Target: Mendez: An Alex Mendez Tale

by Edward Hancock II

  Calloway uttered something in what seemed to be a kind of made up language.

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Honestly, Alex, don’t you ever read? It’s Greek. It means ‘with your shield or on it.’ Spartan mothers used to say this to their sons before sending them off to die in battle. It was considered a crime to come back from battle without your shield. It was a sign you dropped your shield and ran away a coward. Cowardice wasn’t tolerated in Sparta.”

  “I see,” Alex said, disinterested. “Well, I intend to leave with my dog. Whether you leave or not is up to you.”

  “You talk rather bold for a man whose legs are duct taped, Alex. You think you can crawl out of here, carrying your little mutt and me not catch you?”

  “Tell me where she is!”

  In the distance, a faint barking hit Alex’s ears.

  “Brandy!”

  Alex tried to get up, fighting against his restraints. Reaching or the tape, he struggled to rip it, remove it, move it, anything.

  “Alex,” Calloway whispered, kneeling beside him, jabbing a knife against his throat. “Unless you want me to carve you and your little dog up and make a stew, I suggest you shut up and get still.

  What was it that was trickling down his neck? It was warm, but cooled quickly in the wintery air. Lifting a hand, Alex realized the knife had, indeed, cut him. Couldn’t have been a bad cut, he hoped. It was a small drop of blood that didn’t seem to leave much of a trail as it fell.

  “Sorry about that,” Calloway said, more mocking than contrite or repentant. “Now, Alex. If you don’t mind, I’m trying to introduce you to somebody.”

  Alex looked around. Dusk was settling in, but he was certain that there was no other human nearby save Calloway and him.

  “Who exactly is it you want me to meet?” Alex sneered, still wiggling his legs against the restraints.

  “Alex,” Calloway said, standing, if you would be so kind as to say hello to my beloved wife.”

  ***

  Janet was on the verge of tears when they entered Alex’s house. They’d seen small splatters of blood here and there. A small pool of blood on the living room floor seemed smeared, as if someone had fallen here and gotten back up. A first aid kit suggested that either Alex had bandaged wounds or perhaps someone else had bandaged Alex. As for Kellan, he knew he had to hold it together. Inside, he might be freaking out, but there wasn’t time to let it out right now.

  Clues. They needed clues. Anything that would point them in the right direction. Where were they? Who was it? Was it Calloway?

  “I swear, if he’s hurt Alex, I’m going to personally murder Danny,” Janet said.

  Confused, Kellan cocked an eyebrow as he glanced her way.

  “Danny is in a cell, Janet. I don’t think he is going to hurt anyone today.”

  “No,” she said, almost growling at him. “I meant Calloway. If he’s hurt Alex, I’m going to beat Danny within an inch of his life.”

  “Easy there,” Kellan said, “We can’t pin this on Danny. Not this. Is he an accessory after the fact? Maybe. But, if this is Calloway—”

  “Kellan! Look at this!” She was bent down, picking up a piece of paper. Looking up, she handed the paper to him.

  “We begin where it ended?” Kellan repeated. “What the heck kind of garbage is this?”

  “I know where they are,” Janet said.

  “Where?”

  “Where it ended.”

  “Well thank you, Captain Obvious.”

  “Where his life ended, Sherlock!”

  “So, he took Alex to the prison?”

  “No,” she shouted. “Think! His life ended the day he was arrested, yes. But it ended because his wife and child died!” When Kellan didn’t immediately seem to catch on, Janet continued. “You are so thick! Who trained you? Kel, they’re at the cemetery! I know it!”

  Kellan stuck the small scrap of paper in his pocket.

  “Well, it’s not like I have any better ideas. I hope you’re right. What are we waiting for? Let’s go.” As they headed toward the door, Kellan paused, put a hand on Janet’s arm. “Wait, Janet. What if we’re wrong?”

  Frustrated, she pulled away from him, stepped toward the door. “He’s not here. And he’s not likely to come back here. So, if we’re wrong, we scratch that place off our list and go to plan B.”

  “What’s plan B?” Kellan asked.

  Janet shrugged. “Come up with a Plan C. What? Don’t look at me. You’re supposed to be the ranking officer. I’m just trying to keep us moving.”

  “Well then,” Kellan said, motioning or her to take the lead, “Let’s move.”

  ***

  The longer Calloway talked, the more Alex came to understand him. His story wasn’t all that different from others, really. Raised by bad parents, finding out early on he was adopted. Always treated like an outcast. Never good enough. In constant trouble in his teens, he turned to drinking and partying to drown the sorrows of never really knowing who he was. His wife had been his last hope. He’d married her to get out. She’d married him out of pity, Alex surmised, although it didn’t seem as though Calloway had fully accepted much about her beyond her eternal goodness.

  “I was never good enough for her either,” he sobbed.

  “How do you know?” Alex asked. “It seems to me she loved you. Maybe it was projection. You were projecting very real feelings from your childhood onto her perhaps?”

  When Calloway’s eyes flashed angry, Alex worried he might wail away again. With his legs restrained, there wasn’t much of a chance Alex was going to get away. As quickly as the anger fell upon him, it seemed to fall off just as rapid.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered, looking at his hands. “All I do know is that she was the best of me. She and…”

  “Your daughter?”

  A single tear falling from his eye, Calloway nodded.

  “I have a daughter too, you know,” Alex said, his voice touched by the grievous thought he might not get to see her again. He cleared his throat when a single ball of sadness began to gather. “She’s my whole world. She, my son, Lisa. And Alyson. That car you hit? That woman inside? She wasn’t my niece. She’s my wife’s cousin, Derrick. Right now, she’s fighting for her life. I know you’re hurting. I know you are. And, believe me, I wish I could take back your wife’s death. Your daughter’s. I wish I could take back all the pain of your past. But I can’t. And let me tell you this much. Killing me will not stop the pain. It will not fill the hole inside you, Derrick.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “Say what?” Alex asked.

  “My name,” Calloway said. “You keep calling me Derrick. Like we’re best buddies or something.”

  “No, Derrick,” Alex said, his voice maintaining its soft calm, “We’re not friends. Maybe in another life, who knows? Your brother Danny is my best fr—Was my best friend in the entire world.”

  “Was? Why? What happened? He okay?”

  “He’s fine. He’s in jail, but he’s fine. He made some bad choices and he’s going to have to answer for them. You’ve answered for the crime you committed, Derrick. You’ve paid your debt to society. Don’t make it worse on yourself.”

  “You really think it could get any worse for me?”

  “Yeah,” Alex nodded. “I do.”

  “How?”

  “Simple. It’s cold. You can die of pneumonia in some prison hospital, never again to see a moment of freedom.”

  “Too late to stop that.”

  “No it’s not,” Alex said, adding an air of insistence to his quiet calm. “I can help you. I will help you. But I need you to help me first. I can’t take back the past, Derrick. Neither can you. But we can learn from it moving forward. What do you say?”

  Alex stuck out his hand. Calloway considered it. Tilting his head, Calloway’s expression changed several times. Confusion, Anger, Sadness. They were all there. A flash of peace, a smile, then a frown.

  “No,” Callo
way said, standing. He turned away from Alex, into the last burning embers of the dusk. “It’s too late for me. Alea iacta est. The die is cast. The Rubicon is crossed.”

  “That one, I know,” Alex whispered.

  “Why would you help me?” Calloway asked, turning toward Alex.

  “Because, as I said, you served your time.”

  “No, I haven’t.” Calloway said. “Not anymore.”

  “Well, whatever you did,” Alex said, “Or whatever you believe you did, I can talk to the judge. All you have to do is show remorse. You show me that and I’ll do what I can. Where’s my dog, Derrick?”

  “Over there,” he said, pointing toward a small mausoleum in the corner of the cemetery. “Don’t worry. She’s safe. I just wanted to scare you. I was never really gonna hurt her.”

  “Why’d you take her and not the other dog?” Alex asked. “I was out. Wasn’t like I was going to stop you.”

  “Couldn’t catch him and maintain her too. I ran out of hands. Wanted to be gone before you woke. Didn’t know how long I had.”

  They both smiled.

  “Alex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You believe in God?”

  “I do,” Alex said, “Very much. You?”

  “I don’t really know,” Calloway admitted. “Can’t really say I ever had much use for God. Wasn’t like He ever had much use for me. He was never there for me. My parents gave me up for adoption. My adoptive parents were pretty much jerks. I lost my wife and daughter. I lost myself. Where was God in all that?”

  “You really wanna know?” Alex asked.

  Without a word, Calloway nodded.

  “Make you a deal,” Alex replied. “You get me home safe. I’ll tell you all about God. Answer any question you have. I don’t know about you, but I’m cold.”

  “How do I know there won’t be fifty cops waiting for us when we get there?”

  “Honestly? We don’t,” Alex said. “But you’ve opened a door here, Derrick. And I’m going to trust God to let me walk you through it. The question is do you trust me enough to walk through it?”

  When Calloway produced his knife again, Alex flinched. In one quick, sharp movement, Calloway cut the tape from Alex’s ankles. Cutting the strips around his knees proved a bit more difficult, but they gave way too.

  “Okay, you go on ahead. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “You sure you’ll be there? You won’t try to run off?”

  “You’re asking me to trust you. I’m asking you to trust me. Seems fair right?” Calloway said. When Alex nodded, he added. “I’ll be there. I just want to say goodbye to somebody.”

  “What about Brandy?” Alex asked.

  “Just move the slab out from in front of the door to the mausoleum. It’s surprisingly not that heavy. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”

  Chapter 35

  By the time he got back home, Alex was increasingly nervous. What had he just done? He’d left the man, same as Danny had. He’d walked away, albeit safely, and invited the demon into his home.

  “God,” he prayed, “I hope You know what You’re doing, because I have no clue what I’m doing here.”

  But something told him it was the right thing to do. It had to be done, right? Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe, at the end of it all, Danny had been right?

  His emotions seesawed. He found anger, becoming lost in it, only to find contentment, resolution and – there was no other word for it – hope.

  Iced tea made and in the refrigerator, Alex felt more like a host to a house warming party than a police officer about to try to lead a murderer to Christ. Placing the pitcher in the fridge, he grabbed a Dr. Pepper bottle, testing to make sure they were cold at least.

  “Nothing to eat,” Alex said, heading toward the living room. “Wasn’t expecting company. If I knew you were coming, I’d have bought a cake.” Alex laughed at his own little sing-song parody.

  Opening his back door, he checked on Brandy and Buddy. Though it was blistering cold outside, they seemed content to run about and play. Though he left the doggy door open, he closed off the utility room so that they would not roam into the rest of the house. They’d get a little cold, he guessed, but with the warm blankets he provided, they would be okay until he was able to let them have full run of the house again.

  Returning to the living room, Alex added a small log to the fire he’d started when he got home. Still dressed in his wet clothes, Alex fought against the bitter chill coursing through him. He’d considered dressing in dry clothes, but thought that Calloway would probably receive him better if he stayed in wet clothes as he assumed Calloway would arrive. Then again, maybe the reason for Calloway wanting to follow Alex is because he wanted to stop somewhere and change clothes. He had managed to wipe up some errant blood splatters he hadn’t messed with earlier. Maybe he was crazy, but he didn’t think Calloway would feel welcome having to step over blood on his way in.

  With the dogs safely together in the back yard, and a small fire built in the fire place, Alex sat down on his couch, picked up his Bible. It wasn’t nearly as tattered as some he’d seen. Any good Christian would understand Alex’s angst. How did that saying go? A Bible that is falling apart is usually a sign of a person that’s not. Something like that. Alex’s Bible was in decent condition.

  Calloway had experienced a moment of clarity. In a flash, he’d expressed a desire for God. How could Alex lead a man like Calloway to God – a man so full of pain, anger and regret – when he was nothing if not a newbie himself?

  Bowing his head, Alex prayed.

  “Lord, I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what I did or why I did it, to be honest. Was this Your will? If You want him here, bring him here. And, Lord, I ask you to give me the words You would have me say. In Christ’s name I pray, Amen.”

  Settling into the couch, Alex re-opened his Bible.

  “Hmmm,” Alex whispered. “This is interesting.”

  “What’s interesting?”

  Alex jumped when he heard Calloway’s voice.

  “Uh, well, I—Uh, you’re here.”

  “Didn’t think I’d show?”

  Embarrassment covered Alex’s face. He shrugged.

  “Well, I’m here,” Calloway said. “As promised.”

  “Please,” Alex said pointing to a nearby chair, “Come in. Sit.”

  “Where are the dogs?” Calloway asked.

  “In the back yard.” Alex momentarily regretted answering so quickly.

  “You don’t trust me, do you?”

  Alex pointed to his broken hand, gave a slight smile. “Would you?”

  “Point taken,” Calloway nodded, the side of his mouth cocking, more from nervousness than enjoyment. Taking his seat, Calloway leaned forward.

  “We’ll call it a God thing,” Alex answered.

  “Where do we start?” Calloway asked, nerves obviously overtaking him. Alex could see his hands visibly shaking.

  Opening his Bible, Alex read. “Give me just a second. I’m a bit new to this.” Silent, Alex motioned for him to sit.

  “New to what? To God?”

  “To God, to leading others to God. To inviting a convicted felon into my home and showing him the face of Christ immediately after he tried to bash my face in. Yeah, pretty much the whole Christian concept.” When Calloway seemed reluctant, Alex tried to reassure him. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sincere. And, to be honest, I think God lead you to me, Derrick. It’s just, well, I think you’d agree it’s a bit odd. Maybe we can find Grace and forgiveness together.”

  “Well, start with what you were thinking was so interesting when I walked in.”

  Smiling, Alex re-opened his bible that had clasped closed between his legs.

  “This is from the book of James. James 5:16. ‘Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed. The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much.’ I think that’s a good place to start, don’t you?”
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  “What do you want me to confess?”

  “Let’s start with everything and see if we can’t narrow it down from there.” Alex replied. “First, let me read something else to you.” Flipping a page, Alex read another passage. “James 2:18. ‘But someone will say, “You have faith and I have works.” Show me your faith apart from your works, and I will show you my faith by my works’. Your works are important, but it starts with Faith. Do you understand that?”

  Calloway nodded. “My works haven’t been that good thus far.”

  “We’re getting to that,” Alex replied. “First thing’s first. Your works are important because they show your faith. Remember what it said? ‘I’ll show you my faith by my works.’ You have no works because you’ve lacked the faith. We’re going to change that. When we’re done, your faith will guide your works from here.” He flipped to another page he’d marked a couple weeks ago while reading. He didn’t understand then. Now, he understood.

  “This is a long passage, so bear with me.” Alex said, pausing to clear his throat. “I bookmarked it a few days ago. I didn’t know why until this very moment. ‘But what does it say? “The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart” (that is, the word of faith that we proclaim); because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. For the Scripture says, “Everyone who believes in him will not be put to shame.” For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing his riches on all who call on him.” Alex paused a moment to let the passage sink in. “For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. See?”

  “Simple as that huh?” Calloway asked. “Ask Jesus to take over and I’m saved?”

  “Not as simple as that,” Alex said. “You don’t just pass the buck and say ‘Well it’s all Jesus’ fault if I do it now.’ You don’t justify your sins. You are made clean. You are justified. A pastor friend put it this way. Through the blood of Jesus, it’s ‘just if I’d never sinned.’ Pretty cool don’t you think?”