by Meg Lelvis
He replayed his departure scene from yesterday while Calvin listened with an occasional ‘yeah’. They spoke of department politics and general office gossip until Calvin said, “Look, Bailey, I know you’re wondering why I’m here, so I’ll get to it. First, the reason I’m here is because you’re no longer with the department. Not a cop. Not in law enforcement.”
“Can’t argue with that. Another drink?”
Calvin nodded, and Jack retrieved two beers from the kitchen.
“Okay, here goes, but first, this is totally confidential. I need your word on that, Bailey. Otherwise I’ll leave. Won’t put you on the spot.” He took a swig.
Jack figured what was coming. Sure, he’d keep it to himself. “Yeah, you have my word. I have a feeling I won’t be shocked.”
Calvin cleared his throat. “Well, I lied to ya before. I did know Grant Adams.” A bitter laugh. “Only too well. Joined Little League when I was about ten. Adams was one of the coaches. Long story, but at first, a friendly, nice guy to kids like me. Chubby red-haired nerd, parents forced me to join. You know, ‘good for you to play a sport’, ‘make new friends’, all the usual bullshit kids like me hear.” He paused. Took another swig.
Jack’s jaw tightened. Said nothing.
“Anyway, the guy gives me special jobs to do for him. Then the season ends and we go on a retreat. Overnight at a campground. Not gonna go into details, but that’s when it happened. I wasn’t the only one. Knew it was wrong, but said nothing to nobody. Afterwards, I had a feeling in my bones my mom knew something happened. Could tell somehow. She never brought up playing baseball again.” He paused.
“Take your time,” Jack said. Anger rose in his chest against these sick bastards.
“So fast forward to high school. I’m miserable. Life sucks. Make friends with other losers who accept misfits like me. So I get into weed. Then coke. Get busted. End up in mandatory rehab. By then I’m pretty fucked up.” Calvin stood. “Where’s your john? Beer goes right through me.”
Jack pointed the way, and when Calvin returned, Jack asked, “Want some Doritos and another brew?”
“Sure, why not?” Calvin rubbed Boone’s back, waking the dog up. “Oops, should let sleeping dogs lie—more ways then one.”
Jack placed a bowl of chips on the end table and handed Calvin a beer. “Didn’t have to get so fancy, Bailey.”
“Thought you’d be impressed with the bowl. Don’t eat outta bags around here.” Yeah, right.
Calvin sighed. “Ah, where was I? Oh yeah, rehab. At Gateway.”
Jack didn’t indicate he knew this from the background check.
“So I meet other people, group sessions, the usual. I make a friend, older, who had been messed with as a kid. From a family member. Worse then me. Went on longer. I’m the lucky one—only happened once.” He snorted. “Always someone worse off.”
Jack wondered why the rehab talk, but he kept silent.
“Another long story, but this friend I make, stays longer than me. By the way, I’m straight. Just unlucky with women.”
Jack held out his bottle in a mock toast. “Join the club.”
”So we keep in touch. I go to Oakton, take tech classes. First time in my life I’m successful at something. End up getting hired at the PD about ten years ago. Told them about rehab right off. Gave me a second chance. Then my pal needs a job. Thinks the PD sounds good. Gets hired a few months after me.”
“Oh, who’s that? He still there at the PD?”
“Wait a minute.” Calvin held up his hand. “Fast forward again to the Bible thumper case a few weeks ago. Sure, I’m curious as hell about who’s killing off pedophiles. The thought occurred to me over the years.”
“Understandable,” Jack said.
“Then when I hear about my old coach Adams, I’m like ‘what the fuck?’ The assumed Bible thumper copycat must be someone the coach screwed with. But how did he know about the Bible verse? And why the nun? And the Welton guy?”
Jack stared at him. “Huh?” Was Calvin saying he wasn’t the copycat?
“Then when I hear the dandruff DNA from the coach scene isn’t a match to the first two, I’m like freakin’ out.” Calvin gazed at Jack. “Then the clincher. Sherk tells me today that Sowder’s not a match for the new DNA either. It’s a copycat all right. Only one person it could be. Someone who knew the perp’s calling card of the Bible verse. Someone who hated Adams. Someone who knew Adams ruined my fuckin’ life. Someone who saw the perfect opportunity to get revenge for me. Someone who’d kill for me. Who is that someone? My pal in the Bridgeport PD.”
Chapter 40
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” Jack hadn’t used his mother’s expression for decades. He was confused, shocked. “You’re saying your pal from rehab’s the copycat?”
Calvin eyed him. “You thought it was me, didn’t ya?”
“Can ya blame me?” Jack paused. “Sorry, man, but I don’t know shit these days.”
Calvin rose and walked toward the door. “I’ll leave you be, Bailey. Enough for one night.”
“Wait. You gonna tell me who it is?” Jack couldn’t even take a stab at the answer.
“Nah. Won’t happen. I promised. No one ever cared about me like this friend, bumped off the scum who ruined me. I won’t betray that kind of loyalty. It’s one secret I’ll take to my grave, Bailey. Only evidence is the dandruff they can’t match yet. And you know, they can’t force us to submit our DNA.”
“Right on that.” Jack still confused, shook his head. “I’ve never seen you hang out with anyone at the station. Can’t even make a guess who it is. You’re like me. We got no friends.”
Smiling, Calvin reached for the door. “Me and my pal decided a long time ago. Don’t hang out at work. Better that way. Didn’t want our drug history coming up in workplace gossip. Easy to overhear stuff in that place.”
“Maybe it’s best I don’t know.” Jack held the door open. No rain in sight.
The men shook hands. “See ya, Bailey. Keep in touch.”
Jack knew they wouldn’t. Just something people say.
. . . . .
Jack’s brain was on overload. Who could the copycat be? He and Sherk would’ve seen someone’s drug and rehab history other than Calvin’s in their search. Nothing showed up. Guy probably hid that part under the radar. Could’ve skipped time gaps in the resume. He’d let it go for now. Sick of thinking about it.
Jack stayed up late, but couldn’t get a decent sleep. Still took Ambien. He’d considered contacting his former shrink about resuming his meds for the PTSD that plagued him several years ago, but he tried to convince himself he was coping well. Some may debate that assessment.
. . . . .
The next morning after his shower and breakfast, his phone buzzed. Chub Nesbitt asked him to stop in and sign a couple papers.
“Can’t do it by email?” Jack balked at darkening the doors of the station again.
“Afraid not, Jack. It’ll be your exit interview as well. All bureaucratic bullshit, but what can I say?”
“Yeah. I’ll sneak in sometime this afternoon.”
He clicked off, walked Boone around the block, and called his brother Andy. Their conversation lasted half an hour, with Jack arranging a time to bring his financial files to Arlington Heights and discuss managing the portfolio. Jack had a learning curve ahead of him, but Andy would be a good instructor. He needed to tell his mother and siblings before long. How would they react?
Sherk called and offered to bring Jack’s desk contents over around noon. Hopefully, they would remain friends. He needed all the pals he could get. He wanted to tell Sherk about Calvin’s co
nversation, but he’d promised to keep it confidential. And now he wasn’t a cop on the case, even though he was still mentally invested in it.
His phone pinged another text from Molly. Why wouldn’t she give up? Maybe he was too quick to take offense at her criticism of him. He still felt dumped on. Perhaps he should take a hard look in the mirror. Then again—
Boone trotted to the front door when the doorbell woke him up from his nap on the floor. He yipped with excitement. “Hold on, big guy. You know who this is.”
When Jack stepped onto the porch, Sherk stood holding a large cardboard box.
“Don’t just stand there. Come in.” Jack took the box and carried it into the kitchen. He dropped it on the floor with a thud. “What the hell’s in here? Bricks?”
Sherk smiled. “Files, papers, few books and pamphlets. I wasn’t sure about some of it, so toss what you don’t want.” He fished out Jack’s White Sox mug. “I knew you’d send me back if I forgot this.”
For the first time, Jack felt a twinge of regret. “Too bad. Kinda liked the job if it weren’t for that— “
“I know. But close one door and open another. You never know what opportunities— “
“Spare me the psychobabble. At least I won’t have to listen to that anymore.”
Sherk laughed. “Have to admit, Jack, I’ll miss you. Got assigned to Chuck Wells until further notice.”
“He’s an okay guy. Can I make you a sandwich?”
“No thanks. I had an early lunch. Now tell me about your plans.”
They sat in the living room, Sherk with a soda, Jack with a beer, and he talked about his financial windfall and plans for a charity in Karen’s name.
“That’s great, Jack. Quite a legacy. You can travel now too, which brings me to an idea I have in that regard.” Sherk removed his glasses.
“Erica talked to her oncologist about traveling to Germany in June. He advised against it and wondered if I’d consider going with a friend or relative.” He paused. “That’s where you come in, Jack.”
Jack was confused. “What?”
“Erica’s folks can stay with the kids during the trip dates. About nine days. She begged me to go. She said I haven’t seen my family in Munich for years, and she’ll be fine. We’re optimistic about her recovery or remission or whatever we can get.” Sherk took a drink of soda. “So I’m thinking, why not Jack? You’ve never been to Germany. We’d have a great time. You could meet— “
“Whoa, man. What makes you think— “
“Why not? Now you’re financially well off and aren’t working.”
Jack sat, speechless. He couldn’t think of a valid reason not to take the offer. “Let me think about it. Caught me off guard, dude. Don’t know what to say.”
“First time for everything.” Sherk put his glasses on.
“Smart ass. I’ll get back to ya. You said you had airline tickets already.”
“Yes, I’ll get Erica’s ticket canceled for medical reasons, and book a reservation for you. We’d be all set. You’ll enjoy my cousins. They’re just like me.”
“No comment. Gotta tell ya, things are happening too fast. Every part of my life is changing.”
“Change is good, Jack. I find it very exciting. A trip to Germany. Look at it this way. You’ll be doing Erica a huge favor. Don’t know anyone else I’d want to go with.”
“You’re a lousy liar, Sherk, but I appreciate it.”
They said their goodbyes with Jack promising an answer on the trip in a day or two.
. . . . .
At 2:30, Jack snuck in the door of the station hoping to avoid running into anyone. He made it to Nesbitt’s office unseen and signed the prerequisite exit papers. The cap asked Jack about his future.
“I can finagle a good reference if you want a transfer. I know you, Bailey. Truth of the matter is I’d ditch LePere but there’s family bullshit, as you know through the grapevine. I never said that, though.”
“Said what?” Jack shook Nesbitt’s hand and departed the office for the last time. He glanced around corners on his way out, thankful no one appeared. Almost at the door. He no sooner grabbed the handle when he heard a woman’s voice. “Hey, Bailey, trying to make another escape?”
Shit. Almost a clean getaway. He turned. “Vatava, what are you doing on the loose? Don’t you have real cops to harass?”
She laughed, her rosy cheeks like apples. “Heard you left us for bigger and better things. You know you broke my heart.”
“Wasn’t meant to be, Vatava. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a retirement to plan.”
“I’m on the way to my car. Forgot something. But we can sneak over to Shinnick’s for a quick one.”
Jack scoffed and opened the door for her. “Age before looks.” He waved her outside.
“Says who?” As she passed him, he caught a whiff of woodsy fragrance. Better than that rose crap of LePere’s. Then he saw it. On the shoulder of her dark brown pantsuit. Something clicked. A floodlight moment. Nah, can’t be.
“Hate to admit it, but I’m gonna miss ya, Bailey.” Outside they faced each other.
“Yeah.” Jack gazed at her. Blood rushed to his head. He reached out, touched her shoulder and gave a small sweep with his fingers. “Nice fabric, but you might think about a good dandruff shampoo.”
Her smile faded. Eyes turned to coal. Stared at him. Jack could read the question in her eyes. She blinked several times, looked to the side. Her words barely audible.
“Gary Calvin is like the son I never had.”
She turned and walked toward her car.
The End
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