Possession

by Rene Gutteridge

  With blood trickling off his brow, Joe finally lay still, staring at Vance. “You gonna kill me?”

  “Only if I have to,” Vance said.

  Joe glanced to his left, where the shop was. “You think this is about your stuff, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what this is about. You’re going to tell me.” Vance grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him up several inches. “Yeah. I’ve got a few questions for you.”

  Joe glared at him, his nostrils flaring with each labored breath he took. “The ball’s in your court, buddy.”

  “Shut up. First of all, why did you put the tarot card on the mud flaps?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I saw it. The Death card.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Vance threw him against the ground. “Start talking.”

  Joe glowered. “You don’t want me to start talking.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I didn’t realize what a treasure I had. I figured it was usual business, but turns out you’ve got a lot stashed away, don’t you.”

  “Spit it out,” Vance said, raising his fist.

  “Is that what you really want? You want me to start talking? Start telling everyone your secret?”

  Vance climbed off him but put a knee on his forearm. Joe lay still.

  “It was so nicely typed out, too,” Joe said. “You’re covering up an enormous misdeed.”

  Vance tried to take in a deep breath, but air wasn’t reaching his lungs. “I guess it’s no surprise you went through our belongings.”

  “So what’s this misdeed worth to you?” Even though his face was bloody and he was flat on his back, Joe spoke in a cocky, menacing tone.

  A terrifying anger seized Vance, so fast and furious that it jolted his body. He hated this man. He wanted to see him suffer.

  Joe turned his head, like he was expecting another punch, but said, “It was an interesting read. I especially like the three-page letter detailing all of your misdeeds, though it did kind of seem like you threw your partner under the bus. Maybe that’s just me. Sounds complicated. I mean, it’s not complicated to me. It’s simple. I can expose something that would ruin your reputation forever. But for you, I understand that it’s complicated.” He smirked. “I had no idea what was in the back of that truck when I loaded it all up for you. Not a clue.” Then he winked. “Saw the disc too. Compelling evidence. Man, if it were me, I would’ve burned it all. But I understand. There was a lot at stake. For you and for her. I’d say more for her. But you’re all twisted up in it, so that makes you guilty too.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I’m simply asking, what is it worth to you? We can all walk away from this deal, nice and unscathed.” Joe took his free hand and wiped his brow. “Other than, of course, this nasty cut on my eye.”

  “I could kill you in an instant, right here and now,” Vance said. “Nobody’s around. They probably wouldn’t find your body for weeks.”

  “Except,” Joe said, his eyes cool and fixed, “I’m guessing that you’re morally opposed to murder.”

  “You’ve seen the disc. You don’t know what I’m morally opposed to.”

  Joe’s eyes flickered with a hint of desperation, but it was gone as fast as a flame vanishing in the wind.

  Vance drove his knee further into Joe’s muscle, and the man winced. This had consumed him for so long, and here he was at a crossroads. He was having to face it again, even though he’d tried to bury it over and over.

  He could bury it again, along with this lowlife.

  But he knew it would never stay buried. And no matter how much he wanted it to die, it never would. Not until it came into the light. Light was going to be its stake through the heart.

  Vance stood, dusting off his jeans. “I’m done. This isn’t going to have power over me anymore.”

  Joe sat up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Take it. Take it all.”

  “Do you know what would happen if I released this disc to the media?”

  “I can only imagine,” Vance said, his voice quiet. “What will be will be.”

  Joe stood, then took a cautious step away from Vance. “So this is how you want to play the game, huh? I’m calling your bluff.”

  “Do whatever. I’m done. I’m walking away from it all. I’ve got my family. But I will tell you this: if you ever come near my wife or child again, I will kill you.”

  “Daddy?”

  His little boy’s voice pierced the air. And what he saw next was more than he could bear.

  Conner stood on the pavement, near the curb, pointing Vance’s gun at Joe.

  “Conner! Put that gun down now!” Vance said, trying not to sound frightened or urgent—except he sounded exactly that way.

  But Conner wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at Joe. And he simply answered, “No.”

  16

  “Conner, listen to Daddy. I want you to put the gun down.” Vance’s hand trembled as he tried to wave the weapon down.

  Conner pointed the gun at Vance as he turned to him. It overwhelmed his little hands. “No, Daddy. No.”

  Vance froze and glanced at Joe, who looked equally worried. “Do what your dad says, kid. Put the gun down.”

  “No! You’re a bad man!” The gun was now pointed again at Joe, who took a step away.

  “Conner, please, listen to Daddy.”

  This time Conner kept the gun pointed at Joe, but his eyes darted between them both. “It’s okay, Dad. I already have the safety off.”

  A cold chill shot down Vance’s spine. How did he get the safety off? How did he even get the gun? It had been locked in the glove compartment . . . but Vance had given him the key so he could get the handcuffs.

  Conner took a step forward. Then another. Vance had let him shoot his BB gun back in Maryland. He was a pretty good shot. But this was no BB gun. The force of the blast could send Conner flying backward.

  Joe stood motionless, hands in the air, his expression way more desperate than when Vance had him on the ground. “Kid, for crying out loud, put the gun down!” Joe shouted at him.

  Vance pointed at Joe. “You shut up! Or you’re likely to get shot!”

  “I want my stuff back!” Conner yelled. Tears streamed down his face. “I want it back! You’re a thief!”

  Joe managed a small smile. “Okay, sure, kid. Yeah. You can have it all back. Sure thing.”

  “Conner,” Vance said, trying to redirect his attention. “Look at me. This isn’t the way. Okay? This isn’t the way. Shooting someone doesn’t solve anything.” Vance glanced at Joe with a look that said usually.

  “Daddy, this is a bad man. And that’s why you have a gun, right? For bad men?”

  “For protection, Conner.” Vance hated this. Everything he was saying to Conner was everything he didn’t want Joe to believe about him. He needed Joe to believe he was capable of just about anything. And maybe he was. But he was not capable of watching his son shoot someone.

  Then, without warning, Joe took a step toward Conner. Conner’s arms snapped straight and his eyes filled with more tears.

  “What are you doing?” Vance shouted at Joe. “Do you want to get shot?”

  “I think this kid is like his daddy. I don’t think you’d shoot me and I don’t think he will either.” He took another step.

  “Listen to me. He has the safety off. Do you get that? He could accidentally shoot you, if nothing else.”

  Joe smirked at him. “Chances are he’ll miss.”

  “I know how to shoot! I’ll do it!” Conner yelled.

  “No, Conner! No! I am telling you to put that gun down!”

  Joe took another step forward. Vance wanted to run and tackle him, but he was unsure what that might cause Conner to do.

  “But you said for protection, Daddy.”

  Vance couldn’t grab more than half a breath at a time. Something was going to have to
give here, and he wasn’t going to let it be his son.

  “You’re right, Conner.” Vance squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to decide if he was about to make the dumbest move ever. “If he takes one more step toward you, you can shoot him, because that means your life is in danger.”

  Joe balked. Midstep, he stopped and slowly put his foot down. “I’m not going to hurt you, kid. See? Look. I’m stepping backward.”

  While Conner watched Joe, the gun still sticking out in front of him, Vance made his way over, slowly and cautiously. He didn’t want to get shot in the process. Once next to him, he delicately removed the gun from his son’s hands.

  He couldn’t believe it. The safety was off. He’d thought maybe Conner was bluffing.

  Vance lowered the gun to his side and looked at Joe, who was covered in a layer of sweat. “I am coming back to get my belongings. They better be here.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” Joe said. “I still have way more leverage than you do. I don’t believe for one second that you don’t care what happens to the information I found.”

  “You can believe what you want. But I’ll say it again. Stay away from my family because I meant what I said about this gun and what I’d use it for.” He nudged Conner. “Get in the car.”

  Conner raced to his door and climbed in. Vance slowly backed away and got in the car. He reached for the keys in the ignition, but they were gone. “Conner, where are the keys?”

  “Here,” Conner said, handing them to him.

  Vance started the car with shaky hands and burned rubber as he left the curb. He couldn’t breathe until they were two blocks away. He looked at Conner, who seemed to know he was about to get in trouble.

  “I know how you got the gun. But how did you get the safety off?”

  “Dad, I’ve seen you do it before. I’ve known since I was like four.”

  Vance tried to compose himself. He wanted to yell at Conner, but he knew that wasn’t going to solve any problems. And frankly, that was the least of his concerns right now. He had to talk to Lindy.

  And confess the deepest secret of his life.

  * * *

  She’d been driving in circles for an hour. She didn’t want to go home. Vance and Conner were at the park, hopefully getting their minds off things. But she couldn’t get her mind off anything. Her mother’s words had always had a particular talent for nagging her, even when she was a kid, long after they were spoken. They were often biting. Condescending. Critical.

  But this time the words were haunting. After circling Redwood City a third time, she knew that the reason her mother’s words haunted her was because they were true.

  Lindy knew. She knew something was wrong. She could sense it. Things weren’t adding up. Lies weren’t put together well. Vance couldn’t answer simple questions. He’d stopped looking her in the eye.

  It seemed different from before, when Vance was always angry and controlling and freaked out of his everlasting mind. This time it wasn’t obvious. It was just off center. And that was hard to peg.

  Except in her gut, something just didn’t feel right. But what exactly? Did any of this stem from the phone call her mother had received? Who would call her mother, of all people? Why?

  And if it was true that Vance had lied to her, what did that mean for them now? They’d overcome a lot, it seemed. Should she go back and revisit it all? Or just let it go? Move on? Live with a little ding in the side door of their marriage?

  Little dings tended to rust. And rust would spread.

  For all the years she’d known Vance, more than all his training, he’d talked about his gut instinct. When he was on patrol, he would talk about how he could drive this street or that street and then turn onto another street and feel like something wasn’t right. Hairs on the neck. Chill bumps on the arm. Mouth going dry. Skin tingling with adrenaline. “They can’t teach you that in the academy,” he would say.

  No. She supposed they couldn’t. It was human nature to know when something wasn’t right.

  She pulled her car over to a little ice cream shop that sat at the end of a busy outdoor marketplace. She got out and walked the sidewalk, stuffing her hands deep in her pockets and trying to make the most of the fresh Pacific air.

  She needed a clear head to think.

  It took over an hour. Vance called her twice, but she didn’t pick up. Finally she decided she needed some answers. And there was perhaps one man who could help her. Detective Doug Cantella. Vance seemed to have put a lot of stock in this man. There weren’t too many people Vance Graegan would confide in.

  Maybe he’d offer some advice at the very least.

  Yeah, it wasn’t exactly forthright sneaking in a phone call to a man she’d never met, behind Vance’s back.

  But her gut told her that the rules of the game had changed.

  First, she had to find him.

  She could probably go through the call history on Vance’s cell phone. But she could just as easily call the Montgomery County Police Department. She still knew a lot of the dispatchers and personnel there. She had no doubt they would give her his contact info.

  She already had the number in speed dial.

  “Montgomery County Police Department.”

  “Adelle?”

  “Yes? Who’s this?”

  “It’s Lindy. Lindy Graegan.”

  “Lindy! Girl, how are ya? We sure do miss you here. How’s that husband of yours? He slicin’ ham okay?”

  Lindy smiled. Just the sound of Adelle’s voice brought her comfort. Adelle had worked for the police department for over thirty years. Lindy guessed she was in her seventies by now, though she looked no older than fifty last time Lindy saw her. Her husband had been a motor jock and was killed in the line of duty while chasing a bank robber. During the sniper shootings, she’d been more than the department secretary. She’d been a grief counselor too. And a mother. Some of them even called her Mama Adelle.

  “We’re still getting adjusted. We ran into some snags. But we’re making it okay.” She put a little ring in her voice so she hopefully wouldn’t sound like she was about to fall apart.

  “If I ever make it out to California, I’m coming for a club sandwich, girl. I want some California avocados!”

  Lindy laughed. “Oh, Adelle, you make me laugh. Stop! I am going to want to come back!”

  “I was hoping that was why you were calling. To tell us you’re bringing that sweet family back where you belong.”

  “No,” Lindy said, stopping at a rack of silk scarves. She mindlessly stroked a few as she tried to figure out how to smooth-talk her way through this. “I was actually calling to get some information.”

  “You know I’m the woman for that, though they don’t tell me nothin’ that’s goin’ on here—you know what I’m sayin’? But how can I help you?”

  “I know there is a former detective from County who moved out here. We thought it’d be nice to get together for dinner with him. But we couldn’t find him in the phone book and wanted to see if you had contact information for him.”

  “I am sure I do. We keep up with all our people. Who is it?”

  “Doug Cantella.”

  “Come again?”

  “Cantella. Doug is his first name.” A long stretch of silence was louder in her ear than all the noise from the market. “Adelle? Are you there?”

  “Honey, did you say Doug Cantella?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sweetheart, I think you are mistaken.”

  “Mistaken?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, maybe I have his name wrong.”

  “No, you have his name right. Detective Doug Cantella worked for the police department for twenty-five years.”

  “Then what’s the matter?”

  “He died, sweetie. Of a heart attack.”

  “He died? When?”

  “Two years ago.”

  17

  Lindy sat in her car at the curb, with a view of the house. Night was falling
and she knew the fading sunlight made it hard for her to be seen out the front window of the home.

  Inside all the lights were on, and she watched Vance and Conner move from room to room. Vance fed him a snack. They wrestled. Everything seemed normal.

  There it seemed normal. Here she was in turmoil. She couldn’t even get out of the car. She’d texted Vance, told him she was looking at some property, would be home later. He texted her back that he wanted to talk to her this evening. Important things.

  She blinked tiredly. She wasn’t sure she could handle a talk. She wasn’t sure she could handle him anymore. She’d been through his ups and downs, his mood swings, his desperation and confusion. And now . . . he was lying to her?

  Why would he tell her he went to see a detective who was dead? And where had he been?

  How could she face him?

  Lindy put her head against the steering wheel and wept. Maybe for minutes. Maybe it was an hour. Time was so inconsequential right now. She just wanted peace in her life.

  “Peace, God. Just peace . . .” It wasn’t a tidy, pulled-together prayer like Conner was used to saying. His had a beginning, a middle, an end. It had praise, thanks, confession. Hers was messy, just like her life. It was desperate. She begged, like God might be a tyrant and her life was in His angry hands.

  But then she softened. She knew God was no tyrant. Life was her tyrant right now. She was being squeezed from all sides. She needed to know the truth. She needed some assurance that she wasn’t going down with the ship.

  Lindy rolled her head to the side, looked out her window. She loved that man. With everything in her. But she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She needed to be a good mom to Conner, and right now she was not a good mom. She was a woman on the edge.

  At the time, it had seemed so right . . . to move out here, make a fresh start. But really, can you run from yourself? Changing geographic locations never solved a human problem. She couldn’t totally blame Vance. She had enabled him for years, making excuses for him, trying to see his situation from another perspective . . . trying to hold on to a life she desperately wanted. But it was like a mist. It always disappeared. Just out of her reach.