by Dave Cravens
“Parker!” Holly screamed angrily.
Parker revved the Pilot forward now, speeding around the side of the bar into the front parking lot where she skidded to a halt before the entrance. “Holly!” Parker yelled back. She locked onto Holly’s eyes with a steely gaze. “Listen to me. No questions. I need you to drive home and lock your doors. Now.”
Holly’s eye twitch returned. She knew Parker was dead serious. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, I can do that.”
Parker jumped out of the driver’s seat, allowing Holly to climb in from the back. “Go!” She smacked the side of Holly’s Pilot as if spurring on a horse. Holly stomped the accelerator to leave the parking lot.
Parker stormed toward the entrance of the bar.
Oh, it’s on now, you murdering bastard.
Parker’s thumbs worked her phone again, this time texting Sheriff Bill:
Killer is at the bar. Alert Michaels.
Parker’s phone buzzed in response. To her disappointment, it wasn’t a reply from Bill, but another reply from Heller’s number.
You’re not chickening out, are you, Parker?
Parker angrily punched in a response. It was a guess at best, an empty bluff at worst, but she had to try and go on the offensive.
I know about Detective Darling. You killed him too.
Heller’s phone replied.
I’m not finished.
Parker flashed her hand stamp to the bouncer at the entrance and entered the main floor once again. Her eyes found Glory and Julie at their table on the other side of the room. They might have as well been a world away. Option B, she thought. Parker turned to search the bar stool where she’d last seen Deputy Michaels, Option A – only he wasn’t there. Shit!
Parker took another step in the room, only to be cut off by the large, imposing body of Joe Ward.
“Hey, Parker,” greeted Joe with a smug smile. “I’ve been looking for you.”
83.
Parker’s heart raced as she stared Joe down to gauge his intentions.
“You have?” she asked innocently.
Brad’s eyes narrowed as he, in turn, tried to read Parker. “Yeah. I think, you and I have a lot to discuss.”
Parker’s stomach twisted. Was there something more in Brad’s tone? Or was she simply imagining it? Could he have been the one sending Parker cryptic texts off Heller’s phone all along? “We do?” Parker asked, trying to buy more time.
Joe stepped closer until he was inches away from Parker. She could feel his hot, beer laced breath on her face. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk? Just the two of us?”
Parker curled her fingers around her phone and lifted it to her chest. If he is the killer, and he mistakenly left Heller’s phone on, all I need to do is call it.
Joe’s smile dissolved into a frown. “What -- you need to call for back up or something?”
Parker looked Joe straight in the eyes. “I really need to make this call.”
“And I really need to talk to you,” Joe insisted. As though realizing he might be coming off as overbearing, or perhaps pretending to realize it, he forced a smile. Joe gently put his hand on Parker’s phone wrist, encouraging her to put the phone down. “Come on, let me buy you a beer.”
“Is this guy bothering you?” asked a new voice.
Parker watched Michaels step in and press against Joe. Michaels winked at Parker, apparently having gotten the message from Bill to be on the lookout.
Joe spun on his heal and puffed his chest to confront Michaels. “Hey man. We’re just trying to have a conversation. The lady doesn’t need any help.”
Michaels stepped closer to Joe. “I wasn’t asking you. I was asking the lady.”
Parker used the distraction to access Heller’s phone number and call it. As it dialed, she watched Joe for any hint of a reaction if his cell phone rang or vibrated. The gym teacher’s eyes never left the deputy’s, as the two continued to size each other up. As far as Parker could tell, no phone was ringing on Joe’s body. Then again, the phone could simply be off. Parker stepped in. “It’s fine,” she said to Michaels. Parker gently put her hand on Joe’s arm in an attempt to defuse the situation. “A beer sounds really good.”
Joe flashed a sarcastic smirk to Michaels. “See? She’d like a beer.” Joe nodded to Parker. “I’ll get two and meet you back at the table.”
Parker pushed out a smile as Joe waded through the crowd toward the bar, leaving her to Michaels.
“Sorry,” said Michaels. “I didn’t know if you were in trouble, or if I should step in or—”
“Your timing was perfect,” said Parker. “Heller’s killer is here. I’ve been getting texts from her phone.”
Michaels furrowed his brow. “Well, who is it?” He nodded toward Joe at the bar. “Ranger boy?”
“I’m still working that—” Parker’s sentence was interrupted by a huge cheer near the bar’s entrance. A small crowd of teachers and PTA parents had encircled a new patron. Parker squinted for a better look but couldn’t make anything out with the shifting bodies. “Stay sharp. I’ll be right back.”
Parker pushed her way to the front. To her surprise she discovered the fired music teacher, Gerome Bernstein, frantically hugging PTA’ers as though they were long lost family.
“It’s so good to see you!” one PTA mother exclaimed.
“How have you been, Gerome?” another asked.
Parker closed in on the former music teacher to join the chorus. “Gerome Bernstein!” she shouted louder than anyone to take instant command of all conversation.
Gerome Bernstein blinked with a smile. “Parker Monroe!” he playfully shouted back.
The two met in an awkward embrace.
Bernstein took Parker’s hands into his, then dropped his face into a concerned pout. “I’m so sorry to hear what happened to you the other day. Are you alright?”
Sure, you are. “I’m fine,” Parker answered.
“And to think it happened not far from my home!”
“I know!” Parker gritted her teeth. She didn’t have time to waste and went straight for the jugular. “What the fuck are you doing here, Gerome?”
Bernstein blinked again. “I was,” he winced as if in pain. “I was invited!”
“By who?” Parker asked bluntly. Because it sure as hell wasn’t me!
Bernstein stammered at Parker’s question. “I uh—does it matter?” He grimaced. “Do you not want me here or something?” The PTA’ers around Parker began to sour on her.
“What the hell, Parker?” asked one.
“How rude!” proclaimed another.
“Of course, I want you here,” said Parker in her worst patronizing voice.
The twinkle in Bernstein’s eyes faded. “You don’t trust me,” he declared.
Parker dropped the facade. “It’s not that simple,” she answered solemnly.
Bernstein’s face contorted into a mixture of fear and anger. “These people are my friends, Ms. Monroe,” he stated, straightening his posture. “They trust me. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to go spend some time with my friends.” Bernstein pushed past Parker to disappear into the crowd.
Parker sighed and stared at the crossbeams of the ceiling. “Fuck!” she yelled, her cursing swallowed by the loud music. Her phone buzzed again. She scowled at Heller’s latest text:
You should have left it alone.
Parker instantly pressed “call back” on her phone and scanned the crowd around her. Half of the PTA looked like they were on their phone, either taking selfies, texting their kids good night, or doing any of a thousand things that were unrelated. FUCK! Parker screamed in her head. Her eyes met with Michaels who stood next to the bar. He hunched his shoulders to match the puzzled look on his face. Parker mimicked him, mouthing the words: “What do you mean?” Then she saw it, or more accurately didn’t see it -- Joe was not at the bar where he said he would be. In fact, Joe was nowhere in the bar.
Parker’s phone buzzed again with a Heller
text:
You made me do this.
84.
Parker’s blood boiled.
If only she could reach through the phone, grab the neck of the killer, and yank it back so she could come face to face with him. Was it Joe? Did he have Heller’s phone? Was he the one screwing with her this whole time? Why?
Parker pushed her way back to her table, only to find Julie sitting alone as she played a puzzle game on her phone. “Where’s Glory?” asked Parker.
“Little boys room,” said Julie. Hearing the intensity in Parker’s voice, she sat up at attention. “Why? Is something going on? Something’s going on, isn’t it?”
“We need to split up and find Joe Ward. Now!”
Startled by her friend’s assertiveness, Julie jumped up from her seat and saluted. “On it!” She held up her phone as she pushed into the crowd. “I’ll text if I see him!”
Parker started to push in the other direction. The next several minutes of searching felt like a lifetime as she jostled for position through the crowd. When Slippery When Wet finally finished their encore, and the crowd jumped up and down screaming, Parker felt as if she were going to lose her mind. Now, Parker couldn’t find Julie, Glory, Michaels, Joe or Bernstein. All the faces around her blended together. Parker shoved her way toward the long hallway that led to the bathrooms. The hall was empty save for the figure of a man running at her at full speed. Parker squinted. “Glory?”
Out of breath, Glory met Parker and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You gotta come quick! It’s bad! It’s really, really bad!”
Without looking, Parker instinctively grabbed a long neck beer bottle off a nearby waitress’s serving tray. Her eyes finally locked onto Michaels, who appeared just yards away. “Michaels!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Michaels!” she screamed again, this time getting the off-duty deputy’s attention. Parker pointed to the hallway. “Meet us over there!”
Michaels began to work his way toward Parker, but she refused to wait any longer. Parker ran down the hallway with Glory, who couldn’t help but notice the beer in her hand. “This is no time for a beer!” he lectured.
“I agree,” said Parker. She slammed the top of the bottle on the corner of the wall, spraying beer all over the floor. The action created a crude weapon of sharp and jagged edges.
The pair rounded the corner to find the bar’s rear exit door wide open. The doorway revealed a small horrified crowd gathered around two men fighting on the black top. Parker blinked. It wasn’t two men fighting. It was one large man, straddling a much smaller man as he wailed into his face with his fists.
Parker gasped as she recognized both of them. Joe Ward was beating Gerome Bernstein to within an inch of his life.
“Joe!” Parker shouted, pushing the onlookers out of the way. “Stop it! Joe what the hell are you doing?”
Joe did not heed her. A wild man enraged, the gym teacher smashed his knuckles repeatedly into Bernstein’s bloodied face.
“Joe, stop it!” Parker tried again. She watched in horror as Bernstein’s once flailing hands suddenly went limp and fell to his sides. Judging from the amount of blood flying into the air, the music teacher was either unconscious, or dead.
Parker threw her broken bottle at the back of Joe’s head as hard as she could. The jolt gave Joe pause. He twisted, his blood-spattered face turning with wild eyes that now targeted Parker. Joe’s muscles trembled, pumped to the brink of so much adrenaline that his fists actually shook, as if he couldn’t control them. For a split second, Parker hoped she’d detected a hint of recognition and reason – as if Joe might have suddenly recognized the horror he had inflicted. If either had ever occurred to him, the thought had all but vanished in the next instant as Michaels barbaric yell came at him like a freight train.
The deputy charged through the crowd and bulled into Joe, throwing him off of Bernstein. The two men rolled onto the ground.
Parker and Glory rushed to Bernstein’s body, checking for breathing of any sort. She wrapped her arm around his wrist.
Bernstein has got a pulse. He’s barely breathing. But for how long?
Meanwhile, Michaels tried to get a punch in with the ex-ranger. But it was only seconds before Joe had trapped the deputy’s wrist and twisted it around. A horrifying crunch sounded as Joe broke Michaels’ arm, prompting the young man to release a cry of agony.
Joe followed up with a hammering punch to Michaels’ nose. He shoved the deputy off and rolled over to glower at Parker, still hovering over Bernstein’s body. Parker watched in horror as Joe climbed to his feet and lumbered towards her. “Joe, stay away!” shouted Parker. “You’ve lost control, you need to calm down!”
Joe shook his head angrily. “Get out of my way, Parker!” he growled. “He deserves it!” Joe leaned forward as if ready to pounce, when suddenly his entire body seized up.
Joe’s eyes suddenly rolled up into the back of his head as a loud cracking noise emitted in the air. Joe dropped the ground, spasming from the fifty thousand volts injected into his body from two metal prongs launched via curly wires from Sheriff Bill’s taser gun.
Bill stepped up to stand over Joe’s paralyzed body. The Sheriff looked up at Parker, then down to Bernstein’s bloodied face. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“Jesus, Bill!” shouted Michaels, cradling his broken arm. “Are you ever!”
Ambulance sirens echoed throughout the night’s sky.
Parker pointed to Glory who stood transfixed over Bernstein’s body. “Glory, can you go and get some clean, wet rags or something from the bar?” She cradled Bernstein’s bloodied head in her lap. The music teacher gasped for air. “Hold on, Bernstein. An ambulance is on its way.” She watched Bill turn Joe’s limp body over and pull his hands behind his back.
Joe managed a groan when Bill cuffed his hands together.
Then, Bill suddenly backed off, startled by something. “What the hell is that?”
Parker’s eyes narrowed as she heard the buzzing noise. “Check his back pocket.”
Bill winced as he moved his fingers inside of Joe’s back pocket. He pulled out a black cell phone that buzzed loudly as if someone was ringing it. “Someone’s calling his cell phone,” informed Bill. He looked to Parker for an explanation. “Is that you?”
Parker blew out an exhausted breath from her puckered lips. “Yup,” she answered. Parker lifted up her phone to reveal the number she was calling. “Only, I wasn’t calling Joe’s phone. I was calling Heller’s.”
85.
One hour, two ambulances, three patrol cars, and twenty witness statements later…
Parker found herself sitting in a small plastic chair across from the Sheriff’s vacant desk. Her ass throbbed nearly as much as her head, and her stomach relentlessly growled over filling it with so much beer but no dinner to absorb it. Parker insisted she give her official statement after all the other witnesses had been interviewed – she wanted time to sort the night out in her head, plus a chance to question Joe Ward directly. Bill had reluctantly agreed only if she was willing to accompany him to the station.
Finally, Bill opened his windowed door and solemnly walked in carrying an evidence bag. He slumped into his chair—exhausted. “He sure was a handful,” muttered Bill. The sheriff reached up to massage the back of his neck, then adjusted his hat. “But Joe Ward has officially been processed and booked.”
Parker anxiously leaned forward. “Aggravated assault.”
Bill tried to smile at the presumption. “That, and murder one.”
“Murder one?” Parker balked. “For Heller?”
“Yeah, for Heller.” Bill’s jaw dropped. “Oh, come on, Parker. It doesn’t get more cut and dry. You said so yourself, whoever has Heller’s phone killed her. Joe Ward had Heller’s phone!”
“You’re going to need more than a phone to convict him,” Parker chastised. “Like motive. I’d been calling that phone all night. And the one time I get through it happens to be in his back pocket for everyone to see?”
“I know, I know and that’s awful!” Parker gritted her teeth. She knew Bernstein was clinging to life in the ICU of St. James Memorial Hospital. He certainly won’t be giving any answers any time soon. “But it doesn’t make any sense! Why would Joe do that? Why would he do any of it? It’s like the guy completely snapped!”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” challenged Bill. “Remember? He was dishonorably discharged from the Army for beating his commanding officer to within an inch of his life. War changes people, Parker. It breaks them. Don’t ask me to explain crazy.”
Parker wagged her finger. “Something triggered Joe. What did Bernstein do to him? Why play these phone games with me? I never even knew the guy before coming back to Oak Creek.”
“Yeah,” Bill slouched back in his chair. “About that.” Bill reached opened his evidence folder and pulled out a clear plastic bag with a black phone in it. He placed the bag on his desk, then tossed Parker some blue latex gloves to put on.
“Is this Karen Heller’s phone?” Parker snapped the gloves onto her hands.
“You mean the one I lifted from Joe’s back pocket? Yes.”
Parker carefully lifted the phone out of the bag and turned it on. It instantly displayed its home screen. “Odd – there’s no password to unlock it.”
“I am aware.”
Parker ignored Bill’s terseness as she titled the phone around, tracing its edges. “It has a thumb print button. Like we thought, the killer could have used Heller’s dead hand to unlock it initially. Then he would have full access to change anything.”
“The killer? You mean Joe.” Bill folded his hands together on his desk.
“The suspect,” Parker corrected.
“Look at the photo album. You might find your motive in there.”
