by M J Preston
The four tapped their paper cups together gently and sipped at the warm whiskey.
“Wow, not even noon yet and I’m having a drink,” Pearson mused. “Dave, Mick, the feeling is mutual. Thank you for inviting us into your town and being such gracious hosts during this crummy detail. Often local cops get a bad rap, but you gentlemen have shown us big city types that expertise comes in many forms and venues. On behalf of my partner and department, I raise my cup to you.” Pearson lifted the paper cup, and they repeated the process.
For a moment there was uncomfortable silence, then Cooper pulled out his business card and handed it over. “If there is anything we can ever do for you guys, feel free to call.”
Logan took it.
Mick pulled out a pack of gum. “We should probably freshen up before talking to the detachment.”
They all took a piece, and Logan replaced the bottle in his bottom drawer. He would take it home later. He wasn’t a stereotypical cop, bottle stowed in his bottom drawer at all times: this he had purchased specially for the occasion. With it safely stowed they went out to address the detachment.
Pearson was very well spoken, thanking all officers for their part in the investigation and commending them for their courtesy and keen eye for detail. “I have had the pleasure of working among some of the best officers in the country, and all of you fall into that category.” On that note, there was a bit of small talk and joking, and then they got down to business.
Mick read off the roster. “Corporal West, you will head to the airport with Constable Larson and secure the Airport thirty minutes before our jump off. Corporal Steel, you will retrieve Doctor Kolchak from his hotel and bring him here. Once here, Constable Hardy and I will mount the point car.”
“Pardon me, Sarge, but how exactly will you and Hardy be mounting the point car?” Oddball cracked.
There was laughter.
“Larson, you really missed your calling,” Cooper chuckled.
“Detectives –” Mick raised his voice – “Pearson and Cooper will ride in the Navigator behind Constables Kennedy and Jones, who will be driving the prisoner. Corporal Steel will bring up the rear with Doctor Kolchak. Any questions?”
There were none.
“Chief, anything to add?”
“I’ll just say that up until this point you have demonstrated to everyone that you are top-notch professionals. I will just give you a warning. Do not, I repeat do not underestimate the ability or limitations of the prisoner. This man snuffed out the lives of seventeen boys, some of whom were almost men. While he has been somewhat lethargic, I want all of you to stay on your toes and handle him like you would a rattlesnake. Let’s not fall asleep just because the show is winding down. You all know what you gotta do. Let’s get it done.” Logan looked at Mick and nodded.
“You heard the man! Let’s go!” Mick ordered, and each officer set off to do their individual task.
2
Olivia Parkins was of clear mind as she sat in the guest room of her sister-in-law, Erin Grant. Erin was in the tub, and her husband was at work. Olivia sat alone on the daybed, her demeanor relaxed and serene. She had calmed down over the last few days, coming to a conclusion.
Reaching inside the small wad of Kleenex kept under the nightstand she unwrapped it to reveal the stash of pills she had been saving. There were thirty of them wadded up neatly for precisely this moment. She considered the stash momentarily, then placed them into her mouth one by one as she sipped the water that Erin left before going for her bath. Not once did she falter or second-guess herself. No longer able to stand the pain, or the emptiness brought to her on the day that Mick and the Chief showed up at their door. She could not stand to think of what terrible things her baby must have suffered at the hands of that swine.
Her only child was gone and behind he left a hole in her heart which could never be filled again. There would be no going home. She wanted to be with her son and could not bear another day knowing that he had been taken from her.
Each pill marked another step toward the silence, and with each, she relaxed just a little more. No more crying. No more screaming. No more longing. Only peace and Tommy.
She slipped the last pill into her mouth and waited.
That wasn’t so hard, she thought.
She reached into her pocket and withdrew the short note she’d written to her sister-in-law. She unfolded it. Lying back on the bed she gave it one last glance, the tug of drowsiness already calling her away from this world. The words became to blur; it was too late to proofread, but she wanted to make sure that no one blamed themselves.
Erin: Please do not blame yourself. I am going to be with my son as I cannot bear to be without him. Tell my dearest love, John, that I am sorry I could not be stronger.
Please take care of him.
Olivia
Within minutes she was swimming in and out of consciousness. As Erin toweled herself dry, Olivia Parkins slipped peacefully away, her heartbeat slowing, her breathing becoming shallow, the world fading. She leaned back passively, her head resting on the pillow, her right hand clutching the handwritten note. Purposely, Olivia had gotten up, dressed, brushed her hair and readied herself for this moment. No longer was she a slave to the guilt or agony. The accusing voices that had tortured her now relented as the darkness welcomed her.
She exited this world with dignity and grace, something that had not been afforded to her only child.
3
Steel rolled up to the front of the Holiday Inn, and Kolchak was already standing out front with his bag and laptop slung over one shoulder. He stopped the car, got out and said, “Good Morning, Doctor. My name is Don Steel. I’ll be escorting you back to the station.”
“That will be perfect,” Kolchak replied.
They stowed his luggage in the trunk of the cruiser.
For the most part, the drive was silent. Steel explained that they would be riding together and that they would fall into line with the convoy once they reached the station. It was strictly procedural. The doctor looked straight ahead, lost in thought about something, but Steel didn’t feel much like pursuing small talk. In his opinion, they had about as much in common as a bowling ball and a banana.
4
Coroner Jeff Henderson loaded the last body into the reefer trailer himself. Not that anyone would know that the hand-made crate contained the remains of a body. It hardly seemed large enough. The refrigeration unit hummed away and kept the remains cold sufficient for transport. A mechanic had been brought in to ensure that unit was tip-top before they signed on to use it. After a minor overhaul, it had been given a clean bill of health.
Once the crate was set in place on the aluminum floor, he put a scissor load bar in front and behind it to keep it from shifting. Outside the trailer stood Andrea Chase, the forensic specialist who had assisted him throughout the dig. She was a beauty. Tall, blonde, and she always tied her hair back in a ponytail.
“That it?” she asked, but it was rhetorical. She knew this was the last and that Henderson wouldn’t have come out until he was done.
“That’s the last of them.”
Henderson climbed out of the unit.
The bodies were being transported to the University Lab in Winnipeg where the Forensics and Entomology Departments would try to unravel the evidence that would lead to identifying who the remaining victims were and their estimated times of death.
They had their work cut out for them.
“What will you guys do with the reefer once you unload it?” Henderson asked as he closed the doors and Chase placed a bolt seal in each latch.
“It will be washed down with antiseptic, and then it’s going directly to the scrap yard. The days of this wagon hauling food grade product are done.”
“Amen to that,” he said. “I sure appreciated your help on this, Andrea.”
“Happy to be
of service,” she replied, and she really meant it. Her bold enthusiasm was that of an ambitious scientist. She had no shame about it, and Henderson admired her ability to compartmentalize.
“One thing left to do,” he said.
They went back into the hall give a final address to their own team.
5
They gathered at the edge of the water where a Twin Otter waited for the party of five. The float plane was a regular, bringing medical supplies and acting as a taxi between civilizations. For those who worked in the Northern communities not accessible by road, this bush plane was the only mode of transport. This Otter jumped up and down the BC and Alaska Coast, transporting everything from students to oil workers. Today it would be heading south to the Vancouver Airport.
Old Jake Toomey stood before his people as the four waited behind for him to give his final summation. He was calm and collected, and he looked quite natural standing up there like some iconic prophet.
“Today is a good day for the people of this land,” Toomey began. “We are the last of our kind. Unknown to man is our name and our culture. Much has happened to our people, and we have always stood tall against that what is wrong. We are the Chocktee Nation, the children of night and day. Up until this day we have been living on time borrowed by the sins of our ancestors, but today is the day that will all change.” He smiled.
There were some grunts, but most of the people just watched the old man as he stood like a Sergeant Major addressing a parade square.
“Today I leave with your brothers, Proudfoot, Fortier, Michano and Monias. The Spirit Mother came to me in a vision and said to me, ‘Take these boys and with them you will be nîyânan.’”
It did not occur to most of the onlookers to ask Toomey what ‘We are nîyânan’ meant or what language he was using because it was not Chocktee. Of those it did occur to, no one dared.
“Two wonderful things are going to happen today. One! We are setting out on a quest to set things right. Two! I get to ride in an airplane.”
Toomey turned abruptly and walked away from his people, leaving the other four off-guard. “Let’s go,” he barked. “The pilot is waiting!”
The remaining nîyânan followed obediently.
6
The convoy left for Brandon at 2 PM sharp. Logan made himself scarce by shutting himself in his office as they ushered Hopper away. When they were gone, he went out into dispatch and listened on the radio to communications. He and his civilian dispatcher Sabrina shared a cup of coffee, quietly listening to the procedural chatter. It occurred to him, as he was sure it did her, that they had been first on base when this case broke. It seemed fitting that they would now sit together and see this through to the end.
“You look tired, Chief,” Sabrina remarked.
“Do I?” Logan laughed a bit and sipped his coffee. He was tired, but there was still a great deal to do. Lots of loose ends to tie up, lots of wreckage and then there was the other thing. “Yeah, Sabrina, I’m pretty bushed.”
“You need a vacation,” she said, giving a look of disapproval for the answer she knew would be forthcoming.
Logan brought his hands up and rubbed his eyes then looked at her solemnly. “I’m dying, that’s why I look so tired.”
Then there was silence between them, except for muted horror in her face.
He hadn’t told anyone, not even his ex-wife or the kids. That sit down was in the near future. He wasn’t even sure why he told Sabrina, but he had been carrying this around since yesterday, and for some reason, he needed to say it out loud. Twice he almost told Mick but thought better.
But now the cat was out of the bag and having said it aloud, he felt a little less numb. He smiled awkwardly and said, “It’s okay, Sabrina.”
“It’s not okay! Oh, my God.” Tough though she was, there was a softer girl under the hard shell. She looked aghast. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Of what? Are you sure?”
“I have bone cancer.” Logan sipped his coffee, an edge of desperation in his voice that she had never heard. “It started in my sternum. Since then it’s spread to my left lung as well as my pancreas. The results came back yesterday.”
“They can’t do chemo? Radiation? My God, Dave, you’re so young.”
“I played a rough game, Sabrina: two packs of cigars a day, shitty food, booze. There is no treatment for what I have, and I will not spend my remaining days puking and shitting all over the place to try and extend it.”
“I’m very sorry, Dave.”
“Don’t be: it’s nobody’s fault but mine.” He gazed out over the vacant squad room searching for words. “I just don’t know how I’m gonna tell my kids.” His voice cracked, and he began to tremble.
Sabrina got up from her chair and wrapped her arms around him, something he had not felt since he and his wife split. He wanted to pull away and be strong but instead succumbed to her embrace. Her bosom was against his cheek, and he took comfort in it, sheltering himself like a little boy.
They stayed that way, without a single word for a few minutes, his arms around her waist and hers cradling his head against her chest to the tune of radio chatter. He did not cry: he just closed his eyes and accepted her warmth. After a while, he loosened his grip on her, and she him.
7
The twin Otter rumbled as it ascended into the clouds, leaving behind the ancient village of Chocktee and its people. Toomey looked out the window thrilled, while the others tried to hide the anxiety brought on by the bumpy ride. “I hope I come back to this world as an eagle. Flying around and eating salmon fresh from the river seems a grand way to live.”
“I like the ground.” Michano looked as though he might vomit.
“Adventure, my brothers: it is a gift; never refuse it,” he advised them.
Toomey’s face did not betray the bedlam they were headed for. His face was spread in an excited grin, like a child on Christmas morning, peering out of the windows as the clouds rolled by. This puzzled Proudfoot, but he didn’t question it. While Old Jake could be a warm old man, not unlike his late grandfather, he was also imposing and tough. Respect in the inner circle was not only earned by warmth and wisdom.
They waited for the Chief Elder to draw his thoughts together and tell them how they were going to proceed once they reached Thomasville. When that would be none of them knew, but no one dared to prod or hurry Old Jake Toomey.
8
Blackbird was dreaming about home again, but this time about his mother. They were down at the dock where the bush plane bobbed gently on its floats as an Eastern wind pushed rippling waves across Jackneetow Lake. The pilot was unloading supplies and would be departing shortly. Beyond the lake on the mountain where his grandfather often took him, and Johnny was the rock outcropping. He saw his cousin standing there, watching him.
I’m sorry, Johnny, I’ll make it right!
Then, as if his cousin had heard his thoughts, he turned and went back into the forest.
His mother stood by him, face contorted with sadness, guilt. “I am so afraid for you, Daniel.”
“I will be okay, Mother. See to Johnny when he comes back. Tell him I am going to make this right. I promise to never stop.” He felt a hitch in his throat, a hard ball that hurt and the only way to unseat it would be to cry. But he swallowed defiantly, keeping his composure. “I love you, Mother. I am so sorry to have hurt you this way.”
“Oh, Daniel. My dear, sweet Daniel,” she sobbed.
The pilot opened the door on the craft and looked his way.
“I will come back as soon as possible.”
“Please hurry,” she said reaching out to touch him one last time – and then a ringing sound came from his left, squelching her words, jerking him backward.
He opened his eyes. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed a bright red 1:30 PM. Letting out a long, bewildered sigh, he sat up on the bed.
The dream had played out many times over the years, recurring and serving as a constant reminder that he had abandoned her. He tried, in vain to shake it off, then got up and went to the bathroom.
His urine came out as a dark yellow stream and turned the center toilet water green. I’m a little on the dehydrated side, he thought as he emptied his bladder. He reached down, flushed the toilet and turned to the sink to get a glass of water. When he looked up into the oversized vanity, he saw a stranger looking back at him.
“What the …”
He trailed off in shock. The reflection in the mirror mouthed the words, and he blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Absently, he brought up a hand to touch the scar on his face, but it was not the old wound that startled him.
“Is that really me?”
His hair was much greyer but even worse: his face had aged. By at least ten years. Now he looked twenty years older than he actually was. The scar which extended from his right cheekbone down to his lower jaw was white, and the burn mark from the heated knife looked as though it had been done years ago. Yeah, but it still hurts like it happened today, doesn’t it? The ache he felt in his bones, and the strange look on the cabby’s face all made sense now.
He ran the water cold and splashed his face, giving temporary relief to the pain, but thought he might pick up some Tylenol or Aspirin in the lobby if there was any to be had.
I’m like Moses after looking into the burning bush, he thought. How many times could I do that? How many? Before it killed me?
He dropped his underwear, climbed into the shower and muttered to himself, “Wait ‘til they get a load of me.”
The hot water beat against his naked body while he leaned against the porcelain tiles thinking about the dream and the guilt he carried for leaving his mother to die alone.
What a stupid, selfish bastard I am.
“You knew she was dying and you left anyway?” Hot water ran down over his face and into his mouth, tasting of sulfur and guilt. “You got Grandfather killed, and you left your mother to die alone.”