Chapter One
Detective John Peterson stood outside of the captain's office with his head hung low. He didn't want to hear the ongoing conversation that was taking place on the other side of the thin glass wall. He didn't want to see their expressions of anger and frustration. But deep down, he knew that it was inevitable. He knew the day would come when he would no longer be able to serve his community and must step aside. Now he was forced to listen to the captain explain, using an explosive voice, that he just didn't care. Frank was going to have a new partner by the end of the week.
He turned his head away in a rush as his partner hurried to the door and jerked it open — his face red and his jaw clenched. John wanted to tell his partner of twelve years that everything was going to be alright. He wanted to tell Frank why he couldn't be his partner anymore. But as the thoughts came to his mind, he just shook his head, knowing that no explanation would be satisfactory. He pushed away from the wall and stepped in behind his partner. They had one more case to solve, one that was very important for them both. John prayed that they had enough time.
As they approached the car, John didn't argue when he saw Frank move to the driver side and drop into the seat. I guess he's just getting used to the idea of me not being here. He told himself as he moved to the passenger side.
Frank was silent as they pulled out onto the main street of their little town, Springbrook. It was just as cold as the morning forecast had warned, but even the whipping wind and spitting snowfall didn't seem to matter that much to John. He knew that it wouldn't be long before he wouldn't have to worry about wading through knee deep snow while searching for that hidden clue. He couldn't help but smile, knowing that the days of standing in the rain, drenched to the bone, or feeling the biting winter chill, were numbered. His smile faded when he turned to see the lost look in his partner's eyes.
"Maybe some music?" John suggested as he reached for and turned the radio knob. He heard Frank huff as he reached out and smacked the dashboard radio, shaking his head in frustration. "No need to be like this Frank. We both knew that I wasn't going to be able to do this forever."
"This sucks!" Frank blurted out as he slammed his hand against the steering wheel.
"I know, but trust me, you will get used to it, Frank. I remember when..." his comment was cut short when the urgent voice broke through on the car's radio.
"We have a possible 10-32 at the south end of Crystal Springs."
"10-4. Car 9 in route," Frank said into the mic.
There was a long pause before the dispatcher continued, her voice tense and full of sorrow. "I just need to let you know, Frank, they believe it to be a small child."
"10-4," Frank said again, and then eased the mic back into its holder, his expression proving that he might not be as prepared for this as he needed to be. He shook his head in sad frustration as he thought about what might possibly lay ahead. He hated to see anyone lose their life, but hearing that it was probably a small child that drowned sent chills up his spine, forcing him to relive that terrible moment when he was just a young boy — that horrible moment when he lost his best friend. "This just doesn't make any sense! Why would a kid be out in this weather, especially there at Crystal Springs? Everyone knows that place can be dangerous," Frank said as he leaned forward and flipped two switches: one turning on the emergency lights and the other, the siren.
"That it can be," John said as he let the mental image fill his thoughts. Crystal Springs was a beautiful place in the spring and summer. The stream carving its way through the valley and spilling over the large boulders into the small lake was just as beautiful as any postcard he had ever seen. The water taking after its name was, in fact, crystal clear. But once the rainy season came, the lake always flooded and the ground along its shores became a dangerous, muddy mess. "Something doesn't feel right about this, Frank. How could the kid even get into the water? He'd never get that far. With all the rain we've had, I don't even know how we are going to get to the body."
The police car slipped sideways on the thin layer of snow as Frank turned the car onto highway 213, just three and a half miles short of their destination. As if on cue, the snowflakes that had been rather small when they left the department had now grown to the size of golf balls. Instead of floating peacefully to the ground, they were carried horizontally by the increasing winds. "Dang, this is going to suck!" Frank said as he eased his foot from the accelerator when he first saw the hint of emergency lights ahead of them.
John could feel the thickening snow crunch under his shoes as he stepped out into the cold. "Looks like this could get bad, quick!" He shouted out over the car. Frank turned to look in his direction for a moment, letting a forced smile settle on his face as he flipped his jacket collar up, hoping for whatever warmth it might provide, and then turned away.
The two men walked along the edge of the road towards the flashing lights and the faint but urgent voices coming from the emergency personnel just ahead of them. Stepping behind Frank, John moved to the edge of the road, not wanting to be a sitting duck in case someone was foolish enough to be driving in this weather. A second later, John gasped as his feet shot forward, his mind a blur an instant before his back hit hard against the concrete surface. His first response was one of embarrassment. At that moment he was painfully reminded of his reputation within the precinct, him being the one that might trip over a crack in the sidewalk while walking on a dirt path. But as he placed his hands on the ground to lift himself he saw Frank walking ahead of him, oblivious to his blunder. He let out a sigh as he came to his feet and hurried to dust the snow from his slacks and suit jacket.
As he was about to move forward, he cursed the slick soles of his dress shoes as he nearly slipped for the second time. Even though he wasn't totally surprised that the roadway would be slippery and understanding that his shoes were not meant for these conditions, he knew that something wasn't right. He leaned forward into the blinding snow and swept his hand across the snowy surface. Concrete. He told himself. Why didn't I think of this? But he knew the answer before he finished asking the question. He was standing on the only bridge that covered a small tributary the led to the lake. He shook his head in disgust, chastising himself for not understanding that this could be the access point for the child, then kindly reminded himself that it could have been a mistake made by any other officer. The bridge was hardly noticeable even in the best of weather. At its highest point it was only three feet above the water's surface. Without any man made railing, and heavy brush on either side, it looked like a normal part of the roadway.
With his brow furrowed and his mind working, he carefully pressed forward, coming to his partner's side just in time to hear Frank yell over the howling wind, "So, it's confirmed?"
"Yeah, that's right Frank. I hate to say it, but the boy is deceased." The man yelled back.
"Any idea on identification, Sam?"
The man dressed in a thick, orange-insulated jump suit used his teeth to pull the heavy glove from his hand. After shoving the glove behind the front zipper, he extended his hand to Frank. Frank accepted it and groaned as he gave the larger man a pull up to the bridge's surface. Sam looked at Frank and then quickly turned his head. He paused for a moment. "We aren't for sure yet. It's really hard to tell with the fading light and all. But it could be..."
"Who is it?" John demanded.
"I think it might be little Jacob." Sam let the words settle as he lifted his head and locked eyes with Frank.
John felt his heart sink. He knew all about little Jacob Cummings, the entire town knew about him. John remembered the first time that he met little Jacob. Three years prior, he found him sitting with his back against the wall at the entrance to the emergency room on Christmas Eve. Little Jacob was only five years old at the time. John remembered noticing him sitting there, his little body shivering as he wrapped his bare arms around his knees that were pressed tightly against his chest. As John approached, he felt the air leave his lungs — the
little stranger wasn't wearing a coat and his tiny feet were bare.
He watched the little guy melt into the wall as he approached, his little eyes wide open and full of fear. It took John nearly twenty minutes and a half eaten bag of chocolates to get the little guy to trust him. With Jacob held tightly in his arms, his little body shivering under John's jacket, he hurried into the hospital. There he learned that Jacob's mother had been rushed to the hospital due to a drug overdose. Little Jacob had been in the ambulance with his mother, holding her hand. But when the ambulance arrived, Jacob was lost in the commotion. His mother had slipped closer to death and Jacob was simply pushed to the side as the paramedics rushed her from the ambulance.
Jacob survived the cold and his mother survived her selfish lust for her addiction. John spent several months doing everything that he could to have Jacob removed from his mother's care. With each attempt, he found failure. His last attempt ending in a court room with him standing in front of the judge, pleading his case for the safety and wellbeing of the child. The judge letting out a sigh and then telling John that he understood his concerns, but then explaining that the state didn't have the funds to take in every child and, in his opinion, little Jacob would be better off with his mother instead of living in a boys home.
John turned away from the judge to see Jacob's mother sitting there with Jacob at her side. She wore a grin of satisfaction. Her look of victory tore at John's heart. He knew that her victory smile was an intentional slap to his face instead of what it should have been: a mother thankful that she wasn't losing her child.
As time passed, John did his best to keep an eye on his little friend. He hoped that someday he might be able to rescue him once again. But with each visit, his heart sank a little deeper into the darkness of despair. Jacob seemed to be slipping into a realm that even John couldn't free him from. More and more, little Jacob was seen wandering the streets alone, and still John couldn't save him. And now this. He thought as he let his body shiver for the first time, saddened by the knowledge that even through all of his efforts he had failed this little boy.
Sam's deep voice brought John back to reality. "We've got him on a gurney and moving him this way. You all can take over from there." Sam turned away as he shoved his numb hand back into his glove, working his hand into a fist several times in an attempt to warm his frozen fingers. "Throw me the rope," he yelled. John took a quick step back, nearly slipping again as he dodged the end of the heavy rope. John moved to Sam's side and took a step closer to the edge of the low hanging bridge. There he could hear the sounds before his eyes could see the gurney sliding along the mix of mud and snow covered rocks.
"Let me help," Frank offered as he stepped in front of Sam and took a firm grip of the ice covered rope. Pull by pull, the sound of metal tubing scraping the ground became unbearable. Everyone knew what was about to become truth — the sadness of a young life destroyed.
John took a deep breath as he leaned forward and took a firm grip on one of the metal tubes at the front of the gurney. Even through the blinding snow he could see Jacob's face, his lifeless eyes staring up at him, shrouded by the pale blue of his small face. John didn't understand the intense wave of emotion that washed over him. He stood to his feet and turned away, not wanting anyone to see his moment of weakness. As he pressed his numb fingers to his face, searching for any tears that might not yet have frozen, he wondered, what's going on with you, John? You've seen this type of thing so many times.
"Mr. John?"
John shook his head, thinking that his emotions were tearing away at his sanity. Had he really heard that little voice? Get it together, John. Your time is almost up and you won't have to deal with anything like this ever again. Yes, you were close to this little boy, but you did all that you could do. This isn't your fault.
"Mr. John?" came the voice again. John took a deep breath and turned to his right, away from the crowd that was tending to Jacob's remains. He lifted his head, certain that he would find nothing more than the near white out. But there he was, standing on the far side of the bridge, his little body soaked and frozen and displaying the faint blue color that was the same as his corpse. John blinked his eyes and shook his head. He couldn't believe what was happening. He couldn't believe that after all that he had seen and experienced on the force that now, when things were so close to being done, he was losing his mind.
He took a slow step toward the shivering child, hoping that as he progressed he would realize what he thought of as the little boy would, in fact, turn out to be a small bush covered in snow, playing tricks on his eyes and mind. He took another step toward the bush, or the boy, when all of his doubts were removed. Jacob stretched out his hand in a friendly gesture. John leaned a little forward as Jacob opened his hand. John wanted to swallow, but his throat was too dry. In the blue tint of the palm of Jacob's hand lay a single piece of chocolate, the same kind that John had used to gain his trust three years earlier.
John shook his head again and then turned to look over his shoulder, hoping to see Frank approaching, wanting to know that he wasn't the only one with the ability to see the dead little boy.
"Don't worry, Mr. John, they can't see."
For a long moment John just stood there, leaning slightly forward and staring into the dead boys eyes. He closed his eyes for a moment and then asked, "What happened, Jacob? I need you to tell me what happened."
Raising his opened hand a little higher, Jacob said, "Don't you want?" John opened his eyes and looked at the piece of chocolate and felt his stomach churn as he shook his head. Jacob shrugged his shoulders and then casually popped the piece of chocolate into his own mouth.
"What happened Jacob?" John asked again, not believing that he was really having this conversation. "Were you out here all alone?"
Jacob shook his head as he licked the excess chocolate from his blue lips. "Nope, I was at home."
"Come on, Jacob, help me out here," John said, his mind spinning, not wanting to believe that he was starting to see this as a reality.
"It was starting to snow."
"Yes it was, Jacob. Now how did you get here?"
"He came for me, Mr. John. I was waiting for enough snow to build a snowman. He came into my yard and gave me some candy."
"Who did?"
"The man that brought me here."
"Who was it, Jacob? Can you tell me who it was?"
Jacob shook his head and swallowed. "No, Mr. John. I don't know who it was."
"What happened, Jacob? Tell me what happened," John demanded, instantly wishing that he hadn't asked the question and knowing that he was about to hear firsthand how Jacob had died.
"I just got real sleepy, Mr. John. And then I was here, or actually over there," he said, pointing in the direction of the lake. "I was just standing there alone, looking out at the frozen lake."
"What did you see, Jacob?"
Jacob lowered his head as sadness consumed his expression and a trail of tears worked down his cheek. "I saw me, Mr. John. I saw me floating under the ice." John felt a tear slipping down his own cheek as he reached out to wipe the tear from Jacob's face. But the little boy took a step back and raised his head proudly as he wiped the tears from his face. "Don't worry, Mr. John. I will be alright. I know what happened to me. I knew as soon as I saw me out in the water. And don't worry, it's not as scary as you think." John couldn't believe what this little boy was saying or how brave he was acting. He had seen many an adult hanging over the abyss of death and had seen the complete and true fear in their eyes. But this little guy didn't flinch. "I have something for you, Mr. John," Jacob said as he shoved his cold little hand into his pants pocket, forcing the frozen layer of ice to break away and fall from the frozen cloth. "Here," he said, extending his hand.
John stared down into Jacob's little hand for a moment before reaching forward and taking hold of the shiny object. "Thank you, Jacob."
Jacob shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "I hope that it helps," he said with
a genuine grin. John turned to look over his shoulder once again, curious to see if Frank had even noticed that he had stepped away. But he saw Frank being Frank, on his knees, hovering over the body and searching for clues.
Turning back to face Jacob, he said, "Thank..." The little boy was gone. John blinked his eyes several times and even rubbed his frozen fingers against his face a moment before turning. "Just a few more days, and I won't have to worry about this anymore," he said as he moved carefully across the bridge's slick surface.
He knelt next to Frank and looked down at the little boy, his heart breaking. "I found something that might help," he said as he opened his cold hand and let the ring fall. His shivering turned the ring away from his intended target; it glanced off of Frank's knee and disappeared into the snow.
"What?" Frank asked in a surprised tone as he looked down and started brushing the snow away. A moment later, he paused. There, laying on the frozen concrete, was a silver ring. He carefully picked it up between his thumb and index finger and brought it close to his eyes. "Interesting," he said with a confident tone. "Look at this, it has an inscription."
"What's it say?" John asked, easing his head closer, but still unable to see the tiny print.
"Hmm, let me see, it says 'Always and Forever.'"
"I wonder if that will be any help?" John asked.
"It's something to start with anyway," Frank said as he pulled a bag and a permanent marker from his pocket. He dropped the ring in the bag and sealed it before scribbling a message on its exterior.
"Do you think that it could belong to the one that did this?" Sam asked, pointing his cold, shaking hand towards the faint blue bruising around Jacob's throat.
"It's hard to say, Sam. At best it's a shot on the dark. But it's all we've got."
John cleared his throat and said, "It has to be, little Jacob gave it to me himself." He let the words trail off as he realized just how insane he must have sounded. He looked at Sam and then at his partner with earnest apprehension, hoping that his comment had been consumed by the strong winds and whisked away.
Frank groaned as he stood to his feet. "Sam, I've done all that I can here. Do you know if the coroner is on his way?"
Sam climbed from his knees and brushed the snow away. "The last that I heard was that an ambulance is en route. But it may be a while before it gets here. Seems that there have been a few accidents caused by this," he said pointing into the snow filled sky. "As soon as we learned that this was a fatality, it dropped down on the list."
"I'm sorry that you are stuck out here, Sam. But I need to check into some things. This ring, for starters."
"Yeah, I know, this is the norm. I'm usually the first to arrive, and the last to leave." he said with a smile.
"You're a good man, Sam." Frank said as he turned away.
"Make sure you tell my wife that when I am late for supper again," he yelled over the blustering wind.
"Will do." Frank said as he tossed his hand into the air.
Murder, Mayhem, Monsters, and Mistletoe Page 18
