by J. T. Patten
Still, Lars was a practical man. He watched enough TV shows and B movies to know that some criminals may still be on scene and could come after the bachelor cop sitting in a La-Z-boy chair in a lonely apartment.
Bowing to the genre that would kill the lone unarmed detective stereotypes, Lars kept a Smith & Wesson 6-inch CS45 with a 3-inch barrel. It was small enough for Lars to keep in the small of his back, a pocket, or even boot if he needed. It was also a bit too small for his big mitt hands and looked like a child’s chrome squirt gun when he held it at the ready. It was just backup for emergencies.
Lars creaked all the way up the stairs.
I’ll be damned. I’m giving myself away. I told Christina to fix these stairs and she insisted that they tell her when Sean is coming up or when Maggie could be sneaking down. Damn creakers are going to get me killed.
Brock saw the giant demon king come up the stairs to the lit room. He had been tricked. They were coming for him.
Brock lunged for the demon, but with the blood loss his strength had left him and the knife fell short. As it grazed the knuckles on Lars’ gun hand, he instinctively lifted his hand up losing grip of the gun which was stuck on his trigger finger but now facing up to the ceiling.
Lars re-gripped the gun and hammered it down on the assailant.
Lars knew who this was now in the house. He had pulled the mug shot on his own, having transferred Maggie’s rape kit and file for his own team to handle. Lars had initially withheld the findings so he could be on the arresting team.
I’m going to break you in half, you little piece of shit.
Still on the floor, Brock made another slash at Lars’ legs, but anticipating the move, Lars lifted his right leg up then crashed it down on Brock’s shoulder.
Brock screamed in agony.
Filled with rage, Lars lifted Brock by the shirt and threw him into a dresser.
“What are you doing here?” Lars bellowed as he moved in pursuit.
Brock’s eyes were rolling back due to the blood loss and physical shock. Lars shook Brock like a ragdoll yielding no response. In a fit of rage Lars reached down and grabbed Brock’s neck with his left hand and with his right grabbed between Brock’s legs, the gun still stuck on Lars’ finger.
The gun cracked, splintering the wooden frame of a closet door. The shot startled both Lars and Brock. Brock made an effort to claw the demon again. Before Lars lost hold, he hurled Brock towards a windowed wall. The momentum and force of the throw shattered the double paned glass and broke the window framing right out of the wall as Brock sailed through the air onto the ground below. Glass and wood followed on to the lifeless body after it hit the paved patio eighteen feet below.
Harrison had remained in the vicinity to watch and see if there was further movement in the Havens house or from Brock. He panned the scene with his FLIR Scout thermal handheld and caught a falling and landing Brock.
Interesting. See ya, Brock.
Say hi to your mom, you crazy son of a bitch.
Chapter 22
The police officer was escorted by the same nurse who had brought Havens up; he knocked on the door frame of Maggie’s room.
“Thank you. I can take it from here. Uh, sir?” the officer said quietly as to not wake the sleeping patients.
Havens had positioned a chair at Maggie’s bedside so he could hold her hand and keep an eye on the door for any roving doctors.
The neurosurgeon had come by and checked on Maggie before going home and had offered little aside from her condition being stable for now but critical. They would know more in the coming days. For now she had been medically induced into a coma to help with the swelling and overall recovery.
The doctor and nurse had encouraged Havens to go home and get some rest, but for the time being Sean refused to leave his daughter—in part to avoid having to cope with the loss of his wife. He knew that if he tried, he could compartmentalize the loss for now and could avoid the emotional acceptance, but it wouldn’t be true to his love for Christina. He owed her more than being tucked away and hidden from his heart and soul. Avoided and abandoned. He had already done that to her over the years and the guilt was eating him from within. He had to let her out and make amends. Alone with his daughter, he embraced his vulnerability and wept.
Havens released Maggie’s hand, now hot and sweaty from his grip for the past two hours. He stood and walked to the officer who had stepped back into the hallway.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Havens, there has been another accident at your home and…”
“What do you mean accident? Nobody is at my home.”
Lars is.
“Lars Bjorklund,” he continued. “He’s a cop. Was he there? Is he there? He was going there.”
“Yes, sir, he sent me to get you. Said you needed to get home but that you didn’t have a car at the hospital, so I am here to get you. He’s OK. He would have called but said you didn’t have a phone with you either and didn’t want to worry you by calling the nurse’s desk and have to explain then still get you home.”
“What happened?”
“Well, I can tell you that there was a break in and there is a body.”
“Did Lars, do it? Did he shoot the person breaking in? Who in God’s name is breaking in now?”
Havens was red with rage.
“Um. No.”
The officer covered up a grin and suppressed a slight giggle that was increasingly difficult to contain, knowing it was highly inappropriate given the situation. The guys at the station will talk about this for years.
“Well, what is so damn funny…there is a situation with a dead guy that Lars didn’t shoot but I have to come home for?”
“The suspect fell from a window, kind of to his death.”
“Kind of to his death? What the hell does that mean? How did he fall?”
“Well, um, he was thrown out the window.”
“Thrown, oh, sheesh. Did Lars do it?”
“Well if you ever saw him stone put or caber toss the wood poles at the city’s Scottish games, Lars, um, Chief Bjorklund, probably lofted that guy a good ten feet out from the house, and that includes the resistance of the window frame. You have a hole in your wall. I’m sorry. I know you have been through a lot, it’s just, I’m sorry. This isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not. Let’s go.”
“Of course.”
Havens looked back at Maggie as they left the room.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“He really threw him out the window?”
The officer broke a smile again. “I kid you not. I didn’t get the full picture, but understood some whack job was in there with a knife carving himself all up. Chief came in and the guy went after him.”
“Why didn’t he draw his gun?”
“He did. Got stuck on his finger. About shot himself in the head too from it going off on accident while he tried to subdue the perp. He should probably call Smith & Wesson and get one custom made for his paws. Chief insisted on them getting his statement at your home. Said he had a lot to do helping you make final arrangements for your wife. Sorry to hear that, Mr. Havens. Understood you were away on business?”
“Are you making conversation or questioning me?”
“Just making awkward conversation in an awkward situation. You can sit up in the front with me.”
“Thanks.”
“So, I hear you were in Greece. Couple guys around the shop and I were wondering if there is a big Albanian population in Greece. You know much about Albanians?”
“Afraid I don’t know much about anything anymore. I’d kind of like to be alone with my thoughts right now.”
“Understood. I can get you home in just a few. Not a word from me, not anymore. I’ll just keep quiet.”
“You do that.”
“I can. Some of the older guys in the shop used to have me do the same thing, and they never even had to go through something like you’re going through. They would just have me see how
long I could go. Went pretty far. One day made it almost to lunch without talking.”
“How about you try it now, starting right now.”
“OK, I gotcha. Just don’t usually have someone riding with me now that I have my own cruiser.”
“Right now.”
“I gotcha.”
I know Maggie is a smarter kid than all this is showing. Christina has no baggage that would materialize like this. That leaves just one of us.
What has followed you home, Sean?
Chapter 23
As they pulled around the corner to his house, police lights could be seen in the driveway and along the road. A few neighbors had been out on their porches to see why there were police at their neighbor’s house again.
Must have been the dad, some surmised. Seemed like a regular guy. Nice enough, but you never know. Came home and they caught him perhaps. So sad. That Christina was a sweet woman.
Havens got out of the car. He saw a couple neighbors who had concentrated on the sidewalk. It was late. Gossip was running. Havens gave them a wave.
“Sorry.”
Sorry. I’ve probably heard that word a hundred times in the past twenty-four hours. What a word. Something you say when no one can do shit about a mess. It never makes things better but everyone expects it to be said.
Havens entered the house with the officer.
The day’s events had so consumed his mind that he never had time to think about what the crime scene would look like in his home. Old blood trails, new blood trails. The stains looked so flagrantly obnoxious to someone who had lost a family member and who may lose another still. The stains were not just a reminder of his failure, they were a haunting image now burned into his mind forever.
Looking down the hall to the right of the foyer he could see a reflection in the sliding glass door mirroring the kitchen. One of the sliding glass doors was taped up with heavy construction plastic.
Lars was sitting with his back to the window. Officers were facing him.
Havens heard voices, but no one was laughing about Lars’ feat of strength and anger. Havens entered the kitchen to find police officers circled around the table. Lars was hunkered down with a fork over a jar of pickled herring. Cold fish was an understood staple of Lars’. A supply was stored in a special section of the refrigerator for this regular guest of the Havens family.
In his other hand was a bottle of wine. Condensation on the bottle told Havens that Lars had likely gone to the fridge, grabbed his fish, and decided he needed a drink—fast. Fast enough to take an open bottle of white and forego the glass.
Lars had a gauze dressing wrapped around his hand.
What a week this has been for you too, Lars.
Lars looked up at Havens. The anger from the hospital had left. Lars looked different. He seemed disconnected. He looked spent.
“Hey, bro. Heard you did some redecorating around here.”
Lars gave a snort, forked another piece of cold herring, put it in his mouth, and took another pull.
In a fraternal gesture, Havens edged in to a seat at the table as if the officers were not there. He opened his hand for the fork, pulled out a piece of herring for himself, then handed the fork back to Lars. He reached for the bottle. Lars didn’t look up, but opened his hand, releasing the wine so Havens could take a chug.
“So, mind telling me what happened? I assume you are OK?”
Lars just nodded. Still chewing. He looked up at the officers and swallowed, “You guys get everything you need?”
“Yeah. Body’s gone off now and kits all going to the lab.”
“You let me know what you get on the floor print. It didn’t match the shoe of the perp. Doesn’t make sense that you have a whack job and a crony. Makes sense that you have a babysitter if that whack job was someone’s wind-up toy. He didn’t have the sophistication in his state to be here alone and playing with computers.”
Lars took another pull and passed the bottle to his brother-in-law who obliged.
“Call me when that gets in and do a quick canvass. I also want that fiber on the knife’s tang and hand guard. Didn’t look like anything that I saw on the perp. Directionality on the knife upon initial inspection looked like a different flow. Not sure what that means if anything, but put an eye on it.”
“Chief, you can’t get involved…”
Lars slammed his fist on the table.
“I am involved! If not in the investigation, then fine. Consider it a fucking fairy whisper in your ear or something. I don’t know, pretend you had some divine intervention dream if you need. Just don’t screw it up and take a tip for what it is. Now leave me if you all are done. I have some other matters to attend to.”
The officers headed off, some giving Havens a nod before leaving. One informed Havens that he would have to follow up in the morning to see if anything else needed a report for insurance or if something came up in their investigations. Havens confirmed that he was not going anywhere.
When they all had left, Lars looked up at Havens.
“So we have some sorting out here. I don’t blame you for not being here, I do not blame you for anything that happened, but here is how I see it.”
Havens hadn’t seen this side of Lars, now much more assertive.
“I made some initial arrangements for Christina. Sean, you will need to make some final ones. You need to have a visitation in two days and the funeral in three. We can’t wait any longer. She needs to be at peace now in a final resting place out of that damned cold metal locker. Also, it appears that some foundation has paid for everything. Silver Star. Something about taking care of military folks. They thought I was the husband when I called back to inquire about some details. Now, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me given what I know of your background not being in the military. So we will get to that next.”
Lars took another pull before continuing.
“This whole thing of poor Maggie being raped by some guy who threatens if she goes to the police to having gangbangers come in, to now seeing that this nutcase is here killing himself and googling on her computer or something isn’t making a shitload of sense to me. Those are different worlds and don’t mirror your daughter’s world in any way. All of it is too random. What’s really chafing my balls is how none of this has ever happened until the couple weeks that you are gone, all hell breaks loose from all sides of the world on my sister and niece. This isn’t about her having a boyfriend who slaps her or tries to get to second base and gets shut down so he eggs a house or slashes a tire. This is all out Gang unit, Special Victim unit, Homicide, Cyber…We have all arms of a police department in this shit. Real life doesn’t work this way.”
Havens interjected, “Lars…”
“Now you hear me out.”
“No, Lars.” Havens stood up breaking Lars’ attempt at dominance. “I will listen to you so you can get out whatever you need to get out. But you know this… I had nothing to do with this. I am just as confused, and have been equally—no offense—but if not more devastated by this whole thing that happened to my family. My wife. My daughter. In MY house! And if I’m not showing you enough emotion it’s because I can’t anymore. I’m broken.”
Lars raised his hand, closed his eyes. “Wait.”
Recomposing himself, Lars continued as if he had only extended a courtesy break in the conversation for another voice to have some time. That time was over.
“Seany, I know you didn’t do it. I know you didn’t have someone do it. All I am saying is this stink of shit isn’t following what I know to be my niece’s behavior. It isn’t something that my sister is involved with. It isn’t a mistaken identity or random act. That leaves one thing. In my experience in law enforcement, it means the stink is on you, and I need to find out what. Not to bust you, but to help you. Because if it is what I think it could be, you could be next, and you are all I have left. I look at you like my own brother. I believe Maggie will get better, but that is going to be a long road if she
makes it.”
Sean nodded without uttering a word. He started to move away from the table. Indeed he did look like a broken man to Lars.
“Now, Sean, hear me out and then it will be all you. You have never treated me like a guest in your home; you treated me like your own. I don’t take that lightly, and I would never want to disrespect you, especially not in your home. But I made a promise to Christina that I would never snoop around you and sniff under stuff that I have no business sniffin’ under. That time has passed and I can no longer keep that promise. I know you don’t work for some bullshit business consulting contractor doing some bullshit whateverthefuck you all call it. I did a full BI on you, and you hardly exist. You aren’t a normal profile. Your profile is eye candy.”
Lars took another pull of the wine knowing Sean wasn’t going to walk away.
“I am guessing you are CIA, and if you aren’t, you’re something damn close to that type of business. I don’t even know much more about your past aside from little bits and pieces. You have been pretty good at keeping me away from any real details by just giving me little nuggets here and there until you can change the topic away from you. I want it all out on the table now. The time has come to let me in. Keep out all that classified mumbo jumbo on how you bugged the Queen of England’s toilet or something to see how many times she shits in a day. Just spare me the stuff where you say all dramatically, ‘If I told you I’d have to kill ya.’ I’ve had enough of this cockamamie outlandishness for a while. You owe me.”
Havens turned and walked away.
“Where the hell are you going? We had an agreement.”
“We never had an agreement, Lars. I am going upstairs and I am going to see what you did to my window. I am going to see where my wife died. Then, because we have finished that wine, I am going down to the basement and bringing up all the beer I can grab in my arms, and I will tell you what you want to know to the best of my abilities. And then we will have a proper wake and funeral for my wife and your sister. Then I have to find the best specialists in the world to make sure Maggie is OK. In the meantime you can find out what happened. I trust you with that like no other. Is that a deal?”
