The Forging

by Jeffrey Hancock

  “Are you kidding me?” He still thinks Galos and I were in on the heist together. “I may be in over my head, but I was never in on it as you say. Once again I will tell you what happened for all the help it will bring you.” Like a broken record, I repeated what happened that night and on the corner. After my tale was through I told him, “The only things I have left to say to you are my observations. He is smart and methodical. He robbed the store like he’d done it a hundred times before. He was almost bored. He has taken my testimony at his trial personally. As to why your guess is as good as mine. When he attacked my wife, he mentioned precise timing, their suffering, and too high a price for this world. I have no idea what all that meant. I don’t care. What I care about is getting him caught or killed. Seeing him laid out on the street, bleeding, waiting for death to visit him as he left my wife would be my personal preference. Tell me, Detective. Can you arrange this for me?” I am screaming into the phone at this point. Based on my nefarious plan, it was a mistake to have said it.

  “Calm down, Mr. Embers. We are doing our best. We’ll get him one way or the other. I just hoped there was something you were holding back. Something which could shine a light on this whole affair.”

  “So, what’s your play?”

  “We are going to back off on our surveillance of you and your house. No one will be too close. It will appear you are on your own. When he comes for you, my gut tells me he will, we will be there before you can come to any real harm. If you care about your daughter, you’ll want her to be somewhere else while this all is going on.”

  “I’m not sure. It might make Mo a madman’s target. He could use her to get to me.”

  “It’s your call, Mr. Embers, but I think you’re wrong. Watch your back.” Click.

  Having the police back off might give me room enough to slip away unnoticed. Now it is time for me to plan a dastardly deed.

  Home with my family is where I should be, so I went home. My body is home with my family, but my mind is elsewhere. I am trying to come up with a plan. Bits and pieces tumbled about in my thoughts. It all came down to four big hurdles. One, I needed to acquire a rifle anonymously. Two, I had to be able to shake whatever tail the police put on me. Three, I had to find Mark Galos when the police could not. Finally, I had to have the will to squeeze the trigger. Easy. What am I worried about? Let’s see only the thousand little details which can trip me up and get me caught.

  In my mind, I heard the voice of Inigo Montoya say, “I have no gift for strategy. What I need is the man in black.” The Princess Bride, what a great movie, but I have no more time for distractions.

  After I got Mo to bed, I had to get to work. I turned on the computer and began in earnest. It wasn’t too long before I found the information I desired. Tomorrow is Saturday. I think Moiraine and I will take a little ride to visit an old friend.

  Chapter Twelve

  It is Saturday morning, and I had hoped to sleep in. My hopes were dashed, of course. I woke to a tiny finger lifting up one of my eyelids and a voice asking, “Daddy, are you awake?” Sometimes I can’t wait until Mo is a teenager and will sleep half the daylight hours away. This morning is one such occasion.

  “Yes, Honey, I am now.” Blossom’s tail began thumping away the instant my voice sounded. Slowly I stood and shook my head to clear the cobwebs out. On came the TV to Mo’s favorite Saturday morning cartoons. I moseyed over to the kitchen and poured her a bowl full of her latest favorite vitamin-fortified puffed sugar. “Come and get it, Mo.” I gazed into the fridge. It is pretty barren and worst of all, not a Diet-Pepsi to be had. After our jaunt today, we need to restock on provisions. A couple of slices of bologna wrapped around some string cheese will do me. Oh yes, a squirt of mustard for tang on the whole thing. I ate it while I fixed Blossom’s bowl of kibble. “Moiraine, as soon as you are done with breakfast, you need to get dressed. We are going on an outing this morning. Would you like me to pick out your clothes?”

  “Daddy, you don’t know fashion,” she answered in a flabbergasted tone.

  “Me? Not know fashion? How can you say that?”

  “You don’t even buy your own clothes, Daddy. Mommy and I do.” Unfortunately, she is right. I haven’t bought myself any clothes since Charlene, and I started dating. Yeah, Moiraine is right. I don’t know about fashion. It’s a sad day when your child puts you in your place.

  “Okay, Honey, I want to get out the door pretty quick. Go and get ready.” I went to look in on my wife before we left. She looked the same. Ms. Barton is standing by Char’s bedside with a tub of warm water, a couple of towels, a bar of soap, and a washcloth. Ms. Barton is whispering softly to my wife.

  “Getting ready to give Charlene a bath? Do you need me to give you a hand?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. Embers. I will need you to leave, however. Your wife and I will need our privacy.”

  “Privacy? Ms. Barton, it would not be the first time I had bathed my wife.” I tried to hide a smile I am sure is growing on my face.

  “Mr. Embers, please. I do my duties well, but I do them my way. I do not want you in this room while I administer to your wife. I ask you to accept my guidelines.”

  “Very well. I need a change of clothes, and then I will be out of your hair.” Retrieving what I needed, I left. It’s strange. She acts like I am more an annoyance than Char’s husband. She cannot keep me away from my wife in her final days. She may find herself replaced. I took my clothes and did my morning routine to make ready for the day.

  Moiraine and I are both ready to go. Texting John, I sent him a message telling him we would be out a few hours and not to worry. We left the house and climbed into the car. We are on our way.

  The drive would not take long, and we would be at our destination in short order.

  Mo and I exited the car. We stood in the middle of Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery. The cemetery sits near the tip of Point Loma overlooking San Diego Bay. This cemetery offers a quiet dignity to the many United States servicemen and women resting here. This is an old graveyard from the earliest days of California as a U.S. territory. The grave markers stood all around in precise rows and columns as if the soldiers interned here are at attention awaiting the call of duty one last time.

  “Daddy, why are we here?”

  “Moiraine, Honey, we are here to pay respects to a gentleman daddy knew for a long time.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “I don’t like this place, Daddy.”

  “Mo, there is nothing here you need to worry about honey. You see all these graves are for brave men and women who served our country. This is a place of honor. It is here, so we never forget the sacrifices of these soldiers.” I crouched down to be on her level eye to eye. “Do you know what a war is, Honey?”

  “I hear people talking about war, but I don’t know what it means.”

  “There is no easy way for me to explain it, but I will try. Sometimes one country will try to hurt the people of another country. They try to bully them. Soldiers, these soldiers, stood up to those bullies and said, “No, you cannot hurt my fellow countrymen. Not today. Not on my watch.” Sometimes the soldiers die protecting you, me, and the other people in our country. Some of those soldiers are buried here so we can pay our respects. Say thank you to their memory. Your grandpa was a soldier many years ago. He fought in a war.”

  “Daddy, were you a soldier?”

  “No, Moiraine, I’ve never served.” Somehow, I feel ashamed at my admission. Not everyone joins up. Many choose other paths. Why do I feel ashamed? It is a question for another day. Today, I have other matters to see done.

  “Daddy, I don’t like wars.”

  “I don’t like wars either, but sometimes they are necessary.”

  I looked around and got my bearings. We headed to the grave I am looking for. The marker showed the name, Ralph E. Daves. I didn’t know if this is going to work. I cleared my mind and took a deep breath. In my mind, I recalled the image of Ralp
h as I last saw him in the police station during my interrogation.

  I spoke, “Ralph Daves” and waited. Nothing. I spoke again, “Ralph Daves.” This time I put a little force behind it. Still nothing. I must be nuts, thinking I could summon up a dead spirit. But I am already here, so I tried one last time. “Ralph Daves,” I set my will into the attempt just like I do with my headaches. I willed him to appear.

  “Sorry, kid. It took me a while to get here,” Ralph materialized before me as he did at the police station.

  “It took you a while? You’re only about six feet away.” I was peering down at his grave.

  “I wasn’t down there. I was back at the station.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “I feel the most comfortable back at the station. I guess it’s my haunt. So, tell me, what do you need?”

  “Information, Ralph. The name, the phone number, or postal address of someone in town who can provide me with an accurate long gun. No questions asked. And I need one which can’t be traced back to me.”

  “Oh son, what are you going to do? Don’t tell me, Mark Galos.”

  “With extreme prejudice.”

  “It’s not the answer, son. Let my boys do their job.”

  “Tell me, Ralph; you’ve been hanging around your old stomping grounds. How close are they to nabbing him?”

  “Son, it takes time to follow up leads. You can’t put a timetable on a thing like that.” He sounds like he is trying to convince himself.

  “He killed two cops who were watching my house. He threatened the children at my daughter’s school. I can’t stand by and do nothing. Someone needs to put him down. I mean it to be me. Do you have the information I need or not?”

  “Nathan, you can’t ask me to do this.”

  “The next time he strikes, it could be more cops, me, or even my daughter. As I see it, this is preemptive self-defense.”

  “How are you going to find him? The guys back at the station have no clue where he can be.”

  “I have an idea on how to find him. Don’t worry. This whole discussion could be moot if my idea doesn’t work.”

  “I wash my hands of this whole affair.” Ralph stood there a moment more looking at me then looking at my daughter. “Have you considered the consequences of taking his life? When he shows up dead, my boys will know it was you.”

  “Will they be looking that hard? He did kill two cops.”

  “Some of my fellow officers will not take kindly to a vigilante doing their jobs, not kindly at all.”

  We bantered back and forth for the next few minutes, but in the end, Ralph gave me the phone number of someone who could help me. “Thank you, Ralph. I know this goes against your beliefs. Trust me, no one else will get hurt, and he will be off the streets.” I forgot exactly who I am talking to, and I held out my hand. I think Ralph moved by instincts too because he took my hand. We shook hands for a moment then abruptly let go. I can only imagine the look on my face. The look on Ralph’s face is a treasure.

  “See you around, kid,” he turned and walked away, fading out after three steps.

  “Daddy, can we go?” I had forgotten all about Moiraine during my confab with the dead. She must have thought her dad is going nuts talking to himself.

  “Did it seem strange daddy talking to himself?” I grabbed her hand, and we started walking back to the car.

  “I have seen you do stranger things, Daddy.” Stranger things? I thought about it for a few moments. Yep, she has.

  We reached the car, and I buckled Mo into her car seat. I walked around the car. Before I opened the door, I was approached by a Marine in his dress blues. He stopped in front of me and removed his hat and tucked it under his arm.

  “Sir, I need to ask you to keep the noise down. This is a place of reverence and contemplation.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about Sergeant. I haven’t heard any noise, and my daughter and I have been quiet.”

  The Sergeant’s expression didn’t change. “I’m sorry, sir. But you were yelling out the name Ralph Daves. You could say it was loud enough to wake the dead.”

  “Well, I’ll be… I had no idea anyone else could hear my call. You have my apologies. Next time I’ll use a normal voice. I take it you’re a ghost?”

  “Yes, sir. I am.”

  “How did you pass away?”

  “Afghanistan, by an IED, improvised explosive device.”

  “I am sorry and thank you for your sacrifice, Sergeant.” I want to do something more for this man than a simple thank you, but what? An idea came to me. “Sergeant, your family. Would you like me to tell them anything?”

  His demeanor changed. His face softened, and he stood at ease. “How can you do it, sir? My family will think it’s a cruel joke. I died over two years ago.”

  “Let me worry about it. I’ll come up with a reasonable explanation.” The Sergeant gave me a message to carry to his family and where I could find them. I don’t know why I made the offer in the first place. It seemed like the right thing to do. Maybe they will make it my epitaph. “It seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Moiraine and I drove home with a short stop at the grocery store. I shopped to restock our pantry and Mo made friends with the other shoppers. Besides the usual bread, milk, and other foodstuffs, I bought the fixings for some home-cooked beans. Lima beans the big ones, not those baby ones, some cans of stock, and a big ham hock. My mouth started to water thinking of those beans. I also made a separate purchase with cash.

  We returned home, and Mo went into the bedroom to visit her mother while I put the groceries away. I also began presoaking the beans. I tried cooking them straight out of the bag one time. Big mistake. No matter how long I cooked those beans, they never got done. I damn near broke a tooth trying to eat those.

  With the beans soaking and the groceries put away, I went to visit my wife. Moiraine is sitting on the bed next to Char brushing her hair and doing a pretty fine job of it. Ms. Barton is working on her knitting, but her eyes are on Mo. Nurse Barton did not look like she approved of what is happening. Gratefully she is keeping her mouth shut. Any opinions she had about my daughter attending to her mother would be best kept to herself. “Is there any change to my wife’s condition?”

  “No, Mr. Embers. She is holding her own. She has a strong will. Perhaps the best thing you and your daughter can do for her is to say goodbye. She may be holding on to life because you are still holding on to her.”

  “You want me to tell my wife it’s okay for her to die? I have never heard a bigger load of…,” I turned and saw my daughter “doodoo.” Lowering my voice and talking through my teeth, I said, “It is not okay for my wife to die. She needs to fight for every blessed moment she can.” I stormed out of the room.

  Lunch was ready for Mo and me. It is nothing special bologna sandwiches with mayo and mustard. We had unflavored potato chips too. We ate in relative silence. Mo was humming quietly to herself. My meal tasted sour. It is fitting, since I am in a sour mood. After lunch, I picked up the table and kitchen. A knot is growing in the pit of my gut. Part of me is not happy with my choice for dealing with Mark. I wanted to clear my head, but I had been spending too much time away from Moiraine.

  “Moiraine, let’s go for a walk.” We stepped out of the house and took a walk. The path I chose wouldn’t take us anywhere near Greentree Elementary. It’s Saturday, but I didn’t want to risk it. Thoughts and emotions are churning in my being. If I am going to do this, kill Mark, I must quiet the doubts and fears.

  Mo is having a pleasant time on our walk. She is picking up leaves and twigs, anything which catches her eye. She approached and petted all the dogs we crossed paths with, and she received doggy kisses within an inch of her life. “Daddy, when is mommy going to wake up?” There it is. I’ve been expecting this question in one form or another. It still hit me like an anvil in a Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote cartoon. I took a deep breath and crouched down to her level. I looked her straight in the eyes.


  “No, Honey. Mommy is not going to wake up again. I wish to God it was different, but mommy is going to die.”

  Tears started streaming down her face. “But, mommy is out of the hospital,” Moiraine turned her eyes away from mine and started struggling to escape. “I don’t want mommy to die.”

  “I don’t want mommy to die either. If I could change it, Honey, I would.” My words are a futile comfort. Moiraine started to scream in agony and tried to pull away from me. All I can do is hold her close and try to console the inconsolable. The tears started rolling down my face as well. Trying to hold them back proved I am too weak. My daughter needs my strength, and I failed her. Every tear I could not hold back burned like molten metal as it rolled down my face.

  Mo raged against me. In time her screaming stopped, her tears slowed, and her struggling ended. We started the walk back home. She no longer explored. All the things she had collected were tossed aside. She is broken, and nothing I can do will fix her. This is her first real painful lesson in life. People die, even our loved ones.

  We spent the rest of the day cuddled up on the couch watching her favorite movies. Moiraine fell asleep on the couch. I picked her up and carried her to her bed. As I tucked her into bed, I put the teddy bear she received from the ambulance driver next to her in the hopes it would give her some comfort in the night.

  My cash purchase from the grocery store was a throwaway phone. It’s a sure bet the cops are listening in on my calls to trace Mark Galos’ location if he called. This is one conversation I didn’t want the cops to eavesdrop on. It is time to use the number Ralph gave me. My hand shook as I punched in the number. The phone rang at least ten times but was finally answered.

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “Ralph Daves told me to ask for Al. Ralph said he could fix me up.”