Haunted
by
Melanie Jackson
Version 1.2 – May, 2011
Published by Brian Jackson at KDP
Copyright © 2011 by Melanie Jackson
Discover other titles by Melanie Jackson at www.melaniejackson.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
Chapter 1
“You scored a fifty percent on your basic firearms aptitude test?” the Chief bellowed from behind his desk. “Boston, explain!”
Gordon and I stood side-by-side in front of the Chief’s desk at full attention. Neither of us looked at all excited at being given an opportunity to explain. Blue sat at my side looking grave as well. She doesn’t like being yelled at either.
“I was uninspired, sir,” I tried by way of explanation.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I’d get more intelligible responses talking with your dog,” the Chief complained, exactly as I suspected he might. “Gordon, explain!” he demanded, redirecting his anger toward my mentor.
“I can’t explain, sir. It’s as if… it’s as if, at least when it comes to firearms, that she’s got a resistance to training.”
“Is this true, Boston?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And?”
I stood at full attention and considered the possible ways to answer such an ambiguous question. I considered lying. Finally, I decided that the God’s honest truth might make for the best outcome.
“Sir, I could never imagine employing a deadly weapon, such as a firearm, to subdue a fugitive.”
“Meaning?”
“I could never, ever, shoot someone in the line of duty.”
The Chief looked for a moment as if I’d just shot him with one of those lethal weapons. He recovered quickly.
“Well, I suppose that poses a problem or two, doesn’t it?” he said pointedly.
“Sir, my father always told me: don’t carry the gun if you don’t plan on using it.”
This gave the Chief something more to chew on.
“Sound advice,” he acknowledged. “However, I gave you a direct order to be armed by the end of this month or you’re out on your ear.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you seriously prepared to pay the penalty for your defiance of a direct order?”
“I’m not sure,” I said tentatively.
“You’re not sure of what?”
“Sir, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure that I want to be a meter maid anymore, let alone a police officer.”
I’d let that slip more abruptly then I had planned. In any case, I needed to tell the boss of my thoughts and feelings sooner or later. Meanwhile, the Chief looked a little shell-shocked from the bomb I’d just dropped on him. As usual, his face soon resumed its typical look of authority and calm.
“So, how long have you been planning on leaving us?”
I hated the fact that he chose to phrase the question that way.
“It’s not that I’ve been planning anything, I’ve just been talking over possibilities with Alex.”
“Such as?”
“Such as… working for him as a consulting detective. A lot fewer bodies in his line of work.”
The Chief mulled this over for a moment. Gordon was playing it smart by remaining quiet, though I’m sure there were plenty of comments he wanted to make right now. Then the Chief set his jaw as he always did when he’d come to an important decision.
“I think you’d be good at it.”
“What, sir?”
“I think you’d be a fine consulting detective.”
“But the current job, sir.”
“Oh, cut the crap, Boston. We both know that your talents are wasted in your current job.”
I wanted to jump across his desk and hug him for being so understanding and supportive. Instead, I let a small smile play across my lips. I think he could read the relief on my face.
“Now, as to your punishment,” the Chief continued, “I’ve given it a great deal of thought,” which was rather odd considering we’d only just spoken, “and I’ve decided to place you on suspension for one month.”
Suspension! No way! I was about to object when I realized what the Chief was doing. He had just given me one month to get my head together and decide what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. What a doll he could be, even when he’s angry and confused. If only it didn’t mean having a suspension on my record. Oh well, that’s how the dice fall sometimes.
The important part was that I was free. Free from the drudgery of having to get up every morning at six. Now I could take my time, have a cup of tea while I browse the papers, and even take longer walks with Blue. I felt a huge burden lifted from my shoulders. One month of freedom. What was I going to do with all that time?
“Sir?”
“Gordon?”
“What about me?”
“Gordon, I’d like to see a lot less of you. So, get out of my office, get back on duty, and stop wasting my time,” the Chief instructed.
Gordon was out of the office faster than you can say ‘Uncle Frank fell in the commode and Lassie’s had a conniption’. This left the Chief and me alone in his office to talk freely. Or so I thought. And boy was I wrong.
“Chief, I just want to say…”
“Boston, you have a lot of balls walking into my office in front of a fellow officer and telling me that you don’t want to do your job, let alone any job, anymore.”
“Sorry?”
“You heard me. Now, cut the crap and tell me what’s really going on.”
I thought for a moment. Alright, the truth hadn’t worked as well as expected. I figured I could try lying but then realized that there was no way I could get away with lying to the Chief.
“I might want to get pregnant,” I blurted before the thought was fully formed.
“Pregnant? Boston, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m tired, sir,” I finally admitted.
“Tired?”
“Real tired.”
“Tired of what?”
“I’m tired of all the jibes and laughter at my expense. I’m tired of working in a dead end job. I’m tired of all the things I see, all the dead bodies and such. I’m tired of having to deal with those left behind. But most of all, I’m think I’m tired of being used.”
Wow. Where did all that come from? Blue whined as if in acknowledgement of my woes. I felt like I was waiting for the scales of justice to balance my load of emotional baggage versus my job. After what seemed like an eternity, the Chief looked up and I could see that I had won my case. I’ll always wonder if it was the accusation of using me that swayed him.
“Make that one month medical leave,” the Chief amended.
I half expected the Chief to continue: “But I’d better see you armed if you ever decide to come back.” He had the good taste to refrain from saying it though.
“Yes, sir!” I barked in my loudest, inadequate voice. “Sir?”
“Boston?”
“About my current shift?”
“Oh yeah.”
The Chief hemmed and hawed for a time, then came to the only conclusion he could.
“Would you mind covering your shift today, Boston?”
“No, not at all, sir.”
“But then I want you out. For one month. I’m serious!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Dismissed!”
“Yes, sir!”
So, one month medical leave it was.
I clicked my heels together, turned, and let myself out of his office, Blue at my heels. My joy didn’t last. Gordon was waiting in ambush in the corridor outside.
“So, tell me, Boston, what the hell was all that going on in there?” he insisted.
“What the hell are you talking about, Gordon?”
“Are you in, or are you out?” he insisted.
“Why do you need to know?” I insisted back.
“I just need to know whether I should continue planning your going away party or not,” Gordon replied, laughing out loud.
I couldn’t believe I’d stepped right into that one. Several other officers in the area, some of them that I considered to be on my side, laughed along with Gordon. I felt so humiliated. Blue and I walked away without saying another word.
* * *
Soon the monotonous rhythm of chalking tires helped to settle my mind, but it didn’t block my thoughts. I continued to run my conversation with the Chief over again in my mind in an attempt to glean new meaning from it. What did I mean by trying to quit my job? I hadn’t planned to do that when I came in this morning. Was I really so dissatisfied at work? Sure, I’d discussed going independent with Alex a time or two, but I hadn’t made any firm plans. On the other hand, why was the Chief so eager to get rid of me? Had he already found a replacement?
I had to admit that I was probably a little stunned. Never had I had such a morning. Never had I had such news to share with Alex when I got home. Now that was food for thought. What would Alex say? I really didn’t know.
Just then I came upon a woman on the corner frantically flagging me down. As I pulled closer and stopped, I saw that it was our new elementary school principle, Mrs. Sarah Hawks. She had only been on the job a few weeks after her predecessor’s untimely demise.
“Hi, Sarah,” I began, assuming a familiarity we had yet to build between us.
“Hello, Officer Boston,” she replied, refusing my offer at accelerated friendship.
“What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you could help me with some traffic control issues.”
I like the way she phrased that. She almost made it sound like part of my job description. I refrained from pointing out that moving traffic was none of my concern. Instead, I dashed in where others would have, more wisely, feared to tread.
“I’ll do what I can. What seems to be the problem?”
“One of our crossing guards called in sick today at the last minute. We’re searching for a substitute. In the meantime, we’re all helping out.”
“That’s nice,” I replied, skeptically.
“I wonder if you could do me the favor of filling in for an hour while I go check on what’s holding things up.”
“Well, I don’t know.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but I happen to have a pressing personal matter to attend to as well.”
“Say no more,” I interrupted. Because, really, I didn’t want to hear anymore. “I’d be glad to fill in for one hour while you see to things.”
“Why, thank you, Officer Boston, I mean, Chloe.”
Sarah handed me the handheld STOP placard and her iridescent orange vest. I walked Blue over to a shady place on the grass from where she could keep track of things and took up my post on the corner waiting for my first customers. I would have felt more at ease if the vest had fit.
The first to arrive were two young boys discussing baseball. One wore a Yankees cap and the other a White Sox cap. When they saw me, they froze.
“Who are you? Where’s Mr. Flanders?” the Yankee asked.
“My name is Chloe Boston. I’m filling in as crossing guard until a replacement can be found for Mr. Flanders.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Mr. Flanders?”
I didn’t know what to say. I only deal with kids when I am dress up as Officer Bill.
“He’s probably dead,” the Sox fan offered.
His friend looked alarmed.
“I very much doubt that he’s dead,” I said trying to smooth things over.
“But you’re not sure,” the Sox fan challenged.
“No, I’m not,” I admitted. “But I certainly wish him well and I think you should do the same.”
“Whatever,” the Yankee replied, his moment of compassion gone.
“The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out…” the Sox fan began.
“Stop that!” I insisted. Were all boys this morbid?
I crossed the two boys without further incident. As they walked away, continuing to chat and even getting into a shoving match, I contemplated how long it had been since I’d hung around young boys. It had been so long that I’d forgotten how horrible such a chance encounter could be.
I waited, now more nervous than ever.
My next encounter couldn’t have been more different. A mother pushing a stroller worked her way toward me followed by a little blonde girl, no older than six, walking at her side. The little girl had wild curls making her look like Shirley Temple. The baby in the stroller must have been a newborn.
“I drew this,” the little girl wanted me to know.
At the same time she pushed a piece of paper at me containing colorful squiggles and lines. I crouched down and accepted the drawing and was instantly awed by her brilliance. She was going to be a Picasso, I was certain.
“This is very pretty,” I replied. “I like the colors.”
“You can have it if you want,” she offered, smiling. “I have plenty more at home.”
All at once, I imagined this little angel was mine. I saw myself sweeping her off her feet and into my arms. She giggled all the while. I even felt her wiggle for freedom and smelled the overpowering scent of baby shampoo in her silken soft hair.
Then the mother asked the incredible.
“Would you like to hold the baby?”
Would I ever?, I almost screamed. And the woman reached into the stroller, lifted her baby and placed him in my arms.
“His name is Herman,” she explained.
Don’t you worry, Herman, I almost cooed. I won’t hold your name against you. And all of a sudden, it seemed possible that I could be happy with a male child. He was so perfect, in every way. When I came to my senses, there were other kids waiting to cross. I handed the child back and resumed my position of authority amongst the growing chaos on the corner.
After I crossed everyone, I waved goodbye to my two little angels as they strolled away, out of my life probably forever. The little girl looked back and waved one last time before turning and taking her mother’s hand. I felt my heart actually ache.
Oh, but to have such a beautiful daughter of my own. With my luck, I’d probably end up with a boy, just like that rotten one who had passed earlier. But then again, maybe my boy would be a perfect angel like the one in the stroller. I watched after the departing family until they were out of sight.
My time as crossing guard was spent alternately loving and loathing the children who passed. It seemed that the closer they got to their teen years, and hence, puberty, the more obnoxious and estranged they acted. I began to wonder if I could adopt a female child for her first twelve years then send her away to military school. It wasn’t until much later that Principal Hawks returned to relieve me.
“Sorry I’m so late,” she acknowledged as she returned.
“What happened to the replacement?”
“It looks like it’s just me today,” she answered with a decidedly sore smirk. “We’ll have a talk about this at the next parent and teacher meeting,” she assured me.
I left my crossing guard duties with a newfound glow. It had only been a burst of confused energy in the Chief’s office, but now I really began to wonder in earnest about the idea of starting a family of my own.
Next question: what would Alex have to say?
* * *
“Chloe, what’s come over you?” Jeffrey insisted.
“What do you mean?” I responded while I exchanged my heavy patrol boots for my lighter riding
sneakers.
“The word is all over the station that you asked the Chief to get you pregnant.”
“What?” I stared blankly, too stunned to be angry.
“I swear it’s true.”
“Where could you have heard of such nonsense?” I demanded.
Jeffrey didn’t need to respond. It was his eyes that betrayed him. I followed the direction in which those eyes were pointing, over the cubicle tops toward the braying jackass that was my arch nemesis, Dale Gordon.
“That no good bastard. He must have been listening at the door,” I said rising from my seat and rushing from my cubicle.
“Now, Chloe,” Jeffrey insisted, but too late.
I stomped from my desk, following that irritatingly loud voice across the room, and eventually found Gordon at the coffee machine, laughing over something, possibly me, with Officer Bryce. Gordon could tell that I was pissed before I even made it to him.
“Now, hold on, Boston,” he said, raising his hands and backing away.
“You no good bastard,” I began. “You know, I have half a mind to march in there and tell the Chief that you were listening at his door and you’re now spreading false rumors about the Chief and me. Why, I should…” What?
Before I knew what I was doing I was trying to spit on him. My mouth was dry, which didn’t help, and besides, I wasn’t very good at spitting in the first place. But I finally got some on him anyway.
“Hey, that’s assaulting a police officer,” Gordon objected.
“No, that’s insulting a police officer. That’s different,” I pointed out.
It wasn’t until then that I notice Officer Bryce had snuck away from the encounter.
“Boston, I don’t know what you think, but whatever it is, you’re wrong.”
“You know, you’re a snake, Gordon. And one of these days it’s going to catch up with you.”
“Hey, it was just a joke,” he finally admitted.
“Yeah, some joke. Can’t you see me laughing,” I said, turning from him and stomping away before I did assault him.
“So, I guess you didn’t ask the Chief to get you pregnant,” Jeffrey said when I returned to my desk.
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