Roland P D Omnibus

by Ruth DuCharme

  “Everyone just wants to make sure you’re ok, Shaw.”

  “Oh is that so.” I’m a little put out about being stuck here.

  “Yes, that’s exactly so.” He gets closer to my hospital bed and whispers, “What the hell happened? How did everything go south so fast? Something’s wrong here.”

  “I know that Camden. This wasn’t exactly how I planned for things to go either.”

  “Someone had to know what you were up to. Who?”

  I get out of bed gingerly and start grabbing my belongings. What little there is to grab. I look down at the baggy jeans and bloodied t-shirt. They were the clothes I was found in. My uniform pants and undershirt are long gone.

  I gotta get out of here.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?” Camden rushes to my side and helps steady me as I rummage through the pile of clothes on the chair next to me.

  “We need to talk but not here.”

  “Oh no you don’t. You’re not going anywhere. The doc says you need to be under observation.”

  I ignore him and holding my mini hospital gown closed with one hand and my clothes in the other, I shuffle towards the bathroom to dress. “You know I can’t just lay in that bed doing nothing. Time is running out and we have to stop what’s been started.”

  “Sarge, you know I’m on your side and I’ll do whatever you want me too but I’m a little worried about you’re injuries. And memory loss? Really? Doesn’t that worry you even a little?”

  I make a scoffing noise in his general direction as I enter the bathroom and close the door part way behind me. “I’m not exactly a shrinking violet. Now isn’t the time to get all chivalrous on me kid.”

  I take a quick glance in the bathroom mirror. Awesome. Split lips, black eye, lump the size of New Jersey on my forehead. I sweep back my short hair. It looks like it hasn’t been washed in a week. I checked over my ribs. Black, blue and quickly turning a beautiful shade of purple. Holy shit, they really worked me over didn’t they. They were going to pay for this. Once I’m done with Carson, his henchmen are next on my list. And Shorty, that guy is going to pay.

  Camden is still talking to me through the bathroom door. “I know you’re tough as nails but c’mon, your face looks like its been hit with a bat.”

  I peek around the bathroom door and stare him down with my one good eye.

  “Jason, I remember everything. And I’m not about to back down now that Carson has made this move. He hasn’t won just yet.”

  I get back to my task of struggling into my street clothes. “You know you don’t have to do this right? You can still keep your nose clean? No one knows you’ve been helping me and it’s not too late to keep yourself out of this. If it’s getting to be too much I get it. You have your whole career ahead of you. This could really put a crimp in it. Things are about to get uglier. If you think I look bad now just think about how I’ll look if he gets ahold of me again. Carson did this to me Camden. I’m not about to let them get away with it.”

  “I’m on your side and I’m in. No doubt about it. I got your back Sarge.

  Frustrated with the effort it’s taking just to get my shirt over my head I snap at him, “Then quit gabbing, get in here and help me get dressed!”

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Two

  As soon as Camden leaves, I gingerly wash my face with the scratchy soap from the bathroom dispenser. Now I smell like a chemical bath. I can’t wait to get out of here. Exiting the bathroom and take a cursory glance around my hospital room. No phone.

  I slip quietly out into the hallway. Camden is flirting with a sweet young nurse at the nurse’s station. I smile before I can stop myself. My swollen lip splits again and I can feel warm blood in my mouth. Damn, that kid.

  I reach the exit doors, which slide open as if they know I’m coming. No one has tried to stop me. Once out into the sunshine I see several police cars parked a short distance away. Parked along the red painted curb, the occupants are standing around smoking and joking as usual. They’ve more than likely been assigned to keep the press away as well as any suspicious weirdo’s intent on coming back to hurt me. They have zero idea who they should be looking for. If they only knew.

  I see a taxi idling at the curb and I get in before whoever ordered it has a chance to take it out from under me. My fellow officers are oblivious to my escape.

  “Where to ma’am?” The middle-eastern driver peeks at me through his rearview mirror. In his fifties, he is wearing a Giants baseball cap and a Giants sweatshirt. How very touristy. I’m an A’s fan myself. Don’t judge. I give him my address and settle back into my seat. A handmade sign taped to the back of the driver seat reads, “My name is Amir. Welcome to my cab.”

  As we drive I look at the picture Amir has taped to the passenger seat visor. A pleasantly plump woman, with a well-worn smile, encircled by six stair-step children, looks back at me. The family looks so genuinely happy that even the threat of splitting my lip open again doesn’t stop me from smiling. “Is that your family?”

  Amir smiles a wide toothy grin and takes the picture down. He reaches it back to me. “Yes, my wife and I have been married for thirty years next week!”

  I take the picture and admire it at close range. “Thirty years? Wow! What’s your secret?”

  “To be kind and love unconditionally. We promised to love one another and real love comes at a price. Did you know that?”

  Ignoring his question I hand back the photo, “Are these your kids?”

  “Yep! All six of them.” His face beams with pride.

  “This is a very special picture, Amir.” I hand it back to him. “You’re a very lucky man. I’m not sure I even know what that kind of love looks like.”

  “Do you have a family?”

  I once again pretend I haven’t heard him and I return my gaze to the scenery passing outside my window.

  Amir looks in the mirror and tries to catch my gaze. So far he has been pretty successful at pretending he isn’t interested in the fact I look like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck. He did pick me up at the hospital so maybe he isn’t fazed at all. I’m grateful I don’t have to explain.

  Within moments we make the turn onto my street and Amir slows to a stop half a block from my apartment. There’s a nasty pack of the reporters stalking the entrance. I frown. I should have foreseen this.

  “It looks like something’s going on.”

  “That’s ok, Amir, I know another way in. Can you please drop me off around the back?” As a cop you had better know all the entrances and exits to any place you reside. You have to be able to escape any weird situation, or know how someone else might be able to escape.

  Amir, drives around the back of the building without us being seen by the hoard of reporters. Before I can get out, Amir stops me with a hand held up. “Just a moment.” He removes his baseball cap and waves it towards me, “Maybe, they wont recognize you in this?”

  I’m stunned, “You know who I am?”

  “Of course. Your picture is all over the news. Although you look like you’ve been through hell and back. You don’t need those vultures to put you through more, now do you, sergeant?”

  “Amir, you are a lifesaver.”

  He also hands me a home printed business card, “If you need anything, ever, a ride, a way out, you just call on Amir and I’ll come to the rescue.”

  “Thank you, Amir. I would kiss you if it wouldn’t split my lip open again.”

  Amir laughed, “You just do what you must and be safe. Oh, and Sergeant Shaw, you DO know what that kind of love is. You have it in you. You sacrifice so much of yourself to protect the people you don’t even know. You give pieces of yourself away. You bring calm to chaos and you give your strength to those who don’t have it. That’s real love.”

  I’m not crying, you’re crying. “Thank you, Amir” is all I can choke out in a response. I shut the cabbie door and watch him drive away. Man I am getting lucky.

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Three


  I approach the back-side of my apartment building but as I get closer I can see a young female reporter not far from the entrance. I can’t make a direct approach or she will see me and I really don’t feel like having to fight even one of these reporters off.

  Instead, I squeeze myself behind the row of hedges that are growing against the building. My apartment manager has ignored my frequent requests to cut these hedges but right now I could kiss him as well for not listening to me.

  If you know anything about Crime Prevention Through Environmental Design you know that these should be cut down. I used to teach community members about CPTED and these blasted hedges are routinely ignored. I will never understand how people can ignore the fact that any Tom, Dick or Harry can conceal themselves behind these kinds of hedges and just lie in wait. You’d never see them until it was too late. I’m counting on that kind of concealment now. It proves the perfect cover.

  The back door to our building doesn’t lock and I quickly slide right through. Another safety hazard ignored that I’m grateful for. I’m quickly inside and immediately ignore the elevator. I make it through the door to the fire stairs as without being spotted.

  I make my way slowly up the three flights and crack open the door to my floor. No one in sight. I watch for a few minutes but no one appears. I walk quickly to my door and reach up to the doorframe where I keep an extra key. It’s gone. Back door. My apartment boasts a sliding back door and balcony and since the landing is open air I’m fairly certain I can make the three-foot jump.

  I climb over the railing and try not to look down. I lean out as far as I can and my fingers find the railing to my balcony. I make the jump easily even with my injuries. I climb over the railing to my balcony but fall and skin my knees through the holes in the stranger’s jeans I’m wearing. I lift a flowerpot from the patio, find my other spare key and let myself in through the sliding door. Ok, so maybe I’ve gotten into my apartment this way a few times before. Don’t judge.

  My apartment is nice and warm but before I do anything else, I go and look through the peephole. Still no one at my door.

  I take a look around the place I’ve called home for the last few years. The landlord likes having a city cop in his building but if he could see my place now he’d be having heart palpitations.

  My apartment is utterly trashed. Those jackasses searched it while I was gone. They didn’t respect my belongings any more than they did those they served criminal search warrants on. Shit is everywhere.

  First thing’s first. I pop open the fridge. At least they left me a few beers. I open one and drink half of it. It’s cold and icy and oh my goodness it tastes like heaven. I wipe my mouth gingerly and then make my way to the bathroom. I run the shower hot and while the mirror steams up I peel these strangers clothes off me. I leave them in a haphazard a pile on the bathroom floor and vow to burn them the first chance I get.

  I catch another glimpse of myself in the mirror. How the hell did I get myself into this? My eye is so swollen its almost completely shut. I look like a pirate with a homegrown eye patch.

  I take my beer into the shower with me, and let the hot water wash over the pattern of black and blue bruised ribs. They really messed me up good. I sit on the shower floor and let the water beat down on my head. I wash my short hair and soap every nook and cranny. I even take a few minutes to shave my legs, carefully avoiding the scabs starting to form. Who knew when I’d get to take another shower? This whole thing isn’t over yet and I need to get out of here before they realize I’ve left the hospital. My apartment is bound to be the first place they look.

  I get out of the shower and once in my room I grab a t-shirt off the floor. I pair it with my oldest most comfortable worn pair of jeans, also on the floor. Don’t judge.

  I throw Amir’s hat back on my head. I’m not going anywhere without this ever again. I swear it to myself. I look at my bed longingly. I’d love nothing more than to flop down and sleep for the next week but I can’t. I’m not safe yet but don’t worry, I have a plan.

  I groan in pain as I pushed my bed up against the far wall. I push aside the floor rug and look down at my favorite hiding spot. Those IA creeps may have trashed my place but there is no way they would have gone far enough to be thorough. At least not thorough enough to find this spot.

  I take my knife from the bedside drawer and pry open the floorboard. I lift out cash, ID, my flat badge, two burner cells and my Glock 23. It’s all coming with me.

  I fire up one of the burners just as the doorbell rings.

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Four

  Sarah Landon stood amongst the crowd of reporters outside of Sergeant Joanna Shaw’s apartment. She felt like a vulture but to be able to get even one statement from her could make her career. She was dying to know what had happened to Shaw and where she had been.

  Sarah separated herself from the rest of the reporters in an attempt to clear her head. She walked down the sidewalk and then on instinct made her way to the rear of the apartment building. She spies a second door and no one is watching it. Maybe it would be a good idea to sit back here for a bit.

  She dialed Kevin on her cell phone and he picked up on the first ring. “You get the scoop from Shaw yet, kid?”

  Sarah sighed, “No, nothing yet. How long do I have to stay here? I’ve already tried talking to her neighbors and no one is talking. Isn’t she still in the hospital anyway? Why don’t I go there instead?”

  “Actually I just heard from one of my sources that Shaw slipped out while the doctor wasn’t looking. That chick is one tough broad.”

  Sarah cringed at Kevin’s use of the term broad. He could be such a pig sometimes. “Kevin, I’m not sure I like the idea of ambushing her the minute she gets home. You should see it out here. News crews everywhere. That poor women has been through enough, don’t you think?”

  “On the one hand I agree with you. On the other hand Jasper will have a stroke if some other news agency scoops us. C’mon kid, don’t you want to make a name for yourself?”

  “Like you have?”

  “Hey, that’s not fair. Besides…” Kevin continued in a low voice, “I’ve done my share.”

  “Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “Maybe another time kid. I gotta go. Just hang tight and call me back in 30 if she still hasn’t shown, ok?”

  “Fine.” Sarah disconnected the line wishing she could slam it. Ever since cell phones were invented you could no longer get that satisfaction of slamming the phone down on someone. Even if you did hang up on them they were more apt to think the call was disconnected due to faulty cell service than the annoyance of the other party.

  Sarah tucked her phone into her pocket and started to make her way back to the front of the build. Something out of the corner of her eye made her pause.

  A cab pulled up along the curb and someone was getting out. It looked like a man but it could be Shaw. The figure had a Giants baseball cap pulled down over his or her brow. As Sarah watched, the individual limped towards the building. C’mon let me see your face. The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than the figure looked up and around. Sarah recognized Shaw’s battered face immediately.

  The figure slid behind the hedges against the building in an attempt to hide. Sarah laughed at the effort Shaw was taking to conceal herself. She continued to watch as Shaw slips in the door.

  Sarah glanced up at the building. So, Shaw was able to get in without being noticed huh? She sat there thinking about how she was going to handle this and she figured the truth might get her in the door. Hell if she could even talk to her through the door Jasper would be happy.

  Sarah made sure no other reporters were watching. Coast looked clear. She tested the building door and to her surprise she found it unlocked. She rode the elevator up to the third floor and upon exiting she looked up and down the hallway. No one around. She had Shaw’s address so she went to the door. She swallowed hard trying to get up her nerve. She must have stood there
for five minutes before she finally had the nerve to knock.

  Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five

  I hear a quiet knock at the door. A quick look through the peephole reveals a nervous looking young woman. I don’t now her. I say nothing and hope my labored breathing doesn’t make it through the door. The intruder knocks again and then presses her ear to the door. “Sergeant Shaw? Are you in there?”

  I still don’t respond. What the hell is wrong with reporters anyway? They are so damn nosy!

  “I know your there. I saw you sneak in the back. Sergeant, my name is Sarah Landon and I’m a reporter with Roland Confidential. Please, I just want to ask you a few questions.”

  “I have no comment,” I say to the door.

  “Please, I wont publish a thing unless you say its ok. Look I’ll leave my pen and paper out here, no recording or anything! Promise!”

  I open the door a crack and look her over. Maybe a news reporter isn’t such a bad idea.

  “What do you want?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Nope!” I say rather sharply. She’s just a kid and while I cant blame her for trying to get a story, I’m not about to make it easy for her.

  “Look. You were suspected of killing yourself. Did you know that’s what the department initially put out?”

  “No, I wasn’t up to speed on that.” I eye her narrowly. “What is it exactly you want to know, young lady?”

  “Well for starters, where have you been? What happened to you while you were gone?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Pardon my frankness sergeant but I don’t believe you. I think there’s more to this story than you are letting on and I’m curious to know why?”

  “There’s no story here kid. At least not one I can tell you. I don’t remember anything except the ride to the hospital.” I make a move to close the door but her hand stops it.