When the Night Calls

by Rashad Freeman

  He was standing in an empty field. A rectangular brown building was across the way, the windows lit up like a Christmas tree. Someone was walking towards him. Two dark figures, emerging from the shadows like ghosts.

  “Danny boy!” one of them screamed.

  There was a sudden bang at the door and Daniel snapped out of his daydream. He turned around to find Victor gazing at him with a curious look on his face.

  “You okay?” Victor asked apologetically. “They’re almost here. You should probably get dressed,” he said as he turned and walked off.

  "Yeah...I'm on it..."

  The blades of the helicopter beat at the air, echoing with a distinct toca toca toca toca toca toca toca. It slowed as it prepared to touch down on one of the nearby buildings. Nearly three blocks away, the Medevac responders rushed to move the small boy out of the chopper and down the four flights of stairs to an awaiting ambulance.

  Not the most convenient of transitions, but that was as close as they could get. Attempting a landing on the building that housed Daniel's actual practice would have been an act of pure lunacy.

  The doors swung open as Daniel and Victor ran out to help move the gurney into the office. What ensued shortly after was nothing short of poetic. This was where they excelled, where they were meant to be. Watching them work was like watching a symphony being constructed. If you listened closely you could hear the music of miracles being performed.

  Victor, normally a chauvinistic womanizer, now maneuvered with the precision of a laser-guided missile. His hands moved carefully, re-sculpting the beguiled face to its former glory. If Victor was the lead violinist, then Daniel was surely the maestro. But the two of them together were a spectacle for the eye to behold.

  The boy had been the victim of a deranged father’s rage. To teach his ex-wife a lesson for collecting child support on a child that wasn’t his, Douglas Davenport attempted to slice the boy’s nose off with a box cutter. That was only after he buried a cooking knife into his abdomen.

  Davenport was now in states custody and the boy, Michael, who had spent the last few days fighting for his life, was now hopeful to have some normality brought back to his face.

  Two long hours crawled by, then finally Daniel and Victor emerged from the operating room, sporting cheesy grins. The boy’s mother, Dianne, had made it to New Orleans by that time and sat shivering in the far corner, near Victor’s beloved Ficus plant.

  Daniel headed over to the frail blonde and placed his hand on her shoulder. She slowly looked up, clenching a rolled-up t-shirt to her tear-covered face. Daniel let out a slow, deep breath surveying the woman and then gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Michael is gonna be just fine. We were able to fix everything and he should have minimal scarring if any.”

  Dianne exhaled the gulp of air that she had been holding since she got there. Victor shuffled to her side and placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “You’ve got a great kid and I know you can’t see it now, but it’ll all be okay. He’s gonna be fine, kids are resilient, so you just be strong for him,” Victor said.

  “I…I just…thank you so much,” Dianne sobbed then jumped up. She hugged both of them and broke out into a hysterical cry that was only interrupted by the voice of her son.

  “Mommy?”

  Dianne whipped around and grasped her face as she took in the sight of her young child being wheeled towards her. She tilted her head slightly, gazing at him and then let out an awkward giggle. She rushed forward and embraced him in a hug only a mother could give.

  “You look like a mummy,” she told him as she softly patted his head.

  Michael’s entire face except his eyes was wrapped in gauze and although she could not see his expression she knew he was smiling. Daniel and Victor exchanged satisfied glances and then returned to the lobby.

  “Feels good to do something for a kid, doesn’t it?” Victor proclaimed in between chewing and licking mayonnaise off his chubby fingers.

  Daniel shook his head in agreement. “I thought you only wanted to improve the female physique with your gifts from God. And geez you literally had a genuine moment in there. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “Well, we all have to do our part for humanity at times. Besides, did you see how his mom was eying me? Maybe I can deploy some gifts on her,” Victor snorted. "Or maybe she'll deploy some of her gifts on me."

  “And there’s the Victor I know, always an angle.”

  “Of course. And that lady had some angles on her,” Victor started to chuckle.

  Victor’s laughing was cut short as Sheriff Lawson strode through the door looking overwhelmed and defeated. He rubbed his hand over his face and yawned then looked around the lobby like he wasn't quite sure where he was.

  Victor fumbled his hands into his pockets and stared down at the floor. He grunted then nervously walked towards the sheriff.

  “Busy night, sheriff?” Victor muffled in an uncharacteristically high-pitched voice.

  “Well I got two murders and thirty-two counts of animal cruelty, so yeah I’d call it a busy night, Victor.”

  Victor grinned and tried to disguise his true feelings as his stomach fell through the floor. “Well how can we help you?”

  “I understand you fellers had a scuffle with one of the victims, why don’t you start there,” Sheriff Lawson spoke in a deliberate tone. He eyed both of them to see their reaction to his words.

  Victor quickly looked away while Daniel stared back at him with a stern face. The sheriff grinned, but Daniel refused to return the favor. A bit of his old self was coming out and his aversion to authority.

  "Well?" the sheriff grumbled.

  Together Daniel and Victor vaguely recounted their story being sure to make it sound much less impressive than it was. Daniel did most of the talking, while Victor nodded and made grunting noises from time to time. When they were finished Lawson stood-up, surveying them with a puzzled face.

  “So that’s it, he just left and you went home…Victor?” Lawson asked in an aggressive tone. “Can anyone validate you were home, anyone there with you?” Lawson moved a little closer, stressing the last few words.

  Victor squirmed and started to shake his head up and down. He bounced his knee and bit his bottom lip.

  “Hmph. Okay…okay,” Victor started to mumble.

  Daniel raised his eyebrows in confusion. He looked towards Victor, but Victor was staring straight at Lawson. He suddenly jumped up from his seat, sliding the chair into the wall. Still nodding his head, he began to pace back and forth.

  “So we’re gonna do this…we’re really gonna do this?” Victor stuttered. “That's what this is all about, isn't it? Lawson your fucking ex-wife was not with me okay!” Victor screamed.

  Daniel and the sheriff exchanged a brief glance. He looked back at Victor then to Daniel one more time. Fuming, he stormed off with his fists clenched.

  “We’ll be in touch, Victor, you can bet your ass on that,” Lawson yelled back as he left the room.

  “What the hell was that about?” Daniel asked and looked over to Victor as the door closed behind Lawson.

  “Pictures,” Victor mumbled.

  “Pictures...I don't get it. What do you mean pictures?”

  “Yeah, pictures, you know the kind you take with a damn camera?” Victor huffed then plopped down into one of the comfy lavender chairs.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Daniel asked, contemplating whether he’d have to beat the information out of him.

  “That stupid broad of his, she kept pictures. Around a damn cop, who does that?”

  Daniel erupted in laughter. “You mean to tell me that you, the great Victor … got caught having an affair with the sheriff’s ex-wife?”

  “The sheriff’s wife,” Victor corrected him. “They were still married at the time. Why the hell do you think they got a divorce?”

  “You’re a piece of work, Vic,” Daniel said. "A real glutton for punishment and self destru
ction." He shook his head, and then left Victor alone, sulking in the lobby.

  DAYDREAMS

  “It’s like I’m awake, but I know I’m dreaming,” Daniel said in an uncertain tone.

  Ned, the psychiatrist who Daniel would only acknowledge as a therapist, rubbed his chin and considered Daniel’s last words. He watched him closely from behind his horned-rim glasses, imploring Daniel to continue.

  “I really don’t know what parts are real anymore. One moment I’m here and the next I’m in a damn Vietnamese prison camp. Sleep is getting harder and harder to come by,” Daniel griped as he sat up from the couch and looked across the room to Ned.

  Ned stood up and took his glasses off. He folded them and gently placed them on top of a file folder. He casually walked around the desk to the window and stared outside for a moment.

  “Is there an increase in stress lately? Maybe something at work?” Ned asked and scratched his head.

  “Can’t you just give me something that’ll knock me out?”

  “We’re searching for answers here Daniel, not band-aids.”

  “So, you’ve told me,” Daniel frowned. "Work is work, it's always stressful, but nothing out of the ordinary."

  Ned stepped away from the window and let out a small breath. He turned towards Daniel and watched him only the way a psychiatrist could. “Hills and valleys Daniel…hills and valleys. It’ll get better,” he said and patted Daniel on the shoulder.

  Daniel sighed and collapsed back into the sofa. He rubbed his head and clenched his teeth in exasperation.

  “The other day I was prepping for surgery and dozed off while I was staring in the mirror.”

  “And what did you dream about then?” Ned asked inquisitively.

  “Oh…nothing. I mean I don’t remember. Just, just I’m either passing out in the middle of things or can’t fall asleep at all.”

  "Well, your condition is a tricky one, but we'll figure it out."

  Ned took a seat back behind his desk and continued to try and pry into Daniel's mind. The rest of the therapy session passed relatively quickly and before Daniel knew it he was sitting in a noisy bar down the street from his office.

  “From life taker to life saver,” Tom nudged Daniel as he drained another glass of beer.

  Daniel smiled and gulped his own drink. He slammed the empty mug down then grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bar.

  “So, how’s this security gig going?” Daniel asked.

  “It’s a work in progress,” Tom said. “Missing persons case…nothing exciting. How’d you end up with a scalpel instead of a pistol in your hand?”

  “I ask myself that every day,” Daniel laughed. “Feels like that was a lifetime ago.”

  "It was a lifetime ago."

  Daniel stared off with a blank face. His mind started to drift and he slapped himself and shook his head. Glancing down at his watch he sighed, “Well time for me to get at it.”

  Daniel yawned then stood up. Tom cleared his throat then shot him an awkward glance.

  “What?” Daniel asked.

  Tom shook his head and sipped some more of his beer. He cracked a half grin then chuckled. “Nothing, it's nothing.”

  “No, no, no. You gave me a look. What was that about?”

  “You really want me to tell you? I mean you seem stressed."

  “Hell yeah I want you to tell me. Just spill it.”

  “Just this kid thing is all. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the next generation, but you’re pushing fifty and Monica can’t be that far behind you.”

  Daniel stared at Tom with an unreadable look. He seemed to be measuring his response, soaking in Tom’s revelation.

  “Yeah, I guess I am kinda old, but the doc says it’s fine. I always wanted a kid, so better late than never.”

  “Well I’ll drink to that,” Tom said and finished his beer.

  Daniel smiled and patted him on the back. “I'll support your drinking habit today, but next time you’re buying.”

  "My habit? You're the one getting ready to do a facelift."

  Daniel laughed then tossed some money onto the bar. "Yeah, yeah it keeps my hands still," he said then turned to leave.

  “Holy shit!” the bartender suddenly shouted and dropped a glass mug.

  Daniel turned around and found him staring at the TV above the bar. The same blonde news lady from the other day was on the screen, wearing a navy-blue skirt suit. Daniel was unable to make out what she was saying above the noisy crowd, but the scrolling headline said it all. “Mutilated body found.”

  Daniel slumped back into the seat next to Tom. From the captions he gleamed that the police believed that this murder was connected to the first two. They said all three victims were killed in the same manner, their throats slit and their bodies bled dry. The news didn’t give any more details, but Daniel’s imagination went wild. He immediately envisioned pentagrams and dark candlelit rooms stained in blood.

  “This place is going to shit,” the bartender grumbled as he swept up the broken glass.

  Tom shrugged and took a sip of beer. Daniel cleared his throat and then motioned for two shots. He turned to Tom and shook his head.

  “Not sure what the hell is going on around here. You show up and it’s all downhill,” Daniel said.

  “I have that effect,” Tom laughed.

  “Yeah I’m sure the entire continent of Asia would agree.”

  They each grabbed a shot glass from the bar and banged them against one another. Grinning, they drained the dark colored rum and squinted.

  “Is this shit even legal?” Tom asked as he cleared his throat.

  “What?”

  “You binge drinking before work. That’s gotta be a malpractice lawsuit or at least a visit from some ethics committee.”

  Daniel frowned. “This is hardly binge drinking, but thanks for looking out for me, Mother Teresa.”

  Tom shook his head from side to side. Daniel didn't reply, but looked back up toward the TV. Another red banner started to roll across the bottom of the screen.

  It read “Authorities have confirmed that the three murders all follow the MO of the Rocky Hill killings that terrorized the French Quarter nearly twenty-five years ago.”

  Tom grumbled under his breath then looked at Daniel. He watched him quietly with a concerned look on his face, but didn't say anything.

  The Rocky Hill killings were one of the most notorious crimes in New Orleans history. A total of eight murders occurred, in the span of two weeks, of some of the most prominent officials in the city. The murders were gruesome and cold and the killer made sure all the bodies were found in public places. It was a blemish that the city had tried to forget and most never mentioned it.

  Daniel took a deep breath then got to his feet. He stared at the TV with hateful eyes and twitched. Tom looked up at the same time.

  “Turn that shit off already!” he yelled to the bartender.

  Daniel laughed and shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, time to give Misty a new pair of tits and fix Donna Snider’s crooked nose,” he said as he reluctantly headed towards the door.

  “Save me a pic...of the tits anyway,” Tom yelled after him. Daniel waved him off and disappeared around the corner.

  He made it down to work a little after six and began going through his regular routine. Business was starting to pick up and Daniel was considering hiring another assistant, a male assistant to keep Victor away.

  He sat down behind his desk and looked over the financials. It was his least favorite activity and before Monica had gotten pregnant she normally helped him with it. For the last few months he'd put it off, but now he couldn't avoid it any longer.

  All of a sudden, his door burst open and Victor rushed inside. Slamming the door behind him, he fell back against it and leaned forward with his hands on his knees like a sumo wrestler.

  Daniel eyed him curiously from behind his desk, contemplating whether to laugh or display genuine concern. Before he could decide Victor be
llowed loudly.

  “You gotta help me. Lawson’s crazy ass ex-wife is in the lobby!”

  Daniel slowly shook his head and started to laugh. It was typical Victor, getting himself into situations that he lacked the faculties to get out of.

  “This is serious, Lawson already wants to throw my ass in jail.”

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Daniel asked between laughing and catching his breath.

  Victor sunk down to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. For a pudgy man he was flexible, his pants however didn’t share this quality and ripped loudly as he plopped into a full squat.

  “Shit!” Victor screamed loudly.

  He stood back up and stared at his pants then began to pace the office frantically. Daniel covered his face trying not to laugh at the huge split running down the back.

  “Look, I’ll tell you all about it later, just please get her out of here,” Victor pleaded.

  Daniel thought about it for a moment. Victor did look pathetic begging for help with his ass hanging out of his pants. On the other hand, Daniel was curious to see just where all this was going.

  “Ok…ok, I’ll handle her, but I want to hear all about it. And I mean everything, even the pictures.”

  Victor huffed then shook his head in agreement.

  “I’m serious,” Daniel demanded.

  “Ok, Jesus!”

  Daniel gave him a thumbs up and winked. Smiling, he turned around and marched into the lobby to confront Victor’s deranged stalker.

  As he rounded the corner, he could already see Lawson’s ex-wife Sherri peering towards the back from the counter. She was a dazzling, busty blonde with the temper of a steroid-raging football player. Her long, red, dinner dress clung to her like a second skin, coming to an end just above a set of black high heels. Although she normally took very good care of herself, tonight she appeared to be a bit disheveled. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she had jumped out of the shower and ran the entire length to the office.

  Daniel hesitantly made his way to the front. He took a deep breath and attempted to perk up. As he approached the counter, he raised his eyebrows and waved like they were long lost friends.