by Jim Magwood
Now, his time was spent more and more on the job. His off hours were spent mostly sitting on his living room couch, doing some reading and listening to soft music, but mostly just day-dreaming. Wishing the hours would pass. Sometimes he would show up back at the office just a couple of hours after his shift ended, and he would wander around talking with the other men, maybe praying with someone who needed support, sharing fishing stories, using up the time. He would sleep on a bench, then dress for his shift again and hit the streets. He gave his little dog away because he wasn’t home enough to take care of it and he didn’t feel he was being much of a companion to it, anyway. He sometimes went three and four days without spending three or four hours at his house. It didn’t feel like a home anymore.
He thought many times about taking up drinking to pass the time, but, luckily, had talked himself out of that. Sometimes wondered why, though. It might make things easier. Friends who were beginning to worry about his changed life had invited him out to one of the after-hour police bars one night. He couldn’t get started on a single drink, though, and didn’t last an hour before he left—back to the station. He didn’t actively think about how to spend his time. He just did it. Just waited after a shift ended for the next one to start.
Pastor Steve Sanders from the little church the family had attended had come by several times, but Paul wasn’t ready to take any comfort from him. He went to church every few weeks; sat in the back row until the service was over and left quickly. Tried to go bowling with a couple of the church guys one time, but left after the second frame. He thought he’d go fishing once, but just sat out of sight on the dock and watched the charter boat power away. He ended up back at the house trying to find a ball game on the TV, but finally just shut it off for some quiet music.
On one night off, he started the barbecue in the backyard and threw on a thick steak. When it started to burn, he just shut off the cooker and left the steak to fossilize. He sat all night in the back yard just watching the stars and listening to the sounds from around the city. The next four nights he spent at the station, smiling and joking with the guys, then going to the streets for his shift. Becoming more and more afraid of the dark. Yet only when it was dark did he have any peace. When it was light he could see things, and most of those things usually didn't give him any sense of comfort and security.
CHAPTER 4
When Paul finally fell asleep after the alley, he slept for almost thirty hours, waking slightly for a couple of bathroom trips, then falling dead asleep again. When Tony called him about noon on the second day, ostensibly to see if he wanted to join him for lunch, Paul declined but got up and started to prepare for his shift. The sergeant had first specifically told the troops to leave him alone; then, on the second day, told Tony to call him.
When Paul got to the station, he laughed and joked with the guys, then hit the streets. He had gotten past the dark for a few days.
He had only been out an hour when an urgent call came: “Anyone in the vicinity; explosion reported at Oyster Elementary School, 2801 Calvert Street, NW. Fire and Rescue responding. Unknown injured. Unknown perpetrators.” Paul was only a dozen blocks from the school, so he flipped his lights on and floored the car to the scene. As he got close, he heard more sirens and saw lights coming from different directions, then turned the last corner and saw the school in flames. Whatever it had been, it had been big. The main school building was almost completely in flames, and there were smaller flames coming from at least two other buildings that were close.
He saw one of the first fire trucks arriving at the main vehicle gate. It was chained and padlocked, but a fireman jumped out of the truck with bolt cutters and had the chain cut and the gate open in seconds. The truck then rolled on through and got as close as possible to the burning building. The main hose to the hydrant at the street had already been rolled out behind the truck and the hoses were being quickly laid out from the truck to the building. Paul heard the pumps power up and within a few more seconds the first streams of water were arching through the night sky into the flames. Another half a dozen trucks had pulled up by then, and he could see teams of men gathering to try to enter the buildings.
Paul could see several police cars had moved into place for traffic control and to keep people away from the fire. He figured he was in about the best place he could be, beside the main gate the first truck had entered, so he got in position to control the gate and watch the backs of the fire crews.
Apparently, the reported explosion had been the only one because the scene was quiet except for the fire crews working and the flames roaring. It wasn’t long before it was reported that the gas supply had been turned off, so they didn’t expect any secondary explosions. Someone had already called the school district office and was told that no one should have been working in the buildings at that time, so rescue efforts were not likely critical. However, the crews were carefully working their way through the buildings to be sure no one was stranded inside.
Paul saw the news vehicles stacking up on the streets. The never-ending chase for the news, he thought. It didn’t matter the day or hour; the news would be collected and broadcast. Satellite booms were up; perfectly dressed and coifed reporters were finding the best places to get and give their stories; camera people were framing their reporters and other dignitaries against the flames. Ah, the drama, he thought. Flames, broken bodies, death and destruction—the things that sell stories. So many people here trying to put out the flames and stop the destruction—and so many wishing for more so they could sell the story. And we call this living? he questioned.
Suddenly, he heard screams coming from a group gathered around a news van half way down the block, and before he even thought about it, he was running as hard as he could toward them. As he neared the group, he saw someone lying flat on the ground and several others kneeling around the person. “Police,” he called out. “Let me through.” As he reached the person on the ground, he saw the blood pool already running from underneath the body and was startled to realize that this apparently was not a heart attack or other natural emergency. He dropped down beside the man on the ground and barked out to the others around, “What happened here?”
A lady holding a broadcast camera replied, “I had him in the viewfinder when he suddenly grabbed his chest and dropped. I couldn’t tell because of the fire noise, but I might have heard a ‘pop’ like a gunshot. I’m not sure. He just dropped.”
Paul questioned, “What do mean, a gunshot? You saying he was shot?” He immediately grabbed his radio and put in the call for homicide. Then, a thought popped into his mind and he said to the camera lady, “Don’t you even move with that camera. Don’t push a button. Don’t do anything without thinking carefully. If you have that on film, don’t you dare do anything to hurt that film. In fact, whatever you have to do— very carefully—you get that film out of there and into my hands, right now.”
The camera lady was fairly new and the tone in his voice kept her from thinking about press privilege or confidentially or anything except very carefully removing the disc and handing it to Paul. “Will I get it back?” she asked, as she finally began to think about the story.
“Yeah. You’ll probably be able to get a copy later, but it won’t be in time for tonight’s news, I’ll guarantee that.” He carefully tucked the disc inside his jacket, then changed his mind, unbuttoned his shirt, and put it inside his shirt. He buttoned up, then zippered his jacket, then turned back to the fallen man. He had already determined the man was dead, but now started trying to piece together what had happened.
“How much coverage of the crowd did you get?” Paul was thinking of the possibility of the arsonist or the shooter having been recorded.
“I had a lot. Just before he was ready to begin his reporting, I scanned the whole area to get any possible news items. The fire, the crowds around here, the park…”
An ambulance roared up and two paramedics ran to the man. Paul said, “Leave him. I’ve called for H
omicide. He’s been shot and he’s gone. Don’t move him.” They did a quick check for vitals, then moved back to their van.
Paul grabbed the camera lady and said, “Quick. Show me exactly where you were standing.”
The lady took half a dozen steps back into the street, looked back at the scene, then shuffled a little to the right, back to the left a couple of steps, and another two steps into the street. She looked through the camera at the fire in the background, checked around a bit more, then said, “Right here. I think I was right here.”
Paul got his pocketknife out, opened it, and scratched some deep marks in the pavement around the lady’s feet. Then he said, “Now. Where exactly was he standing when he got hit? Exactly.”
She thought for a moment and looked at the scene carefully, then said, “Well, he went straight down, as best as I can tell. No, maybe he took a little step backward, like trying to catch his balance? Maybe two little steps, like stutter steps? Then he went down on his knees and went over on his front. Yeah, I think he went backward just a bit, then down. I think that would put his feet just about exactly where his knees are now. I don’t think he turned or anything. Just backward a bit, then down and straight forward.” She thought for another moment, then added, “The film will probably show it all.”
Paul pulled out his notebook, handed it to her, and said, “Write down your name, address and phone. Home and business. Cell phone. Every way to contact you.” Then he started to get the crowd back from the scene so it wouldn’t get contaminated before the detectives got there. A moment later, he stepped back to where the newsman lay, straddled the man to get into the probable position the lady had indicated, and tried to look out a possible line of fire to find a location the shooter might have used.
Two more patrol cars roared up at that moment and the sergeant jumped out of one. Paul gave a quick rundown on the situation and pointed out some possible shooting sites. The sergeant radioed to get some more help, then took Paul’s knife and marked the pavement where the man’s feet had likely been. He then told Paul to check out the location Paul had noted.
Paul looked across the street and the edge of the park it bordered, and tried to fix on the buildings in the background. It was about fifteen or twenty yards across the street, then maybe another one hundred and fifty yards across the park to the buildings. In the dark, he couldn’t see any distinct markings on the buildings. It looked like an apartment unit because several window lights had come on and he thought he saw people milling around at the base of the unit. He saw light spill out as an entrance door opened, then closed. He could see the building looked to be three floors as windows were lit up on all the levels.
Would they have fired from one of the rooms? he thought. Or from the roof?
“Sarge,” he called out. “We need some cars at that apartment building over there. Surround it, and get a circle around the neighborhood out a few blocks. I think that’s where the shot came from. Maybe the roof. We need some guys to talk to the people there. See if they saw or heard anything. I don’t think anyone would be so stupid as to fire from a room inside the place, but you never know. Need to check the place out. Fast.”
The sergeant was already on the radio calling for the chopper and assistance from more officers, and Paul saw several cars pull out immediately and head over to the building. He ran back to his own car and swung around the park and to the front of the apartment building. He saw many of the people disappearing as they saw the police cars heading their direction, and when he arrived seconds later, there were only a dozen or so outside. He jumped out of his car and walked quickly over to a group of senior citizens standing by the entrance doors. He knew they would be the least likely to be concerned with him as a police officer and also the most observant of things taking place, and the most desirous of having their area kept clean of dangerous elements, whatever they were.
He spoke to the group in general. “Folks, we’ve had a problem over by the fire and are trying to find the source. Anyone hear or see anything over here that might be out of place?”
One older lady said, “You mean like a shot or something? I might have heard a shot? Not sure, though.” One of the men added, “Yeah, me too. Maybe from around here somewhere. I was watching the fire from my room up there,” pointing to one of the upper floors, “and heard maybe a ‘pop’, then I came down here. What happened?”
“Might have been a shot came from over this way. Anybody else?”
“Well, I was out here all the time the fire was going and didn’t see anything from right here. Nobody with a gun or anything out front here.”
“Did you maybe hear if a shot might have come from one of the windows in front here?”
“Nope. Nothing that I heard.”
“You, sir?”
“Nah. Like I said, I was looking out my window, but didn’t hear where it might have come from. Just heard it, that’s all.”
A young girl spoke from behind one of the elderly women and said, “I maybe heard it. Maybe from up on top there.”
Paul knelt down in front of her and asked, “What’s your name, miss?”
The girl looked up at the woman beside her, then back at him and replied, “I’m Susie.”
“Is this your mama, Susie?”
The lady replied, “I’m her gramma. She stays with me at nights while her mama’s working.”
“Okay, Susie. Where do you think the sound came from?”
“Up there on top. Over there.” She was pointing to the far end of the building to her left.
Paul’s pulse quickened a little. “Did you see anyone, Susie, or anything?”
“Yes, sir. I turned around and saw maybe a man look over the edge, but then he went back and I couldn’t see him anymore.”
“Can you tell me what he looked like, Susie? What color he was? Anything?”
“Well, not much. It’s pretty dark. But, he might have been black like me. He looked pretty dark up there. He maybe was a homeless.”
“What do you mean by that, Susie? What do you mean, a homeless?”
“You know. A homeless guy? Well, maybe he looked scruffy-like. Kind of lots of hair and maybe kind of baggy clothes?”
“What did his clothes look like, Susie?” He was hoping maybe, maybe.
“Well, just saw maybe just his coat or shirt or something. It kind of flapped, like it was baggy.”
Paul kept his disappointment hidden and said, “Okay. Thanks, Susie. That’s good.”
He looked up to the grandmother and asked, “Ma’am, would you please give me your name, address and phone, and Susie’s, so I can contact you?”
The lady nodded okay, and Paul wrote down the information. He reached out then, and shook the little girl’s hand. “Thank you, Susie. You’ve been a big help.” He said, “I’ll be back in touch, Ma’am, but I have to go now. See what I can find out.” Then he got back in his car and radioed the sergeant.
He reported what the girl had told him and suggested they get officers up to the top of the building immediately. The sergeant replied, “Okay, choppers on the way. Grab a couple of guys and get up there. Go up the inside and see if there’s a roof access. I’ll get some others watching from the back looking for any access from back there and to make sure nobody comes down that way.”
With that, Paul called across to two of the officers to follow him and ran to the entrance of the building. He quickly told the others what they were doing, then the three headed through the entrance. Paul saw two sets of stairs going up from each side of the large lobby and directed the two officers to go one way while he headed up the other. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the second floor, then carefully stepped out and looked down the hallway. No one was in sight until one of the other officers popped out from the other stairwell, so Paul headed back up the stairs. He and the other officers repeated their actions on the next floor, and when they didn’t immediately see anyone down the halls, started looking for an access to the roof.
&nb
sp; Half way down the hall he was in Paul came on a door marked ROOF. He found the door unlocked, drew his Glock, carefully opened the door and listened for any sounds. He quietly closed the door, holstered his weapon and ran back down to the adjoining hall. He saw the other officers coming back toward him, determined they hadn’t found any other accesses their way, and directed them back with him to the access he had found.
“I don’t see any other way up,” he said. “We’ll open up here and go in quietly. Don’t know if there’s anyone there or not, but don’t make any noise in case they can hear us. I’ll go in first, then you guys follow. I don’t know what the door up there looks like, or whether it’s locked, so we’ll just have to find out. We know there was at least one shot, presumably a rifle, so there are weapons. Real careful, guys.”
Then he turned, drew his Glock again, and opened the door. Once again, he listened, and looked up the stairs into the dark—and the fear hit him again. The dark pressed in again. It stopped him from taking that first step into the stairwell for a moment until he felt the hand of the next officer touch his back. It jarred his mind back to the moment and he looked back to the others and said with a gravely voice, “Okay, together. But stay back a little. Don’t be a target.” He stepped into the stairwell.
CHAPTER 5
The stairs were just like the others, but it was dark. He felt on the wall for a light switch, even though he knew he wouldn’t turn it on. No switch. Just the dark. First step…two…three…four. Still no sight of the door to the roof. He heard the men behind him. Wished he could use his flashlight, but knew it would show him for a perfect target if the people were looking down the stairs. Then he finally saw a sliver of light from the base of the door ahead. Luckily, the moon was shining from behind the building and was coming under the door, or there was maybe a roof light. Anyway, he could see enough from the sliver to know there was no one else in the stairwell. He turned to the others, whispered, “It’s clear,” and quickly stepped up to the top.