's just out of reach.
'Did you shoot your wife?'
Archie looked at the picture before he answered.
'I don't think so.'
'Did you shoot yourself?'
'I don't think so. No.'
Rayborn waited for those last two answers before looking down at her notebook and scribbling something.
'Archie, were you having an affair?'
'I don't remember having one.'
'Was Gwen?'
'I have no memory of that. No.'
'Would you be willing to take a polygraph test, answer some questions like these?'
'Yes.
'She was nodding now, biting her bottom lip, which is what Gwen used to do when she was thinking through a problem. Isn't that strange he thought, that I can remember her biting her lip but not what her face looked like on her birthday? He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
'Do you remember having a gun with you that night?'
He thought about this for a long time. 'No.'
