The Redemption

by David Boiani

  “Had to be.”

  Tom returned with a piece of paper he handed to John.

  Alexis Carson, 500 Elliot Ave West, unit 410

  “Thank you. Did you know Mr. Simmons served?” John asked.

  “I saw the medal but never discussed it with him. He’s a loner, doesn’t talk much and when he does, it’s never about himself.”

  “Okay, any of the neighbors available?”

  “You can try the doors but they’re probably drunk, high, or both. Even if they aren’t, they wouldn’t be much help to you. They keep to themselves and don’t pay attention to each other.”

  “Okay, we’re all set here. Thank you, Tom. You’ve been a great help.”

  John glanced at the door across the hall labeled 2D, walked over and knocked. No answer. He continued down the hall to 2B and repeated the process. John heard someone move on the inside, so he knocked again, harder this time.

  “Go the fuck away!” someone yelled.

  John glanced at 2A, shook his head and walked out.

  19:01:03, 19:01:02, 19:01:01…

  “Ricky, I called into the station to check on the Mr. Simmons’ military service. Brian Simmons won the Medal of Honor in the Vietnam War. He’s a hero.”

  “Now he’s forgotten by the world and the country he served. Just doesn’t seem right. So where does his daughter live?” Ricky asked as they got into John’s truck.

  “Elliot Ave West, Lower Queen Anne, just west of the needle.”

  “Right off the bay?”

  “Yup. you’re learning, rookie.”

  A few minutes later John pulled up in front of unit 410. “Let’s go.”

  “John, maybe you should take this one solo. Having two detectives grilling her for info may intimidate her. We need her as relaxed as possible. Use that old-fashioned charm,” Ricky said.

  John sat in the driver’s seat and glanced at the front door. “You may be right. You go alone. I think some contemporary youthful charm may work better. I’ll call the captain and brief him.”

  Ricky glanced at John. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  Moments later, Ricky knocked on the front door and waited. The door opened slowly and only as far as the chain lock would allow. Ricky gazed into the most beautiful set of sea green eyes he had ever seen.

  “May I help you?” the owner of the eyes asked.

  “Alexis Carson?”

  “Yes.”

  Ricky held up his badge. “I’m Detective Barnes. May I come in and ask you a few questions about your father?”

  Alexis looked at Ricky a second too long before dropping her eyes to the ground.

  “What’s this about?” she asked.

  “Ma’am, your father’s been abducted.”

  Alexis glanced back up at Ricky, shut the door, undid the chain and let him in.

  He followed her to a couch just off the front foyer.

  “Have a seat. Drink?”

  “Water is fine, thank you.”

  As she left the room, Ricky glanced at her laptop still open in front of the couch on the coffee table. He had obviously interrupted her.

  She returned with two bottles of water. After she handed one to Ricky she asked, “Now, what has the useless drunk gotten himself into this time?”

  “Thank you. Have I interrupted you?” Ricky asked as he took the bottle of water and pointed towards the computer.

  “No. Well, yes, but that’s okay. You obviously have something serious to discuss.”

  He let out a sigh, took a sip of water and said, “Your father has been abducted and is being held hostage.”

  “By who? Where?”

  “We don’t know either of those answers yet. We’ve received a video feed of him in restraints. We’re working on uncovering who, where, and why.” Ricky looked Alexis in the eyes with a sincere look on his face. “Anything you can tell me about him will help us figure it out.”

  “I don’t talk to him. He left my mother and me when I was four. I hardly remember him. He left us for the bottle. I’m sorry detective Burton…”

  “Call me Ricky.”

  “I’m sorry, Ricky, but I’m not sure I can help you.”

  “Is there anything you remember, anything your mother may have said?”

  “Well, I remember one thing. It was the reason he left us, a bar he used to hang out at called The Ba Bar.”

  Ricky clicked his pen opened his notebook. “I’m sorry, I just transferred here from New York, the Bar Bar? B-A-R?”

  Alexis smiled, presenting a beautiful set of straight, white teeth. Ricky noticed how captivating but innocent her smile was, and he returned the grin.

  “B-A, Ba Bar, on 12th Avenue. It’s attached to a Vietnamese Restaurant.”

  Ricky froze and looked up, “Vietnamese? That’s strange. Maybe it’s a way for him to face and overcome his demons.”

  “Demons? What do you mean?” Alexis asked.

  Ricky looked up and studied Alexis’ green eyes and suddenly knew. “Alexis, did you know your father served in Nam and won the Medal of Honor?”

  “What? But how? My mother never told me that.”

  “There may be some things you and your mom need to discuss. It seems she might not have been totally honest with you. I’m sorry.”

  Alexis put her hand over her mouth and Ricky could see the confusion and hurt in her eyes.

  “Listen, maybe you should come down to the station. We can help you uncover your father’s real story.”

  “You’re willing to do that for me?”

  Ricky smiled. “Sure.” He reached into his pocket and took a card from his wallet. He then wrote his personal cell number on the back. “Here, call me anytime. Now, I need to look into this bar and see if I can uncover any info on your dad.”

  Alexis walked Ricky to the door and as he stepped through the threshold. Alexis said, “Detective Burton…”

  Ricky turned, and Alexis placed her arms around him. “Thank you, Ricky.”

  Ricky gently hugged her back and walked to John’s truck.

  18:34:03, 18:34:02, 18:34:01…

  “What was that?” John said with a smirk.

  “What was what?”

  “The hug?”

  “Oh, she was just thanking me.”

  “Thanking you for what?”

  “It’s a long story. The good news is I know where her father hangs out.”

  “Great… shoot.”

  “The Ba Bar.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope, you know it?”

  “Yes, it’s attached to a Vietnamese restaurant,” John said as he pulled out and headed for the bar.

  “That’s the one.”

  “That’s really strange, why the hell would he drink there?”

  “My guess is it helps him overcome his demons. Maybe he feels bad for what he had to do in the war.”

  “While you were in there flirting, I did some research. He entered the war in 1970 at the age of eighteen, a few years before Nixon pulled us out in ’73. He’s sixty-five today, so he must have been forty or so when he had Alexis.”

  “So, he serves for three years, becomes a war hero, comes home and functions well enough for twenty years to meet a woman and have a child, then just falls apart?”

  “Ricky, we can’t begin to understand how the trauma and stress of war affects veterans. For some it may be immediate, while others it may take years, gradually building up inside until living with reality becomes unfathomable.”

  “What are you, an expert on PTSD?” Ricky asked.

  John looked ahead at the road for a moment in silence then replied, “Let’s just say I have a bit of history with it. It comes with the job.”

  John pulled into the parking lot of their destination. The pair walked into the lounge and sat at the bar, which was empty except for a pair of working men in painter’s clothes seated at the other end.

  “May I help you, gentlemen?”

  “What’s your name?” John asked.

&
nbsp; “Doug Stevens.”

  John looked at the bartender, gave him a friendly smile, and placed a picture on the bar top. “Hi Doug, do you know this man?”

  He picked it up and quickly glanced at it. John saw the immediate recognition in his eyes.

  “Sure, that’s Brian. Not sure of his last name. He’s been coming here, drinking his sorrows away for years. He was in here last night, actually.”

  John glanced at Ricky, looked back at the bartender and asked, “Was he with anyone?”

  “No, he’s always alone. Sometimes he’ll talk a bit to me or other patrons, but he’s always alone. Is everything okay?”

  “At this time, yes. Did you see anyone talk to him last night?”

  “No, it was pretty empty when he was here, although there was one other dude. He left immediately after Brian did.”

  “Did he look suspicious, like he was interested in Brian?” John asked.

  “I really didn’t notice. He abruptly downed a gin and tonic and was gone. Left a great tip, though.”

  “What did this man look like?” Ricky asked.

  “You know, it’s hard to remember. He was the type that sort of just blends in. Short dark hair, square jaw, kinda handsome.”

  Ricky flipped open his notebook. “Height, weight?”

  “5’10’’, 180 pounds maybe. That’s just a guess.”

  “Clothes?”

  “Pretty nondescript. Old jeans, black boots, flannel shirt. That’s all I can remember.”

  John nodded and closed his small notebook. “Okay, here’s my card. If you think of anything else or see this man in here again, please give me a call.”

  “You got it.”

  John and Ricky stood up and headed to the door. After a few steps, Doug called out to them. “I do remember one other feature.”

  John turned and looked at Doug. “What is it?”

  “His eyes were dark and cold, without feeling.”

  Ricky glanced at John and the partners walked out.

  17:22:03, 17:22:02, 17:22:01…

  John and Ricky were back at the station, waiting to debrief Captain Johnson on the info they uncovered. The press had gotten wind of another victim and came to the station to press for information and answers.

  “He’s going to be one grumpy captain when he gets in here, mark my words. He hates answering to the press,” John said.

  “I don’t blame him, fucking parasites. How did they find out?”

  “Who the heck knows. The feds aren’t as buttoned up as you would think. People talk.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing he’s a grounded, secure, professional man. Any less and they may get to him.”

  “Years of experience and success has eliminated any self-doubt he may have had, trust me.”

  “Is it that easy? Just have a bit of success and all doubt goes away?”

  “No, not just a bit. It takes a lifetime of success to overcome uncertainty. People are born insecure. It has to be weaned out of us as we grow. Realizing we have talents as children, making friends, accomplishing challenging feats… it all adds up to build a foundation that we can build the remainder of our lives on. That’s what happened to so many of the monsters we chase; they failed to build confidence. Actually, most were probably humiliated and dehumanized as children. Combine that with the right strand of DNA, and you have the perfect cocktail for evil.”

  Captain Johnson burst through the door and pointed to his office.

  “See, he isn’t happy. Let’s go,” John said.

  “I’m right behind you.”

  They entered the office and sat across from the captain.

  “Well, how’d that go?” John asked.

  “Fucking assholes, all of them. The conservatives want more patrol, more boots on the ground. They ask if it’s an Islamic terrorist. The liberals want to know if race is involved and if more stringent gun control would solve these abductions. None of them want to get it right, they just want to be right to win the argument. What a way to enter my golden period.”

  “Golden period?” Ricky echoed.

  John looked at the captain with a half-grin and said, “It’s the time of your life when you’re still physically active and competent and your mental focus is still intact, when all of your experiences and edification has made you wise, much wiser than you were in your unharnessed youth.”

  “Ah, I see, right before you walk around in an adult diaper, drooling through your dentures,” Ricky said.

  “Enough of this talk, rookie. Fill me in on what you found out.”

  “We went by his place, a charming little abode. I then visited his daughter, Alexis. She gave me information on where he hangs to drink his gloom away. The bartender gave us a description of our guy. It’s in the report.” Ricky said.

  “Okay, good. Did the daughter give you anything else?”

  “Other than a big hug to lover-boy here, no,” John replied.

  The captain looked at Ricky. “Keep it in your pants, Romeo, at least until we save her father.”

  “I’ll have the feds do a sketch from the description. Let’s see what they come up with. All we can do now is wait for this rat to reach out to us again.”

  “What if he doesn’t?” Ricky asked softly.

  John grunted. “He will. That’s his vice; the competition of intellects, his and ours. That’s what gives him his high.”

  “I’ll give this bastard a high. A 9mm from my Glock between his eyes,” Ricky said.

  12:58:03, 12:58:02, 12:58:01…

  Ricky sat at his desk reviewing files when he received a call on his cell phone from an unknown number.

  “Hello?”

  “Detective Burton? This is Alexis Carson.”

  “Hi, Alexis. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, I just wanted to let you know that I talked to my mother and she came clean on my father. He’s a veteran. She knew, but never told me.”

  “Why?”

  “He had issues. She wanted to protect me from him. He started drinking heavily and she said he was unstable at times. He never left us, she threw him out when I was very young.”

  “I’m sorry, Alexis.”

  “She even changed my last name from his to hers. She told me after she threw him out he lost all control, lost his job, and lived off his welfare check which he would drink away. In reality, he lived off his veterans check. I hated him for leaving me, and all this time it was a lie. May I come in? Maybe I can be of some help to you. I don’t want him to die. I need to see him again.”

  Ricky closed his eyes and ignored every instinct he had. “Sure, you can come in. We’re trying to figure out where he’s being held. Is there anything else you can tell me that may help us? Anything else your mother said?”

  “No. Why, Ricky? Why did he take my father?”

  “We don’t know. That sad truth is, it may just be a coincidence… wrong place, wrong time.”

  “That’s hard to accept.”

  “I know, but it may be the only answer.”

  She sighed. “Okay. I’m leaving now.”

  “Okay, see you soon.”

  12:14:03, 12:14:02, 12:14:01…

  As Ricky looked up and noticed Alexis Carson walk into the station, he felt an unfamiliar feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t exactly butterflies; it was more a rush of excitement akin to how a child would feel on Christmas morning when they first open their eyes, knowing magic awaits them. What the hell is going on with me? he thought as he watched a wide smile spread across Alexis’ face as she recognized him and started walking toward him. She had on a tight pair of jeans which hugged her curves, a soft white sweater, and her chestnut hair cascading down in layered ringlets.

  “Hi,” Ricky said as she reached his desk. “Have a seat.”

  “Thank you. Any new info?”

  “Not yet,” Ricky said, then cleared his throat. “Alexis, I need to tell you something. This criminal we are dealing with is playing a game with us. He sends us a clue that pertains t
o the whereabouts of his captive.” He paused to gauge how she was taking his words. “I want to be honest with you — he has every intention of killing him. The fate of your father lies in our hands.”

  Ricky watched her as her eyes dropped, but quickly regained the strength to raise them up and meet his.

  “I understand.”

  “We… have a live video of him back in the captain’s office. I shouldn’t have told you that, but I can’t keep it from you.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Alexis…”

  “Please, I know the situation. I just need to see him.”

  Ricky ran his hand through his hair, sighed deeply, and stood up. “Okay, follow me.”

  Ricky saw the captain glance up as he led Alexis into his office. He was talking with the feds, and Ricky knew he wouldn’t like the idea of showing Alexis the crime scene with her father captive in what may become a vat of boiling water.

  “Have a seat, I’ll bring up the video feed. Before I do, I want to warn you that it will be extremely disturbing. Are you sure you want to see this?”

  “Yes.”

  Ricky clicked on the feed and the video came to life. Brian Simmons’ body stood limp, held up by the chains attached to his wrists. His complexion had become very pale, almost as if Mr. Simmons’ ghost had already taken the place of his body. Viewing his state, Ricky wasn’t sure he would live long enough to be boiled alive.

  Alexis raised a hand to her mouth in horror. “Oh, God. Ricky, what the hell is he going to do with him?”

  “We aren’t sure,” Ricky lied. “We have every intention of solving his riddle and saving your father.”

  “Riddle?”

  “Yes, at twelve hours he sends us a riddle that will aid us in uncovering his whereabouts. Actually, we should be receiving one in about ten minutes.” He pointed to the digital clock ticking down in the corner of the screen.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “It’s a game to him. Our intellect against his. Many sociopaths, and, or psychopaths, like to wield their intelligence by creating a competition with the ones attempting to catch them. Our man seems to have a special place in his heart for John, my partner.”

  Alexis looked away from the screen. “I’ve seen enough. Thank you”