by T. R. Cupak
Dexter’s ears perk up, which turns my attention toward the sound of an approaching vehicle. Soon, Britney’s car comes into view with a dust cloud behind her. There was a time when she wouldn’t drive her car down the gravel road because she thought the gravel would chip her paint, so her brother built a two-car garage at the beginning of his driveway where she could park her car and jump into a Polaris off-road buggy. But, as of late, more important things take precedence over a vehicle, and it appears that Britney wanted to get here without wasting time.
“Hier.” I give the German command to Dexter to come to me, and he obeys. “Sitz,” I command, and he sits at my left side. “Bleib,” is my final command, which means stay. He’s doing very well with his obedience classes, and being home with him for the first couple of months helped grow our bond.
All in all, I got lucky. I have a great dog, even if Dexter prefers Britney over anyone else. I can’t blame the furry beast. I feel the same way.
Britney parks next to my vehicle and gets out of her car with a sense of urgency. She’s wearing jeans and a sweater with her cowgirl boots. Even when she’s dressed down, she still takes my breath away.
“Have you already seen my brother?” she asks, as she squats down to greet an anxious Dexter.
“No. I was waiting for you, as you asked.”
“Thanks, Kade.”
“You know you don’t need to thank me.”
Britney nods then turns on her heels and strides in the direction of the front door. Dexter is used to a bit more attention from Britney and doesn’t understand why she isn’t paying attention to him, and now he’s in a rambunctious mood. While I stay back and try to get Dex to adhere to his commands, Britney unlocks and opens Deacon’s front door, then immediately takes a couple of steps backward, coughing.
“What?” I ask. Before I get an answer, she covers her nose and mouth and runs inside, Dexter following right behind her. I go in after them, and I’m immediately hit in the face by a pungent odor. Recognizing the smell causes my stomach to churn. “Britney, don’t open that door!” I yell at the top of my lungs, but it’s too late. The blood-curdling scream that rips from her throat as she drops to her knees sets me in motion. I rush to her side, pick up her wilted body from the floor, and haul ass back outside. I didn’t look inside the room. I didn’t have to, to know what she saw. My only concern is Britney and getting her the fuck out of the house.
I pop the hatch to my car and set her down inside. Her tears stream steadily down her cheeks as she stares off into nowhere, clearly in a state of shock. Dexter is sitting at her feet with his head resting on her legs. He whimpers, nudging at her hands, but she remains still as a statue. Pacing back and forth, I try to gather my wits and figure out who my first call should be to.
A few minutes pass before my brain begins to function. Grabbing my phone from my back pocket, I step out of Britney’s hearing range and call Sergeant Black. I give him my location and explain to him that I haven’t seen Deacon’s body myself because I needed to get his sister out of the house. I proceed to inform him that the godawful smell permeating the home is that of a dead body decaying, and based on Britney’s reaction, I know it’s Deacon, and suicide is a strong possibility. Black tells me to sit tight, stay with Britney, and he’ll take it from here.
Within thirty minutes or less, everyone arrives, making it feel like a three-ring circus. First on the scene is my sergeant. After him, our assistant chief and chief arrive, followed by the coroner, two county deputies since Deacon’s house is within the county and not the city, and medics for Britney, I assume.
Britney hasn’t moved since I got her out of the house. She sits quietly, staring toward the wooded area that lines the vineyard. I had to leash Dexter because any time someone tried to approach Britney, he would place himself in front of her and growl at anyone who came too close.
The medics, my sergeant, and Chief Salazar all try asking her questions, but she says nothing. I try talking to her too. When Britney hears my voice, she closes her eyes until I stop speaking. I don’t know what the fuck my best friend was thinking, but if he were alive right now, I’d kill him myself for hurting his sister.
“Beaumont, a word?” Sergeant Black asks. I turn to check on Britney, but I already know nothing has changed. I close the short distance between myself and my superiors, waiting for one of them to start asking questions.
“Sarg. Chief,” I say once I’m within speaking range.
“Obviously, we won’t know how long Deacon has been dead until the autopsy, but I can tell you it was a GSW to the head,” Sergeant Black informs me. “You told me you didn’t see the body, but Britney did—is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t need to paint the picture in your mind. Just know that Miss Winslow can’t ever unsee her brother’s dead body. Son, that woman is going to need more than a strong person to help her get through this tragic incident. She’s going to need love, a lot of love.”
“Understood, sir.” I’m trying to be strong. I’m trying to hold myself together for Britney’s sake, but a single tear trickles down my face. As I wipe it away, I turn my attention to the sky, trying to keep more tears from escaping.
“Kade, I know Deacon was like a brother to you. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you to take some time off. Be with his family,” Chief Salazar instructs. “Also, the crime and trauma clean-up team is already en route. They will be here within the hour,” the chief adds. “We have this under control.”
“Tha—” Britney’s shrill voice cuts through my thanks and all of the commotion around us. Everyone’s attention turns to her.
“No!” she screams as she runs toward the gurney carrying the black body bag that holds her beloved brother’s lifeless body. “No!” she screams again. “Deacon, why?” she cries as she drops back to her knees with her face in her hands. “Why?”
“Beaumont, take her home,” Black tells me.
“I’m way ahead of you, Sarg.”
“Brit, come on. We need to go to your parents’ house,” I whisper by her ear as I coax her to stand. As I’m trying to help Britney to her feet, Dexter is pushing me away from her with his body, growling at me because he thinks I’m the one hurting her.
“Dexter, car!” I command. His growl is quickly replaced with a whimper. He looks between Britney and me, not sure what to do. Britney’s voice is faint, but she commands Dexter to get in the car, and it’s her command that he finally obeys, hopping into the back of my vehicle. I close the hatch before escorting Britney to the passenger side and assisting her into the seat.
“My purse is in my car.”
“I’ll grab it.”
“Officer Beaumont,” Deputy Sans calls out as I approach Britney’s car.
“Yes, Deputy?”
“Deacon was a good man. Please give the Winslow family our condolences and tell them the sheriff’s office will be praying for them.”
“Thanks. I will.”
“Oh, and let Britney know that if she needs to talk to someone, my wife is a grief counselor.”
“Will do.” For a moment there, I thought he was going to offer Britney his shoulder to cry on.
I maneuver my SUV out of the busy driveway and head back down the gravel road. It doesn’t take long to reach the main road, but before I make the turn, Britney yells to stop the car. I pull onto the shoulder, and Britney jumps out, bends at the waist, and vomits. Grabbing my water bottle, I exit the vehicle and hand it to her.
“Thank you.”
“Do you need to wait a few minutes before we head to your parents’?”
“No. I’m good.” She stands straight and looks up at me. “We can go.”
The devastated woman from five minutes ago has been replaced by a woman who is clearly locking down her emotions for the sake of her mom and dad. She’s preparing herself to be the strong one to get them through this horrific tragedy.
When I climb back into my vehicle, Britney’s attention is o
ut the window, so I take the opportunity to send a quick text to Sydnee, asking her to meet us at the Winslows’. I tell her it’s urgent, but don’t give more details because I’m driving and because I don’t want her to drive while she’s crying. She responds quickly, stating she’ll be there in forty minutes since she’s still at work.
“Do you have gum or mints?” Britney asks, breaking the silence as we approach the gate to her family home.
“Check the center console.” She rummages through the black hole, as I call it, and finds a pack of gum. She takes two pieces out, unwraps them both, and puts them in her mouth. For as long as I can remember, Britney has always needed two pieces of gum. Her excuse was that she liked to blow bubbles, and a single piece of gum would not suffice.
“Do you want one?”
“Sure.” She unwraps another piece and hands it to me. “Thanks.”
“Mmhm.” She turns her attention back out the passenger side window.
Halfway up the quarter-mile-long driveway, I stop.
“Britney, you don’t have to be the strong one. Let me be your strength. Let me help you and your parents through this.” Her head slowly turns in my direction, but she says nothing. She tilts her head to the side like she’s contemplating how to respond.
“I’m fine. I got this.”
No, she doesn’t, but I’m not going to argue with her. All I can do is be here for her and her parents.
27
BRITNEY
My world came crashing down around me today. My heart shattered into a million pieces. Kade tried to stop me from opening that door, but it was too late. I cannot unsee the image of my brother’s lifeless, decaying body sprawled out on his bed, bloody chunks splattered on the pillows and across the headboard. It’s a sight no person should have to see, especially when it’s someone they love.
Right now, I envy Kade. He never saw Deacon’s body; therefore, he’s free of the horror that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I want to scream. I want to punch something. I want to cry. I want to go back four months and never leave my brother’s side. My gut was telling me something was off, but Deacon masked his torment so well, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. The more I pushed, the more upset he would get, so I backed off. I chose to trust his word, to believe him when he told me he was fine—even when my gut said otherwise.
Kade and I have been sitting in his car for the past hour. He’s allowing me time to gather what little strength I have before walking through the door to my parents’ house. My poor parents still think their son is alive and is off at some retreat working on his mental health. How do I break the news to them? Do I just blurt out ‘Deacon is dead,’ like ripping off a Band-Aid, or do I take my time? Who am I kidding? There is no easy way to break this tragic news to them.
“Brit, I can be the one to tell your parents,” Kade offers for the tenth time. I’m about ready to bite his head off when approaching headlights catch my attention. At first, I’m afraid it’s one of the officers or Deacon’s superiors coming to the house to check on the family, but when the car pulls up beside us, I see it’s Sydnee. Thank God!
“Did you—”
“Text your best friend? Yes. But Sydnee doesn’t know yet. She only knows that you need her. Brit, you’re not in this alone. I’m begging you, please don’t shut me out.”
Kade’s plea is like a knife to my already broken heart. He loved Deacon like a brother. He not only lost his best friend and partner. He lost a family member too. I should be consoling him as he has been trying to do for me. God, I feel like such an asshole.
The tap on my window turns my attention to Sydnee, who’s standing outside my door. I point to the back seat, and she nods, opening the back door, and sliding into the middle spot so she can see both me and Kade.
“What’s going on? Why do you both look like you just lost your best friend?” Her poor choice of words is not her fault. My tears begin to glide freely over my cheeks. I have yet to find my voice to tell her about Deacon. If it’s this hard to tell my best friend, I don’t know how I’m going to get out the words that are like acid on my tongue and deliver the news to my parents—that will change their lives. “Come on, guys. Seriously, what’s going on?” Her tone is more urgent than before.
I look over to Kade for help and he understands what I’m asking without saying the words.
“Syd, Deacon is dead.” Kade’s words are direct, conveyed bluntly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
“Fuck you. That’s not funny, asshole.” She doesn’t believe Kade. Hell, I’ve seen Deacon’s dead body, and I still don’t want to believe Kade. “B, stop fucking around. This is not a funny joke by any means.”
Turning in my seat to fully face Sydnee is the only way I can confirm the words that will break her heart; my eyes don’t lie to her. A few seconds pass, but it feels like an eternity before her facial features begin to contort right before my eyes.
“No. No, no, no, no. You two are playing some sick fucking joke, and Deacon is going to jump in this fucking car and scare the shit out of me, right?”
Shaking my head no is my best friend’s undoing.
Syd’s eyes narrow with anger, and as her face tenses when she presses her lips together tightly, still thinking we’re playing an unfathomable joke on her. If I was her, I would hope it was a fucked-up joke instead of reality. Then, her eyes go wide in disbelief, finally coming to her own conclusion that we aren’t joking. Sydnee’s lips begin to quiver and her eyes fill with tears as the news of Deacon’s death sinks in.
Even though Deacon broke things off with her because of his ridiculous pact with Kade, she hoped that one day he would get his head out of his ass, go back to her, marry her, have six children, and adopt senior dogs to give them a safe and loving home to live out the rest of their days. But her dream, her future, has been crushed in a matter of seconds.
She cries out as if she’s in physical pain, sending Dexter into a frenzy of circles in the back. Sydnee slides between the two front seats and sits on my lap, holding me tightly, while Kade’s hand rests on my forearm. At this point, everyone in the car is crying, including the dog.
It takes us a while to compose ourselves enough to face my parents. I tell Kade to put Dexter on the side of the house where my childhood dogs used to play.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I confess. My entire body is shaking and when Sydnee grabs my hand, I feel her shaking too as she wipes the tears from her mascara-stained face.
“We’re right here with you, B. If you can’t, I will find a way to tell them,” Sydnee offers.
“No. Britney, please let me do this for you. Yes, it’s different because it’s personal for me, but I have had to do this twice before. I can separate my feelings long enough to tell your parents about D. After that, there are no guarantees on how long I can hold my shit together.”
Looking up at Kade, a sharp shooting pain blows through my chest when my eyes meet his bloodshot eyes. As much as I want to be strong for my parents, I’m not—I can’t be—so I concede and give Kade a nod.
Like any other day, I walk into the house without knocking and call out for my parents. When I don’t get a response, I call out once again, this time a little louder.
“We’re in the library, dear,” my mom hollers back. “Is your brother with you? We haven’t heard from him in days.”
I freeze where I’m standing, unable to move my feet in the direction of the library. My chest tightens and my hands begin to tingle. As I stand here like a statue, my head feels like a helium balloon ready to float off into the air, and before I can say anything, the light around me begins to fade and darkness consumes me.
I OPEN my eyes to a room softly lit from the cracked open door across from the bed. Sitting up in a panic, I try to take in my surroundings. Something or someone stirs at the end of the bed. Reaching over to the nightstand, I find the lamp and turn it on. It takes me a few seconds to focus, and that’s when I recognize I’m in my old bedroom at my
parents’ house. Glancing down at the end of the bed, I see Dexter, who lifts his head to watch me. It’s like he’s trying to gauge my current state of mind.
Everything that happened today comes rushing back, hitting me like a freight train. Dexter scrambles to get in my lap when I begin to cry and hyperventilate at the same time. Unable to comfort me, Dexter jumps from the bed and runs out of the room. I swing my legs over the edge of my bed and bend at the waist to try to slow my breathing. In no time at all, Kade comes barreling into my room and kneels down in front of me.
“Focus on my voice, Brit. Breathe slower,” he tells me. I want to say it’s easier said than done, but I can’t calm my breathing long enough to get the words out. “Here.” He grabs my hand and places it on his chest. “Breathe slower, Brit. Concentrate and breathe with me. Breathe with me.” Kade repeats himself a few more times until my breath syncs with his. Every slow breath he takes, I take. It’s not long before I finally feel like I have air back in my lungs. I slowly sit upright and notice Dexter is seated beside Kade, and the concerned look on Kade’s face hurts my heart.
“You have one amazing dog,” I tell him as I reach out to pet Dexter.
“We have to work on how he gets my attention.” Kade lifts his hand, showing me teeth marks. “But yes, he is a damn good dog.”
“My parents?”
“Like you and me, they’re in shock. Your parents are grieving for their son. When I broke the news to them, your mom fainted but came to pretty quickly. While your mom was unconscious, your dad held onto her hand and cried. When she came to, there was little dialogue among us.”
“What time is it?”
“It’s almost three in the morning. I was asleep on the couch. Sydnee went to her mom’s place. She said she needed her mom’s arms tonight. Syd also said she's all yours when she returns sometime tomorrow.”
“My parents?”
“They went to their bedroom a couple of hours ago.”
“Will you take me home?” I ask.