by Brad Cooper
Amick thought for a moment and said, “Put it back in and play the first part again. I wanna see something."
Aliff did as he was asked and started the tape for a second time. The blue screen appeared and Amick pointed at the screen and said, “There.”
Aliff paused the tape. The image froze on the screen. “What?”
“See? Right there. It says ‘Play’ and has a counter.”
“Yeah. Big deal.”
“My VCR don’t do that every time. You have to hit a button to make that come up.”
“What’s that mean then?” Lilly asked before taking another drink.
“This ain’t the real tape. It’s a copy. That came up on the VCR where they played the original,” said Amick.
“Huh?” Lilly said. The numbing effect of the alcohol had already started.
“A copy, you idiot! This ain’t the real one. There’s still another one out there and God knows where she’s stashed the thing by now,” Amick shouted. “I swear you don’t have a lick of sense in your head, and we let you carry a loaded gun.”
The chief removed his glasses and began rubbing the corners of his eyes. “Get it,” Sparks said in a muffled voice.
“What’s that, Chief?”
“Get it! I don’t care where it is or who’s got it. Find it and get it! We’ve gone through too much of this to stop now. Nothing could screw us more than this, boys. Just get the thing out of their hands.”
Amick took a long pull from his beer and said, “Why don’t we just let the Japs handle it and move on?”
“We tell them to handle it and we’re telling them that we’re incompetent. You want to be expendable to those folks? I don’t,” Sparks said.
Aliff snapped his fingers and said, “I bet I know where it is. She had to run over to that boy’s house to get the tape today. That’s where they did it because I didn’t see another VCR over there. If there’s another one, it’s over there.”
Sparks tilted his head and said, “And if it’s not?”
“If it’s not, we’re screwed for now. Look, she still doesn’t suspect anything of me. She trusts me. I’ll see if she’ll tell me about it being a copy or something. Give me some time to work though.”
“We don’t have time, Ron. That chopper gets here Thursday and telling them ‘No’ right now probably isn’t a good idea. They’re bringing stuff in here that goes to places all up in the East. At least that’s what Hotaka told me a couple days ago. That’s a big time deal. We need this cleared up by then or at least have that other tape taken care of. Get it.”
“I will,” Aliff said.
Amick silently pondered his unavoidable role in whatever course of action came next. He pointed to the object of his current desire, leaned forward, and extended his arm. “Pass me that bottle, Ron. All this stuff’s got the dogs barking in my head.”
CHAPTER
18
The summer heat had been unbearable for the better part of the last month. A week before, it seemed as if there would be no end before winter. Now, with rain two of the last four days, the end of the heat wave was finally in sight but the fog and unseen humidity lingered in the air like a wet blanket.
Normally, Wednesdays were the same as any other weekday but this Wednesday was unique by every reasonable definition in recent history. Until now, there was no record of a Spring Creek police officer losing his life in the line of duty. Until now, no active duty officer had ever necessitated a funeral service.
The rain was accompanied by a darkened sky with no sign of sunlight in the near future, both of which were appropriate for the day’s events. Another day, another reminder, but this one was powerful and unavoidable. The recent somber mood around the Spring Creek Police Department building was magnified upon everyone’s arrival. For the first time in a decade that did not involve a parade or other form of celebration, every officer employed by the department was in the building, in uniform, and on duty at the same time. Every man was adorned in his dressed best. That much was mandated by the mayor himself. Nothing less would be expected or tolerated for the funeral service for a fallen officer like Ray Kessler.
Mayor Dennis DeShong’s vacation was cut short by the shooting of a local police officer but he did not hurry back as quickly as expected. Originally scheduled to stay in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina until the next Saturday, the mayor arrived back in his hometown for the Wednesday service that would begin mid-morning. He’d been informed of Kessler’s death the day after the shooting.
The combined viewing and public funeral service was scheduled to begin promptly at 11 AM, which meant that time was scarce. Mayor DeShong was supposed to make the drive to the funeral home followed by the cemetery along with the rest of the officers but was ten minutes late. Darrell Sparks knew that patience was a virtue but not one he was blessed enough to possess.
The front door flew open and the mayor rushed into the building. He held the door open and shook the rain from his umbrella before so much as acknowledging the presence of the others. Dennis DeShong was a short, overweight man. His hairline seemed to recede more and more each year but in recent years he’d grown a beard, which he kept neatly trimmed, to offset the follicular deficit on his head.
DeShong’s political resume was, to say the least, short, and to say the most, almost nonexistent. Prior to being elected as mayor of Spring Creek two terms ago, DeShong’s career had been centered on a moderately profitable dry cleaning business. DeShong’s Dry Cleaning was still located on Main Street and now fully operated by his wife, Brenda.
“Of all the days for it to rain,” the mayor said. “I suppose it’s fitting, though. Sad day for us all.” He looked around the room to see Chief Sparks waiting along with Lilly, Amick, and Kevin Robbins, all dressed in full uniform. “Good to see you boys all gussied up. Shame that it’d take something like this to do it though. We ready?”
“Yeah, we’re ready, your highness,” Sparks said with a hint of irritation. He walked toward the door and said, “I’ll get the car. Frank, you and Carl take the rookie. I’ll grab the mayor and we’ll see you there.”
In the passenger seat of the black police cruiser, the mayor rode silently, nursing a heavy heart. In the driver seat, Darrell Sparks drove down the road, nursing a heavy conscience. The ten-mile drive to the funeral home would allow ample time for his many thoughts on the subject at hand to cycle through his head a dozen times.
The steady rain of a half-hour before was transformed into an utter downpour by the time everyone arrived at the graveside service but there was no such thing as a beautiful day for a funeral. Water was standing in the gravel area on the shoulder of the road and the ground had almost absorbed its full capacity. Mud seeped around the edges of every person’s shoes as they walked.
The local dignitaries, if such nomenclature was applicable, elected not to attend the wake. That was best left to family and friends only. Sparks had no problem with their collective decision. If his presence at the funeral hadn’t already been promised, he likely would not have attended it either. There was a limit to how much one’s conscience could bear.
The pastor of the local Baptist church, the only one in town with an attendance that reached three digits, spoke for several minutes to begin the service before leading a prayer. Frank Amick stood with his hands folded in front of him and slightly raised his head and opened his eyes to sneak a peek at those around him. Some faces he recognized, some he did not. Brenda DeShong stood beside her husband, the mayor. Chief of the local volunteer fire department, Steve Bell, stood directly behind the family members dressed in his formal white uniform, complete with the hat that rarely saw the light of day.
There was one large umbrella for every two people. In nearly every case the man would hold the umbrella in the air with one arm while pulling his female companion close to him with the other. The exceptions were the officers who each held their own, their masculinity seemingly preventing them from sharing their personal space with another man no matter
how hard the rain fell or the wind blew. Aside from the police officers and the fire chief, every person in attendance was dressed in traditional black. Large raindrops pelted, and then ran off, the closed coffin in the center of the mass of people.
A distant crack of thunder sounded as the preacher concluded his prayer. Chief Sparks was asked to say a few words and reluctantly obliged. The mayor followed suit before the preacher offered his final remarks. The service was intended to be short and that wish was fulfilled. It lasted only twenty minutes. Tears were shed by each person during their final look at the casket, saying goodbye, offering prayer, and adjusting toward a life in which their friend, their colleague, their son would not play a role. Despite the weather the family remained for several minutes to thank those in attendance.
As expected, Jerry and Sharon Kessler were emotionally in shambles. When their only son, Ray, had told them about joining a small town police force while he waited for a more lucrative job to come along, they had not been concerned. In fact, in all the time they’d spent discussing worst case scenarios and line of duty possibilities, neither Jerry nor Sharon allowed their minds to imagine something such as this. Their only child was gone and they still did not know why. All they knew was that a man had shot him. A mentally disturbed human being had taken their son’s life for a reason unknown to everyone, perhaps even the man himself. Until that reason was known, closure was not even a possibility.
Both of the Kesslers were in their mid-fifties. Jerry’s thinning brown hair was wet from the rain and slicked down on his head. He stood no more than five feet six inches tall, a full two inches shorter than his wife. Most of his black suit was dry, only the cuffs of his trousers soaked with rainwater.
Sharon Kessler was losing her battle to fight back the tears. To her, it seemed as if she’d been crying ever since receiving the worst phone call of her fifty-two years. Her red hair was covered to shield her from the rain that sneaked past the umbrella that her husband held above her.
She wiped the tears from her eyes as she approached Chief Sparks. “Thank you so much for coming, Mr. Sparks,” she said sadly. “Raymond told us about you and the boys that he worked with down here. We’re so proud of him and what he has been doing. He spoke extremely highly of you, matter of fact. He thought he was lucky to be working for a man like you, and said as much more than once.”
Her words cut into Sparks like a knife. It was this scene that had been running through his head as he lay down to sleep for the last five nights. Now it was happening and the emotional distress was worse than he’d imagined. “Why thank you, ma’am. We’re still just shocked about what happened. Ray was just a great guy and we’re sure gonna miss him around here. He was a good cop.”
“Do you know any more about this person or why he killed our son?” Jerry Kessler asked sternly. “We appreciate all you’re doing, Chief.”
“We haven’t found anything else out yet, sir, but I promise you we’re doing everything we can. We’re all plum sick about what happened,” Sparks said with his head bowed, his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you,” Sharon said. “Please keep us up to date on anything you find out. We’d be most grateful.”
“Of course, ma’am,” Sparks said.
Both of the Kesslers offered a handshake to the chief before greeting and briefly speaking with each officer that was present. Amick and Lilly began walking back to the car, their pace brisk in an attempt to catch up with Robbins who had gotten a head start. Sparks turned and started to walk in the same direction when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m just going to ride home with the wife,” Mayor DeShong said. “I’m knocking off a little early today. Sad day for all of us, Darrell.”
“Sure is, sir. I’ll be down at the station if you need anything.”
Before Sparks could leave, the mayor said, “Darrell, I want to be kept up to the minute. Are we clear? If you find something else out, I want to know about it before anyone. That includes the vultures in the damned media. The little blonde reporter’s cute but I’m your boss, for all intents and purposes. This is my town. Keep me posted.”
Sparks swallowed hard and said, “You got it.”
The mayor nodded and walked away. Sparks started toward the row of cars parked along the side of the asphalt road. His mind was made up before he reached his automobile. When everyone was back at the station, a meeting would need to take place. There were problems that needed to be solved and time was of the essence.
As if the rain were controlled by a dimmer switch, the intensity of the rainfall decreased significantly as Sparks pulled into the parking lot. It was on the days filled with inclement weather that he most appreciated his reserved personal space beside the front door. After exiting the car, Sparks rushed into the building with his head down. Amick, Lilly, and Robbins reached the station before him and were in his office, waiting to be told what to do for the rest of the day.
Before Sparks reached the door of his office, Robbins walked out and said, “Chief, I’m not supposed to work today. Can I get outta here?”
“Sure, go on.”
“Good. I’m going to the locker room to change then I’m heading out. I’ll be in tomorrow,” Robbins said as he walked away.
Sparks continued into his office, where Amick and Lilly awaited him, and threw his umbrella into the corner of the room, shouting a curse as loud as his voice would allow. His exclamation combined with the crash of the umbrella against the wall startled the two officers who were awaiting his entrance.
Amick and Lilly looked at each other before Amick said, “Something wrong, Chief?”
“Shut the door!” Sparks said to Amick.
As Amick closed the door, Sparks shouted, “No, of course not. Why would anything be wrong? I just had to look at the mom and dad of the kid who got shot in our parking lot and lie to their face. I told them that we were doing everything we could do, which is partially true. We’re doing all we can do cover our own asses and that’s about it!”
“Let’s be fair. We kinda knew this was coming,” Carl said.
Amick remained silent. He knew what was coming.
“Thank you for stating the painfully obvious, Carl” the chief said. “You’re right. We saw this coming. You aren’t the one who had to deal with it, are you? No! I am. You have no idea what it was like either.” Sparks paused to calm himself and said, “We still have another problem. We know that tape was a copy, at least we think so, and we need to get the other one.”
Before the other men could speak there was a knock on the door. Robbins stuck his head into the cracked doorway and said, “I’m outta here. See you boys, tomorrow.”
Kevin’s voice was unexpected. Sparks gasped and said, “Right. Tomorrow, Kevin. Take it easy, young man.” Then to those in the room: “We need that tape guys. Here’s what I’m thinking.”
For the next five minutes, Sparks laid out his plan. It was full of potential problems but doing nothing could spell total catastrophe. For the first time in his life, Darrell Sparks understood the true meaning of claustrophobia because, for him, the walls were closing in and the exit was nowhere to be found.
Confirmation came an hour later. After receiving Sparks’ call, Ron Aliff made another phone call to Lisa Taylor, his still trusting informant. She delivered the answer they’d expected. The tape she delivered was indeed a copy. The original was still around, though she wanted to keep it for the material at the beginning. She would destroy the video at the end. It was something she neither wished nor needed to keep around.
Thankful that Aliff was taking action and seemingly making progress, Lisa admitted that the copy was made at the house where her boyfriend was living and that she’d get it as soon as she could. As far as she knew, it was right where it had been left. She even relayed its position to the state trooper whom she fully relied on. Every detail she gave to Aliff was then relayed to the chief of police.
Sparks’ plan was already in motion.
It was
5:15 P.M. when Adam walked through the front door after another six hour work day. His part-time work as a personal trainer usually meant as much work for him as it did for his clients. His favorite benefits of the job were simple: the free membership to the club and the extremely casual work attire. For those perks, he could deal with the exhaustion.
His workday ended at four but he always stayed behind for his own workout. He came home to a typical scene. Ryan was laying on the couch, remote in hand, the DVD player on.
“What are you watching?” Adam asked.
“Just converted another tape to DVD and I’m testing it out.” The image of one of his favorite football games of the past, a West Virginia blowout win over the hated Virginia Tech came onto the screen and brought a smile to Clark’s face. “Perfect.”
“Looks good, man,” Adam said. “We got any food or are we going out tonight?”
“I don’t know. If we go out, I’ll call Kara.” Before Adam responded, the doorbell rang. “I got it,” Clark said.
Clark opened the door to see Carl Lilly standing on his porch holding a clipboard.
“Mr. Clark?” Lilly said. “I’m Officer Lilly, Spring Creek Police Department. Not sure if you remember me. Mind if I come in and have a word with you guys for a few minutes?” Lilly peered around him, taking a preliminary look at the front room.
“Uh… sure… come on in,” Clark said as he showed Lilly into the living room. “Can I get you anything, sir?”
“No, thanks,” Lilly said. He took a seat in the small wooden chair that sat against the wall but was mostly for decorative purposes.
Adam entered the room and sat down beside Clark on the couch. “Something we can help you with, officer?” Clark asked. The sarcasm was there but under the surface.
“Nothing specific, really,” Lilly said. He looked around the room, then back at the two men he’d come to see. “Of course, you guys know what happened to our department.”