by Brad Cooper
That was not the case for Lilly and Kessler. Carl Lilly had only spent six years on the force and with the town’s low crime rate and sparse population the opportunities did not come often. This was only the third such occurrence in which case a dead human being was waiting for him at the scene. It was not something he, or any cop, was truly ready to deal with on a regular basis. It was Ray Kessler’s first such call and not one for when he had been adequately prepared.
“Good morning, officers. Got an interesting one here,” said Charlie Barker, a fifty-something EMT who was a familiar face thanks to a multitude of calls over the years. His thinning gray hair was combed straight back, aided by his habit of running his hand through it every few minutes.
“What’ve we got here, Chuck?” Chief Sparks asked.
“Don’t know yet but I got a pretty good idea.” He pointed with one finger as he showed Sparks the key areas. He scratched his beard with his other hand. “Look here, no sign of a physical problem. Don’t look like he hit his head or nothing. Didn’t grab the radio while he was in the shower. So, I was a little fooled at first, but I think I got it now.” His voice was almost whiny, which was unexpected when paired with his appearance.
“Okay, Charlie. Out with it.”
“Look at this white stuff here on the counter. I doubt he was eating powdered donuts while he was in here. That ain’t flour or some cleaning something-or-other neither. Y’know what I think it is?”
Sparks looked around, searching for any sign of what actually happened, a glimpse into the cause of this fatal effect. Finally, the hint he was looking for was spotted in the floor next to the body of the seventeen-year-old Thomas Wyatt. A tightly rolled green cylinder in the form of a one dollar bill that had only one use: a straw, of sorts, for one’s nose.
“Well, Frank, I believe we can close this case pretty early. Check it out,” Sparks said to the officer beside him. He knelt beside the body and rolled the dollar bill to the side with a ballpoint pen.
“You mean this kid was on coke? He’s seventeen, for God’s sake! How can he afford coke?” Amick said.
“Keep it down, Frank,” Sparks said quietly but emphatically, reflexively touching the deputy’s shoulder. “I don’t think Larry and Diana know it yet and they don’t need to hear you announcing it to God and everybody else.” He stood and said, quietly, “That’s what it looks like, alright? But we don’t know for sure so keep it down until we find out. We’ll tell them ourselves when the time is right, if there is a right time for something like this.”
“We don’t know for sure but we probably do,” Charlie Barker interjected from behind them. “See that blood from under his nose? I’ll bet my house this kid overdosed, Darrell. I seen it a few times before I moved here. Sad stuff, bubba.”
“I still don’t get it. How’s a kid, a kid, got the kind of money to score coke? This stuff ain’t cheap and I know there ain’t any high rollers in Spring Creek,” Frank said, dabbing his finger in what lay on the counter and rubbing it on his thumb.
“Maybe not but kids get their hands on…”
“What we got today, Chief?” Carl Lilly asked, chewing loudly on his gum, entering the area for the first time before looking down. “Aw man, it’s a kid. Ain’t much blood in here. What gives?”
“Drug overdose, looks like,” Barker said, void of any emotion, before looking out the window in the direction of the growing crowd in the front lawn.
“Charlie! What did I just say? Don’t even talk about that ‘til we know for sure. Just treat it as a kid who has passed on way too early and leave it at that.” He checked over his shoulder to make sure the Wyatts hadn’t walked to within earshot. “Let me know when you know something on the tests or whatever.”
“Oh, my God. What happened?” Kessler asked, peering around the chief’s shoulder to get a first look.
“Don’t know yet, Ray. Maybe a drug overdose or something. We don’t know anything for sure yet so we just got to wait and see. Get the tox reports and such.”
“Drug over… you mean this kid’s on… was… on drugs? But he’s so… and… I mean… what was…” Kessler lost his train of thought when he felt the churning in his stomach.
“We think it might have been cocaine, Ray. Found a rolled up dollar bill in the floor. Got a little white powder on the sink.” Sparks walked to Kessler’s side, draping his arm around the officer’s shoulders.
“Coke? Wait you don’t think it was… what we… what you guys… you know…” Kessler said, his voice progressively lowering in volume.
“Not now, Ray. Just process everything and we’ll talk about it later. We don’t know what happened yet so just slow down. This kid’s parents don’t need to see you acting like this,” the chief whispered.
“I got it. I got it. I just… I’m a little…” Kessler’s breathing became shallow and rapid. His face was flushed with color.
“Go sit down, kid. You look a little flustered,” Sparks said.
“I’m fine. I just…”
“Ray, you’re red as a fire engine. Go sit down. We got it in here. We’ll talk at the station okay?” Sparks looked at Lilly, pointed at Kessler and said, “Would you get him outside? We’ve got this covered.”
“Right, boss,” Lilly said, holding Kessler’s arm and walking away from the scene.
I just had to bring him into this didn’t I?, Sparks thought but didn’t say.
“Alright, Chief, we’re gonna get the body on outta here, figure out what happened. Guess this area’s all yours to ‘clear’ or whatever it is you guys do now,” Barker said.
“Sounds good. Let me know the minute you find out anything okay, Charlie?”
“You got it, Chief,” Barker said. He winked at Sparks, clicked his tongue and flashed him a thumbs-up. His years of working in the field, in Spring Creek and elsewhere, had desensitized him from the shock of most everything. A deceased young man was just another day on the job and his top priority, lunch, was coming up shortly.
4 PM had just passed at police department headquarters and so had the excitement of the previous morning. There was nothing else on the agenda and the chief of police knew it. His time was now spent thinking about the new business venture and why on Earth he brought Ray Kessler into the mix. He wasn’t ready to be anything but a skittish young beat cop. That much was apparent by the look on his face when he’d seen Thomas Wyatt’s body.
Sparks wondered why he had to allow Kessler to get involved. Sure, he brought it up to me but couldn’t I have made something up? Why didn’t we consider this possibility before? He chuckled to himself when he thought of how good he’d once been at lying on the spot but that was in his married days and he was long out of practice.
With much to mull over, Sparks was half-asleep in thought when the phone rang, awakening him from his daze.
“Darrell Sparks,” he answered flatly.
“Chief? Charlie Barker. I think we found out what happened. Cardiac arrest. Things are a little hectic over there today so they asked me to give you a ring and deliver the news.”
“Come again?”
“Cardiac arrest. That’s where the heart….”
“I know what it is, Charlie. Keep going.”
“Darrell, this kid must’ve had a ton of coke in his system. Doc said it had to be at least 400 milligrams, and maybe more. That’s some serious stuff, boss. I’m saying hundreds of dollars or something. I don’t know all those prices like you do. Remember, this is just preliminary though. There’s still the formal autopsy to come but I’d bank on this.”
“We’ll look into it. Sure is a bunch for a seventeen-year-old kid. Hell, it’s a bunch for anybody. There’s no telling where or how he got it. You told the parents yet?”
“That’s the other thing. They don’t know. I thought maybe you could explain…”
“I’ll get ‘em down here and talk ‘em through it. Is that it?”
“Yeah, that’ll do her. Thanks, Chief.”
“No problem, Chuck. T
ake care now,” Sparks said, hanging up the phone.
The tachometer on Sparks’ mind redlined.
Cardiac arrest? A seventeen-year-old with cardiac arrest? No additional cocaine had been found at the scene, so had the kid snorted all of it that wasn’t still on the sink? Incredible. Did he get it from the Tochigi kid? Sure must be a hard little worker if he sold that much that quick.
He rubbed his eyes and refocused.
Shame about the Wyatt kid though, he thought, shaking his head.
Larry and Diana Wyatt’s world was turned upside down in a period of less than twenty-four hours. From a seemingly stable life with both parents working, two kids in school, a nice house, upper-middle class income, and even a couple of pets, to the events of the previous morning. It was an amazing yet simple commentary on the brevity and fragility of human life. Less than a day ago their family unit was entirely stable, or so they believed. No major problems, everyone seemingly happy. They had a fair share of problems and conflicts, as every family does, none being perfect, but there were no areas of major concern. None of the issues that blanket daytime talk shows, the likes of which will ultimately destroy a family, spoil relationships, and produce heartache once never thought possible. This was not a daytime talk show, nor would the circumstances ever appear on one, but the events were real.
Larry Wyatt’s career choice was essentially chosen for him by default upon his graduation from high school. He chose the line of work that thousands of West Virginians flocked to for more than a century, giving the state its identity, one that was neither negative nor false. His career in the coal mines lasted several years and paid very well before the mine in Spring Creek closed its doors in the early 1980s. Other careers of varying success followed. He tried many things, from insurance sales to construction to his current vocation, a full time cashier at the Wal-Mart in nearby Monroeville. It was a simple job that paid the bills, all the while steering clear of the dangers that once surrounded his daily life underground.
It was after the final shutdown of the mine that he and his wife, Diana, had decided to start a family. They’d decided that the midnight shifts and overtime hours would be a thing of the past, allowing Diana to begin working for the first time since their marriage and permitting them start the family they had envisioned for so long. Thomas was their first born. A daughter, Alicia, came eight years later as well, but Thomas gave Larry the chance to do things seen in 1950s television depictions and Norman Rockwell paintings of an ideal world. Those things were gone and, now, his son was gone.
In the hours since the tragic discovery, a host of unanswered questions ran roughshod through Larry Wyatt’s head. What happened? Who could have known what was going on? Was it an unknown health problem? Was it something else? Chief Sparks had called just a few minutes before, another call in a day filled with friends and relatives of every sort calling to offer condolences and assistance of any and every kind. However, the chief’s call offered something that none of the others could. The chief said he had answers.
The Wyatts entered a police station for the first time in their lives and did so under unimaginable circumstances. Chief Sparks met them halfway between the entrance and his office, partly to show them to his office and partly for the simple comfort that such a small gesture can provide. A few more steps and all three were in Sparks’ office.
Larry was tall but had a slender, wiry build. He kept his auburn hair at medium length and parted on the left side. He wore his golf shirt tucked into his fading blue jeans and walked with a slight limp from an old sports injury that seemed to come from a lifetime ago. Diana was considerably shorter than her husband. Her short and curly dark brown hair accentuated her dark brown eyes. Her nose was prominent on her face, which usually sported a persistent smile. That smile had been absent for the entirety of the day, unlikely to return in the foreseeable future.
“Larry, Diana, come on in. Have a seat. I’m real sorry to hear ‘bout Thomas. Just don’t know what to say really. It’s a shame,” Sparks said uneasily.
“Thanks, Darrell. That means an awful lot. You said you had some information for us about what happened?” Larry said.
“Right. Well, the call just came in from the hospital and they got the results back from some of the tests they ran, the evidence that they have so far. It’s looking like Thomas died from cardiac arrest, and…”
“Cardiac arrest? He’s seventeen! Teenagers don’t just die from cardiac arrest, ‘least I haven’t heard of that,” Diana said. “He’s always been healthy. We do… did… a physical every year. He never complained about anything. How can that be?” The crying stopped as she temporarily gained control.
Sparks held up his hand and said, “Hold on now. The cause of death was cardiac arrest but it had a little help, I guess you could say.”
“What are you saying? Somebody might have poisoned him or something?” Larry said, leaning forward and expecting the worst. “That kid didn’t have an enemy in the world, Darrell.”
“Well, no, not exactly. He kinda poisoned himself. The cardiac arrest was brought on by a drug overdose. They found a whole bunch of cocaine in his blood, Larry. That’s what did it.” Sparks wanted to drop his head and not speak but knew that he could not do so. “I know this isn’t easy to hear but…”
“Cocaine? What? Wait… are they sure? Cocaine? No, no, our boy was not on drugs. I mean we think he may have smoked some pot now and again but all kids do that, right? I mean it wasn’t… it couldn’t… he didn’t do…,” Diana said, interrupting the chief’s explanation before again breaking into sobs, something that had been practically constant throughout the past two days.
“I’m afraid he did. They said they did find some evidence of marijuana in his system too but it was the cocaine that did it. I don’t really know what else to tell you. He been around any new friends lately or been acting a little strange?”
“Not that we could tell. He went to some parties just like he always has but it’s never been a problem. I just don’t understand, Darrell.” She looked at her husband and said, “How’re we supposed to explain this to Alicia? She’ll be devastated.” Then back to Sparks: “We’ve never had nothing like that around here have we? In other cities, yeah, but here? How’s that stuff getting in here?”
“It could come in here any number of ways. That ain’t something for you to worry about. You let us handle that. We’ll look into it. Maybe find out where it’s coming from, where he got it, all that. We find them we’ll nail the bastards to the wall. Excuse me, Mrs. Wyatt, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you Darrell, I know you and your men will do whatever you can,” Diana said and dried her eyes with a tissue.
“There’s really not much else to say. Just wanted to let you know what we were told. If there’s anything I can do, you just let me know. I’ll try to get to the service and if I can’t, I’ll get some of my men there. We’re all real sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you so much, Darrell. You be sure to thank Frank and them for all they did today.”
“Will do, Larry. You all take care now.” He winced at his own words.
Sparks led the Wyatts to the door and watched them drive away, presumably back to their home just a few miles away, one that would most assuredly seem much emptier than it had less than forty-eight hours prior. The circumstances surrounding what they would be feeling weighed heavy on his mind.
Was it the same stuff that got brought in here last week? Did that Tochigi kid really sell that hard of stuff that fast? How the hell did a seventeen-year-old kid afford that much coke in one buy? We could be responsible for this, he thought. I can’t let this get to me. This ain’t the last time something like this will happen. Not anymore.
Sparks sat back down at the chair behind his desk in his office and rubbed his eyes before resting his head in his hands. The Wyatt kid’s death was tragic, and he hated it for Larry and Diana, but this was not the fault of him or his men. They didn’t buy it, they didn’t sell it, and they d
idn’t put a gun to the kid’s head and make him use it. This was not even a roadblock. This was just a tragedy. With another shipment arriving in a few hours, time couldn’t be wasted with worrying about circumstances that may or may not present future problems. The concern was the next night and making sure everything ran smoothly, as well as being presented with the first installment of their cut, their collective fee for providing security.
Sure, Sparks thought, there’s plenty of good stuff ahead.
CHAPTER
6
The sun was halfway into its descent to its nightly home behind the mountains but the fire behind Clark’s house was already burning. The resulting heat was, for the time being, unnecessary in the August evening, as was the excess light, but that would change as evening became night and the temperature started to drop. These nights rarely ended early. Kara and Lisa sat on the edge of the porch. Ryan and Adam sat in chairs opposite each other across the table.
The chess board on the table in front of them had been a source of both entertainment and competition spanning countless hours over the years of their friendship. While one player stared at the board, contemplating both his own move and his opponent’s most likely response, the other would alternate his glare between the board and the player across from him, considering his own strategy and playing into the psychology of the game all at the same time. Clark’s matches with Adam were numbered into the hundreds at least and they each spent more time attempting to outthink the other than they did considering the game itself. What resulted was a figurative chess match inside of a literal chess match.