Fatal Decision

by John Greenwood

  I nod my head. "Thank you so much for coming up with that information. I think at least we know who to go after now."

  "I wish I could help more, but I haven't had any contact with them since then." He takes a drink from a wine glass filled with red wine. I place my hand in my jacket pocket and feel for the gun. I'm not sure when to do this. I figure I better wait until he's not looking. I think I’m close enough to get a good shot. I feel my hand shaking so much on the gun. I’m scared. I hope I don’t accidently pull the trigger. "I've got to tell you those guys were not known for their friendliness." He suddenly stands up and looks out the window. I suddenly wonder if he knows what I'm here for. "I remember when we were doing the estate they were pretty upset about something. I think it was something about too much money going to someone else, but I can’t remember who. I wish that file wasn't missing."

  'What do you mean?" I watch as he sits back down on the end of the couch facing me.

  "I keep all my files in a secure cabinet in my office and that file is missing. I noticed it was missing shortly after the break-in. You saw the way my office looked. I wonder if that's when it all happened. Something is going on here." He leans forward. Now's my chance, I place my hand on the trigger. I'm thinking I should just take the gun out and do it now and get it over with. "Maybe that's what this is all about. The money that was stolen, I think that was from the other party in that case." He looks directly at me. "That file is missing too by the way, so this is all coming from my memory. Why don’t you give me a little time and I think I can get to the bottom of this. I'm not sure how it relates to your son, but I think for both of our sakes I better look through whatever I have and see if I can find out anything else." I nod and slowly stand up. I have my hand on the trigger. He turns around and looks off at a bookcase on the other side of the room. I pull the gun out of my pocket and aim directly at the back of his head. I'm not more than three feet away. It should be quick and easy. I close my eyes and then the next thing I know I'm back in the Tahoe seated on the front seat shaking terribly. The gun feels warm and is still in my pocket. My hand is clutched tightly around the trigger.

  Chapter 16

  "Sheldon…Sheldon. Are you okay?" I open my eyes. I have no idea where I am. I see Michelle leaning over me. It isn’t until I sit up, that I realize I’m seated in the front seat of the Tahoe in our driveway. I don't remember how I got here or anything that happened at Sorenson's house. "What happened to you? You look awful?"

  "I don’t know." I slowly climb out of the truck and step onto the driveway. The sun is out and it feels like early morning. I put my hand in my jacket pocket and feel the gun in there. I close my eyes again. Michelle is holding me up and guiding me towards the garage.

  "You spent the night out here in your car Sheldon?"

  "I guess…I'm not really sure." She leads me through the empty spot in the garage and into the house. As soon as I step through the door, I feel Buster's nose tickling the bottoms of my legs. I reach down and rub his neck. Michelle guides me to the couch and Buster follows, landing on my feet as soon as I sit down.

  "I was so worried about you. Please don’t do this anymore. It's bad enough we can’t find Tommy." I suddenly sit straight up.

  "Tommy. What about Tommy? Have you heard anything?" Michelle shakes her head.

  "I'm going to take you to the doctor. I think you're breaking down." I immediately check my pockets for my iPhone. I can’t find it anywhere. My hand lands on the gun instead.

  "I'll be right back." I jump up from the couch and stumble towards the door.

  "Sheldon, where are you going?" I look back and Buster is following me.

  "To get my phone, I think I left it in the truck."

  "Just please be careful. It looks like Buster is coming with you."

  I look down at Buster. "I'll take him for a walk while we're out there."

  "Okay. Please don’t go far." I nod, and quickly head through the garage followed by Buster and find my phone in the truck. The battery is dead. I lead Buster down the driveway and watch him lift his leg on a small bush at the end of our driveway. He sniffs the area for a few minutes before I call him in. We head into the kitchen to plug my phone in and as soon as I see Michelle, I know something's wrong. She is holding the phone in one hand and tears are running down her face.

  "What is it?"

  She looks down. I quickly run to her and place my arm around her to keep her from falling. "Detective Stanton just called. They have found another boy's body that matches Tommy's description. He wants you to come down and identify it." I have to grab hold of Michelle to keep myself from falling down. I can’t believe it.

  "Okay. I'll go." I look at Buster. His sad eyes are reflecting my emotions.

  "Also, Doug Sorenson called earlier. He says he may have some more information for you."

  "How long ago did he call?" She looks at the kitchen clock.

  "About an hour ago." I'm not sure how to act. I'm relieved at first that I didn’t end up shooting him, but now I have gotten Tommy killed. I have to go identify my son. I lean over the garbage can and begin to vomit. I feel Michelle grabbing on to me, but my head is spinning too wildly to see straight. I remain this way for what seems like hours. Somehow a little while later, I'm back in the Tahoe heading to the same police station to see my boy's lifeless body that I killed. I can’t stop crying. The tears are flowing down my face like a bad rainstorm. I pull into the same unmarked building and see Detective Stanton's cruiser parked out in front. I pull in next to him and shut off the engine. I can't move my legs. I don’t know what happened last night, but I know I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I feel the gun in my pocket. I take it out and place it under my seat. I don't know how I'm going to handle this, once I see that it's Tommy I know my life will be over. I hope I just collapse on the floor and it ends quickly, because I don’t think I’ll be able to handle anything else. I just keep asking myself why I didn’t pull the trigger. I don’t remember anything. The last thing I picture is me taking the gun out while Sorenson had his back to me, but after that everything is a blur until Michelle found me this morning. I'm not sure how long I have been sitting here, but I see Stanton walking towards my truck in the mirror. I slowly open the door and step down. He approaches me and places an arm around me.

  "I'm so sorry to have to do this again to you. Hopefully, it will be the same result as last time." I want to tell him I know it isn’t because I didn't pull a simple little trigger, but instead I just nod and follow him into the same building. We walk directly past the officer seated behind the glass. He doesn’t even look up. I sit down at the same table, though this time it is empty. A minute later, Stanton returns with another folder. It appears a bit thicker, but the same color and size. He sits down across from me. Something is different this time. It's as if he knows the sorrow I am going to be going through in a moment. I look around the empty room and see no one, not even the uniformed officer that was behind the glass. Everyone has disappeared. I'm not even nervous anymore. I have lost all emotion. I just sit and stare at the folder being manipulated in his stands. Stanton doesn’t speak or even look me in the eye. I feel my life coming to an end. They say the hardest thing for any one person to face is burying their children and I honestly believe that comprehending that is beyond my control, but here I am sitting face to face with the detective investigating the disappearance of my son, and because of my lack of actions I now have the privilege of being responsible for my son's death. I want to cry or scream, but there is nothing to come out, only silence. I have nothing left. I watch as Stanton methodically opens up the folder and briefly scans the contents. I'm not sure what he is looking at but by the look of his face I can tell it isn’t good.

  "I have to warn you Mr. Smith, it was pretty violent." I nod…I can’t speak. I don’t even feel my chest breathing anymore. I can’t hear anything, and it feels as though everything is moving in a slow-motion pattern. I keep seeing Tommy's face pleading for me to bring him home an
d me promising he would be coming home soon, and now I have caused him to be killed in a brutally and inhumane way. I watch as Stanton slowly stands up. He places the photographs down in front of me. There are four or five of them. I can’t tell. My mind is not functioning correctly. The first thing I notice is the hair on the first picture is the same as Tommy's. It is thick and brown. He is the same size as Tommy as well. I feel my heart begin to sink into my chest and slowly come to a halt. How could I be such a coward? I will never forgive myself. I can’t take my eyes off the first picture and Tommy's hair. I look across the room and see Stanton nod at me and start to walk back towards me. Everything in the room is beginning to spin. I try to focus on the other pictures. I need to know how his life ended. When I get to the last one, I can see his mouth open. It's as if he's screaming for me to spare him. It's then I notice the braces. Tommy doesn't have braces on his teeth. I immediately stand up and scream it's not him. Stanton runs over to me, grabbing my shoulders.

  "Are you sure?" I scan the pictures again and now I can tell it's definitely not him. The body is different. I'm not sure how I didn’t notice it before. I curse myself, but I can’t believe it’s not him. What a mean trick. The thought of another kid losing his life hits me hard, but I feel some relief knowing it’s not my son.

  "I'm sure Detective. It's not Tommy." I stand up and begin heading for the door.

  "We'll get him Mr. Smith. I promise." I look back and nod my head and head back out the door. I reach down for my phone to let Michelle know, but I realize I left it on the counter in the kitchen charging. I turn around and ask the officer behind the glass and ask to use his phone he agrees. I let Michelle know and she gasps out her relief through the phone. She tells me Sorenson has called again. I immediately hop back into the Tahoe and head directly back to the same church I went to last night. I see the same amount of people scattered throughout the pews. I go to my same spot and stare at the large statue thanking God for sparing Tommy's life. I say a few words out loud for the child that was killed in place of mine. After about a half hour, I head back home and find Michelle in the shower. I grab a few stale crackers from the pantry, grab Buster and his leash and take him out for a walk. I get to the bottom of the driveway and feel my phone begin vibrating. I know who it is without looking. I nervously press the send button.

  "Hello Sheldon. I believe a thank you should be in order."

  "What are you talking about?" I let Buster off his leash and he runs to a row of small bushes.

  "I think you just saw the evidence that your property was spared. I hope you take this is a lesson to be learned when I make a deal you need to follow through." I watch Buster come back to me. I rub his neck.

  "I tried to do it but I couldn’t. Please just let Tommy come home now."

  "Sheldon, we made a deal and you are going to hold up your end or I will do what I told you I would do. Here's the plan, Today is Thursday, on Sunday, Mr. Sorenson will be watching the Redskins at 1:00, and his wife and daughter will be out." Buster takes off down the street and stops at a strip of grass that needs to be cut. "I want you to perform what you are supposed to do then or the next pictures you look at will be something you are very familiar with."

  "Please don’t make me do this."

  "Remember we are partners and we made a deal. I expect you to hold up your side and then I'll hold up mine. I understand the first time was tough, but now you know what to do and I expect you to do it or there won't be another chance."?

  Why did you have to kill that kid?" I watch Buster turn around and look at me.

  "Actually Sheldon, his blood is on your hands. If you had done what you were supposed to do, he would be alive and you wouldn’t be talking to me now, instead you would be with what is yours." I slam my foot down causing Buster to jump.

  "Look you're a sick and twisted person. I don’t know what you want, but I want Tommy back now."

  "You should have what is yours now, but you didn’t hold up your end of the bargain. I hope you learned your lesson, because that was the last one. I'll be in touch before Sunday. Make sure and return the weapon to its proper place until you need it." I throw the leash into the grass. Buster runs and retrieves it in his mouth and drops it in front of me. I kneel down and pat his back furiously. I slowly get up and begin walking back towards our house, Buster is following close behind. I open the door and let Buster run in. He goes directly to the kitchen and starts lapping water from a metal bowl Michelle must have put down. I walk into the living room and see Michelle seated on the couch. I walk over and give her a long hard hug. This is the second time in the last few days we have thought Tommy was dead and it wasn't him. We exchange no words. There is nothing left to be said. I slowly head back upstairs and lie down. I think I’m asleep before I even land on the pillow. We both wake up the next morning. I think it's the best I have slept since Tommy went missing. I guess it's just something about knowing that boy wasn't Tommy. I still refuse to watch the news because I don’t want to hear about the grieving family of the two boys and the young teller. I think I can almost imagine what they are going through. Maybe after Sunday and this is all over, yes, I have decided that I need to go through with it this time. I will reach out and help the families of the murder victims. I make my way to the kitchen. Michelle is seated at the table staring at an un-eaten bowl of cereal. She stands up as soon as she sees me. I can tell something is wrong again.

  "What is it?" She sits me down. "What happened Michelle?" She looks around the kitchen and then her eyes lock on mine.

  "I'm sorry Sheldon, but Stanton and Adams were just here. They found Lawrence in his apartment. He died from a gunshot. They said he didn’t suffer." I stare ahead. There are no more tears to come out, just sadness. My mind goes blank. I hear voices in the next room.

  "Is that them in the living room?" I start to get up, but Michelle waves me back down and places her arms around my neck.

  "That's my parents. They came in yesterday." I nod my head. "I'm so sorry Sheldon."

  "I can’t believe it. He killed Lawrence."

  "Do you know who did it?" I try and look up at Michelle. It feels like my head weighs a hundred pounds.

  "No, but I know it's the same person who has Tommy."

  "Really? You think they are connected." I feel her hands gripping my shoulders tightly.

  "Has to be." She nods.

  "Stanton said he wants you to go over there when you are ready. Apparently, there are some things they found there that they want to ask you about."

  "Like what?"

  "I don’t know. I think there were some notes or something." She begins rubbing my back softly. "I told them you would be over later. Why don’t you just take it easy for a while." I look behind me as Michelle's mother enters the kitchen. She is an older version of Michelle. Same wavy hair and oval face, just a few years older. She gives me a hug and tells me how sorry they are for everything and that they are here if anyone needs anything. I thank her.

  I stand up. "I'm going to head over there now."

  "Please Sheldon just take it easy. We can't keep up this pace. I mean look at us."

  "Why don’t you guys both go back upstairs and get some rest and me and Bob will take care of everything. Please eat something Sheldon. I went to the grocery store last night. There wasn't a piece of fresh food in the house. “I shake my head side to side slowly and thank them and head back upstairs. I pass her dad Bob in the hallway. He shakes my hand and tells me he's sorry. He's quite a bit older than her mom and is beginning to slow down quite a bit, but he is sincere. I somehow manage to get dressed. I don’t bother to look in the mirror any more, I don’t know if it's because I'm more afraid of the way I look or of who I've become. I head back out to the Tahoe and make the twenty-five minute drive to Lawrence's house. He lives just outside DC, in Arlington. As soon as I pull down his street, I can see all the police cars. He lives in a garden-style apartment building. Each unit contains maybe twenty apartments. His is the second building on the
right. I instantly feel guilty for not coming here more often. I know he's busy working and I'm busy with my family, but I should've made more time. Despite the fact that we didn’t see a lot of each other, we were close and always shared that brotherly bond, especially with our parents on the west coast. I look at the clock. I will have to call them after I'm done here and let them know. I hope they'll be able to make it back here due to their health, since I know Lawrence would want to be buried here. This was his life. He loved DC and the surrounding areas. He never had a family, but he was always dating; though they were usually other attorneys who were living the same lifestyle he was. I know one day he was hoping to settle down and raise a family, but now all that was over. I feel like I killed him because I didn’t pull the trigger. I know there's no reason to think this was just a random crime. I know it is connected to me not shooting Sorenson. I park behind two Arlington cruisers and walk towards his building. I can see the yellow crime scene tape strung around his door. His is on the second floor. All the units have doors facing outside, and his is the first one to the left at the top of the stairs. I walk to the bottom of the steps and the officer tells me I can't go in. I tell him who I am and a minute later, I see Sorenson and another man dressed in a suit open Lawrence's door and wave me in. I walk up the stairs and shake both of their hands. Sorenson introduces me to the Detective, I think his last name is Nelson, but I don’t really hear anything. Everything is a blur. I step into the one bedroom apartment and everything appears normal and clean, just how Lawrence kept it. I feel like he is going to come out of the bedroom at any minute and give me a high five. We never hug, we always high five. Ever since we were in about seventh grade, we made a deal we would always say hi that way. Although right now, I would love to give him a giant hug. I'm not really sure what to do, so I just stand inside the door watching all the activity. There are technicians working in all parts of the house. They look like they are finishing up, but it's difficult to tell, so I don’t move until Sorenson waves me towards the bedroom. I'm not really sure what I'm expecting to see as I reach the doorway, but the first thing I notice is Lawrence is not here anymore. There is a lot of dried blood on the bed, but I turn my eyes away from that and begin to look around the bedroom. I've never really been inside his bedroom. I'm amazed at how sparse it is. There are no pictures on the walls or any personal touches, just a small mirror hanging over a four- drawer dresser. I can see into his closet on the other side. It is filled with lawyerly suits as I would expect. They are all the standard attorney colors, dark gray, blue and black. I can’t remember the last time I saw Lawrence not in a suit. I would be surprised if he owned anything else.