Going to the Bad

by Nora McFarland

  Two police cars were parked in the street. My last hope that Rod might be safe died when I saw his Prius in its usual spot out front. I abandoned the news van in park with the motor running and the driver’s-side door open.

  I ran toward the house. A uniformed officer walked out my front door and intercepted me at the bottom of the porch steps. “Hold on. This is a crime scene. It’s not open to the press.”

  “I’m not the press.”

  “Do you think I’m blind?” He gestured to the van out on the street, then to me.

  To be fair, I was dressed like a shooter in my sturdy hiking boots, jeans, and red KJAY polo.

  He stepped forward trying to force me back. “Now do me a favor and wait out at the sidewalk.”

  “This is my house. I live here.”

  “You do?” His demeanor changed. “Do you have some kind of ID?”

  I didn’t. I’d left my wallet and everything else back at the station. Instead of explaining, I tried again to get around him. “My boyfriend lives here with me. Is he okay?”

  I felt the inadequacy of the word boyfriend as I said it. Boyfriends were casual. There was no permanency or sense of commitment there. I wanted to add a qualifier. I wanted to tell him that Rod had a ring in his coat pocket.

  “I’m sorry.” The officer had taken a step back, but still blocked the porch. “We’ll try and get this sorted out. But in the meantime, I’m going to have to ask you to wait out on the sidewalk.”

  Instead of arguing with him, I pushed. He was knocked off-balance and fell back on the steps. I used the opportunity to trample the rosebush and jump up onto the porch. I swung my legs over the railing and stumbled toward the front door. It opened and a second patrol officer emerged with his Taser out.

  The one I’d shoved came up behind me with handcuffs. He sounded apologetic as he secured my hands behind my back. “You’ll only be in the way in there. You could even make things worse.”

  I managed to look through the dime-store lace curtains covering the front window. Through the web of white polyester, I saw the outline of two figures clustered around someone on the floor. “Rod,” I yelled as the two officers forced me down the porch. I continued to struggle as we crossed the lawn.

  “You need to stop resisting,” one of the officers said as we continued to the sidewalk. “I swear, they’re doing everything possible in there to keep him stabilized until the ambulance arrives.”

  Stabilize him! Everything possible! My knees buckled and I sank down to the concrete. A noise in the street brought my attention to a second KJAY news van parking behind mine.

  Ted got out and ran right for me. “What happened? Where’s Rod?” The tie still hung loose in a deformed knot around his collar. “Why are you handcuffed?”

  One of the patrol officers stayed next to me with his hand on my shoulder while the other one moved to block Ted’s way into the house. “We need everyone to stay back. This is a crime scene. You’ll have to move your news van. We’re going to cordon off the street.”

  Under stress, Ted reverted to the speech patterns he’d tried so hard to abandon since becoming on-air talent. “Dude, is Rod, like, okay?”

  The officers looked at each other. Finally one said, “Everything possible is being done.”

  Sadness, panic—those are words we can all relate to, but they don’t begin to describe what I felt. It was as if my heart had been tied to a weight and then the weight dropped off a cliff.

  “Where’s the ambulance?” Tears were streaming down my face. “Why isn’t it here yet?”

  A Ford Taurus came to a screeching halt in the street. Out jumped our station’s assignment manager, whose job I’d been covering all week. Callum is a big man with a big gut, and I wasn’t used to seeing him move fast. I also wasn’t used to seeing him with a week’s worth of beard.

  I looked at Ted. “You called Callum at home?”

  “It wasn’t me, dude. I followed you right out the door.”

  Callum passed my news van, paused to turn the engine off, then rushed to join us. “The ambulance is close. Thirty seconds maybe.”

  I recognized a small white cord running from the pocket of his LA Dodgers jacket and up to his left ear. “You were listening to the scanners at home?”

  He shrugged, but withdrew the portable radio from his pocket and adjusted something. “Traffic around the sludge spill delayed the ambulance. That’s why they’re not here yet.”

  In the distance I heard a siren. I focused all my attention down the street, praying the ambulance would come into view.

  Ted’s voice barely registered as he said, “Dude, you’re on vacation and you were, like, home listening to the scanners?”

  While we waited, Callum convinced the officer to unlock my cuffs. As soon as they were off, I started toward the house again.

  Ted and the officer were slow to react, but not Callum. His hand shot out and gripped my wrist tighter than the cuffs had. “Don’t be an idiot.”

  The siren reached a crescendo as the ambulance arrived. It parked and the noise abruptly stopped. Two more patrol cars followed the ambulance and blocked opposite ends of the street from traffic.

  Callum still held me. “Right now you need to let the police and paramedics do their jobs. Your job is to wait with us. It’s lousy, but that’s what you have to do.”

  I glanced at the officer. He still held the cuffs, waiting to see if he’d need them.

  I crumpled in defeat and let Callum pull me into a rare hug. Fear and adrenaline, not to mention the cold winter weather, caught up with me and I began shaking. Ted went to my van and retrieved my blue coat.

  The new officers quickly created a perimeter. Police tape was unspooled just in time to stop a rival station’s live truck at the other end of the block.

  That’s when I saw the detective nicknamed Handsome Homicide. He was getting a rundown from a patrol officer. They both stopped at the porch steps to put blue bootees over their shoes.

  “Please,” I begged him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Handsome had once asked me out on a date, which I’d turned down because, despite his good looks, he was basically a jerk. I’d only seen him a few times in the last year, and always at crime scenes.

  “I’ve heard that he’s alive, but it’s bad.” Handsome continued up the steps. “I’ll send someone out to brief you as soon as I can.”

  Ted took out a cell phone and hit speed dial.

  We all heard Freddy answer, “KJAY, we’re on your side.”

  Callum’s eyes widened. “Freddy’s covering the assignment desk? He doesn’t even work at the station anymore.”

  “We’re short-staffed for Christmas Eve.” The usually easygoing Ted looked annoyed. He covered the cell phone’s microphone. “And don’t hurt on Freddy. He’s better at stuff than you give him credit for.”

  Ted uncovered the phone. “Dude, it looks like Rod’s been shot. The ambulance is here now. I’ll call again when I know more.”

  The front door opened. We all jerked to attention. I expected to see either Handsome or the EMTs bringing out the stretcher.

  A figure stumbled out onto the porch. Callum and Ted both gasped when they recognized him.

  I tried to say his name, but I think it came out as a scream.

  Rod reached the bottom of the steps. He looked around in a daze and then saw me running. “Lilly.”

  I threw my arms around him. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. I promise, I’m okay.”

  Several officers had followed me, but stayed a step or two back from our reunion.

  I didn’t want to let go, but after a few moments Rod pulled back.

  He wore the black shirt, shorts, and running shoes he routinely took to the gym. Something was wrong, though. My clothes were stained with blood where I’d hugged him.

  I touched the wet, black fabric of his shirt. “If you’re fine, then whose blood is this?”

  “I’m sorry, Lilly.”

/>   My voice rose. “Why are you sorry? What happened?”

  “I went to the gym. When I got home, I found him in the living room. I tried to stop the bleeding, but he’d been shot.”

  “Who? Who’s been shot?”

  From inside the house a voice yelled, “He’s lost too much blood. We gotta go now.” Moments later the EMTs appeared in the doorway. Rod and I jumped to the side as the stretcher was brought out.

  I couldn’t see the face underneath the oxygen mask, but I recognized the leathery, tattooed skin on the forearm.

  Uncle Bud.

  I watched in disbelief as they wheeled the stretcher to the curb and loaded it into the ambulance. I knew someone was talking to me, but I was too off-balance to pay attention.

  “Lilly?” Handsome said sharply. “I asked why your grandfather was at the house this morning.”

  I finally looked away from the ambulance. “He’s my uncle, not my grandfather.”

  It was an easy mistake to make and I shouldn’t have been so irritated. Bud was my father’s much older half brother. When Bud’s father and stepmother both died back in the 1950s, Bud had raised my father, the infant they’d left behind.

  “Fine,” Handsome said, his annoyance growing. “But why was your uncle here?”

  “I don’t know.” I glanced at Rod, who shook his head. “We were supposed to see him tomorrow for Christmas dinner at his girlfriend Annette’s house. That’s where he’s been living for the past year.”

  A strand of my curly black hair had come loose from its ponytail. I pushed it away from my face and saw that my hand was shaking. “Was it a robbery? Is anything missing?”

  “Nothing obvious.” Rod put his arm around me. “I’m so sorry. I called nine one one as soon as I found him, but the ambulance took forever.”

  Handsome looked at Rod. “I understand he was unconscious and wasn’t able to communicate anything to you about who might have shot him?”

  Rod’s body, pressed to mine as he embraced me, went rigid. “That’s right.”

  “Did you see anyone when you got home? Anyone suspicious you might have passed on the street?”

  Rod shook his head. “I wish I had.”

  A short burst of the ambulance’s siren got my attention. “I’m sorry. We need to go to the hospital. Can you send someone to take Rod’s statement there?”

  Handsome gestured to a man in a suit getting out of an unmarked police car. “Let me consult with the detective sergeant.”

  We followed him down to the sidewalk where Ted waited. “I’m really sorry about your uncle, Lilly. He was a cool old dude.”

  “He’s strong. He’s going to make it.” A moment after I said the words, I realized that I didn’t believe them.

  The ambulance siren cranked up to full. As it pulled away, Callum was revealed shooting video on the other side of the street. For a moment I stared directly into the lens. The camera was mine. Callum must have got it out of my own van.

  He lowered the camera, then gestured down the street to our competitor’s live truck parked behind the police tape. “I figured you wouldn’t want us to get scooped on a shooting at your own house.”

  I was still trying to process that I was now a part of today’s lead story when Handsome returned.

  “Miss Hawkins, I’m sending you to the hospital in a patrol car.” He looked at Rod. “But, Mr. Strong, we’d prefer to take your full statement while the details are still fresh in your mind. Maybe you can even come to headquarters.”

  Rod shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I need to be with Lilly right now.”

  “You’re our only witness. We need—”

  Rod cut him off with uncharacteristic aggression. “I told you already, I didn’t witness anything. I can’t help you.”

  Handsome took a breath and looked around. The gesture looked fake and I realized he was trying not to lose his temper. “It’s possible you were the intended target. You got a lot of attention covering the wildfires last summer. You could have a stalker.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Rod’s voice was loud enough that other officers turned to look. “I don’t even work in front of the camera anymore. You’re deliberately trying to frighten me.”

  I was surprised by Rod’s tone. Usually, I’m the one getting angry at police officers while Rod counsels courtesy. “Rod, maybe you—”

  But Rod ignored me. “There’s nothing more I can say in my statement that you don’t already know. Bud was unconscious when I found him and I didn’t see anything.”

  Handsome nodded. “Regardless, I suggest you cooperate. It would be very unpleasant for everyone if we were forced to detain you.” He turned to me as if the matter were settled. “I’ll get an officer to drive you now.”

  He left before Rod could argue further.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “Make a quick statement and get it over with.”

  I leaned in and kissed him. I hadn’t intended for it to be more than a peck on the lips, but the drama of the moment tumbled into something more passionate.

  “At least you weren’t hurt,” I finally said. “If only the same were true for Bud.”

  THREE

  Christmas Eve, 9:19 a.m.

  The uniformed patrol officer driving me to the hospital had to take side streets to avoid the accident with the sludge spill. It took fifteen minutes to reach Bakersfield Medical Center. I filled the time by criticizing the officer’s route.

  In my defense, nobody knows city streets better than a shooter. Identifying the most direct way to reach a destination can be the difference between getting amazing video of breaking news or getting nothing at all.

  The officer escorted me into the ER and then suggested I sit in the crowded waiting room while he tried to get information. At least the news wasn’t playing on the television mounted to the wall. I dreaded seeing the scene outside my own house replayed on KJAY—or even worse, on our competitor’s broadcasts.

  I couldn’t help but think about the time I’d spent with my mother and sister in a similar ER waiting room. All I’d known was that my father had been in an accident on the job. He worked, and lived most of the week, seventy miles from town at an oil field out by Lost Hills. When I was little, he’d come home every weekend. By the time I was sixteen, and waiting in that ER for news of him, his visits had become unpredictable and rare.

  When had I realized that my father was going to die? A memory of Bud surfaced. He’d come through the ER door and my spirits had briefly lifted. Bud was fun. He loved to use colorful southern slang and delighted in teasing my starch-perfect mother. Crazy uncle Bud always had a crooked grin on his face, unlike my father, who was quiet and withdrawn.

  But the grin hadn’t been there that day. That was when real fear had penetrated my teenage brain. I watched my mother embrace her seedy brother-in-law. I could hear her crying into his chest.

  “Oh, hell” was all Bud said as tears began rolling down his face.

  That’s when I’d felt it. The same feeling I’d experienced as I collapsed onto the sidewalk thinking Rod was dead. A feeling as if you’d do anything to change what was happening—make any deal, climb any mountain, make any sacrifice—but there was nothing to do because you were helpless.

  The patrol officer returned and jerked me from the memory.

  “They’re prepping him for surgery. Someone will be out soon to talk to you.” He sounded official, but polite. “Are there any other family members you can call to come wait with you?”

  “No. My mother and sister live in Fresno now.” I suddenly realized no one had told Annette, Bud’s girlfriend. I explained and used a pay phone to make a collect call.

  I hated telling her over the phone, but she took the news as well as could be expected. She promised to come as soon as she could find someone to stay with her daughter.

  I returned to the waiting room just as Leanore arrived from the station. She hugged me and said, “I’m so sorry, Lilly.”

  We sat down together n
ear a trio dressed as the three wise men. They all wore sneakers under their robes, and one had a bloody towel around his hand, but otherwise they were straight out of a Nativity scene.

  “You’re not going through this alone,” Leanore continued. “Whether you like it or not.”

  Leanore had brought the messenger bag I used as a purse when I wasn’t working as a shooter. After thanking her, I checked my phone for messages. There were two.

  The first was from Rod and was sent a little after seven that morning. “Hi. I didn’t hear you leave. Did you go in to work early? Call me, okay? I’m going to the gym, but I thought maybe we could go buy a Christmas tree on your lunch break.” The message ended.

  “You were right to yell at me earlier,” I said to Leanore. “About Rod being too perfect to marry. I’m an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot. You’re just afraid of getting hurt. Welcome to the human race.”

  The door opened from the interior of the ER and a woman called my name. I was surprised to see the officer join us as Leanore and I went to speak with her. I shouldn’t have been. This was a violent crime. Handsome had probably ordered the officer to keep an eye on us.

  The woman directed us all to another floor where Bud would be taken for surgery. After a long walk and a brief elevator ride, we reached the surgical waiting room. I gave as much information as I could about Bud’s medical background, age—which I guessed to be late seventies, but didn’t know exactly—and of course insurance. When I’d finished those forms, I resumed checking my phone’s messages and got a shock.

  “Little Sister, it’s Bud.” Even through the phone’s crummy speaker I could tell his voice was hoarse and tired. “If you’re not answerin’, then I figure you’re at work. Rod’s down visitin’ his folks, right? I’m usin’ the Oildale house for a meetin’. Just wanted to make sure I’d have some privacy.”

  I glanced at the patrol officer. I started to wave him over so he could listen to the message. Bud’s own words stopped me.

  “I got a situation needs tendin’ and I need to be discreet like. The Law might not take kindly to this one, and it’s best to keep you and Rod out of it.”