Serving as an impromptu roadblock, an island in the flow of foot traffic, he waited until Reed and his mother were within a few feet of him before allowing his hands to drop to either side. Without saying a word, he took a step forward and shot out a straight right jab, connecting square with Reed’s shoulder.
Otherwise known as his version of a loving public embrace.
“Whaddya say?” he asked, finally allowing a smile to appear.
“I say I smell barbecue and see Sooner gear everywhere I look,” Reed replied.
“Life is good,” his mother intoned beside him, finishing the thought.
“Damn right,” Rhett added. “’Bout time you remembered where you came from.”
Chapter Three
No flight path existed for getting directly from Columbus, Ohio to Oklahoma City. It always required a layover, the list of options offering none that were appealing in the least.
Most of the time, Reed made a point of going through Dallas. While the jagged route made the first leg – and the trip as a whole - a bit longer, it meant that he was able to avoid the cattle call that was stopping off in Chicago-Midway.
This being the first journey he’d made with his K-9 detective partner Billie, though, he’d been forced to set aside his own comfort. And his preferences. And even his sanity.
Despite going with the more direct route, the total flight and layover time had clocked in at just over five hours. From there, the trip had also included a little more than two hours in the car, making the trek across the state from the capital to the town of Warner.
By the time they had finally arrived, seven-plus hours of inertia had managed to get to Billie, rendering her little more than a ball of coiled energy. She was so tense that Reed could practically feel it emanating from her in the shared backseat of his parent’s SUV. He’d spent the latter half of the drive with his body turned sideways, alternating between conversing with his parents and trying to soothe his partner.
As he’d come to discover in painstaking detail, traveling with a law enforcement animal was still subject to a lot of shades of gray. Not a pet, but not technically a service animal either, the only way for her to have made it into the main cabin with him was if she was on assignment.
A designation that would have essentially required an official letter, a blood sample, and the promise of Reed’s first-born child to secure.
A transaction that had started to sound more and more reasonable as the day wore on.
Now, more than an hour after finally arriving at their destination, the kinetic force of the animal was still on display as Billie tore a trench through the meadow behind the Mattox home. Running in elongated strides, she was little more than a black blur with an occasional flash of her pink tongue wagging out to the side.
Despite the temperature already nudging toward eighty degrees, she was only just starting to slow, tufts of displaced grass rising behind her feet.
Stepping out onto the back deck, Reed held a stainless-steel mixing bowl in hand. Filled more than halfway with water, he moved for the staircase on the back end, each step echoing off the weather-treated boards beneath his feet. Placing it down, he slid his teeth out over his bottom lip, sending a shrill whistle across the open expanse of ground.
Not once did he worry about the noise offending the neighbors, as the closest home was more than a mile into the distance.
A fact, Reed had no doubt, that had played strongly into his father’s decision to purchase the place.
Without breaking stride, Billie alternated her course on command. Barreling his way, she covered the fifty yards in record time, slowing her pace just enough to launch herself over the trio of steps leading up from the ground.
Falling straight to the water, she lapped it up in great pulls, the sound combining with her panting to fill Reed’s ears.
“Old girl was thirsty,” his mother said, stepping out onto the deck. Sliding the door shut behind her, she walked forward to join them, placing a hand along Reed’s back, both of them watching Billie as she attacked the water.
“Been a long day,” Reed said, watching his partner for a moment before lifting his gaze to the horizon.
“Long month,” his mother corrected. She didn’t bother adding more, though Reed knew instantly what she was alluding to.
Five weeks prior, he and Billie had both been placed on administrative leave from the Columbus Police Department. In the wake of apprehending one of the most egregious offenders Reed had ever heard of – let alone encountered – and saving a young woman’s life, the powers that be had decided it was time for them to step back for a while.
A choice that was made not because of anything they had done wrong, but rather the complete opposite. The growing fear within the department was that they were doing too well, practically issuing an open challenge to potential offenders in the area.
A line of thinking Reed was still having trouble wrapping his head around.
And a resulting lifestyle that was fast starting to wear on them both.
“Beautiful place,” Reed said, sidestepping any attempt to respond to his mother’s previous comment.
“It is,” she replied, pausing just long enough to let it be known she recognized what he had done. “And it is exactly what we needed.”
Feeling his brows come together, considering the unique phrasing, Reed turned to glance her way. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Cheryl replied, matching his look for just an instant before returning to Billie. “We’d been around the city going on forty years. Now that your father’s retired, it’s time to pull away. Stop dealing with the traffic and the hassle and everything.”
Compared to where he now lived, Reed would hardly consider Oklahoma City to be a bastion of traffic or hassle, though again he refrained from saying as much. It wasn’t like he couldn’t identify with wanting to step aside, leaving headaches behind.
Two years before, when his partner and best friend Riley Poole had been killed, he had strongly considered leaving the force altogether.
Two weeks prior, he’d had the same thoughts. Ones that were still popping up at regular intervals, each time accompanied by healthy amounts of acrimony and confusion.
Taking up a final gulp of water, Billie lifted her head from the bowl. As she stared up, droplets dripped from her jowls, dotting the floor beneath her.
Covering her face was a look that bordered on longing, already wanting to get back to the track she was fast-wearing into the lawn out back.
“Go ahead,” Reed said, jutting his chin forward. “Have fun.”
Pushing up off all four feet, Billie seemed to levitate in the air. Twisting her body in a half-arc, she landed facing the opposite direction, bounding away the instant she touched down.
A move that was equal parts grace and unbridled joy, it also served to bring a sharp crack of laughter from Cheryl.
“Look at her go,” she marveled. “Have you ever seen a happier critter?”
Allowing a small chuckle in agreement, Reed looped an arm over his mother’s shoulder. “Life is good, remember?”
Chapter Four
Serena Gipson hated Wednesdays the most. Not because it was her shortest shift of the week and barely worth the time spent getting ready and walking over. Not because it often had the fewest patrons show up, meaning that time absolutely crawled. Not even because she had class the next morning to prepare for, the full extent of her time spent thinking of better things she could be doing.
It was because it was the day that required deep cleaning.
Two years prior, the diner had undergone a management change. The man who had opened the place eons before had finally passed away, handing it down to his son. Twenty years younger and without a single trace of the business acumen or work ethic of his father, there was little doubt that he would have sold it the instant the title transfer was complete if he could have.
A fact known to all, including his father.
Accompanying the passage of the
diner from one generation to the next was the stipulation that the place could not be sold for a period of twenty-five years. Dropping the business into a trust, the old man had rendered it untouchable, ensuring that the only two options for the place were for it to either remain a Main Street staple, or to close its doors forever.
Such was his attachment to it; the thought of another family running it just too much to bear.
Unable to unload it and depending on it as his sole source of income, the son’s response was to expand operating hours. Ignoring the generally accepted practices of such an establishment and the realities of the town it operated in, his reasoning was that if he had to keep it, he would milk it for every dime he could.
An output that had seemed to drop precipitously under his stewardship, a direct result of his taking every last shortcut that could be made.
Not to mention a few that couldn’t.
Among the changes that had occurred was that cleaning now became a rote part of Serena’s schedule. In times past, such a thing was reserved for Mondays, when the diner was closed. Headed by the old man himself, stopping by to help out was strictly optional and was payable as overtime.
Now, it was mandatory, the checklist of things that had to be finished before she could leave posted by the door each Wednesday. How it got there, Serena could only speculate, weeks having passed since the last time she actually saw the new owner.
Not that she had a doubt about what would happen if she even considered skipping one of them.
Armed with the double ignominy of being both a racist and a misogynist, the slightest hiccup, and there was no doubt he would ensure she was gone.
The smell of cleaning solution burned Serena’s nostrils as she dropped the sopping head of the mop into the top half of the bucket. Using the lever on the side, she rung out the excess before slapping it down against the tile floor.
Leaning her slight frame against it, she shoved the wet implement forward and back, the visible accumulation of grime stripping away with each pass. As she worked, she allowed her mind to drift, already thinking ahead to the night she had on tap.
Needing to make sure the girls had finished their homework and got to bed at a decent hour. Making sure that lunches were ready for the next day. That her mother had dinner.
All of that followed by at least a few more hours of studying, the anatomy and physiology final she had on Saturday inching ever closer.
“Yo, Serena,” a voice called from the back.
Releasing the tension on the mop, Serena rose to full height. Coupled with the fumes rising from the floor around her, she felt a hint of dizziness as she balanced herself, her eyes dimming for just a moment.
When they finally regained focus, she peered through the open window to the kitchen, seeing the only other employee on shift standing behind it. Already stripped out of his apron and bandana, Curt Walton had his wrists balanced on the sill of the window.
Just two years older than her, he was already fighting a losing battle with male-pattern baldness, most of his hair having migrated to his neck and forearms.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Serena said, raising a hand to her temple. “Just this damn cheap-ass cleaning solution he buys is all.”
His head rocking back in a smirk, Curt said, “No shit. Feel like I’ve got a contact buzz every time I get done cleaning the grill back here.”
More than once, the two had wiled away the empty hours by complaining about their new boss. Most nights, she wouldn’t mind the distraction, but at the moment, it wasn’t the least bit appealing.
Not with the list of things she had lined up before her.
“You taking off?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Curt replied, pushing back from the window, “gonna try to catch the second half. You good here?”
“I got this,” Serena replied. “Just going to finish up, and I’m on my way.”
Chapter Five
Dirt rimmed The Bear’s thumbnail as he passed it back and forth over the face of the pocket watch. Laying flat against his palm, the chain it was attached to was draped through his fingers, hanging down in front of the steering wheel before him.
Time and again, he moved the pad of his thumb over the smooth metal, an action that had been performed so many times that it was usually habit, rote muscle memory and nothing more.
Usually, but not always.
And definitely not tonight.
His gaze aimed down at the watch, The Bear made a point of focusing on the object. On taking in the way he had caressed it so many times over the years that the inscription carved on the outside had long since been rubbed smooth. The way the bright sheen had been buffed out, the metal now a dull semblance of what it had been.
A fitting metaphor for everything it represented if ever there was one.
Allowing his thumb one last pass over the front of the watch, The Bear slid it to the release button along the top. Giving it a quick push, the front splayed open wide, springing back from the hasp along the side.
With the watch still cradled against his palm, he turned it sideways a half-inch, allowing the ambient light from outside to pass across the glass face. His heart rate ticked up just a bit as he stared at it, seeing the same time that it had been frozen on for more than seven years.
The same time that things for The Bear had seemed to stop as well.
Allowing his gaze to drift to the opposite side, to the hollowed cover and the image tucked against it, The Bear stared long enough for his vision to blur, for his core to pull taut.
Moments like this were the worst part. The sole times he ever allowed the tiniest sliver of guilt to creep in. The only chance that he ever second-guessed what he was doing.
Which was what the watch was for. A beacon pointing the way, a constant reminder of exactly what this was all about.
The last six weeks had been hell. There was simply no other way to put it. But they were a pittance compared to the past seven years.
And more than worth it to make things right. To restore order.
If everything went to plan, if his prior efforts were proven worthwhile, then by this time tomorrow things would be as they should be. He would finally be able to put the last six weeks behind him.
With any luck, maybe even all those wasted years as well. Maybe, at last, he would find what he was looking for. He would finally be free, able to put his mind at ease, returning to a time when he first became The Bear.
Closing his hand slowly, he squeezed until he felt the watch snap shut. Once more, he passed his thumb over the face before extending it toward the middle console and dropping it down into the empty cup holder.
Only then did he lift his gaze to the world outside, pulling his mind from the past and back into the moment, putting his full attention on the task at hand.
The van he was now seated in was the definition of decrepit. Purchased from a struggling lot outside of Wichita Falls for five hundred cash, the shocks on it were busted and the interior smelled like cat urine and mildew. The springs on the chair he sat in threatened to burst through the seat at any moment.
There was a crack in the windshield that sliced like a Reaper’s scythe from left to right.
Still, it started when it was supposed to and ran without making any unnecessary noises or drawing unwanted attention.
For now, that was enough.
And hopefully, it wouldn’t be needed again after tonight.
Parked a single block off Main Street in Warner, much of the traffic in town had already retired for the night. Flicking his gaze to the various buildings sitting nearby, The Bear could see signage for an attorney’s office, a brokerage house, and a dentist’s practice. Behind him, he knew there was a shop that sold insurance.
Not a single light burned in any of the windows, the sole forms of illumination coming from a laundromat at the end of the street and the security light alongside the mouth of the alley across from him.
The very alley he
was now here for, counting seconds, waiting for his target to arrive.
The same one that would put an end to the last six weeks, allowing him to finally move forward again.
Pressing his chin to his right shoulder, The Bear glanced into the space behind him. Both of the captain’s seats comprising the middle row had already been removed, leaving only the bench seat along the back. Covering everything was a double layer of plastic sheeting, one taped down with thick bands of duct tape, the other flat atop it, ready to be folded up and stripped away in the morning.
Resting on the seat was a black duffel bag filled with items he hoped he wouldn’t have to use.
Not now, and if things went as they should, not ever.
Turning back, The Bear allowed all thought of the pocket watch to slip further beneath the surface. There would be plenty of time for that soon enough. Years or more, if he allowed himself to really hope.
But not just yet.
Chapter Six
The words Reed had said to his mother still rested in the front of his mind as he made the short drive from their home into the town of Warner. Settled behind the wheel of his parents’ SUV, he rode in silence, the sole sound the gentle rush of wind passing through the windows all cracked a uniform half-inch.
For most of the day, he had helped his parents with the continued project of unpacking. In possession of the home less than a week, the place was still a maze of boxes and misplaced housewares, the moving company they had hired doing little beyond getting everything off the truck and inside before being on their way.
A course of action that was still readily apparent, even now, days after the fact.
And was still earning them a steady stream of ire, courtesy of Reed’s father.
Working as a trio for seven solid hours, they had managed to beat things back to where two people could pass without having to take turns, though there was still a long way to go.
A path Reed, nor his father, had a great deal of interest in pursuing for a second straight day.
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