by Justin Bell
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Louisa eased her dark hatchback left beyond the town hall and drove down the quiet side street towards the elementary school. Her hair felt slick and flat to her head, sweat festering along her scalp and beading at her temples, just above the ears. There weren't just butterflies in her stomach, there were energetic birds, a school of frenetic hummingbirds buzzing and lurching back and forth against her stomach walls, clenching her throat and whitening her knuckles.
She'd been able to handle what she was doing up until now. She'd almost been able to rationalize the looking the other way, or simply not answering her door when Strickland came desperately knocking, but somehow what she was doing now was a step beyond that. It was an actual physical action, not just a lack of action. For some reason that made all the difference.
A small alley split a row of young trees and the back of the elementary school, which traveled the width of the school, then opened into a parking area, reserved for the principal and key members of the school board during times they needed to attend a particular meeting. Louisa turned down the narrow alley and saw the two other cars already parked there, in a small dirt-covered rectangle nestled up against the rear wall of the school, a single door beckoning for her to enter.
She braked and exited the hatchback, her blue jeans and plain black t-shirt making her look like any other casual attendee and not like the Chief of Police. Pinned against the small of her back was her personal holster, leather and wrapped tightly around her nine millimeter personal weapon, the one that she had pulled from the nightstand drawer that night that Strickland came knocking. That night that she had ignored him. That night she'd left him to die.
Or at least she thought she might have. He had been bleeding heavily from a shoulder wound and his face was more bruise than flesh. When she'd met him before he was tall, broad, and strong, but two nights ago he was a broken shell of the man she'd seen before, bent and breathless. Somehow she'd left him out on her doorstep. She hadn't opened the door for him, and if she was honest to herself, she'd tell herself that she hadn't even considered it. Just stood there, waiting for the inevitable?and the inevitable came. Twin headlights passed by, Strickland disappeared, and her lack of action may have cost him his life.
She knew now that he was still alive, but he had been brought in by Grace and his cronies, only Grace hadn't been there himself. He'd been taken down and brought back home.
Somehow, she wasn't quite sure how, she'd continued to live with herself and continued to sleep at night, though fitfully at best. After tonight, though? Would she be able to live with herself after tonight? Louisa didn't know. Truthfully, she had no idea what to expect.
Opening the single door, she turned sideways and slid inside, easing the door shut behind her. The hallway was dim, but not dark, and she could see a spray of light coming from a classroom up on her left. Twin shadowy silhouettes blocked certain areas of the light, one an average sized silhouette, and one much larger and broader. The linoleum floor was shiny and squeaked underneath her sneakers as she strode forward, but she wasn't trying to be quiet, the two men creating the shadows up ahead were expecting her and waiting for her.
Halfway down the second hallway, a figure leaned out, and Gutierrez recognized him immediately as Richard Grace. Apparently he was back in town.
"Chief Gutierrez. Thanks for joining us."
Louisa didn't respond, she merely nodded a clipped, abrupt nod, wanting to be perfectly clear that being here wasn't her favorite thing to be doing tonight. Moments later she came up upon the classroom and glanced inside as she entered. The second man stood in the center of the room, nearly seven feet tall, dark skinned, with flame tattoos on each side of his head. Her eyes widened slightly, but she tried not to show fear. Certainly Grace wouldn't have called her here just to have this mountain man kill her, would he?
"Ms. Gutierrez, this is Gary. Gary Irizarry," he gestured towards the large man, who offered out his hand. Louisa shook it and nodded in acknowledgement. Grace stood there looking at the two of them, a slanted smile on his face. His hair was neatly brushed, and his three piece suit draped effortlessly over his contoured shoulders. Even at nearly ten o'clock at night he looked like he was just coming into work, bright eyed and bushy tailed.
"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here," he said, looking at the police chief.
"Yeah, I am. What can I do for you?"
Grace rubbed his hands together as if thinking how to start. "Obviously you are aware of what happened two nights ago."
"What? The gunfight and car chase in the middle of my town? A bomb looking like it went off inside our town hall? Yeah. I'm aware." It came across a little more bitter and sarcastic than she intended. By the stern transformation of Grace's expression, she guessed he wasn't anticipating the venom either.
"You worked with Nate Burndock on verifying what really happened there, yes?"
"He said it was some kind of movie being filmed in town. The gunshots were all blanks and the bloody guys stumbling everywhere were just stuntmen." Her face and voice betrayed her true sentiments. Nate Burndock's story was so much bullshit and everyone in this room knew it.
"Obviously reinforcing this story is very important to our continued operation, Chief Gutierrez."
Louisa nodded. "Sure."
"Can we count on you?"
"State police are already banging down my door. One of the weapons was registered in New York, so the Feds could be calling soon, too." Gutierrez was trying to be as blunt and honest as possible. She needed to set the proper expectations.
Grace looked impassive. "Can we count on you?" he repeated.
Gutierrez stared at him. Her eyes flashed quickly to Irizarry just to his right, then back into Grace's steel, cold eyes. The room was silent, probably more silent than an occupied elementary school classroom ever was.
"Chief," continued Agent Grace, and he took a step forward, palms facing up.
"Yes, all right?" Louisa spat, turning away. She could no longer look him in the eyes. "Yes. You can count on me."
Grace smiled broadly and pressed his palms together. "So glad to hear that."
Louisa stood still, staring at the wall, her vision blearing with the forming of fresh tears. She kept her face turned away, she didn't want this asshole to see her emotion.
"You'd told me there were no strings attached," Gutierrez growled at him, trying to maintain level emotions in spite of the storm brewing inside her head. "That's why I agreed to this. You said no strings."
Grace stepped past her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as he walked by. It was more controlling than comforting, a low press to remind her that he was always going to be right there at her left shoulder, watching and waiting.
"There are always strings attached. Always." He stepped past her towards the door.
"Nice to meet you," said Irizarry in a low voice as he followed Grace, walking past her and leaving the classroom, two sets of shoes squeaking down the shiny linoleum. Chief Gutierrez stood alone in the classroom, surrounded by darkness and feeling a deep pit of jagged glass in her stomach.
She'd slept okay the past two nights, even after how she treated William Strickland, but all at once she knew she wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.