Cold Land: A Mystery Thriller
Page 24
“Hi, I’m Kat,” a young blonde girl said, as he stepped inside. “Can I help you find anything today?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Imagine I was going to summit Mount Everest. Now, also imagine that I was a total pansy. What sort of coat, gloves and boots would you recommend me?”
Her eyes and smile brightened in a way that suggested she worked on commission. “Right this way, sir.”
Jake stepped out of the mall holding two large bags full of high tech long underwear, a balaclava, wool socks, sturdy boots and even a special mug that kept your coffee warm for up to thirty hours. He zipped his big puffy coat up to his chin, donned his fur-lined hood and walked to his truck feeling as comfortable as a swaddled babe in the freezing air.
His next stop was one of the many cemeteries he’d first seen in the cities. He parked behind a SUV and met another man holding a cane.
“I thought you were in a wheelchair,” Jake said.
“I thought you were in the looney bin,” Jerry said.
They closed the distance and shook hands, then walked with their canes out to a fresh pile of earth stretching out from a large, grey marble headstone. It read “Nils Albert Nelson. Beloved Son and Brother.” At the top was a cross with a police shield mounted on it.
“Pretty swell headstone,” Jerry said.
“How’d it go with that board?” Jake asked.
“Not great.”
“Oh. Am I in trouble too, then?”
“No. No. I got a little heated. Might have given them the what for.”
“Did they deserve it?”
“And then some,” Jerry said, “multiplied by every year I spent on the force.”
“Then don’t feel bad about it.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Good then.”
“I feel great about it, in fact. Never better.”
“Can’t believe last I saw you, you were shot three times, lying in the weeds.” Jake put a hand on Jerry’s shoulder. “Look at you now, up on two feet and telling the brass to pound sand. Thank God.”
“Heh.”
“So, I guess that means you’ll be taking that retirement package.”
Jerry’s mustache twitched left then right. “Yeah. Well, guess they let you out of the psych ward because you’re not cracked in the head?”
“That Doctor Hart was something else. Smarter than I gave him credit for. We had us a come-to-Jesus moment. He wasn’t having my ‘Must have been a miscommunication with the in-laws’ bit.”
“What’d you do?”
“I told him the God’s honest truth. About everything. My repeated undercover work in Texas, my wife, my bender, my losing it.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said it made sense.” Jake snorted. “Like, he said, you know when you’re driving from one part of town to the other, but you space out and then wake up at your destination and wonder how the hell you got there?”
“Yeah.”
“Like how’d you remember to signal and turn and drive the speed limit and not wreck yourself, when the whole way you were off in La-La Land?”
“I’m familiar with the concept.”
“Doctor Hart said that if I could have a mental break and still do everything I did in the police reports… Well, Mister Jerry I won’t lie — He told me I was frankly kinda special. Kinda extraordinary.”
“Mental break? That’s what he said?”
“Well, you’re focusing on the wrong part. Extra-ordinary, you hear?”
“You’re a special, special boy.”
“What’s gotten into you, sour puss?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m being a real pill. It’s this cane and that wheelchair. I know my age, but when we met, I didn’t feel it. Now I’m suddenly an old man.”
“You gotta use the cane forever?”
“Another couple weeks.”
“Is that all?” Jake scoffed.
“I know. I just hate it, is the thing.”
“You’ll be your sunny self again.”
“I better be if I’m going to be home all the time. My wife won’t do well with negativity. Conflict comes around and she’ll hop into a ball like those armadillos you got in Texas.”
“She wouldn’t be the only Minnesotan I’ve met that way. Armadillo people. That’s a funny way to think about it, but it’s true. But then again you got a way of just talking about God knows what up here. No shame.”
“So, when are you heading back to Texas? Your old sergeant was at the board meeting for some reason. Must be putting in a good word, smoothing things over.”
“Can’t be a bad thing. He’s great with higher-ups.”
“Should we stretch our legs a bit?”
“Hold on, Jerry. There’s something I want to say.”
“Speak, Boo-Boo.”
“Can you be serious?”
Jerry shifted his weight onto his cane and nodded.
“Back during that truck heist, when you and Melinda and Townie and Ferguson were all telling me to stop, and making comments that upset me…”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it was all coming painfully unscrambled. Like a hall of mirrors that cut me if I tried to pull it apart. And when the time came, when I was at my very worst, you said the words I needed to hear.” Jake scratched behind an ear. “So, thank you, Mister Jerry. Things could have been a lot worse.”
Jerry’s mustache bunched up to one side. “Awful big coat you’re wearing there.”
“It’s goddamned winter. So the old timers tell me.”
Jerry cocked an eyebrow. “You’re staying?” he asked with an air of realization.
“Gonna try. I know the girls would be okay with their grandparents, and they’re so young, I could just disappear.” Jake looked down at Nelson’s grave. “You know, at first with your stories, I thought you were just a cooky old man, but I’ve had a lot of time to think lately. I realized that ever since your accident and your knock on the head, you’ve been wondering which parts of you are real and which parts are scrambled by the trauma. I noticed how the stories you told never had a point or a moral to them. They were the point. They were how you remind yourself who you are.”
Jerry shifted uncomfortably, telling Jake he’d hit the mark. “I’ll admit it. But don’t psychoanalyze me too much just cause you’ve been in the psych ward.”
“When I’m old and grey, and I have stories to tell, I want to look back on a life that reflects who I really am. Not just what resulted from my trauma.” Jake took a long breath and blew out fog. “I don’t know if I have what it takes to be a dad and all,” he said low. “Jenny did so much, and I was gone with work. But I can’t go back to Texas and visit twice a year. Oddly, to be me, I think I have to stay here. For a while it seems.”
Jerry’s brow furrowed, and he studied Jake’s face. “I might have the occasional word of advice. All three of my kids are perfect specimens.”
“Ha, thanks.” Jake kicked at a dead leaf on the ground. “I’m terrified.” He looked up. “I’m scared to death, Jerry.”
Jerry looked up through the trees at the bright blue sky. He exhaled and nodded. “You wanna see my medal from the governor?”
Jake pushed his bottom lip up. “Hell yeah.”
They turned and hobbled back to their trucks, where Jerry took out the slim case. His medal shined blindingly bright in the sun of the cloudless day. “That’s beautiful,” Jake said.
“Yeah. It’s great.” Jerry closed the case and tossed it on the seat. “Now what?”
The End…
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