by W. H. Clark
Ward looked at Cherry but she wouldn’t look at him. She stared straight into Troy’s bloodshot eyes.
“If you want money you’ll have to fucking shoot me first.”
Ward kept quiet. Just watched to try and judge what Troy might do. Waited for an opportunity. Maybe Cherry’s stubbornness might give him that opportunity. Or maybe it would get them both killed.
“Whatever it takes,” Troy said.
They all heard the sirens and they all turned to look out of the window.
“Looks like you’re out of luck,” Cherry said.
Troy grabbed at his matted hair. “I still got me a couple hostages. But I ain’t leaving without what’s my due.” He turned to Ward as cars screeched to a halt and the guy Ward had never seen before who worked in the kitchen came into view and ran out to meet them. He ducked behind one of the cars. The one which Newton climbed out of.
“You. Get the takings,” Troy said to Ward.
Ward turned to Cherry.
“If you do I’ll have that gun off him and kill the both of you,” Cherry said.
Ward played for time. He could see them outside taking positions. Newton, Mallory, Poynter and two other guys he couldn’t make out. “Look. He’s got a gun and he’s asking for money. I think we should give him what he wants and then he can leave.” Ward knew that would get a reaction.
“He gets nothing. Everything here is mine. I’ve worked my ass off to make this work. You’ve seen what he did to me.” She pointed at her face. “This. Remember? Remember?”
“Hey, whoa, whoa,” Troy said. “We don’t want a lovers’ tiff here.” And then he spoke to Ward through his teeth. “I’ll tell you once more. Get me the fucking money, pig.”
Ward held up his hands. “Okay, okay.” He looked at Cherry. “Listen to me. This is how it goes. We let him have the money, he leaves, the officers outside shoot him dead. You get your money back. How’s that sound?”
“How about I shoot you dead?” Troy waved he gun in front of Ward’s face and Ward hoped his finger wasn’t as twitchy as the rest of him.
Cherry looked at Ward and then at Troy, who both looked outside. She looked at the cops taking aim. She heard Newton shout something but the wind took his words.
Ward heard Newton’s words though. He had told Troy that there were armed police outside.
“Okay. Get him the money from the register,” Cherry said.
The short order cook from the Honey Pie Diner had called. Someone with a gun was there. The caller had managed to sneak out back. Newton called him back on his cell. The guy identified himself as Richard. He told Newton it was Troy with the gun. Newton knew. He was already in his SUV and tearing down the street. Mallory and three others followed in two cars which lit up the town with sirens and lights. Mallory had taken the SPR sniper rifle from the gun cabinet.
They pulled up on the opposite side of the road to the diner and parked in a three-vehicle V formation. By then Newton had been told that there were only three people left inside: Ward, Cherry and Troy. Still a few of the other customers stood around at a safe distance. Poynter ushered them back to a safer one.
“Don’t shoot,” Newton said to Mallory, who was checking his rifle. Mallory clicked off the safety and took aim from behind his car door. He loosened his jacket. The other two officers, Davenport and Wheeler, had their pistols drawn and pointed at the diner.
“You listening to me? Don’t shoot. He’s too close to Ward.”
“I’m just taking aim, sir,” Mallory said, and he stroked his greasy hair back and adjusted his sights. “I have a shot, sir.”
“Well, don’t be taking it but on my say-so.”
“Yes, sir.”
Newton cupped his hands and called out across the street. “Armed police officers. Drop your weapon.” The cold wind pinched at his cheeks. He saw the three figures looking his way. He’d made contact.
“Okay, easy. Easy,” he said to his men. “We’ve got Ward and the owner in there.”
Mallory licked his thin lips and smiled.
Ward moved slowly.
“No funny business,” Troy said. “Just get me my money and then we’ll all leave.”
“Okay,” Ward said, and he went behind the counter. The cash register was at one end and Troy kept the gun trained on him all the way.
“Keep your hands above the counter where I can see them.”
Ward held his hands above shoulder height. When he reached the cash register he wasn’t sure how to open it. Cherry reached into her pocket and Troy saw the movement and he spun around.
“Hey, hey. What you doing?”
“He needs a card. To get your money.” The electronic card was fastened to a retractable cord fixed to a belt loop on her pants. She unclipped it and tossed it to Ward. Ward caught it. Troy seemed even more twitchy. He switched the gun to his other hand and then switched it back. Ward could see that he was sweating and a smell of fresh piss wafted towards his nostrils. There was a stain on Troy’s gray sweatpants. Ward figured it wasn’t sweat. He tried to slow things down.
“Okay, I’m going to open the register and get you your money.” He swiped the card. Nothing happened.
“Is this a trick?” Troy moved over to Ward and he craned over to see the closed register.
“You need a code,” Cherry said. “3, 8, 4, 9. Swipe and then 3, 8, 4, 9. That opens it.”
“Okay, do it,” Troy said. Ward did. The cash register opened. Ward levered the clips that held the notes down and took everything out. He handed it over to Troy.
“There’s the money.”
Cherry said, “My fucking money,” and Ward could see the anger in her red cheeks.
Troy took the money with his left hand and tried a quick count with his gun hand. Ward could see he was trembling worse now. He saw the gun fall out of Troy’s hand. He saw Cherry’s eyes flash down. He saw her go to pick up the gun. He saw Troy shove her back. He saw the money flutter to the ground. He saw it all in slow motion. But he was the wrong side of the counter. And then he saw Troy bend and come back up with the gun. He saw the barrel point at him. And then he heard the shot.
Newton opened the back door of his SUV. He searched for a megaphone. Wanted to set up a dialogue with Troy. He knew Troy and he knew the boy wasn’t right. Convictions on drug charges were one thing. Waving a gun around in a public place was a big step up. He lifted a road sign but the loud hailer wasn’t there. He moved a box to one side but it wasn’t there. And then he heard the shot.
Ward thought he was dead for a moment. He felt something like a tap on his shoulder as if someone was trying to get his attention. He heard glass breaking somewhere and he looked behind him and the mirror behind the counter was shattered. He saw the hole in the diner’s front window and knew that a colleague outside had taken a shot. He realized then that the bullet had grazed his jacket but missed his flesh. He saw Troy holding his hand and saw blood and he heard the clunk of the gun hitting the floor. He saw Cherry make a move towards the gun.
Newton screamed, “Mallory!” Mallory was taking aim for another shot and Newton lurched over and kicked his arms. The gun fell to the ground. “Goddamn it, Mallory, I said not to shoot!” Newton raced into the middle of the street and he could see Troy holding his hand and he saw the surprise on his face. He couldn’t see the gun in Troy’s hand. He saw Cherry move quickly and pick something up from the floor.
She had the gun. She held it with both hands and pointed it at Troy. She kicked him in the leg and he came out of his shock. He even said “ouch”. When he saw the gun he flinched and held his hands up to his face. Blood dripped from a gash on the heel of his right hand.
“Cherry,” Ward said. “Hand me the gun.”
“How does this feel, huh? How does it fucking feel?” Cherry screamed into Troy’s ear. Troy cowered.
“Don’t shoot. Please. Don’t hurt me.”
“Cherry. Give me the gun.” Ward was out from behind the counter now and he held out both hands as he walked slowly toward
s Cherry.
“Don’t come no closer,” she said. She was crying. “Don’t come no closer.”
“Cherry. Listen to me. You don’t want to do this. This is not the way this ends. Come on. Hand me the gun.”
“Hand him the gun,” Troy said.
Cherry sniffled. She said, “This is the last time you do this to me.” She looked at Ward and Ward thought there was an apology in her eyes. She put the gun to Troy’s head. Troy whimpered. Cherry pulled the trigger. Her eyes were closed. Ward leapt at her, knocking Troy out of the way. He snatched the gun from Cherry’s hand.
“The safety was on,” he said.
“I know how to use a gun,” Cherry said. “I wanted him to fear me.” She turned and walked towards the door.
Troy was on his knees. Cherry passed Newton and one of the other officers on her way out. Poynter grabbed her as she exited and she hugged him and she sobbed.
Ward kicked Troy onto his front and Newton said, “You okay?”
The officer cuffed Troy and started to pull him to his feet, blood dripping from the gash on Troy’s hand.
“I got him,” Newton said. “Wait outside.”
The officer seemed confused.
“I said I got it. Tell Mallory and the others they speak to me before filing any reports on this.”
“Yes, sir,” said the officer and he let Troy drop to his knees and he left the diner.
Newton grabbed Troy’s hair and he pulled his face towards his. Troy saw Newton’s face upside down.
“Have you got your faculties intact, son?” Newton said to Troy. Troy didn’t react. Newton cuffed him across his head and came around and crouched down in front of him.
“Okay, okay,” Troy said.
“Good. Ordinarily I don’t cut deals with punk-ass little bastards like you but I’m gonna cut you one so listen up and listen up good. You’re going to sign me a statement that says Ward didn’t assault you and it was one of your junkie cohorts who took offense at you owing him money. And then you’re going to leave this town and you’re never going to come back. Because if you do, and know this for a goddamn certain fact as sure as Christmas, I will put a bullet in your head myself and call it an unfortunate accident while you was resisting arrest. You got that?”
Troy stared at Newton. His nose started to bleed a little. And then he nodded and a speck of blood dripped onto his jacket.
Newton said, “I ought to kill you right here and now, you son of a bitch.”
“You could’ve killed me.” Ward was in Mallory’s face. He pointed to the scuff mark on the shoulder of his jacket where the bullet had grazed it.
Mallory smiled. “Didn’t, though. Maybe I’m not as good a shot as I thought.”
Ward punched him and he felt something crunch in his hand, a lightning bolt of pain shooting up his arm. Mallory’s knees buckled and he fell to the ground. Newton pulled Ward away. Ward shook out the pain but it wouldn’t go. Might have been broken already from Troy’s beating. Now it was definitely broken.
“Mallory. Stay down, son. You heard my orders. You got it coming a long time.”
Mallory wiped the blood from his nose and spat a pink gooey spit on the pavement. Ward thought the red paintwork on his picket fence teeth suited him. He turned and walked towards Cherry.
61
The little boy, Percy, sits on a chair next to Newton’s desk. He has a can of Coca-Cola in his hand and he looks around the station with wide eyes. His father is standing next to him and he stares sternly at the detective, who is leaning forward in his chair.
“Just tell me what happened,” Newton says. “You saw Ryan, right?”
The little boy looks at his father, who nods.
“I saw him in the street. He seemed kinda upset so I asked him if he was okay and he didn’t say nothing. I put my arm around him to try to cheer him up but he wasn’t in no mood for talking. I let him be and he walked off.”
“Did he say anything at all? Did he say where he was headed?”
“Didn’t say nothing. He was sniveling.”
“Was he hurt, you think?”
“Didn’t seem it. Just sniveling.”
“Did you see anybody else or was he on his own?”
“I didn’t see nobody else apart from Mister Parrish, who drove past and I waved at him.”
Percy’s father says, “Ray Parrish.”
Newton nods without taking his eyes off Percy. “So, did you see which way Ryan went?”
“He just carried on walking up the street.”
“And you…”
“I just doubled back,” Percy says and then tears appear in his eyes. “I just wish I’d stayed with him and then maybe he wouldn’t be missing and maybe…”
“It’s okay, son,” his father says, and he puts a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Say, can we wrap this up now? Boy’s getting tired.”
“Of course,” Newton says, and he puts a hand on the boy’s knee and squeezes gently. “You’ve been a great help. Hey, how about you come back in sometime and we’ll give you a full tour of the station. Show you everything. You like that?”
Percy nods and his father smiles.
“Thanks for coming in,” Newton says to Percy’s father.
“No problem. And if there’s anything I can do to help. I guess times like these we all pull together as a town and do what we can.”
“That’s what we do.”
He watches them stand and leave and he stares at the skittish boy, whose legs move quickly at the side of his father’s long stride. Something about the boy. He shakes the thought out of his head.
62
“Funeral’s tomorrow. You’ll be there?” Newton said.
“I didn’t realize they’d released the old man’s body. And I’m still suspended.”
“Not for long. I got that in hand.” Newton touched Ward’s arm. “Good work back there.”
“Thanks. Mallory takes a good shot.”
“He does. Even if he is slow-minded. Go get that hand seen to. It’s met too many chins recently. Probably broken.”
“I know it.”
63
Everybody was gathered around the whiteboard, which had various pieces of evidence from the case and Ward’s scribblings. Newton stared at the board as Ward walked into the station. Mallory offered him a glare and Ward ignored it as he drew up alongside Newton. His hand was strapped up lightly. Looked like a homemade solution.
“Okay?” Ward asked. Newton didn’t reply at first. Just stared at the board.
“I’m looking but not seeing,” Newton said, and he rubbed the base of his back.
“You want to take this?” Ward said. Newton nodded and then he turned to the gathered police. “Okay, we’ll keep this brief. We got pressure to get a result. I know you’ve already done it but I want everybody to take a look at what we’ve got. Go over things again. Ask each other questions. The victim is being buried today at Gabriel Heights. I want Mallory and Poynter there but at a respectful distance. Take an unmarked car. Park on the cemetery road where we have eye contact. Myself and Ward will be there too. We keep an eye out for anyone who stands out. Our perpetrator could be there so keep vigilant. Anyone raises any suspicions, we take them after the funeral. You got that?”
Mallory grunted and Poynter nodded. Newton handed out the facial composite he had had made up of the man he thought was Ryan Novak.
“This man is a person of interest. Extreme interest. If you see this person you let me or Ward know. Don’t spook him. You listening, Mallory? No fuck ups.”
“Yes, sir,” Mallory said in a low rumble, the left side of his face sporting fresh bruising.
Newton said, “Okay. That’s it. Any questions?”
Nobody said a word.
“Okay, good, then.” And then Newton walked to his desk. Poynter took his usual place by McNeely’s desk and admired her as she ate. Mallory loped away like a coyote, nervously looking at Ward as he walked past him.
Ward was about to follow N
ewton to his desk when Newton suddenly spun around and pushed past Ward. He looked at the evidence board.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
“What is it?” Ward said.
Newton unpinned the copy of the photo of Ryan Novak from the board. “Look.”
Ward looked at the photo. “You’re going to have to give me a clue.”
“Son of a goddamned bitch. 1985. That’s when Ryan disappeared. You see 1985 in this photograph?”
“Could be,” Ward said.
“Look again. At the TV.”
Ward squinted at the photo and he steadied Newton’s hand which had begun to shake. He saw it then. On the television behind Ryan.
“We sure it’s what it is?”
“Can only be one thing. That’s the inauguration of Bill Clinton. 1993, no? Ryan was already gone a few years.”
Ward took a closer look. “McNeely.”
McNeely was already there. With a magnifying glass. Ward looked at the photo again. He nodded at Newton.
“That’s not Ryan,” Newton said. “The old guy had this photo in his room.”
“Hidden behind the Bermuda picture,” Ward added.
“But that’s not Ryan. Now why would he keep this? Who is this?”
“The writing on the back. John 1 20. It’s not a Bible reference. It’s the date the photo was taken. The date of Clinton’s inauguration. Gotta be. Always in January, right?”
“So he’s called John. John Doe.”
“My guess is this is your guy. The guy you chased.”
“The guy who bears a striking resemblance to Ryan Novak.”
Ward scratched the back of his neck. “Ryan’s mother had another child. A stillbirth.”
“You don’t—do you think…” Newton’s words trailed off into a forest of questions.
“We need to go back to Alice White,” Ward said.
64