The Redemption

by David Boiani

  A full day away from the case was just what John needed to recharge and refocus. He woke early, walked Simba, then showered and headed to the station. While pulling in, he noticed the absence of the captain’s car. He then entered the station, noticing the deafening silence. John headed to the dispatch office. As he entered he waved at Rosalie, the part-time dispatcher who had started working at the station over fifteen years ago.

  “John!” she said as she hung up the phone. “So nice to see you. How have you been? How’s Julie? The children? I bet they’re big. What are they now, ten and twelve? I heard you were back to work on the new case. Any progress? Damn shame about that woman. Want some coffee? I just brewed a new pot.”

  “Hi, Rosalie, which question would you like me to answer first?” John said with a polite smile on his lips.

  “Aw, I’m sorry. Sometimes I get carried away when I get excited. It’s so nice to see you again. Plus, I’m not used to people listening to me; my husband, my children, the 9-1-1 callers…”

  “A wise man once told me, ‘If you want to be heard more, speak less,’” John said.

  “Really? I’ll have to try that… tomorrow,” she said with a wink.

  “Well, to answer your questions, everything is fine, thank you. How are Jason and the kids?”

  “I can’t complain, although I still may.”

  “Has the captain or Ricky Barnes been in?”

  “Both are due in shortly,” she replied.

  “Okay, great. I’ll go over the case files while I wait for them.”

  “If you need anything, don’t be shy. There’s fresh coffee and I stocked the kitchen fridge with some goodies.”

  “Thank you, I’m good for now. I’ll be at my desk solving the world’s problems.”

  “I noticed you even got your old desk back, good for you.”

  “Temporarily,” John replied.

  “Hey, you never know. It may be permanent.”

  John smiled and walked out of the control room, placed his briefcase on his desk and sat down. A few minutes later Ricky Barnes walked in and sat down across from him. “Hey, John. Good morning.”

  “Hey, long night?”

  “Not really, although I did have a date.”

  “Yeah? How did it go?” John asked.

  “I think it is safe to say it wasn’t a love connection.”

  “That’s too bad. How long have you been on the prowl?”

  “Hmmm, about six months. I had a steady thing with Kim, but we decided to split.”

  “Why?”

  “She wanted to get married, have children, get a house, the whole nine yards. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Has she moved on?”

  “Yup, she’s dating a dude named Larry.”

  “Larry? Seriously?” John asked.

  “As serious as a broken condom.”

  “People actually name their children Larry?”

  “Well, I assume Lawrence, but it always becomes Larry. I thought it was just a name Hollywood used in movies when all the other names were used up. You see them in the credits after the film is over. Larry, fifth stranger on the street. Gertrude, the third waitress in the cafe. Elmer, the gas station attendant. Bertha, the woman on the park bench. You get the idea. Well, come to find out these are actually real names, and Larry is at the top of the list.”

  “Wow, who knew?” John said. “What’s the dude like? Have you met him?”

  “Nope, but I assume he’s what you would think a Larry would be; the uncle who wears the Hawaiian shirt and insists on working the grill at family cookouts. He’s the dude who tries to win the family volleyball game by spiking the ball at his ten-year-old niece, then makes his brother’s pretty wife a drink with an extra shot of alcohol, hoping she gets tipsy and flashes a breast at some point. That’s Larry. A great guy… not creepy at all.”

  The captain walked into the hysterical laughter of Ricky and John.

  “Glad to see you two getting along so well. Team chemistry is very important. Now, what’s so funny?”

  When John was able to catch his breath he said, “Some dude named Larry is banging Ricky’s ex-girlfriend.”

  “Larry? I thought that was a fake name?” the captain said as he glanced toward Ricky as the two detectives continued their howling.

  ***

  Ricky said, “This nut-job is an enigma. He or she has no discernable style, victim preference, or pattern. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe he understands data can be uncovered through patterns or styles, Data that can help us uncover his or her secrets.”

  “It’s he, Ricky. I’m certain,” John said with confidence.

  “Well until you have proof of gender, I’ll accept both as possibilities, old wise one.”

  “You do realize to be old and wise, someone had to start out young and stupid. That is the level you currently reside at,” John replied.

  “Okay ladies, ease up a bit. Going at each other’s throats isn’t going to help us solve this case. The feds are just as much in the dark as we are. You pair are the best detectives I have ever worked with, so let’s combine our talents and individual strengths and solve this thing before the feds do.”

  Ricky looked up at Captain Johnson. “Is that what is most important to you, beating the feds to the punch?”

  “Of course not. I want to keep my citizens safe at any cost. That is my first priority. However, solving it before the feds would be a nice bonus.”

  “The problem is, all we can do is sit here and wait for him to make the next move,” Ricky said.

  “Him? You’re learning rookie,” John said.

  ***

  The dark figure watched over the Corbin residence as Julie Corbin pulled into the driveway with her two children in tow. As she exited the vehicle, he watched as a warm breeze caused wisps of her ash brown hair to flutter.

  John, what a beautiful wife you have, he thought. His eager gaze followed the trio as they entered the house.

  ***

  December 22, 1999

  John Corbin rushed into Harbor View Medical Hospital, approached the front desk and asked where Tabatha Jones was.

  “Tabatha Jones? The gunshot wound? Officer…?”

  “Corbin, John Corbin. I was first on the scene.”

  The nurse looked up and their eyes met for the first time.

  “I understand, Mr. Corbin. Ms. Jones is in surgery, she has lost quite a bit of blood.”

  “Will she live?”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Corbin—”

  “Please call me John.”

  “Okay, John. We still don’t know yet.”

  “She has to. I promised her. She’s only ten.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I asked her age while I held her wound together waiting for the ambulance. She has a younger brother who looks up to her. She was afraid to leave him.”

  The nurse held John’s gaze for a few seconds, digesting John’s statement. “My name is Julie, John. Let me see if there’s any information I can find out for you.”

  John smiled. “Thank you, Julie.”

  He watched the nurse walk down the hall and through the double doors that lead to the operating room. A few minutes later, she appeared and approached him.

  “I’m sorry, it’s shaky. I want to be honest with you, we’re not certain she’s going to pull through.”

  John lowered his head and brought a hand to his face, attempting to hold back tears. Julie kept her eyes on him as a lone teardrop fell down his cheek.

  “John, did you know her, I mean before tonight?”

  “No.”

  “It’s touching that you care so much. It’s something I don’t see here often, officers so emotional.”

  “I promised her. She’s just an innocent little girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Fucking drug dealers.”

  Julie walked around the counter and hugged him. “This is for letting me know that men like you still exist.”

  As John hugged her back,
her soft touch and sweet vanilla scent invaded his senses. He released her and stepped back. “I know you’re busy. I’m going to sit and wait, but please let me know of any updates. I’m not leaving until she pulls through.”

  “Of course. I’ll inform you as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Thank you,” John said as he retreated to the waiting room and collapsed on an oversized chair. He knew he had a long interlude ahead of him, and as he replayed the night’s tragic events in his mind, his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off.

  “John, wake up.”

  He opened his eyes and stared into the biggest, deepest brown eyes he had ever seen. “Julie? How… what?” He jumped up and looked at the clock.

  “It’s okay, relax. You slept for a few hours.”

  “Tabatha, how is she?”

  Julie smiled. “She made it, she’s going to be fine.”

  Julie wrapped her arms around John and he felt her heartbeat against his chest. Her soft hair tickled his neck and he felt an intense jolt of passion flow through his body.

  “Thank you, can I see her?”

  “Not now, possibly tomorrow. She needs rest tonight. I, however, would like to treat you to some food.”

  “Aren’t you still working?”

  “No, my shift ended twenty minutes ago. I stayed to give you the good news.”

  “Thank you, I guess the least I can do is buy you dinner then,” John said.

  “Nope, my treat. After witnessing the brutality people hand down on each other, you have singlehandedly rekindled my faith in the human race.”

  Julie took John by the hand and led him out of the hospital.

  ***

  Julie set the table and called the children for dinner. Ryann hurried in and sat in his usual chair as Julie placed the roast in the center of the table, flanked by baked potatoes and butternut squash.

  “I’m starving!” Ryann said as he grabbed a potato and a scoop of squash.

  “Of course you are, but let’s wait for Gianna to join us before we start.”

  “Is dad eating with us?”

  “No, he’s at the station. He’ll be home in a bit but he told us not to wait.”

  Gianna walked in and sat down at the table.

  “How would you two like to walk Simba after we eat? He’d love to get out in this nice weather.”

  “Okay, can I play video games online after?” Ryann asked.

  “For an hour, then do something constructive.”

  “Mom, saving the earth from the evil alien race is constructive.”

  “Sure it is, Ryann. How would you like to play a board game later? Maybe Daddy will be home in time to join us.”

  “Monopoly!” Ryann said.

  “Clue!” Gianna countered.

  “After you clean your rooms, maybe we will have time to play both games.”

  After dinner, Gianna secured Simba’s harness and led him out into the front yard with Ryann by her side.

  “Don’t go far, just around the block,” Julie called after them.

  “Okay, Mom,” Gianna replied.

  Simba’s tongue hung out as he became joyful and animated, anticipating his walk. The children happily lead their large pet down the front walk and turned left, heading south.

  The dark figure watched as the two Corbin children burst through the front door and down the walk with their dog. He waited until they had progressed down the street before exiting the vehicle. He tracked them from the opposite side until they reached the end and turned left around a wooded bend. He turned around and retreated in the opposite direction. He paused when he reached his black SUV and waited with his eyes riveted on the far corner. A crisp breeze gave the budding night an electric feel. He glanced up as the last bit of sun fell behind the trees on the horizon, turning the rising moon red.

  “Can I hold his leash?” Ryann asked his older sister as they continued down Pine Ridge Street.

  “Okay, but just for a bit. He’s very strong.”

  “I’m stronger than you, Gianna. I can handle him.”

  Gianna handed Ryann the leash as they approached the corner of their street. The sun had departed from the horizon and the moon was now dominant in the Seattle night sky.

  “If he stops, let him find his spot.”

  “His spot for what?”

  “What do you think, genius?” Gianna said.

  “Oh, that. Yuk.”

  “Hey, you wanted to hold him. I should make you scoop it into the bag too.”

  “No way, I’m not old enough for that. You do it.”

  They turned left around the corner and past a wooded lot as headlights appeared behind them. The vehicle pulled to a stop as the children turned to see who it was. The headlights blinded them as the driver got out and walked toward them.

  “Dad!” Ryann yelled as he dropped the leash and ran to his father.

  “Hey buddy, hi sweetheart,” John said as he hugged his son. Gianna picked up the leash and held Simba who was pulling her toward her father.

  “Hi dad,” she said.

  “Mom said we can play games tonight.”

  “Okay then, that’s what we’ll do. I’ll follow you guys home. Did you eat dinner?”

  “Yes! Roast, potatoes, and squash.”

  “Sounds yummy. Go on, I’ll be right behind you.”

  The dark figure watched John Corbin escort his children home, park his truck in the driveway, and happily enter his house, fulfilled and content. Something has to be done about that, he thought as he climbed into his SUV. He paused long enough to glance at the house one last time. He saw John hug and kiss his wife through the window as she handed him a plate of hot food.

  “Until we meet again Mr. Corbin,” he said to himself as he drove away.

  ***

  Red stood behind the bar as he looked over the restaurant. The dinner crowd had come and gone, and the evening settled into a slow but steady stream of late eaters and drunks.

  “Damn, someone needs a ride,” Sean said as he glanced at his phone. “Oh well, someone else can get them.” He chuckled and turned off his phone.

  “How do you make money if you always refuse to give people rides?” Red asked.

  “I don’t always refuse, only when I’m busy drinking.”

  “Like I said, how do you make money if you always refuse to give people rides?”

  Artie walked in and sat down next to Sean. “Hey, guys.”

  “What’s up, Artie?” Sean asked.

  “Well, I wrote my lovely wife Gina a poem.”

  “Seriously? Do you sport a vagina?”

  Artie smirked. “What? No, I just like to show her my inner feelings sometimes.”

  “Okay, let’s see it.”

  Artie reluctantly pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Sean.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Red asked.

  “Sure, I’m going to hit it hard tonight, the wife is out. I’ll have a Malibu cocktail.”

  After the thirty seconds it took Red to figure out it wasn’t a joke, he walked away to prepare the drink.

  “Did you just order a Malibu? What the fucks wrong with you, dude?” Sean said. He shook his head and looked down to read the poem:

  Like an angel sent from above, you fit me like a glove.

  Will you really be my last love?

  I was blindsided, you repaired my wounded heart with a tender patch.

  The day we met was game, set, and match.

  When I breathe you in, you fill me with glee.

  I will always love you, G.

  Sean’s face turned green as he dropped the paper. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he said as he ran to the bathroom.

  “Fuck’s up with him?” Red asked.

  “Maybe he drank too much,” Artie said as he quickly scooped up the paper and slipped it in his pocket. “Poor guy isn’t man enough to hold his liquor.”

  “I would never have guessed that. Here’s your Malibu.”

  “Thanks, how’s business?”


  “It’s been steady since we opened. We really pick up in the summer,” Red replied.

  “Hey, isn’t your partner John a cop? Isn’t he handling the Seattle Slayer case?”

  “Pardon? Seattle Slayer?”

  “That’s what the press is calling him. How is the investigation going?”

  “Ah, well… not too well as far as I know. John hasn’t discussed it with me. But he’s still out there, so watch your back.”

  “I told my wife Gina to be aware of everything around her. She’s the love of my life and if anything happened to her I’d be crushed.”

  “Yeah, I think we all get that,” Red said as Sean returned to his seat looking refreshed.

  “What the heck happened to you? Too many drinks?” Red asked.

  “Huh? No way. Read this dude’s poem and you’ll understand.”

  “I’ll pass, thank you.”

  “What? Is it that bad? It rhymes,” Artie said.

  “Bad? Dude, let’s just say if you dropped your drawers right now to reveal a pink clitoris I wouldn’t be shocked, or even surprised for that matter.”

  “You don’t appreciate art,” Artie said.

  “You wouldn’t know art if smacked you in your G-spot, my friend. On that note, grab me another beer, Red. I’m going to drink that poem out of my head.”

  “Coming right up,” Red said as Artie shook his head and took a sip of his Malibu.

  ***

  John arrived at the station early the next morning. As he sat back in his chair with his favorite book opened, he took a quick glance out the window and noticed Ricky approaching. He entered the station and sat down across from John, greeting him with a nod.