Derailed

by Jackson Neta

  I turned to look, but we weren’t in Rodney’s line of sight and the TV was loud enough he couldn’t have heard anything. “What’s the matter? He can’t see us.”

  “No, but he’s still in there,” she said, all hush-hush.

  “So? DaShawn’s always been in the house ever since we got married.”

  “That’s different. He’s still a kid, and besides, he has his own room. I . . . I just don’t feel free with Rodney up in here like this.”

  “Well, let’s go into our bedroom then.” I grasped her hand and took a step to draw her after me.

  She balked. “Harry, that’s too obvious. We can’t,” she stage-whispered.

  I sighed. We’d been in our new house no more than three days, and our love life was already taking a hit. I looked Estelle in the eyes. They had a dark, pleading look in them that assured me she wasn’t upset at me. I just needed to figure out how to reach through to her. “Then . . . let’s go for a walk.” A puzzled look came over her face. “And just talk,” I assured her with a grin.

  “So it’s come to that, huh?” Her voice was teasing. “Have to go on walks just to have a private conversation.”

  “Hey, walks are good exercise. We should take one every day. Besides, I need to tell you about my meeting with Captain Gilson.”

  Her eyes brightened. “Oh, yeah, your interview. Let me get my coat.”

  After letting Rodney and DaShawn know we were going for a walk, I motioned to Estelle and headed out the back way to the alley.

  She followed but hesitated at the back gate. “What’re we doin’ out here?”

  “Goin’ for an explore, I guess. Come on.” Taking her hand, I led her up the alley, past the last two houses on our side of the street and around behind the McMansion at the end of the block.

  “Aha!” I pointed at a gate that led into the cemetery. “I thought I saw a gate in that fence the other day when I drove around this way. Come on. That’ll be a nice quiet place to walk.”

  The gate was latched, but there was no lock on it. Cemeteries weren’t public parks, but we’d be respectful and not disturb anything. Closing the gate behind us, we made our way to the access road that wound in a meandering loop through the whole cemetery.

  “I’m sorry I put you off back there, Harry. But I just feel so self-conscious with Rodney in the house. I don’t know . . . married people are obviously supposed to have a married life, and we’ve had a great one, but we need a little more privacy.”

  “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t really intendin’ to . . . you know.”

  She cut her eyes at me sideways. “Maybe not, but I don’t like to shut down a good thing once we get goin’.”

  As we strolled on, I prayed silently—in spite of my doubts—that God would show us what to do. I glanced at Estelle. Bundled up in her heavy coat with a thick brown hat she’d knitted herself pulled down over her head, she looked like a Russian babushka. But under it all, I knew she was the flamboyant love of my life. “Maybe we oughta go ahead and ask Rodney to move downstairs,” I offered. “It’d only take us a couple days to get one of the bedrooms painted, and we got my old bed out in the garage.”

  “We could . . . ,” she murmured, then turned to look at me. “But would that make it harder to ask him to leave?”

  I shrugged. “Well, we talked about that. But it’d also make a statement. Can’t quite ask rent from a guest in your own house, but if he’s in the apartment for which we need to receive rent, he needs to get on with his job search.”

  “Yeah, but . . . wouldn’t that put us in the position you wanted to avoid—of us having to depend on his rent to meet our mortgage payment?”

  “Lettin’ him sleep in one of the downstairs bedrooms isn’t the same as renting the apartment to him. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

  “I know, I know, but it’s just . . . we gotta be clear. We’ve kinda been going back and forth on what to do.”

  I wanted to tell her the back and forth thing wasn’t my idea. We had a clear plan until God . . . oh, well. “Look, I hear ya. I’ll make it clear we’re not offering him the apartment, at least not until he has a job that can cover it. And speaking of jobs . . .”

  “Right. You were going to tell me about your interview.”

  I pointed toward a bench. We sat and I replayed the whole interview and how—apart from a few smart remarks—Gilson’s ideas seemed more reasonable when put into perspective. “At first I thought he was just throwing out exotic options like a salesman trying to snag a customer. But he was serious. I think he really wants me and is trying to create the role that would fit me best. I’ve never had an employer do that before.”

  “But . . .” Estelle turned and looked at me with a puzzled expression on her face. “A dog? What would you do with him at night? Leave him down there all alone?”

  “Well, there’s a caretaker always on duty at the kennel. And it’s a really nice kennel—more homelike than just a bunch of cages. But the kennel’s mostly for when the dogs need a break during the day . . . though I suppose I could occasionally leave Corky there.”

  “What? Corky? As in a cork bobbing round at sea? Ha! Ha!” It was her unrestrained laugh that had endeared me to Estelle from the very first. “I don’t want no bouncy dog yappin’ and jumpin’ up on me.”

  Her laugh was so infectious we both had to lean against each other on the bench for support. Finally I said. “I don’t think Corky’s a yapper. She’s a black Lab.”

  “She?” Her eyes got big. “Another woman, no less.” We laughed some more until Estelle suddenly sobered. “You said occasionally you might leave the dog in the Amtrak kennel. What about the rest of the time?”

  “Well, you know, usually she’d come home with me. Dogs and their handlers need to bond, become like family.”

  Estelle straightened her neck, raising her head high. “So not only are ya gonna take up with another female, but you think you’re gonna bring her on up into my house? I don’t think so, Harry Bentley!”

  “Hey, hey, hey.” I raised both hands in surrender.

  She relaxed. “I’m serious, though. A dog? We’ve got DaShawn, and now Rodney. And you want to bring a dog into our life? Harry Bentley, I—”

  I stopped her by raising my finger. “That’s why we’re talkin’ about it, Estelle. I won’t take the job unless we both agree it’s the right thing. As for bringing a dog up into our house, I think you might just end up lovin’ her. A Lab is one of the calmest, most well-behaved dogs there is. And how about that Hero Dog that was at Manna House for a while? What was his name—Dandy? Didn’t you like Dandy?”

  “Hmph! That’s what I’m sayin’! Dandy was nice enough—okay, I admit it, he was real sweet—but dogs are dogs, and he was all the time sneakin’ into my kitchen, stealin’ chicken bones out of the trash. It’s just what dogs do.”

  I shrugged. “Gotta train ’em.”

  “Uh-huh. But who’d walk her and clean up after her? And what about dog hair and mud?”

  “Ah yes, there’s that.” We sat in silence, staring straight ahead for several moments. Chickadees flitted in and out of the bare trees. “I’d walk her, do all the caretakin’. It’s part of the job.” I hesitated. “But there’s another plus side to bringin’ a dog like Corky into the house. Gilson had mentioned the K-9 idea earlier when he phoned me, though he hadn’t put it all together with the detective piece. But I got to thinkin’ the other night when I couldn’t sleep. One of the things that’s concerned me ’bout bringin’ Rodney back into the family is his influence on DaShawn. Right now, he seems to be doing pretty good—”

  “Now that’s an answer to prayer,” Estelle said.

  I paused for a moment. Yes, it was an answer to prayer. So maybe God was listening, even though he’d seemed kind of distant lately.

  “Anyway,” I went on, “this dog is trained to detect drugs. She can smell ’em under any circumstances. With Corky in the house, we’d always know whether or not Rodney was clean—or even DaShawn
or any friends he brings home, for that matter. Because, let’s face it, he’s gettin’ to the age where he’ll be tempted.”

  “Lord, have mercy,” Estelle murmured.

  “Think about it, Estelle. Most parents are between a rock an’ a hard place these days when it comes to drugs. They can’t be naïve about what their kids might be experimenting with, but on the other hand, no one can build a good relationship if they’re constantly suspicious.”

  She turned to me with a frown. “You sayin’ Corky would solve that problem?”

  “No question. We’d always know our house was clean . . . or the moment someone tried to bring in a controlled substance.”

  “But wouldn’t that be kinda sneaky, like we’re spying on ’em?—almost like diggin’ through their dresser drawers or eavesdropping on phone calls.” She slowly shook her head. “I don’t know, Harry. That could destroy trust.”

  I felt a little frustrated. Couldn’t she see the benefit? “No, it wouldn’t be sneaky. I’d explain everything right up front—that Corky is a drug detection dog, part of my job. I’d even demonstrate what she can do and tell ’em to never invite anyone home who might have drugs on ’em because Corky will detect even the slightest amount. Everything would be up front, don’tcha see? That’s not sneakin’ around.”

  She seemed to ponder that. “I guess not, but . . . I’d like us to pray about it.”

  “Well, sure!” I looked at my watch. “Oh no! It’s seven thirty, and I missed Bible study with the guys.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry, Harry. You could still go and get in on most of it.”

  “No . . . no, it’s okay. We need some time to just pray together.”

  I was thinking we’d do that at home, maybe before bedtime, but Estelle took my hand and started praying right there. As she asked God to show us what to do about this job offer, I felt something stir inside me. Could I really put this decision into God’s hands with confidence he’d work it all out? Could I believe he wouldn’t jerk us around again? But what other choice did I have?

  When we were done praying, I still wasn’t sure about the job, but I did feel settled in my spirit about Rodney. I let out a deep breath. “Estelle, I think we should ask Rodney to move downstairs, just as soon as we can get a room set up for him. I don’t think it’ll complicate how long he stays with us. But even if it does, we can deal with that when the time comes. Right now, we need our apartment.”

  She threw her arms around my neck and planted a big kiss on my lips. “Amen to that! Don’t mind if he still eats with us, but I agree, we should set him up downstairs.” She stood up and shivered. “Brrr! I’m cold. Let’s get on back to the house.” Then she winked at me. “Maybe tonight I’ll cash in my rain check on that little ol’ fire you had goin’ on in the kitchen.”

  Chapter 12

  “Great news, Bentley! That’s great news! Say, would it be possible for you to come on down this morning so we can start getting the paperwork and all the testing out of the way?” I could just imagine Gilson leaning back and putting his feet up on his desk.

  “Uh . . . testing?” By this morning, both Estelle and I felt I should tell Gilson I was interested. But . . .

  “Yeah, you know, I’ll sign off on the formal interview and the written test based on me knowing you at CPD, but HR insists on havin’ a current medical and drug screening, polygraph and psychological exam—liability concerns, you know. But I’ll try to expedite everything, and maybe we can get you sworn in tomorrow afternoon.”

  It’d been so long since I’d gone through a formal job application that for a moment all the red tape threw me. Gilson seemed to be doing his best to cut that tape, for which I should be grateful. But was he the captain precisely because he was the can-do guy who didn’t fiddle around when he thought all the lights were green—or was he going helter-skelter on me again?

  When I didn’t answer right away, he prodded, “So, think you can make it?”

  “Well, yeah. Guess I could.” It was already nine thirty.

  “Hey, I’m not tryin’ to squeeze a free day out of you. We’ll count this as your first day on the job. And between all that rigmarole, we’ll get you some more face time with Corky too. Okay?”

  I shrugged, forgetting for a moment he couldn’t see me over the phone. “Guess if Corky and I are gonna be partners, we better get to know one another. I’ve got a couple things to button up here first. Could probably make it by about noon, though. Will that do?”

  “Whatever works. Oh, and Bentley, can you bring in your K-9 certification papers? And you had a degree in law enforcement, right?”

  “Yeah, Northwestern Center for Public Safety.”

  “That’s what I thought. You know, I checked you out pretty thoroughly when you dropped the hammer on Fagan. Had to know where you were comin’ from before we prosecuted the guy. Anyway, bring your degree and documentation for any other training, citations, whatever. We’ll photocopy what we need to satisfy the bureaucrats in HR and make this thing work. Okay?”

  My mind scrambled to visualize where those records might be in the stacks of boxes we hadn’t yet opened. “I’ll see what I can do. We just moved, ya know, but I think I can dig up most of that stuff. See you ’bout noon.”

  “Outstanding! Oh, and I’ll have to check with the motor pool, but I think Sylvia Porter’s vehicle is good to go. Hopefully by the time we get you sworn in tomorrow, we’ll have some wheels for you.”

  Sworn in tomorrow . . . My head was spinning.

  I ended the call with Gilson, slid the phone into my pocket, and took a deep breath. That sly fox had played me, interspersing things he wanted out of me—stuff a little above and beyond—with incentives to reward my extra effort. Not many people get paid for the time they spend applying for a job. And a vehicle too? I’d just assumed since it was a train job there’d be no vehicle even though I’d be coming on as a detective.

  It was all good—or at least seemed that way—but it was happening so fast. The night before, after getting back from my walk with Estelle, I’d joined Rodney watching March Madness as Kentucky trounced Indiana. When the final buzzer sounded, I said, “Hey, can we talk a minute?”

  “Yo!” He clicked off the widescreen. “So what’s up?”

  I tried to ignore the fact that he’d commandeered the controller and carefully suggested that our next project downstairs ought to be a bedroom so he could have a space for himself.

  “For sure, man.” He patted the cushion of the couch beside him. “To tell you the truth, Harry, I appreciate your hospitality and all, but I don’t sleep all that well on this here thing. A night or two, that’s cool, but my back’s killin’ me when I get up in the mornings.”

  “Well, I got an old bed out in the garage that did me just fine for several years. We can bring it in for you. Should do until you can get your own place.”

  Not much gets by Rodney. He picked up on my meaning and gazed at me for several moments, his expression unreadable, then he shrugged. “Well, yeah, if that’s where your head’s at.”

  What did he think I wanted? Somehow I hadn’t said it right. I tried to fix it by explaining it was great having him around and good for DaShawn, but we needed to rent the unit as soon as possible to meet our budget, and it’d probably be too much for him, surely more house than he needed.

  We’d gone back and forth and pretty much smoothed things over, though I think he still suspected we wanted him out of our lives altogether. Guess we’d have to work on that.

  Then Estelle woke up this morning feeling confident the job with Amtrak was a godsend. She even mentioned the job when she blessed the bowls of cereal the four of us had for breakfast. By then I was feeling right about it too, so later the two of us prayed more seriously. Estelle told God we were going to take this first step in faith, and we were going to trust him to show us the next step. I still wasn’t sure how much weight to put on the notion that we’d “heard from God.” Maybe we should simply accept it as our best plan—given the op
tions we faced—and hope he’d go along with the idea.

  Gilson took all my documents and handed them to his secretary to photocopy. Then he turned me over to an HR person to walk me through the medical and psychological stuff—which lasted the rest of the day. So much for spending more time with Corky.

  I didn’t see Gilson again until Thursday morning when he personally took me to the motor pool. When he indicated an unmarked, slate-gray 2008 Dodge Durango, I thought, All riiight! This beats my RAV4 all to pieces. But then I opened the door. The darkly tinted back windows concealed a transport kennel that filled the entire back-seat compartment. So much for replacing my RAV4.

  The plush carrier included a thermostatically controlled fan, air conditioning ducts, water and food cups. I turned to Gilson. “Not bad. Back in the day, we carried our dogs around in the back of a slick back. Then, about the time I transferred out, they got SUVs with cages in the way back, but they were still marked vehicles, nothing like this.”

  “Well, you don’t spend ten grand training a partner just to make ’em miserable. But these dogs earn it. Believe me, they do.”

  Back in Gilson’s office, I signed a bunch of papers for the Durango, and he handed me the keys. “HR said they’d be finished with you by about two o’clock. Make sure they set you up with uniforms for when you work the station. Then when you’re done, report back here, and we’ll get you sworn in . . . unless you wash out.” He grinned broadly. “Just kidding. I’ll have a couple of Amtrak manuals you’ll need to digest, and by then I should have your training schedule with the dog.”

  “Training? Will that be here?”

  “Nah. Corky was trained at Lackland Air Force Base, of course, but for a brush-up like this, I thought we could use the CPD training center out in Des Plaines. I’ve signed you two up for a five-day refresher next week. But we can extend it if necessary. And then”—he held his arms out in front of him like a zombie and grinned—“the blind man cometh. But no rush.”