Deacon's Defender

by Pandora Pine

  “I can hear you thinking, Deacon. Why don’t you come join me?” The man sitting on my couch patted the seat on the sofa next to him.

  In that moment, I knew the identity of the intruder. The question was, why was he here? Why hadn’t he called me to tell me he was coming over? My guard dropped, and I found a smile. “Finley, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night?” Jesus, how stupid would I have been to have called for help when it was my own best friend, who had a key to the house, sitting in my living room?

  “I heard about your arrest. I wanted to come see you earlier, but you already had company. It seems like you’ve really gotten close to David and Mandy McCoy over the last few weeks.” Finley was still staring at the television, which was playing the same air fryer infomercial.

  “You could have just called me.” There was something in Finley’s voice I couldn’t quite identify. Was he drunk? I suppose that would explain why he was sitting in my living room after midnight, without having called first.

  “This was a conversation we needed to have in person. And I’m sorry, but it just couldn’t wait until the morning.” Finley stood up from the couch, finally turning to face me. He was dressed in all black and was holding something I couldn’t make out in his right hand.

  Finley’s posture, and the weird tone in his voice, raised the hair on the back of my neck. I’d never seen him in a mood like this before, not even after he’d been dumped by a boyfriend, or got his ass handed to him at work. I took a step backward, away from Finley and the sofa. “What conversation are you talking about?”

  Finley laughed. I would swear it was diabolical, but my oldest friend wasn’t capable of that. “Did you break up with that guy from the mailroom you’ve been seeing?”

  “We’ve known each other since we were fourteen years old. I know you’re not that stupid.” Finley’s shoulders were hunched forward. If I didn’t know better, I would say he looked like a tiger poised to strike.

  “Look, it’s the middle of the night. I’ve had a very rough twenty-four hours, what with being arrested for arson and spending the night in jail. Why don’t we pick up this conversation tomorrow afternoon? I’ll take you out to lunch at that seafood place you love out by the harbor.”

  “I hate seafood! I’ve always hated it! The only reason I ever agree to go to that restaurant with you, is because you like it! Do you even fucking remember what it is I order when we go out to lunch there?” Finley was screaming at me, as if he were some sort of scorned lover.

  Everything fell into place instantly. I did remember Finley hating fish. I also remembered him ordering a chicken finger basket every time I ordered scallops or clams. What hit home the hardest though, were the memories of innocent touches and longing looks in his eyes.

  Sweet baby cheeses. Finley was in love with me. Why hadn’t I seen it before now?

  “You finally get it!” Finley laughed. It most definitely sounded diabolical this time. “It’s only been ten fucking years.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say something before now?” To be honest, it wouldn’t have made a difference. I’d never been interested in my best friend in a romantic or sexual way. I’d always been just so damn happy to have a friend I could rely on and just be myself with.

  “I kept waiting for you to realize the man of your dreams was standing right in front of you. I’ve never deceived you. Never lied to you. Never treated you like a joke, the way Ozzy Graves did the first time you met him.”

  Ozzy had treated me like a joke during that first interview. He’d acted more like a man who had a million things on his mind and didn’t have the time or energy to juggle the million and one thing I represented.

  “I spent the last year listening to you drone on and on about that motherfucker who would never even give you the time of day. How handsome he was. How you’d like to suck his dick like a lollipop. His broad shoulders. His tight ass. That green shirt he wore that brought out the light in his dark eyes. Are you fucking kidding me? The man is the biggest piece of shit going, but you fawned over him like he was someone.”

  How long had this maliciousness lurked inside my best friend? Had I somehow missed it the same way I missed the fact that the man was in love with me? My head was spinning, and I had no idea how to make it stop. I thought back to my phone, which was in my room. If I had it with me, I could have just dialed 911 behind my back, but I had a sinking feeling that if I made a break for my room now, Finley would chase me down before I could get there.

  “You’re right, I did fawn over him. I suppose it was pretty stupid now, in light of what I know about him.” I remembered studying Stockholm syndrome when I was in college. I figured the best thing to do in this situation was to take Finley’s side against myself.

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, Deacon. I know you’re still in love with him. You might be hurt by his little secret, but I know you. You’re true blue. You always have been.”

  I had just about all I was going to take of my best friend in this conversation. It was late, and I was beyond the point of exhaustion. “What do you want, Finley? It’s late, and I need to go back to bed.”

  Finley took a few steps toward me. With the television completely backlighting him, the infomercial reflected off whatever it was he was holding in his right hand. From here, it looked like glass.

  I suppose that made sense. Glass breaking was what woke me up. He was probably so drunk, he dropped the first glass and managed to successfully fill the second one, the one he was holding now.

  “What do I want? Oh, that’s simple.” Finley took another couple of steps closer.

  It wasn’t a glass he was holding, but rather a bottle. What the hell was going on here? “Finley, look, let’s talk about this tomorrow. I’ll get a good night’s sleep, and you’ll have a monstrous hangover. We’ll go to that greasy spoon you love over in Rockport. We’ll get fried eggs and toast and talk this whole thing over. My treat. What do you say?”

  “I’d say we’re long past that. I did this for you. All of it for you. What do I get in return? You never even noticed. I used to think you were brilliant. The smartest man I knew. All along, you were too stupid to figure it out. Even when I was burning down half of Gloucester, you were too stupid to see me!” Something metal twinkled in Finley’s other hand. There was a spark and then a flame.

  I realized what Finley was holding was a lighter and a Molotov cocktail. I broke from where I was standing and ran to the front door. I threw the lock back and tried to open the door. Nothing happened. I knew in that moment, Finley must have nailed the door shut, like he had at the Old Salem Road fire. I also realized, in that moment, my house was going to be the next Old Salem Road fire. I ran toward my bedroom.

  Finley was behind me, laughing, as if this were all some big game. I suppose to him it was. Killing me and possibly himself was the endgame Ozzy kept talking about. I would be goddamned if I let this end on his terms.

  “Deacon! Get the fuck back here and take your medicine!” Finley roared. His voice shook the walls of my house.

  I got into my bedroom and slammed the door shut, flipping the lock. Knowing it wasn’t going to take Finley long to break through it, I raced around the bed and picked up my phone. I dialed 911 with shaking fingers.

  “State your emergency and address,” a dispatcher said.

  “This is Deacon Fairbanks at 255 Old Salem Road. The arsonist you have been looking for is Finley Manning. He’s in my house with a Molotov cocktail. He’s going to kill me. Send help now!” As I screamed into the phone, Finley broke through the flimsy lock on my door. “Now! You have to come now! If I don’t make it out of this house alive, tell Ozzy Graves I love him!” I shoved my phone into my pocket.

  “Even with your last breath you’re talking about him!” Finley sneered. He swung on me with his free hand. I saw stars as I melted backward against the wall and down to the floor. I tried with all my might to get back up, but I couldn’t. I felt myself sinking bac
kward toward the darkness. The last thing I saw was the orange glow of flames while Finley laughed.

  31

  Ozzy

  I was losing my mind. After Deacon had been released on bond, I’d come back home alone. Each of my brothers offered either to come hang out with me or to take me somewhere else. I refused them all. It hadn’t stopped them from texting to check in on me all day.

  The only thing I wanted to do was go to Deacon. Drive to his house and knock on his front door and beg him to listen to me. I understood how frightened and tired he was, and I just wanted to give him enough space to deal with what had become his new normal.

  Meanwhile, I spent the rest of the day marathoning some ridiculous show about flower arranging on Netflix. I barely knew how to make a bouquet, and these people were decorating twenty-foot orangutans with flowers, bark, and seeds. Deacon would have loved the show. I have a feeling that’s why I stuck with it to the end.

  Making matters worse, was the fact that I had the police band radio on. I was more conflicted than I’d ever been in my entire life, with half of me wanting there to be another arson fire just to prove Deacon had nothing to do with it, while the other half of me prayed Firehouse Three did not get any call outs that night.

  After I finished the flower arranging show, I switched to a hard-hitting documentary about the death of a child at the hands of his parents. I suppose this was the kind of thing I needed to watch all along. Something that was as dark as my mood.

  Halfway through the second episode, the police band radio crackled to life. “Dispatch requesting fire and police to 255 Old Salem Road. The homeowner is trapped in the house by a man he is claiming is the arsonist.”

  I recognized the address instantly. That was Deacon’s house. I ran for the kitchen, shoving into a pair of old running shoes, the tongue of the left one was pushed so far toward my toes it ached. I didn’t care. I grabbed my keys and was out the door.

  Why the hell hadn’t Kennedy put a police unit on Deacon’s house? The police theory had been that they would know where Deacon was based on his ankle monitor and didn’t need to send a car to the house to watch him. Someone was going to have to answer for that later.

  My hand shook as it reached out to press the button to fire up the Charger. I didn’t have a red bubble light, so I was going to have to pray the police didn’t pull me over.

  Halfway to Deacon’s house, my phone rang, Kennedy’s name displayed on the dashboard screen. I pressed the button to answer the call, and the sound of police sirens filled my ears. “Kennedy?”

  “Ozzy? Where the hell are you? There’s a fire at Deacon’s house.”

  “I heard the call come over the police band. I’m on my way there now.” My heart was hammering in my chest so hard, it was a struggle to breathe.

  “Deacon told dispatch the arsonist is a man named Finley Manning. Do you know who that is? He doesn’t have a police record, and we never had him on our radar.” Kennedy sounded perplexed.

  “Deacon has a best friend named Finley. I’m not sure if that’s his last name.”

  “I’m pulling up now. Drive slow.” Kennedy was gone.

  Deacon’s best friend? I’d never met the man, but from everything Deacon had told me about him, they’d been best friends since high school. My mind was blown. There was no time to wonder about the whys of it.

  As I approached Old Salem Road, the sound of sirens grew louder. I pulled over for an engine from Firehouse Two. My guys must have called in a second alarm.

  I needed to get there immediately. Was Deacon safe? What had happened to Finley Manning?

  Not bothering with my blinker, I turned onto Old Salem Road. The glare from the emergency vehicle lights was nearly blinding. Gloucester Police vehicles were everywhere, including the two cars parked nose to nose to block traffic. I parked the car on the side of the road. A moment later, I was running toward the two parked SUVs.

  “Sir, we can’t let you through,” an officer I didn’t recognize advised me.

  I dug for my wallet. “Fire Captain Ozzy Graves. That’s my friend’s house.” I flashed my badge and took off running. My heart pounded in my throat the entire time I was running. Deacon. I had to get to Deacon.

  When I reached Deacon’s house, there were flames shooting through the roof. Two of the guys from Firehouse Two were using the battering ram to get through the front door. It burst backward with a belch of smoke. I stood dumbfounded as the men ran into the house.

  I’d been a firefighter now for ten years. I was the youngest person to achieve the rank of captain in the history of the Gloucester Fire Department. For the first time in my professional life, I stood and watched a fire burn. I couldn’t take my eyes off the flames.

  Movement at the front door caught my attention and broke my paralysis. A body was being hauled out of the house. I was too far away to tell if it was Deacon.

  “Deacon!” I started to run, intent on getting to that body and helping any way I could. Kennedy stepped out of nowhere, holding his arms up to stop me in my tracks. “Get out of my way, Kennedy.”

  “Take a breath and listen to me.” Kennedy’s eyes were pleading with me.

  “I have to get to Deacon. Get out of my way!” I was nearly frantic.

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Ozzy. That isn’t Deacon.” Kennedy’s fingers were digging into my shoulders so hard I knew there would be bruises there in the morning.

  Not Deacon? “You mean that’s him? Finley? The arsonist?” I could see Maxine and Dallas working on him from over Kennedy’s shoulder. They were doing everything they could to save his life. If it were me, I would have stood there and watched him die.

  “No, you wouldn’t. You would be doing everything to save him, just like they’re doing now.” Kennedy’s voice was calm. He sounded sure of himself. Sure of me.

  Shit, I must’ve said that out loud. “If that’s Finley, then where is Deacon?” I shoved against Kennedy, intent on getting past him, but he surprised me with his strength. He held his ground.

  “Listen to me. You don’t have any protective gear on. You won’t last a minute in that house. Nod if you understand, or I’ll have one of my guys put you in the back of a cruiser. Your guys know what they’re doing. Let them do their job.”

  “I love him so much. The last time I saw him, he was so angry at me. You don’t understand, Kennedy. I have to save him.”

  “I don’t understand? I was the one stuck outside your firehouse a few months back, while a crazed gunman held you and the love of my life hostage. Trust me, if anyone knows what you’re going through right now, it’s me.” Kennedy gave my shoulders a shake.

  In the heat of the moment, I had forgotten what happened the day a gunman shattered the peace of my firehouse. Kennedy was right. He did understand. I just couldn’t seem to get anything right today.

  Kennedy wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. “We are going to get through this. I promise you.”

  I held on to my brother until a figure appeared at the door. It was another one of my guys, and he was carrying Deacon. “Kennedy! Look!” I watched stunned as Deacon was lowered to the ground. Paramedics from Firehouse Two surrounded him.

  “Stay here. I’ll go see what’s happening.” Kennedy tried to pull away from me.

  “No. I’m coming with you. Arrest me if you have to. I’ll stay out of the way. I promise.” I had to get to Deacon. I’d do it by force if I had to.

  With a nod, Kennedy headed toward Deacon and the paramedics. “What have you got, Smithers?”

  “He isn’t breathing.” Smithers didn’t take his eyes off Deacon as he worked the bag over Deacon’s mouth.

  I walked around to the other side and got down on my knees next to him. “Deacon, it’s Ozzy. I’m right here, sweetheart. Fight to come back to me. You have to fight!” I could feel tears trickling down my face. I didn’t care. All that mattered was the man lying lifeless in his own front lawn.

  “Die, Deacon, you motherfucker!” Fin
ley shouted from where Maxine and Dallas were trying to restrain him. “So glad you could make it to the show, Ozzy! Look at you, helpless and weak. You dedicated your life to saving other people and the man you love is going to die right in front of your eyes.”

  “Get him the hell out of here!” Kennedy shouted. “He needs to be on a 5150 psych hold.”

  Dallas plunged a syringe into Finley’s bicep. “Really, Doctor Lynch? I never would have thought of that on my own.” Rolling his eyes at his brother, Dallas secured Finley to the backboard, and along with Maxine, brought him to the ambulance.

  A small cough to my left pulled my attention away from the ambulance and back to Deacon. His eyes were fluttering open. “Deacon? Can you hear me?”

  “Oz?” Deacon’s hand reached out for me. I grabbed it and held on tight.

  “We have to get him out of here now,” Smithers said.

  “I’ll be right behind you. Keep fighting, Deacon. Do you hear me? I love you.” Kennedy pulled me back from Deacon as the paramedics worked to load him into the ambulance.

  The fire was out. All that was left of Deacon’s house was a smoldering ruin. As the ambulance pulled away from the scene, I prayed for him. It didn’t matter if he never wanted to see me again, so long as he was alive.

  32

  Deacon

  As I swam back toward consciousness, I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. My head ached, and it hurt to breathe. There were tubes up my nose, and an IV in my left arm. Blinking twice, I opened my eyes and instantly shut them again as a wave of nausea rolled through me.

  “You’re finally awake,” a familiar voice said from near my bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Alive.” My voice was raspy to the point of me not recognizing it. “Everything hurts.”

  “The doctors told us you’d feel like you’d gone a few rounds with some famous boxer.” Mandy McCoy laughed.