13
It was a silent on the ride back to the police department. Roberts just drove, focusing on the road. The visit did not go well this time, either. It seemed every time someone tried to talk to a Parks’ family member they would shut down and not talk or just be rude and, as Christine had done twice now, slam the door in your face.
“I’m tired of this, I have had enough Parks drama in my life.” Mike said.
“Well, if Captain can convince the Chief that we have done all we can, maybe he will let it go.”
Roberts pulled her patrol unit into the parking lot of the police station and parked. They both went inside the building. Chief Tolliver was sitting at his desk reading a magazine when they came walking into his office.
“Well.” He said, putting the magazine down and removing his reading glasses. He opened a desk drawer and removed a pistol and a body camera. He handed the camera to Mike as Roberts watched.
He held up the gun, “I will give this back to you as soon as you go talk to the psychiatrist at the clinic about the shooting incident. They have been backlogged but they said they could see you today at four.”
Mike did not want to go talk to a shrink about his feelings. He had put it off as long as he could, but he knew that without the doctor signing off he would not get back on the street.
He did not argue, instead he gave the Chief a rundown of his and Roberts’ visit to Christine Parks. When he concluded the Chief nodded his head.
“Well, I think we’re off that for now. Jim thinks we are spinning our wheels looking at these folks. I disagree, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Roberts and Mike took their leave. Mike wanted to go home and sleep, except his psychiatric appointment was in an hour. Mike knew the appointment would take at least an hour, maybe less depending on how much he opened up to the doctor. He was sure he would not volunteer too much.
Roberts left to go home Mike left to go get food. He pulled into the Sonic parking lot pulling into stall eight. He pushed the red button without looking at the menu, he ordered the same thing every time he came here, a number two, extra onions, cheese with mustard, onion rings, and a Dr. Pepper. The teen age voice from the speaker told him his total and he waited for his food.
What would he say to the shrink? He didn’t want to sound like he was heartless and be accused of being a sociopath, but he also didn’t want to look like a shrinking violet and be labeled emotional either. He should have asked Sergeant Marten how he handled the doctor visit since he was the last one to go to one.
The teenage carhop brought the food and Mike tipped the girl the change that was left out of a twenty. He was feeling very generous here the last few days. He ate thinking about the Parks’ family dynamic.
Mike grew up in Colby in what some would consider poverty, but Mike knew his folks worked hard to provide for him and his sister. His dad was an oil field worker, and when the oil field was booming times were great, but when it went bust and there was no work, everyone who depended on the oil for a way of life struggled. His family was no different. His mom would take a job in the slow times to help make ends meet while dad did odd jobs, but they always seemed to manage. Mike went to the academy and became a cop, much to his parent’s surprise, while his sister became a doctor in Abilene, much to his parent’s pride.
He ate his food and thought about George Parks. He was a wealthy man from all accounts. George was an important figure in the business community for years, in the past everyone traded at his store which provided George and his family a comfortable life. Maybe it was that comfort that created the three kids who seemed to not be appreciative of what they had. The only one Mike would say was living well was Elizabeth in Lubbock. And she was divorced living in a fancy house all alone. Toby and Christine seemed to be adrift in their own alcohol and maybe, in Christine’s case anyway, drug abuse that led to their bad decisions. Some people, Mike thought as he folded his empty burger wrapper and placed it in the brown bag along with the remaining French fries.
Mike started his pickup and backed out of the stall, he stopped long enough to place his trash in the curbside trash bin and left the parking lot. He headed to the clinic for his appointment. Arriving in the parking lot, he was still feeling a little anxiety about having to talk to a doctor. He got out and went into the clinic.
He approached the automatic doors and they swooshed open allowing a rush of cold air to escape and greet him in the face as he entered. The lobby was your standard doctor’s office with armed chairs with cushioned seats scattered around a room covered with beige carpet. Cheap paintings hung on the wall around the room. The sign in desk was in front of him as he entered. He told the lady behind the desk his name then took care of the paperwork and was told to have a seat. He waited less than five minutes before being called back to see the doctor.
Mike was led down a small hallway to the doctor’s office, the door was closed. He knocked and heard a voice from the other side beckon him in. The name plate on the door said Don Sawyer M.D. PsyD. The man sitting in a cushioned chair with an armrest did not look like a psychiatrist, at least not what Mike pictured. The doctor stood up and Mike saw he was huge. He towered over Mike, who was five feet eight, this guy was six-four if he was an inch, and he probably weighed three hundred pounds and not an inch of it was fat. Mike was now nervous for a whole different reason.
“Afternoon, Officer Collins. I have been expecting you.” He said, reaching out a huge hand for Mike to shake.
“Hi!” Mike said, not knowing what else to say and took the hand. The handshake was firm but gentle, not the vice grip Mike was expecting. The doctor must have noticed the patient’s apprehension.
“I’m a teddy bear. Really. Sit down.”
“I’m here because I have to be here.” Mike said, sitting in a matching chair across the desk from him.
“That’s what they all say. Give me a moment and we will start.”
He finished writing something in a notebook then he began by asking Mike a series of questions about his job and his life in general. Mike answered with as few words as he could. Finally, the doctor looked up from his clipboard.
“You think you’re okay, huh? You’re just going to come in here give monosyllabic answers and be good to go back on the street. Is that what you’re thinking?” he asked.
“Yeah. I mean I shot that young man. I wish I hadn’t, but everybody thinks I was in the right. The Grand Jury no billed me today, so…” Mike let that word hang in the air. The doctor snatched it out of the air and returned it to him.
“So, what do you think?”
“Look, Doctor Sawyer, I ain’t here to get in touch with my feelings. I am only here because it is required in order to go back on duty.”
“You may not want to explore your feelings, but you may need to. How will you react next time you’re in a dangerous situation? Will you be able to shoot to stop a threat? You may think so now but could you, after this experience, pull the trigger on another human being. Tell me, have you been having any nightmares, drinking more, sleeping less? Feeling more generous to others?”
Mike was staring at a carpet stain on the floor, but the series of questions made him look up. Sawyer continued, “How have you handled your feelings? Have your choices been healthy or unhealthy?”
Mike wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Sawyer did not offer a life- line instead he let Mike flounder in the rough sea of his thoughts until he found his own way.
“I have had nightmares. I drank a whole bunch of whiskey the night after the shooting, too.” Mike said, finding his voice.
“Do you think that is the proper way to handle the stress you are under?”
For the next thirty minutes Mike opened-up to the doctor. He told about his childhood growing up poor in Colby, he explored his feelings on being a cop in his hometown telling of how many of his friends he had arrested over the years, and asked questions and sought advice on how to deal with the stress of the shooting aftermath.<
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Mike knew his sister was right. Talking to someone did help. He felt better as he continued to talk about issues and subjects he thought of while sitting there.
Doctor Sawyer, for his part, gave some solid sounding advice. Sawyer revealed he had been a special forces soldier in the military during the first Gulf War, then reenlisted after the September attacks. He revealed to Mike that he himself used some of these same techniques to conquer his anxiety and stress. He gave Mike tips like exercise, eating right, don’t drink in excess, watch your carbohydrate intake, and get plenty of sleep.
At the end of the session Mike left the office feeling better but also knowing he would not or could not do all those things, but he vowed to try some of them. Maybe.
At least Sawyer had signed off on his clearance, that meant Mike could go back to work. His first thought was to call Roberts, that feeling was strange itself coming out of nowhere and made him wonder whether he needed to go back inside and see Doctor Sawyer again. He decided he would go to the station and see if the chief was still there instead.
14
The police station always seemed to be a different world after the day shift went home. The offices were abandoned, most of the time with paperwork strewn out in such a fashion that it appeared that the officers just left whatever they were working on at five when it was end of shift until the next day. Sometimes that is exactly what happened Mike knew. The evening officers would not come back to the office until it was shift change, where for a few minutes, the offices, at least the patrol room, would bustle with energy again.
However, the chief sometimes stayed late most nights to finish whatever he was doing. He lived alone as his wife had died years ago, and he never remarried. Mike knew he found solitude and comfort in being at the office when nobody else was around. It was one of the reasons Mike did not figure on Chief Tolliver retiring any time soon.
The hallway echoed with his steps as his tennis shoes squeaked on the tile floor. He would not sneak up on anyone, he thought. The dark hallway was lit only by the emergency lighting contained within the overhead fluorescent lights. It gave the hall a yellow haze. The lone bright light was coming from the chief’s office down the hall, the bright light spilled out into the hallway causing quite the contrast.
“Chief?” Mike asked, knocking lightly on the door frame.
Tolliver looked up, taking his reading glasses off, and motioned for Mike to come in.
“I guess you met with the doctor?”
“Yeah, he said I was fine.”
“That would be a first, I guess.” Mike grinned at the chief’s attempt at humor. They sat in silence for what seemed hours but were only seconds. Tolliver looked at him then reached in the drawer. He pulled out the handgun and handed it back to Mike.
“I’ll probably get the clearance for you sometime next week. Meanwhile, enjoy some time off. Go fishing, or something.” Tolliver said, closing the desk drawer.
Mike hadn’t been fishing in over a year. He was just too busy with work, that was his excuse anyway. In truth the thought of fishing didn’t appeal to him like it used to. He wondered why.
He said nothing. The chief always made him a little nervous, even though he had known B.J. Tolliver since he was a child because Mikes’ mother was friends from church with Tolliver’s late wife. It was Tolliver who encouraged Mike to apply for the police department and Tolliver hired him and sent him to the academy. He sat here now feeling a little uneasy like he had interrupted the chief’s solitude.
He was going to leave when they heard the hall door open from the lobby. Mike got up to see who it was. It was a dispatcher named Joe coming down the hallway. Dispatch sat in another part of the building separate from the officer’s section. The look on Joe’s face told Mike something was wrong.
“Mike? What are you doing here?” Joe asked, but did not wait for a reply as he stood in the entrance of the chief’s office and continued, “Chief? There is a woman in the lobby who insists on speaking with you. I told her it was Friday night and you might not be here, but she said she seen your office light on from outside. She’s being kinda rude.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want one of my dispatchers to have to deal with rude people. Who is she?” Tolliver asked, not hiding the annoyance he clearly felt.
“Says her name is Elizabeth Parks.”
Mike and Tolliver looked at each other. Chief told Joe to tell her he would be with her in a minute. As Joe walked away Mike asked, “I wonder what she wants this time of night?”
“Let’s go see.”
They walked to the end of the hallway Tolliver turned on the hall light before he opened the lobby door. Mike was able to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth Parks over the chief’s shoulder. She looked frustrated and a little upset. Tolliver invited her in, and he led the group to the conference room. As she walked in the conference room, he asked “Is it okay if Officer Collins is in the room for this?”
“Chief! I don’t care who is in the room. I’m here to see if I can get something done. Something needs to be done!” She sat down in a chair clearly frustrated and upset. She was on the verge of tears but fighting hard to keep her composure.
“Well, tell me what’s got you so upset, Miss Parks.”
“This officer,” she pointed at Mike then continued, “came to my house yesterday, where he informed me, I had a niece living with my dad at his house. I just came from there, dad’s house, and Lydia is all grown up now. I hadn’t seen her since she was little. Christine promised me she would keep her safe and now this.” She practically yelled the last part about Christine. Her voice was strained, and she took a deep breath.
Tolliver and Mike looked at each other totally confused. Mike spoke first.
“Ma’am, you got any reason to believe that Lydia ain’t safe at your dad’s house.”
“Because he’s a son of a bitch.” She said, as if that were the only reason anyone needed to know. Finally, she continued, “you know he wouldn’t even let me in the house. I had to stand on the porch the way he makes strangers stand out there.”
“I don’t understand. What is it you’re so upset about?” Tolliver asked, taking a seat across the table from Parks.
“Lydia!” Parks said, and then started crying full force.
Sobbing and crying as if she hadn’t cried in years. Mike picked up the box of tissue that sat at the opposite end of the table and offered it to her. In between sobs and blowing her nose, she continued to say, “that son of a bitch” and cried more. The two men sat there silent casting looks at each other. Mike knew this woman was in turmoil he just didn’t understand why.
“Now, listen to me.” Tolliver said gently. “You need to tell me, tell us, what is going on here? I can’t help you unless you do.”
“I am afraid he is going to do to Lydia what he did to us.”
“I was over there. Talked to Lydia and met her brother. They seemed happy to me.” Mike said.
“There’s a boy?” Elizabeth asked and started crying again. This cry was shorter than the last one but still as intense. She stopped crying and blew her nose again. “I have something to tell you. Tell you both. The reason none of us kids ever come back here, at least me and Toby. Christine never left.”
“What?” Tolliver asked.
“When we… No… Lydia is Christine’s daughter. Right? But…” She hesitated. It looked as if the world was weighing on her. Mike wanted to force her to tell the story, to just say whatever bad she thought couldn’t be said. But the chief was leading the questioning and he was letting Elizabeth take her time.
“Yeah? What?” Tolliver asked trying to coax her forward in the story.
“She’s… Christine and my dad.” She took a deep breath and looked at each of the men. Tears started falling in a rush again, but this time she forced the words out before she was overwhelmed by emotion.
“Lydia is my dad’s daughter!”
15
The men sat there. Neither said anything. Elizabeth was c
rying again, only this time it seemed not to be as angry as before. She appeared to have had a weight taken off her shoulders by telling the secret she had lived with for so many years. This bombshell was big enough for him, Mike wondered what other family secrets she held.
“What did you just say?” Chief asked.
Elizabeth Parks dabbed her eyes then looked at each of them again. She then stared straight ahead looking over their shoulders focusing on the wall in front of her and told her story slowly but forcefully.
Toby was the oldest child followed by Elizabeth then Christine. There was two years that separated each child, so they all grew up together. Childhood was fun when they were younger. George, their dad, could be harsh and sometimes cruel in his words and actions. They weren’t allowed to play sports and could do no extra-curricular activities. He was very secretive and isolated his family from the outside world. If he thought they were talking about the family to strangers he would beat them harshly. No one was allowed to know anything about the family. Nothing.
It started when Elizabeth was twelve years old. Touching at first, maybe a leg rub, a slight pat on the rear, but then it got to be more. Her dad started touching her breasts, which were just beginning to develop, then make her show them to him so he could gage their growth. Elizabeth felt weird about it and told him she didn’t want to do that. George Parks would remind his daughter that nobody loved her like he did, and he would show his love however he wanted.
The first time that he forced her to have sex he told her it was the way it had to be. That she belonged to him and nobody else unless he said so. He could be rough, and he hurt her when he got mad at her whenever she refused his advances or tried to avoid him. The sex was so often and sometimes so rough that she went to school so sore she could not sit down. Her grades suffered, as well as her self-esteem, since she was not able to tell anyone about what was happening. So, she suffered alone thinking no one would believe her because he had told her that repeatedly until she lost the will to resist.
Family Secrets Page 6
