by Brad Cooper
The amount of daylight dwindled day-by-day as summer was coming to an end. By 6:30 PM, daylight was still present but the sky was beginning to show the signs of the coming night. A half moon was becoming visible, its dull white appearance a contrast to the cloudless blue sky. Tonight, Lisa Taylor’s dinner was homemade. Cooking had been passed down through both the men and the women of her family for multiple generations. Her skill set was one that she was proud of but never flaunted.
Lisa was loading the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. Italian cuisine encompassed her favorite type of dishes but their preparation required as much or more cleanup than most of her other favorites. She dried her hands with a dish towel that was sitting on the counter and walked to the door.
She opened the front door and looked quizzically at the figure on her doorstep. The man, who appeared to be in his early forties in her estimation, was dressed in faded jeans and a dark red golf shirt, the sleeves not quite large enough to accommodate his biceps. He wore dark sunglasses, an aging baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, and a pair of work boots that created a thump as he tapped his foot. His face was clean shaven on the sides, a neatly trimmed Van Dyke goatee on the front. This was not the look of an officer of the law, Lisa thought to herself as she examined him.
Lisa peeked her head through the door and said, “Can I help you?”
“Lisa?”
She instantly recognized the voice from their time on the phone and said with a smile, “That’s me! Lieutenant Aliff, right?” She looked to the small parking space in the front of her house and saw the cruiser. She smiled, reassured.
“That’s right. How are you holding up?”
“I’m doing okay, sir. A little nervous but that’s all. Come on in and I’ll grab the tape for you,” she said, looking around the area behind the officer from the state police to see if they were being observed by anyone.
Aliff stepped into the house and began looking around. He removed his cap, showing a scalp that was balding in the classic horseshoe pattern. The house was small but her arrangement of the furniture and appliances seemed to create more space. Some other culture somewhere in the world had come up with a name for that but Aliff couldn’t remember it at the moment. It wasn’t exactly important.
Hearing noise toward the back of the house, Aliff stepped around the room and looked for anything that might catch his attention. Her computer sat in the far corner of the room, the monitor off but the machine running. Two chairs flanked the couch in the center of the room, all of which faced the television on the side wall.
In the chair sitting in front of the computer desk was the single item that caught his eye. The remains of a small VHS-C camcorder were lying in the seat, the door barely hanging from the rest of the frame, looking as if it had been struck with a sledgehammer, or dropped, as it were. Several printed pages were on top of the broken camera. He wondered if perhaps it hadn’t been moved in quite a while. The printer was not on either, so the pages were not freshly produced.
Aliff started across the room to examine it more closely but stopped when Lisa entered the room clutching the cassette in her hand. “Here it is. I went over and picked it up a little while ago. I rewound it but there’s some other stuff on there too from that night. I was over at a friend’s house and we were messing around and… Well, you know. Just fast-forward through that stuff. What you’re looking for is the last ten minutes or so.”
Aliff smiled and said, “No problem. I understand. This is great, Lisa. It really is. You’ve done well. Hopefully this will take care of everything or at least get things started.”
Lisa stood with her thumbs hooked in her pockets and said, “I just want this to be over. Thank you, sir. You’ve really been easy to work with and all. I hope y’all get those guys.” She ran her hand through her hair.
“We will. Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll be in touch with you soon,” Aliff said and offered a reassuring touch on the shoulder.
She smiled and acknowledged his kindness. Lisa showed the lieutenant to the door and watched him get into his car and start the engine. After backing up and turning around to exit the dead end street, he smiled and held up his hand before driving away.
Lisa closed her eyes, took a breath, and walked back into her house. At last, what she knew was in the hands of those who could use it.
Aliff turned off of Main Street and onto the two-lane highway that would become four lanes after half a mile. It was the main route in and out of Spring Creek. He reached into the seat beside him. Underneath his folded uniform, he pulled out his cell phone. He dialed the number and only waited two rings for the answer.
“Darrell? It’s Ron.”
“Tell me something good. I need it. What do you got?” Sparks asked.
“Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Which do you want first?”
“Who the hell are you? The Riddler? Just tell me what’s going on!” Sparks said angrily and impatiently.
“I talked to the girl earlier today. Her name’s, uh, Taylor.” He looked at the notepad while trying to steer. “Lisa Taylor. Ring a bell?”
“Yeah, I think that’s the new girl. Blonde?”
“Oh, yeah. Blonde, young girl. Kind of curly hair, about shoulder length. Real slender like. She’s a cute one, Darrell.”
“What about her?” Sparks was getting edgy. He was uninterested in opinions. He needed facts.
“The bad news is that she saw what happened, Darrell. She saw every bit of it. The scuffle, the shooting, all of it, just like you described. She was looking right at it.”
“Can’t say I didn’t expect that,” he said with a sigh. “We heard something over that way but didn’t know for sure what it was.”
“I’ll tell you what you heard, Chief. You heard her falling down and breaking her video camera.”
Sparks started to speak but stopped himself. He pondered what Aliff had just said. “Her video camera? Are you saying she has a video of all this?” he said, eyes wide, in an angry whisper so no one nearby would hear. “Mother of God.”
“Yeah, she broke the camera but the tape is still intact. I’m afraid she got every bit of it on there, too. It’s okay, though.”
“Okay? Sorry, Ron, but it’s not okay. You’re not the one whose face is on that blasted tape committing a violent crime that could put your ass in a six-by-six prison cell for the rest of your life!” Sparks said. He still spoke in a whisper but his volume grew louder with each sentence.
“No, I mean it. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Aliff said confidently, his smile unseen over the phone.
“Great,” Sparks said in a sarcastic tone. “Please enlighten me on how this can be okay. I have every reason to worry about. Why shouldn’t I?”
“I have the tape.”
CHAPTER
17
The words spoken by Ron Aliff had a startling effect on Spring Creek’s police chief. In a matter of seconds he experienced a full spectrum of emotions; from curiosity to shock to outrage to fear and back to curiosity again. Sparks was skeptical when a meeting was requested for later that night. He’d wanted to get the parties involved together to view the incriminating video, followed by a frank discussion of the next logical move.
“Why can’t you just drop it off now?” Sparks had asked.
“Because I’m in my cruiser and if the girl sees me leave her driveway and go right to your station, she’ll know something’s up and might do something rash.” Aliff dropped his phone and scrambled to pick it up, “Listen, I’ll go pick up my car and we’ll meet up somewhere tonight. Not the station or at your place but somewhere else. You get it all together and hit me back ASAP.”
Sparks did just as Aliff asked. He arranged for the place and the time and relayed the details to Carl Lilly and Ron Aliff. Everything was set. They could get started around 8:30 PM. Robbins could handle the ridiculously light workload for the evening which would allow the meeting to come off without a hitch.
Fr
ank Amick’s home sat on the dark side of a hill and was not easy to find without perfectly detailed turn-by-turn directions. Even the sign for his street was covered by brush and shrubbery. His primary goal in the search for a home had been simple enough at the time: nothing too large, nothing too expensive, just enough to accommodate himself and his new wife until they required more, by virtue of starting a family.
Fifteen years later, Amick flew solo.
His very attractive and marginally personable ex-wife Linda worked as a receptionist in a local doctor’s office. That is, until a newly-licensed medical school graduate moved into the clinic and within six months she had caught his eye. A year later, they were both out of the state, divorce papers were filed, and Frank Amick was left single, both in marital status and household income, staring down the barrel of a mortgage payment for the next three decades.
Sparks paced the living room and checked his imitation Rolex wristwatch every thirty seconds. It was already 8:40 PM and the trooper was ten minutes late. Amick and Lilly sat on the beige couch that faced the back wall of the front room of the house, which is where the 35-inch television sat. Catching the latest NASCAR report on the 24-hour sports news network was able to hold their attention long enough to pass the extra time before Aliff’s arrival. Once he walked through the door, the relaxed mood would end and business would begin.
Sparks checked his watch again and started another walk across the wooden floor.
“Would you sit down, Darrell?” Lilly said in his trademark Southern drawl. “You’re making both of us nervous. He’ll be here.”
“He better be here,” Sparks said to Lilly. Then to Amick: “You got a beer or somethin’? Take the edge off at least.”
“Hold on,” Amick said with a grunt, pulling himself off of the couch. He returned a moment later with four cold bottles in his hands, removed the cap with the bottle opener on his keychain, and handed it to his boss. “Here. Have at it.”
“Appreciate it,” said Sparks. Amick opened another and handed it to Lilly who gulped down a third of the bottle without taking a breath.
At 8:45, Ron Aliff’s cruiser pulled up in front of Amick’s house. Frustrated, he walked through the front door without knocking and said, “This has to be the hardest place to find in this town. You sure try to make it sound easy. ‘Go past the station, hit Phillips Ridge Road, go about three miles or so’, look for this, look for that. Try all that in the dark for the first time.” He looked around the room and, with a Southern tip of the hat he was not wearing at the time, said, “Fellas.” After a glance at the cans sitting on the coffee table he said, “But at least there’s beer.” The remark drew a chuckle from those in the room. On that note, the sports report was turned off and the VCR was turned on.
Aliff pushed the tape into the VCR and opened a can of soda. “You guys ready?” he asked. The answer was a unanimous yes.
He grabbed the remote and sat in the wooden rocking chair to the left side of the couch. Sparks and Lilly sat on the couch facing the television. Amick sat with his feet up in his fading recliner.
Frank pointed at the television and said, “Hit it.”
Sparks grabbed the remote control and pressed the button to start the playback. The lamp was turned off and the picture came on. The word “PLAY” appeared in the upper left hand corner of the blue screen with a running counter of hours, minutes, and seconds underneath it. As the counter reached three seconds the screen changed to a live picture. The first image featured a chess match. The screen shook as the person taking the video moved around to the other side of the table to get a better angle. One player moved while his opponent stared at him and vice versa.
“That’s the Clark kid, alright. That’s over yonder at his house,” Lilly said.
Sparks took a sip of his beverage and, still looking at the television, asked, “What is this stuff, Ron? Did she give you the right tape?”
“It’s the right one. She said she taped some other stuff on the front of the tape. Have some patience, guys.”
The chief raised the remote and started to fast-forward the tape. After two minutes of scanning, the picture momentarily went to snow and he pressed play, waiting for the next portion of video. The screen jumped to life but the entire picture was flooded with darkness with the exception of a single lighted area in the center. The sound was scarce but grew louder after a few seconds. The disjointed pieces of speech were clearer but not entirely audible.
“Turn it up, Darrell,” Aliff said with his eyes fixed on the screen. Sparks held the button to raise the volume and the words from the tape began filling the room, taking three of the four men in the room back to that night.
The struggle began on the television. The late Ray Kessler was shown in full-color conflict with three other men. That fight would ultimately be the fight for his life and one that he would lose. Three of the four men in the room had seen the action once before. They had lived it. They knew the final outcome.
On-screen, Kessler drew his gun but was restrained.
Ron Aliff leaned back in his chair and watched quietly as the scene unfolded. Lisa had gotten close enough to see and hear everything clearly with the camera. It was all there, in lurid detail. It was like watching a movie in a theater but knowing each of the characters on a personal level. Sparks, Lilly, and Amick were focused on the screen as well but with differed emotions.
Sparks’ breathing was short and his eyes were closed as his posture progressively sloped forward. Watching the final moments was not something he cared to put himself through again. One of his own had been shot and killed by one of his own, and he was right in the middle of the disaster.
Lilly slouched into his chair and leaned his head back against the wall. He too knew what was coming. The inevitable was only seconds away.
Amick was on the literal edge of his seat. The footrest of his recliner was down. He moved to the rim of his chair, leaned forward with his forearms on his knees, and watched the moving pictures as they revisited the night that changed a host of lives and ended another one.
The three men knew the sequence of events, fully aware of what was next. Finally, onscreen, Kessler was surrounded. A single gunshot rang out and Kessler fell to the ground.
The sound startled Aliff sufficiently enough to cause him to jump. He felt a surge of electricity race down his spine, as if he had tried to change a light bulb with wet hands. The moment was once again as real as it had been the moment the shot rang out behind the police station their fellow officer slumped to the ground.
The three local policemen in the room cringed. The sound, and the result, was expected. Collectively, they were shocked by the clarity of what was captured for posterity, and for evidence.
The picture again started to move but this time panicked breathing was heard in cadence with the movement. The person controlling the camera was running. With a crash, the pictures and sounds came to an end. Lisa’s fall and subsequent breaking of the camera sent the picture back to snow. The video ended.
“My God,” Aliff said to himself, indifferent as to whether or not the others in the room could hear.
The room fell silent for two solid minutes. The sound of the tape finishing the rewinding sequence was the only sound during that time. Finally, Amick broke the silence and said, “Well, I could go for a few more beers, or maybe a Jack and Coke. Anybody else?”
“Yeah,” Lilly agreed as he got up from the couch to follow Amick into the kitchen.
Sparks and Aliff were left alone in the living room. Aliff was unsure of what to say after seeing those in whose company he was in involved in such a heinous act. “I had no idea it was going to be like that, Darrell,” he said in a low, somber voice. “All I knew is what you told me so I wasn’t really all that prepared.”
“Funeral service is coming up in a couple of days. I’ll have to be there. Hell, all of us are have to be there except you. I have to look his momma in the eyes and tell her how sorry I am but she’ll have no idea what I real
ly mean by it,” Sparks said. His voice was breaking as he spoke, filled with the genuine remorse that was now magnified by the video replay.
“You’ve never met her? What about his daddy?” Aliff asked.
“Met him a few months ago when he stopped in. He said I pulled him over once about fifteen years ago. I’s on patrol back then. They didn’t live here long. Never met his momma before. It’s a helluva way to introduce myself.”
Amick and Lilly walked back into the room, their arms full of enough alcohol to intoxicate everyone present for three straight days. Four red plastic cups sat on the table with a two liter of Coca-Cola and bottle of Jack Daniel’s that had been freshly opened. “Have at it, boys. Only alcoholics drink alone,” Amick said. “There’s more beer in the fridge.”
“Let me see that tape,” Sparks said.
Aliff fetched the tape from the VCR and tossed it into Sparks’ lap. The chief examined the cassette for a moment and said, “That’s weird.”
Lilly swallowed and said, “What’s that?”
“This girl’s what, twenty years old or something, and she’s still using one of them big ass video cameras like we have down at the station? The big VHS ones? I thought all the new ones were them little handheld ones that take the little tapes.” Aliff’s eyes opened wide, then closed when he sighed, which caught Sparks’ attention. “Something the matter, Ronnie?”
“I didn’t check the tape when she gave it to me,” Aliff said, staring straight ahead.
“So? It’s the right one. We just watched it,” Amick said.
“Her camera’s busted, Frank. I saw it when I went over to get the tape today, sitting in the chair in her front room. It’s not one of those old ones.”
Sparks sat straight up and said, “What do you mean? I don’t follow you.”
“She had one of those small ones you were talking about. That’s an old VHS tape.”