by Lauren Carr
“I should have left you home with Emma and her Supergirl costume,” Chris said as he checked his buzzing cell phone. Helen invited him to meet her for coffee before their meeting with Rodney. “Can I trust you to not take up chewing tobacco while I’m talking to Helen inside the coffee house?”
With the dog biscuit sticking out of both sides of his mouth, Sterling turned his head to look back over his shoulder at him. His arched eyebrow seemed to say, “We’ll just see, won’t we?”
Chris didn’t notice the sheriff’s department cruiser in the Black Dog Café’s parking lot until after he had turned off the engine. His stomach turned at the thought of the cruiser belonging to Rodney.
As children growing up together, the two boys had been in many fights with each other. As they grew into young men with the same interests and goals, it was natural for rivalry to push the boundaries of friendship, occasionally ending up in a physical battle. While Rodney possessed a bulky muscular build in contrast to Chris’s long lean frame, Chris’s father had insisted his son train in martial arts from a young age. By the time they were teenagers, Rodney learned that even though he had several pounds on Chris, that didn’t mean he could beat him.
Chris realized that he bore some responsibility for Rodney’s bitterness toward him. They had both been too immature at the time to understand the value of lifelong friends. After Rodney’s application to the FBI had been rejected, Chris’s father offered his recommendation to the West Virginia State Police Academy. Rodney refused it—saying he didn’t want Chris’s leftovers.
Years later, Chris wondered if Rodney regretted that. If he had accepted Kirk Matheson’s offer, he could have the position Helen currently held. That had to be salt on Rodney’s wound—seeing the girl he ditched in high school in his job.
Instead, Rodney had married Felicia, the girl he had dated and gotten pregnant behind Chris’s back, and worked his way up in Jefferson County’s Sheriff Department.
He recalled Rodney’s bitter expression when he saw him handcuffed in the back of that police cruiser. “Not my fault he didn’t make the cut for the FBI,” Chris told Sterling who was still working on the chew bone.
Not wanting to take any chances on running into Rodney, Chris reached to put the key back in the ignition when a tap on his driver’s side window startled him.
“Dogs aren’t allowed in the coffee shop.” A gust of wind blew locks of Helen’s dark hair across her cheek. When she tried to brush it out of her eyes, it blew back.
After lowering the window to allow Sterling air, Chris climbed out of the truck. “Stay.” He held up his hand to command that Sterling remain in the truck when the dog hopped over into the driver’s seat.
When the dog looked at the silent radio in an order to ask that he turn it on, Chris shook his head. “We’ll finish that debate later.”
“Is the power out at your house?” Helen waited for him at the café’s door. “All of Shannondale is out.”
“Everything east of Charles Town,” Chris said.
“Not Harpers Ferry,” Helen said. “Sierra got a text from a friend who lives in Bolivar. She got power an hour ago, so Sierra went over to her place to hang out.”
“That means the library must have power. I’ll text Mom. She can take the girls there.” Chris opened the door and held it for her.
She trotted up to the service counter.
Once inside, Chris stopped to take in the patrons while taking his phone out of his pocket to send a message to his mother. It was a habit he had learned in the military and the FBI. His sense of survival dictated that he constantly be aware of his surroundings. Every time he entered a public establishment, he would stop to take note of every door, window, and person—whether he or she be patron or employee. He also liked to sit with his back to the wall to have a clear view of all entrances and exits to see everyone and their movements.
Doris had told him that his father did the same. “I guess it’s a cop thing,” she had said.
Chris was making a visual sweep of the café when his eyes met with another pair boring a hole right through him. Rodney Bell put down his cup of coffee.
In contrast to her husband’s displeasure, Felicia Bell let out a squeal of delight and rushed over to hug him and kiss his cheek. “Oh, Chris, I heard you were back! It is so good to see you!” The exceedingly slender blonde stepped back and looked him up and down.
Over Felicia’s shoulder, Chris saw Helen holding up the line while staring at the two of them. The clerk captured her attention only by raising her voice to repeat her question about what she would like.
“You hardly changed a bit,” Felicia said.
“His hair turned gray,” Rodney said.
“Not gray. Silver. He gets it from his dad,” Felicia said while keeping her focus on Chris. “I think you look very distinguished. Kind of like George Clooney. Don’t you think he looks like George Clooney, Rod?”
Rodney curled his lips upward into a snarl.
“I’ll let you two go back to your coffee.” Embarrassed by her public display of affection in front of her husband, Chris eased toward Helen at the counter.
To his surprise, Felicia moved along with him. She grasped his elbow—not unlike she had so many years before.
“I heard you were living out at the farm. I remember how we used to go out riding together. We used to have so much fun back then.” Suddenly noticing Helen, Felicia greeted her with a nod of her head. “Did Chris take you horseback riding when you two were together?”
“Once.” Helen eyed Chris over the top of her cup.
“Oh, that’s right!” Felicia laughed. “I totally forgot. You only went riding once for about five minutes. Then you fell off and got a concussion. Man! Your dad almost killed Chris. As a matter of fact, didn’t he punch you at the hospital, Chris?”
With a sigh, Chris looked down at his feet.
To his surprise, Helen grasped his hand and squeezed it tight. “It was an accident. Dad was just upset about me getting hurt.” She caught his gaze with her eyes. “He apologized to Chris afterwards.”
“Well,” Felicia said, “I loved those horseback rides.” She rubbed his arm. “I still have wonderful memories of riding across those fields… and our afternoons in the hayloft.”
“Can I help you, sir?” the clerk asked Chris.
“Yeah,” he said as he saw Rodney stand, “beam me out of here.”
Rodney stepped into his wife’s space. “Felicia, we need to finish our conversation.” He was close enough to Chris, who was trapped by her hand on his elbow, for him to smell the coffee on the officer’s breath.
“I’ve said all I have to say.” Felicia moved in closer to Chris and tightened her grip on his arm.
Chris and Helen exchanged glances. Obviously, they had entered the café while the couple were in the middle of an intense discussion, which Felicia had chosen to end by latching onto Chris.
Rodney stepped forward to find Chris blocking him. “I don’t know what’s going on here, Rod, but from what I see, you may want to step outside and cool off a bit.”
“You’re right, Chris. You don’t know what’s going on here. This is between me and my wife. So stay out of it.” Rodney punctuated his point by jabbing him in the chest.
Helen pushed her way in between the two men. “Seems to me Felicia doesn’t want to talk to you right now, and you have a meeting with us in ten minutes. So, Rodney, I’m going to highly recommend that you go back to your office and cool off before Chris and I meet you there. You and Felicia can finish your discussion later.”
Rodney remained still. His eyes were narrowed to dark slits as he eyed Felicia who regarded him with a fiery glare. He then turned his attention to Chris, who stood braced for a fight.
There was silence throughout the café. Everyone held his or her breath. What would the deputy sheriff do next? All were ve
ry aware of the gun he wore on his belt.
Slowly, Rodney turned and left the cafe.
Once he was gone, everyone let out a sigh of relief. Chris rushed to the door to watch Rodney climb into his cruiser and drive out of the parking lot.
He saw that Sterling, sitting in the driver’s seat of the truck, was also watching the police cruiser.
“Felicia, what was that about?” Helen asked her in a low tone. “Rod looked like he was going to have a stroke.”
“Rod and I separated last summer after our younger son graduated from college,” Felicia said. “He isn’t taking it well at all. He’s convinced there’s someone else and there isn’t.”
“You could file a complaint with the sheriff,” Helen said. “Get a restraining order.”
“I don’t want him to get into trouble at work,” Felicia said. “I do love him. He was a good father to our two boys. He was a good husband, too. It’s just that we grew apart.”
“I can tell you’re frightened,” Helen said.
“Forget I said anything.” Felicia gave Chris a weak smile. “Do you remember what you used to tell me back when we were dating?”
“I told you a lot of things.”
“You said that I was one of those people who never knew a good thing until she let it go,” Felicia said. “You were right. I never should have let you go.” She reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek.
In an attempt to push down raising jealousy, Helen found an empty table and sat down.
With the soft kiss, Felicia pulled away from Chris, who stared into her sad eyes. She flashed a polite smile in Helen’s direction and left.
“That was… awkward.” Chris turned to the waiting cashier to place his coffee order.
While waiting for the clerk to prepare his coffee, Chris tried to ignore Helen’s glare by focusing on the headlines of the local newspapers stacked along the counter. He received his news via a phone application. For local news, he relied on his mother, who kept on top of everything. As he glanced at the various headlines, he was struck by the image of his own face looking back at him from one of the front pages.
Sinclair Orders Reopening Lipton Case
Chris grabbed the newspaper and scanned the opening paragraph of the lengthy article. Based on new evidence given to the Jefferson County sheriff, Prosecutor Victor Sinclair had ordered they reopen the Sandy Lipton missing person’s case.
“Your coffee is ready, sir.” The cashier tapped on the counter top to capture Chris’s attention.
Helen watched him stumble to their table while trying not to collide with one of the merchandise displays scattered around the cafe. “What’s so interesting in the news? Ethel’s murder? Or Tommy Bukowski’s?”
“My impending arrest.” He tossed the newspaper onto the table for her to read the headline and see his picture.
“Are you serious?” She picked up the paper to read the article. “What are you going to do?”
Chris opened his mouth to respond but before he could say anything, they heard a scream followed by deep angry barks from outside.
Chapter Twelve
Chris was first out the door. He was followed by Helen and a few of the café’s patrons.
Rodney had apparently driven around the café to intercept Felicia and finish their discussion. Her face contorted in fear, Felicia was pressed against the side of her car. The hundred-pound canine was poised between them. Rodney released his grip on his bloody right arm to reach for his service weapon.
“Sterling! Stand down!” Chris ordered as loud as he could for the dog to hear over his barking.
Instantly, Sterling stopped barking and sat—with his eyes focused on Rodney. Chris grabbed the dog by the collar.
“Is this your dog, Matheson?” Rodney held out his arm. The sleeve to his thick winter coat had been shredded to reveal bite marks on his forearm. “He’s crazy. He attacked me for no reason at all.”
Chris looked over at Felicia, who was hugging herself. He couldn’t tell if she was frightened or freezing in the bitter cold or both. “There must have been some reason. Sterling’s a trained law enforcement canine. He wouldn’t attack someone for no reason.”
“Why did you come back, Rodney?” Helen asked.
“None of your damn business, Helen,” Rodney said. “All I wanted was to finish talking to my wife in private. I walked up to her as she was getting in the car and the next thing I know I had a German shepherd attached to my arm.” He waved his arm in Chris’s direction. “Your dog is crazy and I’m going to have him put down.”
“You’re not putting down my dog.” Chris tightened his grip on Sterling’s collar.
Rodney stepped up to Chris. “As soon as the sheriff sees these bite marks, he’ll get a warrant for animal control to pick him up. We can’t have vicious dogs running around here. The next person he attacks could be a kid.”
Sterling uttered a low growl.
“And as soon as the sheriff sees this, he’ll put you on suspension.” Felicia stepped in between Rodney and Chris. She had shed her coat and rolled up the sleeve of her sweater to show deep bruises on her forearm.
“I’ll tell you what happened.” She held out her arm for Chris to see the dark markings that outlined a man’s hand and his fingers where he had grabbed her. “I was getting in the car and Rodney came out of nowhere and grabbed my arm. I told him to let go, that he was hurting me, but he wouldn’t let go and started to drag me to his cruiser. So I screamed for help. That was when your dog jumped out of your truck to come help me.”
“So the scream we heard was because Rodney was hurting you,” Helen said. “Not because you were afraid of Sterling?”
“Sterling was defending me.” Felicia patted the German shepherd, whose tongue hung out of his mouth at the touch of her hand.
“So much for trying to have my dog put down,” Chris told Rodney.
“Felicia, do you want to make out a police report against Rodney for assaulting you?” Helen asked.
“Depends.” Felicia turned her attention to her husband. “Ball’s in your court, Rod. Now that your friends know what you’re capable of, I suggest you back off.”
All eyes turned to Rodney. He gave his answer by crossing over to Chris. In a low voice, he said, “This isn’t over, Buddy.”
At Chris’s feet, Sterling uttered a low growl.
Rodney bumped into Chris’s shoulder while passing him on the way to his cruiser, climbed inside, and drove away.
“Did Rodney ever get physical when you dated him?”
Their meeting with Rodney was postponed while he made a visit to the emergency room to have the dog bite treated. They were on their second round of coffees before Chris worked up the courage to ask Helen about the time that she had dated Rodney.
Declared a hero, the manager of the café invited Sterling inside to dine on a complimentary dog treat—his second for the day. During their coffee and conversation, Helen petted Sterling, who laid down between their two chairs.
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “He was jealous of you.”
“I would have thought he’d outgrown all that by now.”
“It wasn’t just because you got better assignments than he did with the Army Rangers and ended up at the FBI,” Helen said.
“You’d already left for Morgantown when all that happened.”
“Felicia and I have kept in touch off and on,” she said. “Back in school, Rodney was so jealous of you that he couldn’t see straight. I think being your girlfriend was his main attraction to Felicia. The idea of stealing her from you was too much for him to resist.”
“Ain’t it ironic?” he said while gazing into his coffee cup. “Rodney stole Felicia from me to hurt me—not knowing that you were the one I wanted all along.”
He studied her out of the corner
of his eye. She peered at him with her dark eyes. He considered asking her the question that had been on his mind for close to three decades. He was still working up the nerve when she interrupted to return to a topic that was decidedly safer.
“Rodney’s resentment was deeper than school boy rivalry,” she said. “Your dad would take you camping and come to school events. He was a state police captain—which gave you some prestige. Everyone respected your father. Rodney’s dad was a plumber with a bad attitude who kept getting fired.”
“Probably so he’d have an excuse to not pay child support,” Chris said. “Still, Rodney’s stepfather—”
“Was not his dad. Sure, his stepfather was a good man, treated him and his mom very well—”
“Bought them that big house in Shepherdstown,” Chris recalled. “Gave Rodney anything he wanted.”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “You can’t because you grew up with two parents who loved each other and loved you. The point is, there are your parents and then there’s everyone else. No matter what Rodney’s stepfather did—he wasn’t his dad. Rodney would look at your dad—coming to every ball game, school event, beaming with pride about everything you’d do. And you looking up at him like he was—”
The feelings of loss inching in to take over his emotions, Chris shifted in his seat.
“You had the life Rodney wanted and he hated you for it.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee. “Do you remember one time—Felicia told me about it—they ran into you at SuperMart months after you and Rodney had graduated from Shepherd?”
Recalling the chilly encounter with the couple who he had considered his closest friends, Chris nodded his head. “They couldn’t even look at me. Later, Rodney said Felicia believed the rumors about me and Sandy—that I got some underaged girl pregnant.”
“Is that what he told you?” Helen shook her head with a laugh. “Acording to Felicia, he told her that you got accepted into the FBI because your commanding officer in the Army Rangers gave you a huge recommendation after you went to bed with him.”