Side(H)arm

by James E. Abel

  Tommy said, “I know. That’s on me. I got a call from Billy, right after it happened. I came out here and convinced them to dump the body. Son of a bitch, they had baseball scholarships, full rides to the University of Georgia, and after that, who knows? They were good, Jordan, really good. But I knew if it hit the papers, it would all be gone, everything. And you’re right about the rest. When they found Luke Baxter’s body, I needed to get the gun back and lose it. Kevin was going to make it look like a burglary. I put him up to it.”

  Jordan turned back toward Kevin and said, “So now, tell me what happened at my house.”

  “Like Mr. Reynolds said, he asked me to go there and get the gun back. He gave me a key to get in and then told me to pull open the front window before I left. He said that nobody ever remembers if they locked their windows and that guns get stolen all the time. I was supposed to look for a small gun case. He figured it would either be in the downstairs closet or somewhere up in your bedroom.”

  Jordan waved the gun and said, “Okay, I get it! You were gonna make it look like a burglary. I don’t care. Just tell me what happened after you got there.”

  “Sorry. I got to the porch and unlocked the door, but someone must have already been there, hiding in the shadows.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I didn’t hear a thing until I felt a hand covering my mouth. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the porch, and the back of my head was throbbing like crazy. I put my hand back there, and it felt like a hot, gooey mess. I was looking at the blood in my hand when someone opened the front door, ran past me, and out onto the street. I tried to see who it was, but I couldn’t get my eyes to focus. I stood up, and then I heard Molly calling for her mom. My eyes started to work again, so I looked inside and saw a woman, uh…Casey…on the step with blood all over her blouse. And then I saw the gun. I ran inside and started to call 911, but when I saw Molly at the top of the steps, I got scared. I’m sorry. So, I grabbed the gun, but not because of the other stuff, but to keep it away from Molly. After that, I just ran.”

  Kevin paused, struggling to finish, and then said, “I know…I should have stayed. Maybe I could have saved her. I’ve thought about it ever since. I did call 911 from my cell phone, but it was too late. I’m sorry, Mr. Nichols, I really screwed up.”

  Jordan’s head dropped, and his shoulders slumped. His hatred had turned to pity. He put his hand on Kevin’s shoulder and said, “She was shot in the heart, Kevin. There was nothing you could have done.”

  Then he looked at Tommy and said, “Why didn’t you just ask me for it? That’s all you had to do.”

  Tommy, trying to keep his emotions under control, swallowed hard and said, “Because I didn’t want to get you involved in a coverup. I guess more than that, I didn’t want you to know what a loser I am.”

  Jordan shook his head and said, “Yeah, sure. So, tell me, what is it you want me to do here?”

  “Give me a chance to make it right. Let me track down whoever it was that killed Casey. The way it stands, I’m just a rotted-out, hollow piece of shit, so I’ve got nothing to lose. But you do. You’ve got Molly. You take care of her and let me take care of the man who killed Casey.”

  Jordan thought for a minute and then waved his gun toward the cars and said, “I’ll think about it. Now get out of here, both of you.”

  Kevin headed toward his car, but Tommy hesitated. He turned to Jordan and said, “Wait. One other thing you should know. It wasn’t my idea to keep any of this from you; it was…”

  BANG! A gunshot rang out from somewhere in the underbrush. Jordan and Tommy turned and saw Kevin fall as he cried out in pain. Tommy tackled Jordan to the ground—as a second shot rang out.

  Tommy and Jordan scrambled for cover behind Jordan’s truck. When they got there, Jordan looked up and saw blood on Tommy’s shirtsleeve. “You’re hit!”

  Tommy pulled up his sleeve, glanced at it, and said, “Went clean through. Can you give me some cover?”

  Before Jordan could answer, Tommy tore out from behind the truck and ran to Kevin. Jordan, surprised, jumped up and started laying down cover fire. Two more shots rang out from above, whistling past Tommy and kicking up sand and seashells. Tommy pulled Kevin behind the truck, leaned him against the rear fender, and started to assess the damage. What he saw was an entry wound just above Kevin’s right knee, but only a trickle of blood surrounding it. Tommy asked, “Jordan, you got a knife? It’s his leg.”

  Kevin, moaning in pain, cried out, “What the hell you doin’ man?”

  Tommy said, “Relax. I’m just gonna cut away your pant leg.”

  Jordan, remaining focused on the shooter, reached into his pocket and tossed Tommy his key chain. On it was his key fob and a small penknife.

  “There ya go. That’s the best I can do at the moment.”

  Tommy opened it up and used it to tear Kevin’s pant leg away to check the damage while Jordan squeezed off a couple more rounds. Then Jordan glanced over and asked, “How’s it look?”

  “Lower thigh. Not bleeding much at all. Judging from the pain he’s in, it must have caught bone, maybe his knee.”

  Jordan jumped up and grabbed Tommy’s gun out of the truck as another shot rang out, tearing a hole right through the truck bed. Jordan said, “Bastard hit my truck,” as he tossed Tommy ‘s gun to him.

  Jordan pointed to himself and then toward the trees. Tommy nodded, and Jordan was off, zigzagging up the hill while Tommy provided cover fire.

  Another shot rang out with both Jordan and Tommy returning fire.

  As Jordan reached the underbrush, he heard a car door slam and an engine fire up from out on the main road. He sprinted toward the road to the screech of tires and the sound of a high revving engine. By the time Jordan got to the crest of the hill, all that was left were two twenty-foot-long lines of fresh rubber on the road.

  Damn it!

  Jordan turned around and walked down the access road. He saw Kevin propped up by the side of the truck and Tommy standing next to him. But Tommy didn’t look right. He was holding his gun at his side with his right hand and holding his left hand tight to his chest. Jordan went into a full sprint down the hill. As he closed in, he could see the blood oozing out from under Tommy’s hand. Tommy smiled at him and said, “Lucky shot.” Then the gun dropped from his hand, and he fell to the ground.

  Jordan pulled out his cell phone, hit the emergency call button, and said, “This is Officer Jordan Nichols, Savannah Police. Shots fired! I have one officer down, one civilian down. Location is Wilson’s Swash, just west of U.S. 80 on Tybee. Send ambulances and backup. Primary suspect believed to have fled the scene in an unidentified vehicle. May be traveling at a high rate of speed toward Savannah.”

  Jordan knelt at Tommy’s side, ripping his shirt away to assess the damage while trying to prop him up against his body.

  “Come on, Tommy. You’re not gonna do this to me, you son of a bitch. Not now.”

  Tommy flashed a weak smile.

  “Not feeling so good, partner.”

  “Hang in there. Ambulance is on its way.”

  His voice quickly weakening, Tommy asked, “Are we good here?”

  Jordan nodded as a tight-lipped smile crossed his face. He made a fist, put his forearm out at an angle, and said, “Yeah, partner, we’re good.”

  Tommy smiled, made a fist, slowly raised his forearm, and tapped it against Jordan’s.

  He looked up at Jordan and said, “X factor.”

  Those were Tommy’s last words.

  “Yeah, X factor.”

  Then Jordan closed Tommy’s eyelids, gently lowered his upper torso to the ground, and ran to the truck. He brought back a spare jacket and covered Tommy’s face with it.

  Kevin, sitting there watching, started to quietly cry. Jordan went over to him, pulled off his hoodie, and used it as a tourniquet for his leg. He then sat and waited for help to arrive.

  Chapter 33

  First on the scene were
two ambulances, followed close behind by four police cruisers. One of the first cops to arrive was Frank Bishop. The first thing he saw was the hopeless look on the EMTs’ faces as they knelt over Tommy’s body. Next, he saw the other team working on Kevin Phillips. And then he spotted Jordan, sitting by himself, leaning against the front bumper of his truck.

  He ran up to Jordan and asked, “Oh my God. What the hell happened here?”

  Jordan pointed up the slope and, without any emotion, said, “A shooter. Up there. He shot the kid first. I ran up the slope. Tommy provided cover. Whoever it was took off before I got there. His last shot caught Tommy. Check out the skid marks on the road.”

  Jordan stood up, looked around, and asked, “Where’s Sanders?”

  “Good question. Want me find out?”

  “No, don’t bother.” Jordan pointed toward Tommy’s car and said, “You know, that’s Tommy’s Camaro, and that old Chevy over there, that’s the kids. No, actually, it’s his grandmother’s. You’ll need to have both of them hauled out of here. Okay?”

  “Sure. Oh, do you know the kid’s name?”

  “Kevin Phillips. He was a friend of Tommy’s son, Billy. His grandmother’s name is Florence Phillips. She lives over on Oakwood Drive. You might want to notify her when you get a chance. As for me, you need anything else?”

  “Any idea who the shooter was?”

  “Nope.”

  “How about motive?”

  “Not a clue. Look, I’ll stop by the station later to give a full report, but I need to get out of here now. Besides, I’m not on duty anyway.”

  “Jordan, you know that I can’t let you leave yet!”

  “Then try to stop me!”

  Jordan turned and started to walk away when Frank called after him, “Jordan, I’m sorry.”

  Jordan, without turning around, said, “I know.” Then he opened the door of his truck to leave when he noticed the local press gathering behind some police tape strung between two cop cars. He left the door hanging open and walked in their direction. As he approached, they all scrambled for their recording devices, and the questions started to fly. Jordan held his hands up and calmly said, “A police officer died in the line of duty tonight, and a civilian was injured by shots fired at a distance by an unknown assailant. I understand that you need to report on the shooting, that an officer lost his life, and that an investigation is underway. But there will be no names released by any of you—not until we have the chance to notify the next of kin. Please honor this request or…well, just do it!”

  As Jordan turned away, a new barrage of questions rang out, including requests for his name. He didn’t look back. He got in his truck and drove away.

  When Jordan passed under the live oak trees, he took a right turn, away from U.S. 80. Sanders’s words still echoed in his mind from the first time Jordan was at Wilson’s Swash. I live just up the road. He knew Sanders’s car, and he knew there weren’t that many houses up that way. In fact, the road dead-ended within a mile of the swash.

  A half-mile later, he spotted Sanders’s black Ford Explorer, sitting in the driveway of a house that seemed a little too nice for his pay scale. It was contemporary, with stucco and stone on the exterior and an ornate wooden door that looked like it cost half a year’s pay. The house sat about eight feet back from the road and had a steep driveway that snaked its way up the slope before it tied into a large circular turn around just outside the front door. Jordan continued past the house and drove up to where the road dead-ended into a small cul-de-sac. He pulled his truck onto the shoulder, closed the door, and jogged back to Sanders’s house. As he drew near the house, he slowed his pace, allowing his heart rate to drop. He wanted to have his mental and physical capacities under total control for what he was about to do.

  Jordan walked to the shadows along the side of the house and peered around the front corner. Jordan saw that, in the five minutes since he passed by, a second car had arrived and parked behind the Explorer. Jordan retreated into the shadows and moved in the other direction, toward a large window. He peered inside and found himself looking directly into what appeared to be a living room. Sanders was standing with his back to the window, having a very animated conversation with someone that Jordan couldn’t make out. Suddenly, Sanders moved to the side, and Jordan found himself looking directly into the eyes of Cayden James. Jordan dropped to the ground, not knowing if he had been spotted or not. Before he could evaluate his next move, the front door of the house flew opened, and Sanders and James ran to their cars. Jordan pulled his gun from its holster and ran toward them. He kneeled, raised his gun, and managed to get a clean line of sight on Sanders. But then Jordan hesitated. He lowered his gun and holstered it, thinking to himself, No, not now. I have to be sure. Then Sanders and James started their cars and tore off down the driveway.

  Chapter 34

  An hour and a half later, Jordan was lying on the living room sofa in the dark, his shirt stained with Tommy’s blood, his gun nearby. He heard a soft knock at the door, grabbed his gun, and jumped to his feet. He walked to the door, stood to the side, and asked, “Who is it?”

  “Officer Nichols, it’s Dr. Conley.”

  Jordan opened the door, and Dr. Conley looked at him and said, “I heard what happened. Mind if I come in?”

  Jordan stood aside and said, “No, Not at all. But…how?”

  “It’s what I do, remember? Frank Bishop called me about an hour ago.”

  “Yeah, makes sense.” Jordan turned on a light, pointed to the sofa, and said, “Have a seat.”

  Jordan sat in a chair across from Dr. Conley and asked, “Can I get you something? A soda? A drink? Anything?”

  “No, thank you. I just stopped by to see how you’re doing.”

  “Honestly, I don’t really know. My world’s pretty messed up at the moment.”

  “I understand that. But I’d like to know exactly what you’re feeling right at this moment. Sadness? Anger? Nothing at all?”

  “You do like to get right to the point, don’t you?”

  Dr. Conley smiled and said, “I try to.”

  Jordan said, “I’m glad you stopped by, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Thank you, but no, that’s not what I mean.”

  “Yeah, figured as much.”

  Again, she smiled, but she kept a steady gaze on him until he finally said, “Frustration, anger maybe. Ever since Casey died, all I’ve wanted to do is find the man who did it. But after tonight, I don’t know. I almost killed an innocent man. Maybe the bad guys win sometimes.”

  Dr. Conley nodded and asked, “Did you know that I lived on Tybee as a child?”

  “Where abouts?”

  “Just off Logan, near the lighthouse. My dad ran a fishing charter business out of an old wooden thirty-two-footer by the name of Little Miss Taken. In fact, he was a bit of a local legend—the first Jamaican charter boat captain in the state of Georgia. The weird part is, I was scared to death of the water.”

  “Yeah, that can be a bit awkward when you live on an island.”

  Dr. Conley laughed and said, “I’m pretty sure it had something to do with my older cousin letting me stay up to watch Jaws one night. Anyway, whenever Dad was taking the boat out, I’d beg him not to go. It finally got so bad that he took me down to the lighthouse, pointed to it, and told me that I never needed to worry because it built just for him. He told me that it would always bring him back safely—no matter what.”

  “Clever man. Did it work?”

  “It did—for almost a year…until the day he got caught in a really bad storm. They found his boat on some rocks a few days later, but they never did find his body.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, but that’s not why I’m telling you all of this. For the following three years, I blamed the lighthouse for stealing my daddy from me. I was angry, withdrawn. Nothing could console me. Not until the day my mother marched me down to the lighthouse. I know this sounds weird, but she made me walk up to i
t, stand there, and forgive it for not taking care of my father. After that, I started to heal inside. I was able to move on.”

  “So, is that your way of telling me that I need to forgive before I can move on?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault that your father died, was it? Casey’s dead because of me, because I failed her, I’m a cop, and I left an unsecured gun inside of my own house. Why? So, I could run out, sit at a bar, and drink beer. Sorry, doc, nice try.”

  He got up and walked into the kitchen, calling out to Dr. Conley, “Sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

  Dr. Conley, shook her head in dismay and said, “No, I don’t.”

  Jordan walked back into the room with a beer in hand, looked down at Karen and said, “Well, if you don’t mind, I need to get some sleep.”

  Dr. Conley didn’t stand up. She looked up at him and asked, “Did you know that Molly still blames herself for Casey’s death?”

  Jordan sat down and said, “That’s ridiculous. Why would she feel that way?”

  “Because she thinks that if she hadn’t talked Casey into surprising you, none of this would have happened.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense! You told her that, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. Just like I’m telling you now that you aren’t making any sense either. The only one responsible for Casey’s death is the man who pulled the trigger. Let the police deal with that while you and Molly get on with your lives.”

  “What if the police had something to do with it?”

  “What?”

  Jordan said, “Yeah, what then?”

  Dr. Conley paused, took a breath, and calmly said, “It doesn’t change anything. If there was a bad cop involved, tell me about it, and I’ll help in any way I can. You’re not alone in this. I promise.”

  “I appreciate that. I really do. And I also appreciate you stopping over. Let me think about it. We can talk some more at your office. This Tuesday, right?”