by Jim Magwood
“A question, if you can answer. Do you know if there are any other incidents like these going on elsewhere? Different cities or even states?”
“No, I don’t know. Like I said, maybe the detectives have something, but I was just on the initial scenes and then they were turned over to the detectives.”
“So, you really don’t have anything except your thoughts and feelings?”
“Right, and I know that that’s pretty skimpy for an investigation. But, the feelings are building and building, and I don’t know how to handle them. I know it’s not much, but do you have any ideas?”
“Do these feelings have any relationship with anything else you’re going through? With your loss of Diane, or the kids leaving?”
“No. I hurt for losing them, of course, but they don’t seem to be related to this at all.”
“Anything else?”
Paul didn’t speak for at least a minute, and Steve sensed he was coming to a fairly heavy subject, so he just waited.
“I’m becoming afraid of the dark,” Paul finally said, and then he just sat.
Steve was quiet for a while, then asked gently, “When did this start? Do you mean like a fear of ghosts under the bed or something?”
“No. More than that. Whenever the dark catches up with me, and especially when I’m on the job or thinking about it. It’s becoming a feeling that there’s something out there about to reach for me. Something I can’t see or hear, but… It’s getting to me, Steve, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay. Does it have anything to do with something specific that’s happened? Like a case where something happened?”
“No. The feeling has come up a couple of times when I’ve been on the job and something was happening, but it hasn’t appeared to be from those things. It just comes up during them, or maybe like they stir the feelings in me and bring them to the top.”
“Paul, have you talked to anyone at your job about these things? Asked for counseling, or anything?”
“No. I think a couple of the guys I work with have some suspicions that I’m dealing with something. And maybe the sergeant, my direct boss, is thinking that also. But, no, I haven’t talked about it with anyone. It’s not that any one of these things would be a problem to talk about, but that it’s all kind of ganging up on me at one time, or on top of each other, and I’m afraid the brass would yank me as being not capable at this time.”
“Are you, Paul?”
“What do you mean—capable?” He stopped talking for a moment and the pastor could see a lot of emotions going through his mind. Then, finally he replied, but very quietly, “I don’t know any more, Steve. I know I’m capable of doing the physical job, but it’s beginning to seem like there’s too much to think about all at one time. If I’m just focusing on the job, then I’m pretty okay. Or if I’m just at home, I guess I can cope. But, if I start trying to put life all together in one package… I guess I just hurt sometimes, and get confused. Like I know I want to go try to find Sarah, but then I know I probably shouldn’t. Do you follow?”
“I think I do, Paul, but I’m concerned for you. I’m thinking more than anything about this stuff with the dark. Is it really bothering you? I mean to the extent that you’re going to slip up on something, or fall apart or something?”
Paul was quiet for some time before replying. He had spent a lot of time asking himself this very question lately and had not been able to formulate what he thought was a good answer. He knew how many of the officers in D.C., and even the nation, went out on disability leaves and early, disability retirements every year. He didn’t consider himself at that stage, but knew he needed to resolve some of the things that were eating at him before they did get him in trouble.
The two men spent the better part of another hour talking, and Paul told Steve about the incidents that had bothered him about the dark. They talked more about the loss of Diane, then Jared and Sarah. Steve watched him very carefully as Paul talked to see if he could see any underlying feelings that were boiling, things that might be hidden right under the surface that might be ready to explode. He gradually became fairly certain that Paul had himself basically under control and wasn’t about to go off in some wild directions. But, he also knew Paul needed to talk, and regularly, so his concerns and possible fears didn’t get a chance to build up on him.
They spent several minutes in prayer together and as Paul recognized he needed to get back to the street, Steve gave him his personal cell phone number and instructions to call him at any time if he needed to talk. As Paul left, Steve spent several more minutes praying for protection and guidance for the man, and also for himself that he would have the wisdom to help Paul in the right way.
CHAPTER 9
Monday morning was cold and wet. A typical D.C. winter day, but not freezing yet. Everything came to a standstill when D.C. froze and tow trucks spent entire days just pulling people out of icy gutters and frozen parking lots. And paramedics spent days picking frozen people up out of the same frozen gutters, parking lots and many doorways. Washington winters were cold and wet, and the summers were hot and wet. No getting away from it—freeze or roast, but wet no matter what.
Paul had taken the weekend off, mainly to get some sleep before he reported to the Daly building downtown, Metro Headquarters, and Commander Jason Carver, the Superintendent of Detectives. He walked into the bullpen, got stares from some of the people already there, and got pointed to Carver’s office. The door was closed, so he knocked—and waited. And waited.
What is this? Some initiation? he thought. Make the new guy wait? He turned as one of the other detectives walked up and he heard a quiet, “He won’t be in for a while. Come with me.”
The two men walked back out of the bullpen and down the hall. Paul couldn’t believe the coffee smelled so good in the break room. First good cop-coffee he’d had in years. The other guy held out his hand and said, “Jake Hardee. Let me buy your first cup.” Paul shook hands and nodded at the offer, then sat down at a corner table.
“Does the boss usually get in later than this?” he asked. “The boss has his own schedule. Nobody really knows what it is, but it’s usually late nights and late mornings. He’ll usually show up in the middle of the night if there’s something heavy going on, but he doesn’t like mornings.”
“So, we usually start at seven?”
“Yeah, close enough. As you’d guess, we’re out pretty late pretty often, and that might be all night, plus. If you can do seven, do it. If you can’t, be somewhere even if you’re not. He won’t ask, but someone might tell.”
“A lot of people telling?”
“Enough. Don’t push things and you’ll be okay. Everybody knows our hours, and nobody else wants them, so they’re usually okay when someone catches a few hours of sleep. Where you coming up from?”
“Special Ops and Mobile Force, mostly hanging around the Third. You sound like you maybe didn’t know I was coming?”
Jake said, “I heard someone new was on the way, but I’ve been out a lot and didn’t get any details. You been working anything special?”
“I got called out to a couple of those school burnings. Worked them through a day or so but then turned them over to the suits. Hmmm,” he chuckled. “I guess that’s me now, right?”
“Yeah, you the man now,” Jake laughed. “Yeah, the school fires. We don’t have anything on them yet, as far as I know. I just got assigned to them Friday as my main focus. Other guys were pretty much part time ‘cause of the heavy caseloads. I can’t make the final decision, but you feel like getting into them with me? It’s just me and the part-timers right now.”
“Yeah, no reason not to. Let me know, okay, or will it come from the boss?”
“Ultimately, the word’ll come from him, but until you do hear, let’s go look at some files. You okay with that?”
“Sure. You bought the coffee; you got me. Now if you have some donuts hidden around here…”
“Hey, we’re just lonely, s
tarving dee-tectives. We’re not street cops that have time for all those sweet shops.” Jake was chuckling as he got up and headed out the door.
Paul sized him up some more as they went down the hall. Jake was probably six foot six and two-eighty or so. Built like a fighter; his short sleeves showed muscles that would impress most weight lifters; his hands were scarred and heavy knuckled. Paul knew he’d spent his time in the trenches. Paul was six three and muscled, but he knew Jake would be major trouble if he wanted to be. Most of the bad guys would know it, too.
“You been a fighter, Jake?”
Jake held up his hands and looked at them as if he knew what Paul had seen. “Not in the gyms,” he replied. “Grew up on the streets. Lucked out and got into the Marines, then found my way here. Had a few scrapes along the way.”
“War zones?”
“Yeah, most of them after the sixties until I got here, then more of them around here. I’ve been here eighteen years. Done most of the Districts. Was with the D’s before they started the special units you were in, so stayed and kept wavin’ the flag.” He turned and grinned at Paul. His teeth flashed bright in his coal black face, and with his shaved head he looked as if his whole head was shining in the overhead lights. “Keep thinkin’ about designing our own flag. Stick it to the fender and let them know who’s coming. Maybe a skull and ‘bones? Could be a black skull and white bones if you stick around, you think?”
“You think they’d let us put it on the car?”
“Nah, prob’ly not. But maybe we could carry it inside our coats and wave it once in a while, just for a minute ‘bout the time we hit a scene? Like I said, let ‘em know who’s here?” He paused. “By the way, you got any problem workin’ with a black gentleman such as moi? Cultured, dignified, don’t slurp his soup?”
“Nope. What about you and a WASP?”
“I’ll have to give that some careful consideration. Maybe consult some oracles or somethin’. Might work out, though. I’ll let you know what the Ouija say. Maybe throw some bones tonight—get some answers. Shoot, maybe just let the boss choose.”
Jake and Paul both chuckled as they walked back into the bullpen. The chuckle coming out of Jake sounded more like a rumble.
They sat down at a unit that had two desks facing each other and Jake pulled up a box of papers from behind him. “These just got here this morning, so we can take a first look together. How ‘bout you take these two schools and I’ll take these three. Scan through and see if anything pops out.”
“Okay, but how about you take this one, Oyster Elementary on Calvert? I worked patrol on this one, so you might see something I’ve overlooked. Give me one or two of the ones you’ve got. And how many are there? I only got to know of two.”
“Okay, here’s a couple of the others. Give me that Oyster one. Always did like oysters, anyway. Yeah, there are just these five—shoot, just. Just five little ol’ schools burned. Just about three thousand kids burned out of an education for a while. Just. I haven’t heard anything tying them together yet, but maybe now that ebony and ivory got them, the answer’s just mere moments away. Ya think?”
“Must be,” Paul replied.
Then they got silent while they started reading the files.
Two hours later, Paul put the last of his case files down and looked up to see Jake staring at him. They each had a yellow pad almost full of notes. “So, what did you find?” he asked.
“Me first,” Jake said. “What’s the answer?”
“Other than a couple of schools got torched, I haven’t got a clue.”
“Shoot, what kind of partner you gonna’ be? Don’t even hold up your end of this arrangement. Two hours studying, using all that college training, and don’t got answers? Shoot, I gotta’ do all the work?”
“Okay, then I already asked. What’s the answer?”
“Couple of schools got torched. Didn’t you even get that far?”
“Guess I missed that part.”
“Okay. Guess I’ll have to give you some clues. See anything but accelerants that did the fires?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope. Anybody seen with matches around the scenes?”
“Nope. You?”
“Nope. Anybody seen at all?”
“Nope, except somebody maybe shooting from an apartment roof at the first one. I remember that one. You have that file.”
“So we got a shooter. That’s all you got? After two hours study?”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, we sorry. A pretty sorry dee-tective crew, can’t find the answer after two hours study.”
They sat quietly for several minutes before Jake spoke again. “What did you think of the note in the bottle?”
“Either someone not highly literate, or someone trying to con us that way. If some of the things mentioned are real, maybe we can find something to tie them together. Let’s see… Who let who go, and who had a gun? Somebody got hurt? Somebody went for fun? I’d like to start on the ‘dark’ stuff, but nothing rings a bell at all. I’m thinking we should concentrate on trying to find some links to the first part. Maybe that’d help us explain what happened? Maybe tie in the rest?”
“I kind of had that feeling, too. This note was found by a school, right?”
“Actually right in front of a grocery store that was beside a school that burned. Given what we’ve seen so far, I’d start by connecting it to the school, not the store.”
“Yeah. So maybe something happened in one of these schools that someone is taking umbrage with?”
“Umbrage?”
“So, you don’t know the word? All that education?” “I’ll go with umbrage.”
“Okay. So maybe someone has it in for the D.C. schools because of something happened to his kid?”
“Okay, that works. Maybe we can run a trace on all incidents involving kids hurt in the schools. See if something links. Maybe run it against all the schools, but highlight these five and see if any same names pop up, or the same type of crimes, something like that.”
“What about the poor grammar? Anything ring a bell?”
“No, I think it’s too vague for now. Like I said, could be somebody putting us on, and I don’t want to start on a bad trail. Whoever it is does know about contractions of words, but maybe doesn’t know about spelling them properly? The splitting of certain other words—be - ware. Some - body. Every - where. Again, it could be a put-on. We can put it in the profile as a possible if we come up with anything else, but I think we should wait on that part for now. Stick with finding if there’s any links in the actions like we said.”
“See, now. I knew I picked a smart partner. Someone who’s gonna’ let ol' Jake take it easy now while his partner finds the answers. Solves…The…Crime. But, brings in ol' Jake for the credits, right?”
“Seems only right.
“Yeah.”
“How about you stay here and rest your weariness, Jake, while I go get our data people to start running some searches? I could perhaps rescue us some dogs from the cart in the lobby while the searches are running.”
“Hot dogs? Donuts? Need I remind you that we are not street cops any more? We are dee-tectives, and dee-tectives do not eat dogs and donuts. There’s a little place just down the street that truly knows what dee-tectives need for sustenance, and you will escort me there and will have the honor of buying me the first meal to consummate our partnership. Right after you get that search started, you can come waken me and we will remove ourselves to the parlor of gastronomical delights posthaste.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, man, what have I gotten myself into? Let’s us go and I’ll show you how to run that search, then we’ll eat. Is that easier?”
“Easier,” Paul replied, and they headed for the computer lab.
CHAPTER 10
When Paul and Jake got back from lunch, they no sooner sat down at their workstation than Commander Carver’s door opened, “the man” stepped out and his voice pierced the room: “Corbin.
My office.”
Paul looked at Jake and quietly asked, “Did that sound ominous?”
Jake simply said, “Yep. Ominous. You musta’ done something wrong.”
“But I just got here.”
“So?”
“Ahhh.” Paul got up and walked to the door, then knocked on the edge even though it was open.
“What?”
“You called me?”
“Then get in here. Why you still out there?”
Paul refrained from shaking his head as he walked in and stood in front of the desk.
Carver looked up at him and said simply, “Sit down.” He looked Paul right in the eye for almost a full minute before saying, “I hear you’ve already chosen a partner and an assignment.”
Paul paused for a moment, then decided blunt was the way and replied, “Yes. Got an invitation and decided to be busy.”
“Did he make you buy lunch?”
Surprised, Paul said, “Yes.”
“Figured he would. What do you think?”
“Jake would be a good partner, and he needs help on those school jobs.”
“No, the lunch. Was it good?”
Surprised again, Paul said, “Uhh, yeah. It was.” Then he added, “He said he wouldn’t slurp his soup, and he didn’t.”
“Okay. Then what are you doin’ in here makin' your partner do all the work? Get out there and get at it.”
Paul nodded, stood, and said, “Yessir. On my way.”
“By the way,” Carver said as Paul was going out the door. “Welcome to the D’s. Be careful, and be good.”
Paul simply replied, “Thanks,” and kept walking.
“What’s the matter. Don’t know how to close doors?” boomed the voice behind him. Paul turned slowly, walked back and carefully closed the door. Then he turned and walked back to the workstation he and Jake were sharing. He was looking at his feet and shaking his head until he got to the desk and looked up into Jake’s huge grin.
“You knew, didn’t you?”