“What about dogs?” Asked Ben.
“I was here looking around a little last month and didn’t see any,” replied Gene.
“Me and Jeff will take the front. Sam, you and Gene take the back. Everyone turn their radios off. Be sure and wait a minute or two until we get in before you guys come in the back. If anyone’s gonna run, you guys need to be extra careful that you don’t shoot at the wife or the kid. Clear?”
“Yeah,” they both replied. Everyone got out of the car. Gene trotted down the road first and quickly cut left to a line of pine trees, staying in the shadows as he made his way to the back of the house. Sam came around from the right side, using a line of ten junked cars for cover. Ben and Jeff walked towards the front door. They waited on the front steps.
After a minute had passed, Ben pulled back the screen door and Jeff raised his foot and slammed his cowboy boot into the door, beside the knob. The framing cracked but didn’t break. He slammed his foot into it a second time and the door flew open.
“Police! We have a warrant!” They rushed in. No one was in the living room and Ben pointed down a hallway. Jeff fell in behind him. Ben pushed open a bedroom door and Stick leapt through it, tackling him.
Gene led the way in through the back door, which wasn’t locked. They found their way to the kitchen, and then heard Ben shouting. Sam hurried towards the sounds. Gene turned and saw a woman step out of a bedroom. She pointed a gun at him and fired. A cabinet beside him exploded. He fell to the floor and rolled back towards the door. He raised his gun and fired. She released the gun and her hands grabbed her chest. She fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor. Her blood darkened the wall.
Sam ran back into the kitchen, gun drawn. “Gene! Heard shots. You hit?” Gene stood up.
“Nah, I’m good. She’s down, though. Check her.” Sam walked over and bent down to examine the woman.
“What happened with you guys?” asked Gene.
“Stick jumped on Ben, but they’ve got ‘em cuffed now. The kid came out into the hall crying and Jeff took him back into his room. Gonna keep him there, out of sight of all this.” He put two fingers on her carotid artery. “No pulse.”
“Didn’t think so. She fired on me fast.”
“And this is the wife? Joan?”
“Joanne.”
After gathering evidence from the home, the boy was delivered to his grandmother’s. Stick would ride home with them to be processed at SBI Headquarters in Raleigh.
“Gene, we’ll need to get a statement from you on the shooting. Looks clean to all of us, but you understand the rules,” said Ben.
“No worries, Ben. I can come down to see you in a day or two.”
“That’ll work.” He tossed a set of car keys to Gene. “Laskin’s truck needs to be stored at your station for a couple of days. Take good care of it.
“You bet.”
***
“Damn. Sounds like those cop shows on TV,” said Nick.
“Guess it does,” said Gene.
Nick shifted in his seat. “Damn, my leg’s asleep. Got too wrapped up in your story. Keep going.”
“They told me to keep the truck locked up, might have evidence. It did. But no one was gonna know what was in it except me and Stick. Part of being a cop is that you get to know where folks like to hide stuff in their cars. By all the scratches, I could tell that someone had opened the passenger side door panel. I popped it open and there was seventy five thousand bucks wrapped up nice and neat. So I took it and squared things with my bookie in Charlotte. Life was good and I was able to quit the betting thing.”
“Stick made a shitload of noise about Joanne and the money. Told everyone he could that I killed the only thing that mattered to him and stole his cash. I ended up at one of his court hearings. He saw me and asked to speak to me in private.”
“Damn. What did you do?” asked Nick.
“I didn’t have to talk to him, but you always have to keep these shitbags in their place. I made sure he was still cuffed and I pointed to a corner of the room near the bailiff’s door. He followed me. He leaned in real close and told me he was going to kill me. Said he knew how to get me and then he spat in my face. I pushed him back against the wall and laid into him, acting tough. The cops in the courtroom pulled me back.”
“I know how it feels to have a Laskin spit in your face,” said Nick.
“I guess you do.”
“Courtroom drama at its finest.”
“The guys let go of me and everyone’s standing around, so that’s when I gave him my ‘Men’s Room’ speech,” said Gene.
“What the hell is that?”
“That’s just what I call my little speech. Used it a couple times. I kinda like the way it all sounds and it puts perps like Stick in their place. You gotta be a cop to really understand it.”
“Try me.”
“Well, we just have to take so much shit in our line of work. Spend months trying to build a case and the perp gets off on a technicality. I’ve put together air tight cases and then the attorneys get hold of things and suddenly, it’s all over. It gets plea bargained down to nothing. So you gotta take the little victories when you can. That’s why I do my little speech. I mean, it’s kind of stupid, but I enjoy it.”
“Cool. So don’t keep me waiting.”
“So I lean towards Stick and lay it out for him. You see, Stick, there’s nothing about you that scares me. I mean, I won’t even give you a second thought when I walk out of this courtroom. You know what it’s like? It’s just like that thing we all have to face, you know when you gotta hit the can and you’re out in public. Happens to everyone, men, women, kids. You walk into the stall and some person is making all kinds of noise next to you and the smell is just awful. I mean really bad. Makes you wonder what they ate for dinner the night before. So you sit down and take care of business. Maybe the guy next to you finishes up and leaves, or maybe you see him when you’re washing your hands and he gives you the ‘sorry about that’ look because you both know that he was the culprit. We’ve all been there. Then you walk out of the bathroom and the smell is gone. Five minutes later, you’ve forgotten how bad it was because you’re just getting on with the things you gotta do. You get what I mean, Stick? That men’s room stench, that’s you. All you’re going to do is clog up my nostrils for a few minutes today. But after I walk out the door of this courtroom, I’m getting on with my day and I won’t be giving you another thought. Because I don’t give a shit. But you’re going to jail for what you did. That means you’ll never get rid of the stench. Every hour of every day, you’ll smell it. And I want you to remember that it was me that dropped you right in the middle of all that shit.”
“Oh my god, that is hilarious,” said Nick.
“Thanks.”
“Amazing story. What happened next?”
“Everyone knew that my shooting Joanne was necessary. But the cash was different. I could see the questions in the eyes of the people around me. They thought I could’ve done it. Maybe they’d have done it, too. Maybe they did before. Can’t tell. Anyway, it doesn’t matter much that I had never taken a dime in my life. Had plenty of chances. Just didn’t do it. But I was a drunk and I didn’t have my head on straight. So I took the cash. There was no going back. Stick even sent me letters from jail. The guy is actually a damn good writer. He was smart and never said anything directly threatening, but I could read between the lines. He was gonna come after me. But there never was a chance of him getting off. It was just a matter of whether he was going to get locked up for murder, or the drugs, or both. The DA didn’t feel like he had enough evidence to pin the murder on Stick, so they pleaded it out and he got ten years. If he behaved himself, then he’d likely get out in about half that time. From what I hear, he has been a model prisoner. Takes his meds every day. Got a good job helping run some kind of manufacturing they do there at Central Prison in Raleigh. So I suspect he’ll be out sometime soon. Gonna be interesting. I haven’t heard from him in
a year or so, but I’m sure I will.”
“Amazing story.”
“I guess so.”
“So the drinking got that bad?” said Nick.
“Yep. Vodka and Scotch were my only friends.” He drank last bit of water from his bottle and tossed it into the back seat.
“Funny. I would have pegged you as a bourbon man.”
“Nope, not me. Could stomach any type of liquor you could think of, but not bourbon. Something about it just gave me this awful heartburn. Felt like my stomach was on fire.
“And no one really found out how bad your problem was?” said Nick.
“Just Alice. Well, and Pauline. As far as I know, Alice never told anyone. But hell, I mean, how do you ever know? It’s a tiny little town. But like I said, I worked hard to keep it on the down low. No public displays.”
“So all the hoopla about the stolen money was true?”
“Yep. Took Stick’s cash and paid off my debts. Would I have done it if I had been off the bottle? Nope. But then again, who knows if I would have handled it differently had I been sober but still in the hole with my bookie? Hell, I don’t know. I just know I did it. One thing the program teaches us is you gotta take responsibility for your fuck ups.”
Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “So you stole cash from a meth dealer. I would’ve done it too. Most folks have done a lot worse. You’ve been a leader in our town. Kept us all safe.”
“It’s hard for me to go there. That slope is just too slippery for me. I get the point. For most people, that reasoning is sound. But it just wasn’t my way. Always felt that once you go down that path, take a little here, little more there, get used to the extra cash, well, then you’re sunk.”
“So after that’s when you got things back on track?”
“Yep, got sober. Didn’t grab any more cash. I guess, well, you can see how much this thing has been eating at me that I even brought it up. I mean, I haven’t told a soul this story, but now that I have, it feels better.”
“Damn, man, I mean I hear you and everything, but there isn’t anyone who would hold it against you for taking that cash. Your mind was clouded and you weren’t thinking straight, but still.”
“There’s another reason that I wanted to tell you all this.”
“What’s that?”
Gene ran his hand over his head and then across his face. “Don’t be like me. Don’t ruin your life because you can’t control the drinking. I’m all alone now and most of my life is done. So much of it I just pissed away by drinking. I don’t have a wife, a family, or nothing.”
“You’ve got a ton of friends in Mt. Rutgers. And your crew from work.”
“I do have friends. But at the end of the day, all of them go home to their families. And as for work, well, work is over. Thirty years in law enforcement, so what. Don’t ever think that work is going to last. When it’s over, you’re left with nothing.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I’m sorry, I guess I don’t—“
“Nothing matters more than family. It all flies by faster than you can imagine. And when you’re a drunk, well, you let everyone down. Nobody trusts you. So when you get to be my age, you’re left with nothing. It’s just the way it is. In a lot of ways, I’m lucky to even be alive,” his voice caught in his throat, “but now I’ve got nothing to show for it. No wife, no kids, no grandkids.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“You’ve gotta get yourself straightened out, my friend. If Allison is right for you, then you need to make a life with her. Have children, then grandchildren. You can never know what’s coming down the road.” He sniffled and wiped his nose with his shirt sleeve. “But I can tell you that family lasts. Nothing else matters.”
“You’re right,” said Nick.
“Another thing my granny used to say was, ‘Make all your hours count, ‘cause if you don’t, they’ll slip through your fingers like running water.’”
Nick stared out the window. “Your Granny was a smart woman.”
“She was,” he wiped his nose again, “and if she was here, she’d tell you not to be like me.”
“I hope to have your wisdom one day.”
“Screw the wisdom. Get yourself a family.”
“What about the shooting? Has that been hard?”
“Funny how that hasn’t bothered me as much as the money. I mean I had two other shootings where I put folks in the ground that were aiming to put me there first and those things just don’t stay with me. Not like the thing with Stick’s cash.”
“And Timmie? That’s when he went to live with his grandmother?”
“Yep. Stick was locked up and Joanne was dead, so the kid got shuffled off to live with Stick’s mom. She gets by on disability for some heart condition. I think the kid pretty much takes care of himself, which is turning out bad. But I heard from my friend in the SBI that Stick has been better since prison. The kid comes down to visit pretty often. They spend an hour together. Prison can change people, I’ve seen it before. Stick sure wasn’t any kind of father to the kid before he was locked up. I mean, I don’t think he mistreated the boy. He just had a lot of his own shit to deal with.”
“Maybe that’s why the kid is so messed up. He’s so full of anger.”
“I know. I hear the stories.” Gene looked at his watch. “There’s something else that’s hanging over us that we gotta talk about.”
“What’s that?”
“Our plan. How are we going to stop this thing from happening? Assuming that it really is happening?”
“I got a pretty good idea about what we should do. We gotta stop the kids, but in a quiet way. There’s no way we could ever explain this to anyone. “
Gene frowned. “But I thought we agreed that didn’t matter?”
“It doesn’t, but if it can be avoided, you and I will be better off.”
“So, in your dream, the timing of this thing is like lunch time?”
“Yeah, the cafeteria was full and the shooters come out of the woods near an outdoor dining area that’s just outside the cafeteria. There are a bunch of kids eating outside.”
“So, in your dream, it must’ve been a warm day?”
“Hmm. Funny you mention that but, yeah I guess it was. I mean is. I mean will be. Damn, I don’t know whether I’m talking about the past or the present or the future.”
Gene laughed, “Weather report for Batesboro tomorrow is sunny and high of sixty. Checked it out before we left.”
“I guess that’s a good omen, huh?”
“Guess so. You’ve got a future career in weather prediction if this principal thing doesn’t work out.”
“Very funny.”
“So tell me about your big plan,” said Gene.
“Gotta stop at Wal-Mart and get some supplies. I’ll fill you in while we’re shopping.”
***
Just after passing through Little Rock, they got a hotel room off I-40 at a Red Roof Inn. Batesboro was still thirty minutes away, but it was four in the morning and they decided a few hours sleep would be good. They left word with the front desk to wake them up at seven and slept in their clothes.
“Goddamnit! Gene, get up. The front desk didn’t wake us up.”
“Huh?” Gene rubbed his eyes and picked his watch up from the bedside table. “Holy fuck. Ten-thirty? I told you to set the alarm on your damn phone!”
Nick was already picking up his bag. “Grab your stuff and let’s go, we’re gonna have to haul ass.”
“Hey, man, look, you can’t drive ninety. We’re gonna get pulled over and then nothing’s going to happen,” said Gene.
“Just make sure we’re going in the right direction.”
“I’ve got directions, but you still have to slow down.”
When they arrived in Batesboro, Gene pointed to a street that would take them to the wooded area on the west side of the school. They parked the car at ten minutes after eleven.
“Just like we discussed. Got it?” said Nick.
“Funny how you sound like the cop and I’m just tagging along.”
“Sorry, man. I feel really lucky to have you around and helping me.”
“No problem. I got the bag,” said Gene.
They bolted from the car. Gene led the way into woods. They found a heavily used path and ran towards the school, which was a quarter mile away. Nick almost tripped over a boy sitting with his back against a tree.
“What the hell?” said the kid, looking up at them.
“Kid, you gotta get out of here. Something bad is getting ready to happen,” said Gene.
“But I can’t. I didn’t want to go, but I just, couldn’t stop ‘em.” His chin quivered and he looked down at the ground.
“What do you mean?” asked Nick.
“Stevie and Robbie. They’re up ahead. I wanted to be with them but then I chickened out. They called me a pussy and told me to go back home. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t kill any—“
“You were with the shooters? That’s their names, Stevie and Robbie?” Gene looked up at Nick.
“Yeah, that’s their names. They’re going to, hey, what do mean ‘the shooters’? How do you know?”
“Never mind.” Nick reached down and grabbed the boy by the arm and lifted him up. “Do you have a weapon on you?”
“No, they have the guns, not me.”
“What kind of guns do they have, kid?” asked Gene.
Nick looked at Gene, “One of them has a pump shotgun and the other one has a pistol. We’ve got to move fast.”
“Huh? How in the hell did you know that?” asked the kid.
“Shut the hell up and get your ass out of here,” said Gene.
“C’mon, Gene, or we may be too late. Kid, if we stay on this path, are we going to be able to catch up to them?”
“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “They may already be there. You’ve got to hurry.”
Gene pointed the kid out of the woods and then he and Nick hurried down the path. They jogged for two minutes and the path turned to the right. Up ahead, they could see the boys in their black coats. Nick ran faster. The boys were kneeling in the path, twenty yards from where it opened to the outdoor lunch area. They were unpacking guns and ammunition from a duffel bag.
When His Dreams Take Flight Page 7