I grinned in response. “Thanks Chief, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Jason, I hope you will be staying for our annual Fourth of July carnival?”
“Not sure. I wasn’t really planning on staying that long.”
“It’s only a week away. You came all this way to just turn and burn?”
I laughed. “Well, we will see. It’s kind of open-ended trip but the department may need me back soon.”
The chief studied me with interest. “Well, we hope you’ll make it. There’s a hell of a fireworks show planned and I hear your ma is going to be making her famous pies to sell. You don’t want to miss those.”
“No sir, I guess I don’t. We’ll see.”
Kirk didn’t smile at all. “The Fourth of July in Harmony is probably not nearly as exciting as the Fourth in the Bay Area, huh? You get a lot of calls and people shooting each other on the Fourth? Big money firework shows out on the bay? I can see how that would be hard to miss.”
Maybe Pop was right. Kirk was a little obnoxious. “Well maybe a little home town celebration wouldn’t hurt either, Kirk.”
Chief Jordan seemed to sense this conversation was about to go sideways. He motioned to Kirk, “These fish aren’t going to catch themselves.” We all shook hands and I watched as both men walked down the shore. Well that was interesting.
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Five
Pop and I unpacked the picnic basket that Shelly had prepared and as we ate I thought about the footprint I had found. “Hey Pop, have you noticed anything strange around the house lately?”
Pop took a large bite of his fried chicken and sighed with delight. “Strange how?”
“I thought I heard a noise last night after you went to bed. I went out on the front porch but all I found was a fat raccoon. This morning I found a rather large boot print in the yard. Have there been any issues with transients lately? Anything suspicious?”
“Not that I’m aware of. The boot print could’ve belonged to anyone, son.”
“I know but last night felt like someone was watching me. Someone other than a raccoon.”
“Probably just those big city nerves getting the best of you. It was probably just a neighbor kid cutting through the yard on his way home.”
Pop seemed unconcerned and I didn’t want to start worrying him for no reason by pressing the issue. “You’re probably right.”
“Your to hyper vigilant, son. That city has probably got your nerves all jingle jangled. How’s the job going anyway?”
“Jobs all good.”
“Is that why you’re here? Because it’s all good?”
There had never been any sense in trying to hide things from my dad but I really didn’t want to tell him all the dirty details of my latest invitation for time off. “Not exactly. I just had an incident and got some extra time off, that’s all.”
“Wanna tell me about it?”
I grabbed another piece of chicken from the basket. “Dad, you don’t want to hear this stuff.”
“Of course I do. I’m your dad I want to know what’s happening with you.”
“I got in a shooting.” I snuck a peek at my old man out of the corner of my eye but he seemed relaxed.
“Were you hurt?”
“No, sir.”
“Was the other person hurt?”
“He died.”
“Did you have to shoot him in order to save yourself or someone else?”
“Yes.”
“Then you did what you had to.”
“I know, Pop. It’s normal for officers involved in a shooting to be put on administrative leave during the ensuing investigation but my captain says I need a little more than time off. He thinks I’m struggling because of my first shooting.”
Pop didn’t say a word in response and I took it as my cue to continue. Pop was no shrink but maybe just talking it over with him would do something; break something free in me. “Pop, he was going to hurt a kid. I didn’t have a choice.” Surprisingly, my voice choked a little. Where had that come from?
“Tell me, son.”
Dad was a man of few words but he was an excellent listener. I poked at my half-eaten fried chicken. “I went to domestic call. This lady was arguing with her husband and called for a civil standby. She wanted to leave him. He had been hurting her for years. She had finally gotten up the courage to go and she called for an officer to standby with her so she could get her stuff. I drew the call.” I paused my story for a moment to collect my memories and form them into a palatable story my elderly father could stomach. “The husband showed up while I was there. I had my back turned for a split second and he grabbed one of the kids. A little girl. She was only six, Pop.”
I glanced up at my fathers face but it betrayed nothing. I didn’t really want to keep talking but the rest of the story came rushing out before I could stop myself. “He was holding her and had knife and the mom was screaming and back up was a ways away. I took the shot.”
“Sounds to me like you saved that kids life, and probably her moms too.”
I realized I was holding my breath and I exhaled slowly. “If I had been paying more attention, hadn’t been so apathetic about him not being there, I would’ve seen him before he grabbed the kid. Then I wouldn’t have had to kill anyone.”
“Son, there’s no reason to beat yourself up about what should’ve or could’ve been.”
I threw my chicken down in defeat and wiped my hands on my jeans. There was no way I would be able to eat after this. My stomach churned at the memories. “Pop, I knew better. It was a rookie move.”
“And you’re telling me your captain believes that incident has tainted your most recent shooting?”
“Yes.”
Pop put down his food and wiped his mouth carefully with his napkin. He took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. “Son, I can only imagine how hard it is to live with taking the life of another person. But you listen to me. What you are doing is important. You were sent there for a reason. That man holding that precious child hostage is the one who made the choice for you to kill him, not you. You had to react to the actions and choices he made and in turn you saved innocent people. “Yes, that little girl may be traumatized by the incident but that’s not your fault. That’s his fault, even if she never recognizes it. Even if your department or your city or your community doesn’t recognize it, you did your job. What you did was heroic and you were brave to do it. It takes a lot of stones to do what you do.
I really had no idea how to respond to Pop’s words of wisdom so I stayed silent.
“I always new you’d be a good leader.”
I smiled. “You did? As a kid I was always afraid of everything! How could you know something like that?”
Pop touched my arm. “Not always you weren’t. It took you awhile to find your inner strength but once you did, you used it. You followed your dream. You moved out of here and found a strong purpose.”
“What if I was just running away?”
“So what if you were? It still takes strength to take a different path and not stay and wallow in what happened here.”
Love for my Pop spread through my chest like wildfire. It didn’t matter what I did, he would always be my biggest cheerleader. “Pop, I’m sorry I haven’t come home more often.”
“Don’t you worry none about that. We miss you like crazy but I know you have a lot on your plate. And I also know that when your ready to come home, you will. Maybe this trip will help you realize that coming home will help. This is your soft place to land, son. This is where you come to heal from those things that you see every day. You just remember that.”
“Have I told you how much I love you, Pop?”
“I know you do, son. I love you too. Now, we are just letting these fish get away with running amok. What do you say we catch a few and give your ma something to cook for dinner tonight?”
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Six
Several hours later, Pop and I pulled into the driveway
worn, sunburned and smelling like fish. We had finally put a dent into those fish “running amok” and we were both smiling from ear to ear.
We walked in the front door and mom yelled from the kitchen, “PEW! I can smell you both from here!”
Pop laughed. He reached for the fish I was carrying. “I’ll take these in to your mom and you go clean up the tackle and put stuff away.”
I went back out to the car, unpacked our fishing gear and stowed it in the garage. When I was done cleaning and stowing our gear, I took a look around the garage at all the stuff my ma had saved over the years. Neat and tidy but good gracious she didn’t get rid of a thing, did she!
I moved a stack of boxes from the corner and found a treasure. My bike! Seriously? Still here after all these years? I sat on it and grimaced at the hardness of the seat. How had I ridden this thing summer after summer and not had callouses on my ass?
I pointed myself down the driveway and pedaled. They say you never forget how to ride a bike. While I hadn’t forgotten how to ride, I had forgotten I was too big for this thing. Two pumps on the pedals and I lost control, crashing into the Camden family mailbox like a champ! Now I’m a twenty-eight year old, six-foot man with a skinned knee and bump on my head.
I looked up at the sound of tinkling laughter.
“Hey there Evel Knievel.”
I got up and wiped my scraped up hands on my jeans. I stared at the vision before me. Maybe I’d hit my head harder than I thought.
“What were you doing, reliving your glory days?”
I stuttered like the fourteen year old who had owned that back. “Um, hi?” I was stunned. One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen stood before me in the warm afternoon sunlight. Red hair flying like a flag, brown skin with a smattering of freckles and wearing a white tank top under some baggy overalls. Yep, I’m pretty sure I have a concussion. She smelled like sunshine. I was speechless.
She put one hand on her hip and her green eyes twinkled with mischief. “Aren’t you even going to give me a hug?
“Excuse me?”
The redhead smirked, “It’s me, stupid. Sarahbeth Johnson.”
“Little Sarahbeth? Kirk’s sister? That’s not possible. You’re only six years old.”
She sniffed a little in indignation. “I should think you would remember me for more than being Kirk’s little sister.”
“Sure I do,” I say awkwardly. “I would hug you but I smell like fish guts.”
Sarahbeth gestured towards the front of her overalls. “I don’t mind, I’m full of paint anyway.”
“Yes, you certainly are. What have you been doing, finger painting?”
“Cute. I’m painting a mural on the library wall and I was just finishing up for the day. I was on my way home when I saw you try to kill the mailbox.”
I blushed. “You’re an artist?”
“Something like that. I teach art at the high school. I also do art therapy with kids who suffer from trauma.”
“That sounds very noble.”
“It’s worthwhile. I get to reach kids, help heal them with art. The act of creation is very therapeutic.” Her eyes sparkled as she talked and I could tell she was passionate about her work. I wanted to know more but she changed the subject. “Are you coming to the party tonight?”
I looked back at the house. “I don’t know. I’m only here for a bit and I’ve been fishing all day.”
“You can take a shower and clean all that off you know?”
“Are you going to be there?”
“It’s my party so I’d better be.”
I felt my face betray my disappointment. “You’re getting married?”
Sarahbeth smiled. “I’m putting it on. I’m the maid of honor.”
Relief flooded through me and the red in my face started to dissipate.
Sarahbeth thread her arm through mine and let me up the driveway to the open garage door. “It’ll be fun. Music, great food and good company. You really should consider it.”
I was enamored with her freckles. They looked like a sky full of stars only more beautiful. I smiled back at her, “Well who could resist an invite like that?”
“Good. I’ll see you at nine.” With that, the redhead angel called Sarahbeth let go of my arm, kissed my cheek and then walked down the driveway and then down street.
I followed her scent to the sidewalk and picked up my old bike. Maybe this thing needed to go to Kirk’s felon nephew.
I stowed my bike in the back of my truck and then went inside to shower and change. After a hot shower and I joined my folks a delicious dinner of fresh fish cooked to perfection. I couldn’t believe how hungry I was even after the huge lunch Pop and I had shared.
Maybe confession was good for the soul. But so were redheads.
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Seven
After a dinner I checked my cell pone. I had been avoiding it since I arrived. This was the first time in ten years I had gone so long without my cell. I could see the message light blinking. What could it hurt?
Voicemails first.
There was a voicemail from Lizzie and hearing her voice made my heart ache for home. “Hey Jason. I was just calling to check on you. See how you were holding up. Don’t worry about anything here, same old shit different day.” Her voice paused momentarily. “Except for one thing. The DSVU sergeant came down and asked me if I wanted a detective spot! It all comes from this case I had the other night. Kidnapping, rape, car chase; I’ll fill you in when you get back but I’m super pumped. When ARE you coming back? I miss you. Ok. Hope your resting and enjoying your time away. Don’t call me back. Hide your cell and don’t look at it until you are home.”
I smiled. I missed her too. Lizzie and I had gotten to be really good friends after everything she had been through. She was a tough one. Pretty, heart of gold, sweet as could be and she had made her bones early on, the hard way. Not everyone at the department respected her for it. In fact several of them still talked shit about her and snubbed her.
I adored her. I had taken her under my wing early on and now she was definitely one of my best friends. I knew I could always count on her. She was my regular beat partner now that she was on her own but she had been off that night of my shooting. I was glad. She didn’t need to see or be a part of that. She had a young kid. Sam. He was the awesomest. I know Lizzie is a cop doing the same job I am but I couldn’t help it. Part of me wanted to protect her from the worst of it. She had been through enough.
The second voicemail was from the captain just filling me in on the investigation. Once I realized he wasn’t telling me to come home, I didn’t even finish listening to it. I just hit erase. I didn’t need any of this work updates.
Several texts from my teammates and a few links to online articles about my shooting took up the rest of the messages but I could read them another time. I needed to get ready for this party. I could get depressed later.
I changed into some clean jeans, my old cowboy boots and a button up shirt. I grabbed my wallet and keys and left the phone. I grabbed my old cowboy hat on the way out and even spritzed on a little cologne. I felt silly but hey, redheads deserve someone who at least makes the effort. Besides, I wasn’t entirely certain I had gotten rid of the fish smell.
I went into the living room, twirled like a moron and let my mother whistle at me. She kissed me goodnight and I told her and Pop not to wait up. I walked out to my truck with the sounds of Jeopardy floating through the open window and I felt happier than I had in a week.
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Eight
It was dusk when I arrived outside Bojangles Café. The outside lights were twinkling to the music rocking within. I had been forced to park a block away but the short walk in the fresh evening air was uplifting.
I entered the cafe and found the party was in full swing. I stood in the entryway for a minute and looked around at all the old familiar faces.
I felt a tug on my arm and found Sarahbeth standing close to me. She smelled like jas
mine and she was wearing a little back dress to die for. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
Sarahbeth ignored my ogling and pulled me towards the partygoers. “Come on, handsome, I want to show you off.” She spent the next few minutes introducing me to those I didn’t know and then when a slow song started up, she led me onto the dance floor. Sarahbeth unceremoniously threw her arms around my neck and danced a little too close. She was fun and sweet and the drinks were good and plentiful. I could feel a little buzz hitting and decided I didn’t mind in the slightest.
The song ended and I led her off the dance floor to a nearby table where her friends made room for us. I let her sit and then asked, “Would you like a drink?”
Sarahbeth pointed her million-watt smile at me and I was mush. “Yes please.”
I pushed my way to the makeshift bar and told Ben I needed two beers. Ben opened two bottles of cold beer and handed them to me. I tried to start up a conversation with my childhood friend. “Hey man, I’m sorry about this morning.”
“Don’t even sweat it, dude. I was having a rough morning, that’s all.” Ben handed me several cocktail napkins and I wiped the condensation from the bottles.
“Is there anything…” A drunken, angry voice interrupted me. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Crap.
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Nine
I should’ve known this night couldn’t just be pure fun and relaxation. I turned around slowly. “Mr. Forrester. I’m home visiting. It’s nice to see you.” I stuck out my hand for Marc’s dad to shake but he ignored it.
“Oh is it?”
He was going to make a scene. I tried to remain calm. The man was clearly still suffering after all these years and the smell of Jim Beam coming off him told me he had been drinking his feelings tonight. “Mr. Forrester you’ve been drinking. Let’s go outside and talk.”
Roland P D Omnibus Page 35