by E. A. Darl
He had barely driven three blocks when his radio crackled to life again.
“One-Nine, come in. Come in One-Nine.”
He picked up the receiver and clicked it on. “One-Nine here. Go ahead.”
“Sorry One-Nine, you need to turn around. We got a call about a skirmish in an alley near where you just were.”
“What kind of skirmish? Gang related?”
“Possibly. Phone call from a young woman, saying someone is threatening her boyfriend with a gun. She said there are several people in an alley off fourteenth east. She didn’t say how many. She was afraid someone is going to get hurt.”
“Got it. I’m on my way.”
Harvey turned at the next intersection and circled back in the direction he came from. Gang violence was on the rise, too, for some reason. His instinct told him it was related to the break-ins at various stores. Stolen goods were valuable on the street. He pulled past the alley that dispatch had indicated and saw several people at the far end, partially hidden by a dumpster. The alley was narrow, and he didn’t want to get trapped, so he parked his cruiser on the street and walked up the alley, staying close to the wall and out of view, behind the dumpster, for as long as possible. The thought crossed his mind that he should have called for backup before he entered the alley. If it was just a heated argument, though, he could manage it. He carefully slid his handgun out of the holster and thumbed the safety off. As he approached the altercation, he could hear raised voices, both male, as far as he could tell.
“I’ve told you before,” said one man calmly, “This is our territory, and you don’t have our permission to steal our business.”
“I’m not stealing anything,” the second voice said. His shrill tone betrayed not only his fear, but also his age.
It was just a kid, Harvey realized.
“Look,” the kid continued, “I can’t get this stuff anywhere else. I wasn’t going to sell it here. I have...I have a buyer somewhere else, I swear!”
“I don’t care if you want to sell it a hundred miles away. You can’t steal from our sources, ‘cause that’s called doing business in our territory. Are you really that stupid?”
“Yes...I mean no,” the kid shrieked. “I swear - here, take this, you can have it. I’ll go away and you’ll never see me again, I swear you’ll never see me again.”
“I guarantee I’ll never see you again. Neither will anyone else.”
At the boy’s next hysterical screech, Harvey stepped out from behind the dumpster, his gun aimed at the group of people. A quick assessment told him there were four young men and two young women on one side of the standoff, and one skinny boy on the other side, both hands in the air. In one hand was a pistol. Most of the people in the larger group held handguns as well, and the tallest youth held his pistol out in front of him, aimed at the younger boy.
“All right, everyone just calm down now. Let me see your hands, and I want your weapons on the ground.” He took a step toward the younger boy, who looked at him in shock.
No one moved for a moment, and then the lead man slowly raised both hands, still holding his gun.
Harvey took a closer look at the younger boy. “Aren’t you Estelle’s boy?” When the boy nodded quickly, Harvey stepped closer to him and held out a hand. “Give me the gun, son, and get behind me. I’ll get you out of here and we’ll sort this out.”
The boy took one step towards the cop he recognized, and Harvey smiled encouragingly, holding his free hand out to the boy.
“Come on, son. It’s going to be okay.”
Kenny glanced at the other group of people and his eyes widened. He reached for Harvey, just as the grizzled cop also glanced at the tall young man holding the gun. In the instant that Kenny had started to hand over his gun, the older boy lowered his weapon and leveled it at Kenny.
“NO!” Harvey grabbed a handful of Kenny’s jacket and dragged him behind him as he raised his service revolver, but it was too late. He heard the explosion of a gun, but wasn’t sure if it was the other man’s weapon or his own. The white hot, searing pain that blossomed in his chest answered his question all too well. Still gripping his revolver, his arm suddenly became too heavy to hold up, and he dropped his arm, not noticing when he let go of his gun. He dimly heard shouts over the roar in his ears. Someone was yelling at the others to get out of there. He could feel Kenny’s skinny arms wrapped around him and lowering him to the ground, and he was grateful that the boy was there. Kenny was screaming something, but he couldn’t understand what he was saying. All he could see was shadows, but he could see the shadows scattering and running away. At least the boy was safe.
“I’m sorry, Mitch,” The whispered words seeped out of his cold lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise. I’m sorry...”
The last thing he heard was Kenny, sobbing.
But at least the pain was gone.
Chapter 10
Moving On
Mitch wasn’t sure if it was the doorbell that woke him up or the sound of his mother’s voice when she opened the door. As soon as he was awake enough to realize that someone was at the door, he knew. A sick rush of adrenaline washed over him at his mother’s cry and he threw back the cover and stumbled to the top of the stairs. Two uniformed police officers stood awkwardly in the doorway of their home and Mother stood rigidly with one hand braced on the door, and the other resting on her throat. Even from where he stood, Mitch could tell she was shaking.
“What happened?” she choked out.
“It appears that he got shot, trying to protect a kid that was in a standoff with a gang.”
Mother was silent, shaking her head every so often, swallowing compulsively and looking wildly from one police officer to the other.
“Is the kid okay?” she finally managed to say.
“Yes, he was the one who called us. He said your husband pulled him to safety before the gang opened fire, so he stayed with him until we arrived.”
Mother shook her head again. “How like Harvey. Where is the boy now?”
“He gave a brief statement then took off before the ambulance arrived. He left before we could get his name.”
Mitch made his way down the stairs on rubber legs, hanging on to the railing for support. When he reached his mother, he touched her shoulder and she turned to look at him with frantic eyes.
“Your father...”
“I heard.” There was nothing else to say.
“What do we do now?” she whispered. “What do I do now?” She looked up at her son again. “Mitch, he promised, didn’t he? He promised us he would be safe. What the hell was he thinking? He promised me everything would be okay.”
“I know Mom.” Mitch wrapped his arms around his mother and could feel her trembling. He looked at the police officers. “What’s next?”
“We’ll be in touch,” said the older officer. Mitch recognized him but couldn’t remember his name. “We can get you any help you need,” he said. “If you need anything at all, you just need to call us. We’ll have a support person contact you and help you with, um, arrangements.”
“Jessica,” the younger officer reached out to touch her arm. “Your husband was a good man, and an exceptional cop. Everyone loved and respected him. We know this is a terrible loss, but understand that he gave his life in the line of duty, protecting this town. He will be sorely missed.”
She looked at the two cops and Mitch was startled to see cold rage darken her face.
“Get out,” she said quietly, her voice shaking breaking with anger. “Don’t tell me what kind of man my husband was. Don’t tell me how much he’ll be missed, and don’t patronize me with useless platitudes. Just get out. I don’t want to see you or any other cop right now.”
They nodded and backed out of the door.
“We understand,” said the older one. “Someone will contact you shortly.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone right now,” she replied, and slammed the door shut.
Mitch cro
ssed his arms and shivered. “Mom, they were just doing their jobs.”
She rounded on him and he took a step back, shocked at the fury in her eyes. “Shut up,” she said. “Don’t tell me...don’t tell me anything. Just shut up.”
The two were silent for a moment, staring at each other.
“Mom,” Mitch’s voice broke. “You’re not the only one...grieving, here. I just lost...my dad.” The shock and grief washed over him and spilled from his eyes in hot tears.
“Oh Honey,” she moved suddenly to wrap her arms around her son. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh god, I’m so sorry.”
They clung to each other, sobbing hysterically.
BY THE TIME DAWN BROKE, Mitch had managed to doze on the sofa for a few minutes. When he opened his eyes to the sunlight streaming in the living room window, he could see that his mother was still pacing in the kitchen, putting dishes away and wiping down the counters. He doubted she had rested at all.
He closed his eyes again. The ache in his chest blossomed anew as he remembered.
Dad. Dad was gone.
He got up and made his way to the kitchen.
“Mom.”
She turned at the sound of his voice and he could see that her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale and blotchy. She had been crying for hours. He gave her a hug.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“No.” He got a glass out of the cupboard and opened the fridge to get the bottle of orange juice. He poured himself a glass of juice and sat down at the kitchen table, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Do you have any idea what our next steps are?”
She picked the kettle up from the stove and took it to the sink to fill it with fresh water. “I’ve been thinking about that. I mean, I’ve got my job here, and with your father’s...well, the house will be paid for, so we’ll be okay from that standpoint.” She set the kettle on the stove and turned it on, then came to sit down at the table. “I don’t want to stay here, though. I hate this. I hate this place, I hate that everything here reminds me of your father, of everything he promised, of the plans we made for after he retired. I just can’t stand it. Right now, I’m so angry, I can’t think straight. I just want to get out of here.”
“Do you want to sell the house?”
“I don’t know how easy that will be. People are leaving this town, not buying up real estate. I don’t know what to do.”
Mitch took another sip of juice, trying to pull together his scattered thoughts.
“I know we can’t make any major decisions right now, though,” she continued. “There is a lot to do in the next few weeks, and I need to come up with a plan. I do know that I want to go be closer to your sister.”
Pam, Mitch thought, how is Pam going to take this? “Does she know?”
“Yes, I called her a couple hours ago, when you were sleeping. She’s pretty upset. She’s going to be flying back here in time...in time for the funeral. I don’t know when that is, yet.”
For a moment, the gentle simmering of the kettle was the only sound in the silent kitchen. The early morning light sketched long shadows across the table and Mitch watched a floating dust mote drift aimlessly through the light, free of any connection. I can’t leave yet, he thought. I can’t leave Mom like this, not until she knows what she wants to do.
“Mom, I’ll get a job here, just something temporary, to help you out for a bit. Let’s just wait until everything is sorted out, then we’ll know what our next steps are. We don’t have to make any decisions right now.”
She looked at him and a small smile turned up the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, you’re right. We can talk things over with Pam when she gets here. Everything will work out.”
He finished his juice and stood up. “It will. For now, I’m going to have a shower and maybe get out of the house for a while, if you’ll be okay here for a bit.”
She waved him off. “I’ll be fine, Honey. I have a lot to think about, and I’ve got some calls to make. You go on.”
The teakettle started whistling as Mitch climbed the stairs to his room.
MITCH DIDN’T DRIVE far before he pulled over to the side of the road and called Cory. His best friend had left town right after graduation, as promised, but thankfully, they could still talk by cell phone. Glad that he could talk without breaking down, he told Cory briefly what happened. After expressing his own shock and condolences, Cory reiterated his invitation to join him in the larger town.
“I can’t right now, man,” Mitch said. “I need to be here for my mom, at least for the next few weeks. I’m going to get a job here through the summer, and then I’ll decide what to do after that.”
“All right, but the offer is always open, just remember that.”
Cory’s familiar voice over the phone was a soothing comfort, and Mitch felt fresh tears welling up in his eyes. Talking to his best friend was softening the dam. “I will. And Cory...thanks. I miss you, you goofball.”
“Miss you too, you doofus. It’s just not the same, not having you around.”
“Yeah, same here.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Look, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be out looking for a job.”
“Got it. Say, my mom’s cousin runs that big gas station and convenience store out on the end of Main Street there. He’s always looking for someone to take the night shift. You should go talk to him. Tell him I sent you.”
“I will, thanks. And Cory?”
“Yeah Bud?”
“Take care of yourself, okay? Keep me posted about what you’re up to.”
“Always. Hang in there, Mitch.”
“You too.”
Mitch watched the cell connection drop, then lowered his head onto his arms and cried like a four-year-old until the ache in his chest eased somewhat.
Chapter 11
One Good Turn
The night shift wasn’t so bad, actually, once Mitch got used to it. It gave him time to think, and he didn’t have to deal with too many people. Right now, he couldn’t handle a lot of people. He appreciated the show of support, but the expressions of sympathy got to be a bit much after a time. He grieved in his own way, by throwing himself into work. He didn’t need to be constantly reminded that his dad had been killed in the line of duty.
The funeral was a blur. Mom barely cried her face a stony facade of fortitude. Mitch let the flow of condolences wash over him, all the stories of how Harvey had helped this person or that one, of what a difference he made in this or that person’s life. It all felt like rainfall on a windowpane. He could see it, and hear it, but couldn’t feel it. He could recall replying to people’s comments, but couldn’t remember what he said. He just wanted it to be over. At one point, his eyes met his mother’s, and he could see the tiniest crack in her carefully controlled demeanor. She wanted it to be over, too. Pam was more withdrawn, if that was possible. It was good to see her, but the three of them were immersed in their own separate versions of hell. Grief made for strained conversation, their reunion a mockery.
However, at work on the night shift, Mitch could relax a bit, and allow himself to feel his pain, a little at a time. ‘I miss you, Dad,’ he wrote on a piece of scrap paper in front of him. Angry at the sudden rush of tears, he wadded up the paper and threw it in the garbage. A jolt of guilt caused him to dig the paper out of the trash, smooth it carefully, fold it and put it in his pocket.
It didn’t make sense, but the counsellor said that was par for the course. Grief rarely made sense.
He was grateful that Cory had put him on to this job. Carmine was happy to see Mitch and even happier that he agreed to take the night shift. It was hard to keep staff that would work the night shift. A job was a job, as far as Mitch was concerned. It allowed him to pay for his car and save up some money. Mitch shifted to a more comfortable position on the stool behind the counter. He hoped Kendra was saving up some money, too. She said she was working, and didn’t have a lot of time to hang out. He brushed away his uneasy feelin
gs about her, not wanting to think too much about her lack of communication. She never said much about their plans to travel. She was busy, that was all. She came to the funeral, but she stayed out of the way. Afterward, she had come to see him, giving him a quick kiss before the left. ‘I’m sorry,’ was all she said, her eyes bright with tears.
Well, they all were. It was a bad time for everyone.
The tinkle of the bell over the door jolted Mitch out of his gloomy thoughts. Customers would be a welcome distraction at this point. He glanced up as a young man was making his way to the back of the store. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the hood pulled up around his face, so Mitch couldn’t see who it was. The skinny youth pulled a paper cup from the cup holder and started pouring himself a coffee from the large carafe. Mitch ran a quick mental checklist. When was the last time he had refilled the carafe with fresh coffee? He hoped it was still hot.
A second tinkle drew his gaze back to the front door. Two more men came into the store and started looking over the rack of chips and other snacks. Both of them wore baseball caps pulled down low over their eyes, but Mitch could see them glancing furtively at him and at the other kid in the store. A spike of adrenaline put Mitch on full alert. Something was up. He glanced at the back of the store. The first man was looking over the case of day-old donuts, picking out two of them to put into a paper bag. He seemed unaware of the other two men in the store.
Sudden movement snapped Mitch’s attention back to the other men. He noticed that they had pulled scarves up over the lower half of their faces. They walked briskly to the till and one of them had a handgun in his hand, pointed at Mitch’s head.
“Open the till and hand over all the money. Hurry, and you won’t be hurt.”
Mitch froze for a moment, and lifted his hands where they could see them. “I can’t just open it without a purchase,” he said.
“Well, let’s just say I want to buy this bag of chips,” said the second man sarcastically, setting a bag of potato chips on the counter.