“How do you like your coffee?” Wallace asked, knowing full well Dan took his coffee black. As black as Wallace.
Dan answered like a smart-ass. “Free!”
Wallace snickered and turned back toward white neon. Dan watched on as he entered and walked down the aisle past the magazine rack to the back of the store where the coffee station was located. Glass brew pots were lined up, tiered on different levels, steam rolling out from the tops. He could imagine Wallace adding all that cream and sugar standing at the little condiment station. Dan knew that store like the back of his hand. He’d been there a thousand times. On the slim chance, he lost the toss.
Dan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He whistled a ditty. He watched a teenage girl in a flimsy tank top exit the store. She hurried down a side street, her tits all loose and floppy. He watched bugs collect in a swarm around the streetlamp. The night was humid. Very humid.
Then, something changed.
Dan wasn’t exactly sure when he realized it, but something was off. He cocked his head to get a better view through the windshield. He wanted to see Wallace. There was a need to check on him, but he didn’t know why. Make sure Wallace was okay. Where the hell was he?
A little too late, a car revved its engine. Not in the parking lot, but on the side street. Lights flashed, a gun fired and before Dan knew it, Wallace was being escorted out of the store, a gun to his head, an arm throttled around his throat. And Wallace wasn’t a small guy. In fact, Wallace was six feet tall and sturdy which made the asshole holding him look like a fucking giant. Dan reached for his pistol and flicked off the safety. The coolness melted in his hand. His eyebrow started twitching, a nervous tick.
No sudden moves, Dan.
If he opened the door, the inside light would turn on. Dan didn’t want to draw any attention. He watched for a few seconds from the bottom of the passenger window. He inched his way across the vinyl seat to get a better look. A closer shot. The person dragged Wallace halfway down the sidewalk before releasing him.
Now!
Dan made his move. He pounded the passenger door open, held it for cover and rolled out and onto the blacktop. Wallace yelled out, “Stop! Police. Drop your weapon!”
Then, the unexpected happened. Another gunshot. Dan looked up as Wallace took lead in his chest. He watched his fucking partner be shot. The bullet hit with such force, it hurtled Wallace backwards against a dirty white trash can. Empty soda cans rattled across the asphalt.
Did Wallace have his vest on? Did he?
Dan got to his feet and ran toward him. Screaming. No words. No sentences. Just sounds. Distorted, fucking sounds. A car peeled out to the right. Rubber burned as another gunshot split the silence. The bullet whizzed past Dan’s ear. Lucky, he guessed. Dan grabbed Wallace by the shirt and pulled him up to his chest. He started crying. Somebody ran from out of the Quick Mart. Dizzy commotion surrounded them. He yelled for somebody to call for an ambulance. Officer down. 10-53. But Dan knew. He knew they weren’t going to need the EMS.
That night, looking into Wallace’s blank eyes, Dan wanted to kill somebody. That humid summer evening, Dan felt enough rage to last an entire lifetime.
He lost his partner that night. His best friend.
Green light.
Dan accelerated, foot down on the pedal. He’d driven this way home so many times, the car practically steered itself. He passed by the familiar landmarks. The underpass that always reminded him of a concrete spider web, the sprawling tenement shacks that lined the Avenue, a boarded up Church’s Chicken with a huge FOR SALE sign dangling in the cracked window. Soon, he’d pass by the naval shipyard. A big empty hanger of darkness. When the Navy pulled out of Charleston, something changed. The energy of Charleston shifted.
Dan thought too damn much when he was driving.
After Wallace died, the Chief sat him down and gave him a lecture. He explained the symptoms of post-traumatic stress syndrome. The Chief thought it might be a good idea if he took some time, a leave of absence. Take a little vacation. “Some R&R.” Dan passed. He wasn’t much on vacations. Besides, in Dan’s line of work, you risked your life. Every day. Wallace just had a run in with bad luck.
Chief Abrams informed Dan that they were doing a full-out investigation on Wallace’s case. Dan was happy to hear it. He’d like to see those punks put away. For life.
Dan thought about leaving the force after Wallace died. He sure as hell didn’t want Alexandra growing up without a father. It scared him for a few beats. He never thought about mortality much before. When his luck might change. Ask Wallace.
A toss of a coin.
But, he stayed on. Stubborn, he guessed. What else was he going to do? End up like his Daddy. Jobless and broke at fifty. Borrowing twenty bucks from Dan each time he came to visit. Knowing damn well the money would be used to stock the refrigerator full of beer. Wall to wall longneck Budweiser’s. No, thank you. Dan wanted something better than that.
His Daddy finally did die. Alone, of a heart attack. Dan didn’t even go to the funeral. His Mama was upset. He had other commitments. He supposed he should have felt guilty, not paying his respects and all, a good southern boy like him. But, he didn’t. He didn’t feel he owed his Daddy much of anything. He’d said his goodbyes already. A long time ago.
His new family was the force. And Dan’s Daddy was the farthest thing from being a cop. He wasn’t much of a father, either. If a patrol car came within fifty yards, you had better believe his Daddy was headed in the opposite direction. Not that he was a crook or anything, he wasn’t, his Dad just played by a different set of rules. His own. And his Mama and he just sort of went along blindly for the ride. What else were they supposed to do?
It was one of the reason’s Dan joined the force in the first place. He liked the discipline. Rules were meant to be followed. Obeyed. Codes of justice had to be adhered to or consequences were paid. Why would Dan want this? Your guess was as good as his was. He never remembered having any overwhelming urge to be of service to people. As a kid, he never joined the Boy Scouts or the YMCA, or shit like that. He never worked at an old folks home or carted pigs to the state fair for 4-H. He hated group gatherings altogether. A bunch of boys camping out in the woods acting out bad adult behavior. That didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun, particularly when he realized adults weren’t much different… acting out bad childhood behavior. Ironic. So, Dan stayed alone most of the time. A loner. It was easier for him. And, being the only child, he got used to being by himself. Both of his parents were gone most of the day, just putting food on the table, or staying out of each other’s hair. There never seemed to be enough on the table. It was always empty. No seconds. With the police force, Dan belonged. He could finally believe in something.
He thought all that would change when he got married. Boy was Dan wrong! Gina was supposed to make it all worthwhile for him. She was his pretty, strawberry blonde angel he met after high school. Those big, blue green eyes. They’d keep changing each time she’d switch the color of her top. It was the strangest thing. Just the sight of Gina made his legs weak. He’d feel flushed and get all crazy excited. That wonderful sinking feeling. It was an incredible time in his life. Dan had never felt anything like it before Gina. Maybe when Alexandra was born. She was Dan’s little princess. At that time, Dan didn’t think it could get much better. He had the entire package. The whole enchilada. He had a great job, a new sparkly wife and little Alexandra. He had it all. And he tried like hell to make it work. Be there for them, when he could, that is. The one thing Dan Hammer was, was honorable.
Time passed. The “when he could” started becoming a bit too frequent. That was when things between he and Gina started sliding downhill. He understood. It was the breaks of being a cop. And, later a detective. It soaked up a lot of his time. And, unfortunately, theirs. Dan was young, energetic, on his way up the ladder. He wanted to be a detective more than anything.
He kept his nose clean, did the right thing, paid his dues and
eventually Dan was rewarded. A raise. A promotion. Plainclothes detective. The money was shit in the beginning, but he stuck it out. Dan didn’t care so much about the money, just as long as he could take care of Alexandra. If he could do that, his life was sweet.
As sweet as Wallace’s coffee.
Dan saw Alexandra on the weekends. Gina used to live close by. That made it a hell of lot easier. Then when the divorce was finalized, Gina decided to move with the baby to Isle of Palms. About four years ago. Time sure does go fast. Dan didn’t mind the move. It was pretty out there with the beach and the sun.
When Gina and he were first married, they shared a dream. They were going to save enough money to put a down payment on a small bungalow at the beach. Weird how things planned for never seemed to materialize.
Well, with the summer about here, Dan hoped he would get to see more of Alexandra. He loved that precious little angel.
This area of town wasn’t anything special. Like most urban communities, there was an invisible line separating the rich from the poor. Charleston wasn’t any different. Drive a few miles toward the historic Battery section of town and witness southern opulence at its flashiest. All those pastel-colored townhouses lined up along the waterfront. From the harbor, it looked like a rainbow. Some of the front porches of those houses were bigger than Dan’s apartment.
Almost home now. Alicia was out on the street. The local hooker. She waved as Dan turned the corner. “Hey, Alicia.” Except for her, the neighborhood was quiet. Not much activity. Alicia was probably feeling similar thoughts. The only thing going on with Dan was in his freaking head. Dan thought too damn much.
His cell phone went off. It never failed. Just when Dan was fantasizing a hot shower and an early night to bed, he gets a call. He pulled into a Krispy Crème parking lot.
“Hammer.” Why didn’t they use the scanner? Damn scanner had been silent all evening. Not even the usual bad static. Precinct used his cell phone when they didn’t want information leaking. Nosy reporters.
Dan listened. A situation over at the Medical University. They were expecting him. Police officers Rogers and Evans were keeping a man there for questioning. Dan ended the call and did a u-turn. He left a trail of blue smoke in the rearview mirror. One of the benefits of being a detective. Dan took the on ramp to I-26 at seventy miles an hour speeding toward Charleston. Toward wealth. See how fast life can change?
Wasn’t he only moments ago on his way home for some well-deserved rest? Kick back and take in some CSI. Enjoy some of his own company… for a change. Yeah. Big laugh. Duty called. Just one of the rules. That and the fact that he actually loved his job. Really. He loved it!
Oh, there were some dislikes. Sometimes, Dan blamed himself for Wallace’s death. The “what if’s” tended to haunt him. The price he paid for packing a pistol. Being a detective. What if he’d been quicker? Known sooner? Taken the first shot? Would Wallace still be around? Dan wondered.
And then, the ultimate question…
What if Dan would have lost the toss?
1:36 AM
June 15, 2007
MUSC
6
“George, is that you?”
George was in deep shit! The minute he heard Edna’s voice, he knew he was knee high in a pile of manure. “Edna? Honey?”
“Don’t you honey me?”
The line went dead.
Edna hung up on him. Whadaya think about that? George reached into his pants pocket for another couple of quarters. As God was his witness, this was his punishment. All those Thursday nights, dropping Edna off at that stupid church, watchin’ her waddle up those six cement steps. God will have no mercy on him this time.
George tried depositing the quarters into the pay phone, but his hands were shaking so badly, he dropped one. Damn thing. It rolled into the main lobby of the Emergency Room. George scrambled for it. He hunkered down on all fours, like an anteater, close to the floor. He retrieved the coin and walked back to try again. This time he stabilized his trembling hand so he wouldn’t drop it. He punched in the number and listened for the ring. Surprisingly enough, Edna picked up.
George started talking. Quickly. Rambling would be a better way to describe it. “Edna, now before you hang up on me, you just hear me out…”
Edna sighed. “George, I am so tired of listening to you.”
“Edna,” George pleaded, “listen to me, honey. Please.”
“Where are you, George?”
“I’m down at the hospital. The Medical University. In Charleston.”
“If you had any idea what kinda’ nightmare you put me through tonight…” Pause. “Where?”
Her tone changed. George could visualize her, standing by the wall phone, hand on her hip, just waiting to pick a fight. Then, slowly, slowly… dropping her arm down to her side.
“Downtown. At the Medical University,” he answered.
“Are you okay?”
George had scared her. She felt guilty. The tables had turned for a brief nanosecond. Take advantage of it. “I’m fine.”
“Then what are you doing there? What’s going on, George?”
“I’m being questioned…”
“Questioned? By who? For what?”
“Edna, I found a girl on Old Towne Road…”
“A girl? What in the devil were you doin’ out on Old Towne Road?”
George stumbled on this one. What was he supposed to say? Well, Edna, I went to this pussy place and this girl, well honey, she sucked my dick. Just thinking about it gave him a tug from his pecker. “Passing time, Edna. Just waiting to come, I mean, waitin’ to pick you up. There was this white thing flitting around in the woods out there. You know, by the movie theater. The one we saw Enchanted at?”
“Yes, George.” She sounded like Wilma from the Flintstones. He hated it when she took that tone of voice. It made him want to have a friend like Barney. They didn’t have many friends.
“I saved a girl’s life tonight, Edna.”
“From what?”
“I don’t know. They’re taking me over to Lockwood precinct for some questioning.”
“You’re not in any trouble are you, George?”
“Edna, I saved a girl’s life tonight. I’m probably gonna be in the paper tomorrow. I’m a hero. I’m just waiting here until the detective arrives.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do while you’re being Superman, George? I haven’t eaten yet.”
That’s all she ever thought about. Food. Always thinking about her damn stomach. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, hon. Promise.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Edna, I promise.”
Long pause. Maybe Edna actually missed him. “Well, be careful, George. If you need anything, you call. I’m here.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’m just a little shook up.”
“Did I tell you that I had to wait an hour for that bus tonight… an hour! Then, the bus was full…”
There she goes.
“I had to stand. And you know, George, how nasty people can be sometimes. I try turning the other cheek, but they just sit there and stare, as uncomfortable as I am standing on that bus. With my bad leg and all…”
“I gotta go, sweetheart. I’ll see you later. ‘Bye.”
This time, George hung up. Whew! The questioning at the precinct would be a breeze compared to that.
George hurried back into the Emergency Room and took a seat. He looked around the reception area for the detective. What was his name? Detective… Hammond? No. Hammer. That’s it. Like Mike Hammer from the Mickey Spillane novels. He read a few of them when he was younger.
George picked up an outdated People Magazine from the table. A couple of cops stood outside smoking cigarettes. George was glad he was inside. He hated the smell of smoke. C’mon Hammer, let’s get this show on the road.
June 15, 2007
1:48 AM
MUSC
7
Curiosity always got th
e best of her. Thank God, she wasn’t a cat. She’d have been dead years ago! No, really, Janice had a relentless, aggressive nature, which tended to get her into trouble. A lot. It was a compulsion. Be first, be the best, get the scoop. Before anybody else. To rule. Some people jogged, Janice ran. Why waste time? She wasn’t the type to sit around and wait. She had to get there. As fast as she could. Before there was nothing left to get. Good thing she had an excuse.
Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1) Page 5