by David Banner
“Heard me?”
“You and that ex-wife if yours.” The old man said. “I was there. On that beach. I heard her.”
“I don’t know what you think you heard,” he started. “But I-”
“She wanted you to tell her to stay. Not to go marry that man. She did everything but get down on her knees asking you. All you had to do was say the words but you just couldn’t pull the trigger. And now look at you, at both of you.”
“What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?” Pauley clapped. “It means you’ve got a girl and she’s got a man and neither one of you are happy. You’re about to throw your career away and run off to God knows where. She spent her wedding day asking you to save her.”
“It’s not about that.” Ryan shook his head.
“The hell it ain’t. It’s always about that, boy.”
“You show up here to accuse me of murder and now you’re accusing me of… what?” Anger began to rise in the detectives voice. “Of not taking another mans wife?”
“I’m accusing you of being a pussy.” Pauley snarled. “That’s what I’m accusing you of.”
“Me!” Ryan stood to his feet. “What about you? You’ve pushed away everybody who ever loved you, everybody who ever tried to help or care for you. You do everything you can to put yourself in harms way and you act like it’s nothing.”
“My time in this world is over, sonny.” Pauley took a deep and calming breath. “But you… you’ve got long left in this old place. I promised your mother I would look after you and that’s what I’ve done but you’re a man now. I can’t keep- I..”
Pauley’s voice began to rattle. He fell to the ground, his hand on his chest and his eyes wide with alarm. Ryan gasped, watching in shock as the elderly man’s body stiffened. His legs jerked forward, extending more fully than Ryan had seen them in years.
“Nine one one.” The operator said as the detective lifted the phone to his ear. “What is your emergency?”
“My uncle is having a heart attack,” he answered, trying to remain as calm and collected as possible. “White Fin Marina, bay seven.”
“I’m sending help now,” she answered. “Is he…”
Ryan placed the phone on the floor next to his uncle and headed for the medicine cabinet. He quickly rifled through each bottle. Pills crashed to the floor as his panicked hands tore open the small white bottle. He quickly scooped up a handful of medication and headed back outside.
“Here,” he knelt next to his uncle. “Asprin.”
Ryan struggled to pull the mans mouth open. He was frozen stiff with pain and shock. His tired body wouldn’t be able to handle much more, Ryan thought. He cursed his uncle for not taking better care of himself, for not listening to the warning of his doctors and nurses.
“If you live through this I’m going to kill you myself!” He snapped, a mix of anger and fear surging through his veins. “Open your mouth!”
His fingers pulled at the elderly mans teeth trying desperately to force them open until finally he managed to slide a few small pills onto his tongue.
“Swallow!” He commanded. “Swallow! You asshole!”
In all the years he’d known him Ryan Devereux hadn’t thought much about losing his uncle. Sure, there had been a few health scares and medical warnings but this was the first time he’d witnessed just how dire the situation really was.
Slowly he traced his fingers down his uncles throat, trying to coax the muscles into relaxing enough to swallow the small pills. Seconds ticked by, each one bringing his uncle closer and closer to death until finally his body began to slowly relax.
He’d taken the pills but he was in bad shape.
Sirens grew closer. Ryan stood to his feet watching for the second time in two days as paramedics leapt out of their large truck and began sprinting toward him. He called out, directing them down the dock and onto his boats upper deck.
The detective took a few small steps back, watching as a young woman began working with his uncle. She was quick and poised, she and her partner moving like a finely tuned machine. They tore his shirt open and placed paddles against his wrinkled weathered skin.
A few short minutes later Ryan found himself sitting next to his uncle as the ambulance made its way to the hospital. Pauley’s eyes fluttered open and closed again as he looked up at his nephew with an almost vacant stare.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“He’s stable for now,” the young woman answered. “That’s all I can tell you.”
Chapter Six
Time slowly trickled by as Ryan sat alone in the small hospital waiting room. Nurses, doctors and patients all zipped by on one endless blur, each face melting into the next, each person no more than another blot on the terrible tapestry of this day.
He checked his watch. It was early still, just a little past nine o’clock. Damn, he thought, looking down and realizing he was still wearing joggers and a t-shirt. It probably didn’t matter, he thought. It wasn’t like anyone was going to be paying attention to such in a hospital. Besides, he wasn’t technically on duty.
Ryan fired off a quick text to let Kit know he would be a little late. He didn’t bother getting into the schematics of why he wouldn’t be on time, just that he was tied up for the moment. Leaning back in his chair Ryan caught sight of a small television in the far corner or the room.
Thomas Kent sat smiling at his large news desk. Next to him, a young red-haired woman nodded, trying her best to add to the conversation. No easy task with Thomas Kent, he knew. If there was one thing that man was good at it was keeping the camera focused on him.
“A local traffic accident leaves one man dead and a six year old boy fighting for his life.” Thomas said. “More on that now.”
Ryan stepped closer to the television.
“Devon Stark, the owner of a local restaurant and brewery dies last night from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. Sources tell us Mr. Stark left his home after a fight with his fiancé. It’s reported the man had been drinking when he placed his child in the car next to him and sped away from the house.”
They were right so far, the detective thought.
“We have video from the scene but we must warn you. Some of what you are about to see is graphic in nature.”
The feed cut to a cellphone video of the accident. It was an odd feeling for the detective, seeing the scene from such a different angle. Clouds of steam billowed from the cars engine, rising into the dark Carolina night. He watched his memories play out for the world to see. The grieving young mother ran toward her child before being intercepted by Ryan.
Though most of her words were muffled by distance and sirens the detective still heard her voice vividly in his head. “I’ll kill him!” She’d repeated the phrase a handful of times, sending her fiancé running for the alley.
Grief is a terrible and powerful thing. It tears people apart in ways they never saw coming. Here a young man ended his own life after making one of the worst mistakes possible. In the wake of his actions he’d left behind a distraught wife and a now fatherless child.
“The child’s mother, daughter of local senator Alfred Ogdon, can be seen rushing toward the scene as her child fights for his life as a tree branch protrudes through his chest.” Thomas shook his head, his voice dropping a few octaves in only that way news reporters can manage. “First on the scene was local detective Ryan Devereux, a well-known local face.”
Ryan saw a picture flash across the screen.
The program continued on for the next few minutes with Thomas Kent taking the opportunity to mention a close personal relationship with the detective’. It was a lie obviously. There were acquaintances of course, given the fact that Thomas was now married to his former wife. But to call it a close personal relationship was utter fluff.
Ryan had come to expect these things though. Especially when it came to Thomas and his career. The man would do practically anything to keep his small-time local celeb
rity.
“The child, who’s condition is still unknown is now being cared for at Roper Hospital.”
Ryan studied the long hallways surrounding him. The young boy was likely on the same floor. It wasn’t standard procedure but he couldn’t help but want to find the child and check on his progress. He would be okay, the detective assured himself. He can pull through this.
With slow meandering footsteps he headed down the hallway, his eyes cutting into each open doorway. This was, at the very least a small distraction for the detective. Sitting around thinking about his uncles health wouldn’t do anything but work his nerves and with the events of last night still fresh in his mind there wasn’t much left when it came to emotional resolve.
“Ryan?” Michelle rounded a corner.
“Hey.”
“I heard about Pauley,” she said, her voice soft, comforting and kind. “I’m sorry. I came as quickly as I could.”
“You didn’t have t-”
“Well I did,” she stopped him. “Is he okay? What happened?”
“We were arguing,” he answered. “I guess he got too worked up. I should have known better.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I should have just let him talk. I shouldn’t have-”
“This isn’t your fault.” Michelle answered. “I’m sure he’s going to be fine. He’s strong. He’s gotten through heart attacks before and he can do it again.”
Ryan looked in the womans beautiful kind eyes and thought about the conversation he and Pauley were having before he’d fallen over. They were talking about Jillian, about the still smoldering relationship between them.
He was tired, he thought. Tired of looking into the eyes of a pretty girl and wondering if he was being fair to her. After all, questioning something usually meant there was something else there. And in that case of Jillian it was an even more likely scenario. After all he’d loved her more than any other woman in life. He’d stood in front of witnesses and the Lord while swearing to keep her forever.
“The kid,” he said. “Do you know where the kid is?”
“The boy?” Michelle asked. “From last night?”
“Yes.”
“He’s one floor above,” she shook her head. “You’re not considering going up there are you?”
“I wanted to check on him. I would like to speak with him if he’s up to it.”
“Oh…” the look in her eyes spoke volumes. “I doubt him being up to speaking any time soon. From what the other nurses are telling me the poor kid is struggling to make it. Its probably best you stay down here.”
“I’m going to head up there.” Ryan answered. “I want to see it for myself. After all I was the detective on the scene.”
“His grandfather is a senator. They have tight security on him.”
“I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”
With a low ding the elevator doors swung open. For the most part the entire floor looked like a carbon copy of the one below it, save for a few more doors and the presence of guards stationed near a short hallway.
Ryan stepped forward, heading toward them with sure and even steps. The boys family was obviously well off if they were able to afford such luxuries as private guards stationed outside his door. It must have been nice, he thought. Though, wealth was a luxury Ryan’s childhood never saw.
“Police,” he flashed his badge.
With a quick glance at one another the guards stepped aside, allowing the detective to pass without issue. There were only two doors ahead of him. Outside the last one sat another guard. His eyes stayed glued to the detective as he brushed past him.
“Hello?” A sixty-something woman said.
She was well-dressed, with the kind of big chunky necklaces only ever seen hanging around the neck of successful wealthy women. Dark hair hung straight and short around her face. Curving in just slightly beneath her chin.
“My name is-”
“I know who you are.” She said. “I recognize your picture from the news reports. You were there.”
“Yes,” he answered. “I’m sorry about what happened to your…”
“Grandson,” she turned to the small boy. “His name is Evan.”
“He looks strong.” Ryan searched for the right thing to say.
He hadn’t been expecting to find anyone else and the truth was he didn’t feel like making small talk. He just wanted to look in on the boy, to make sure he was okay.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he looked back to the door. “I won’t stay.”
“No,” she extended her hand. “Please do.”
The sound of clanging metal echoed through the room. On her wrist were several bracelets, each one no doubt expensive designer pieces. They sang out like a wind chime through her grief as Ryan took a seat on the reclining chair next to her.
“That man…” she began. “The one my daughter got caught up with. I always knew he was trouble but I never thought he was capable of something like this.” The woman took Ryans hand into her own. Her skin was cool and soft, as though it hadn’t seen a days labor in her entire life. “I want to thank you for what you did in that alleyway. Now my girl can finally move on.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he answered. “I was just trying to catch up with Mr. Stark when he took the gun from my holster and-”
“I don’t need to know the specifics,” she turned her eyes. “He’s gone now. Evan will be better off without him.”
It was a terrible thing to say. To think that a child would be better off without their father was the kind of statement that always got stuck in Ryan’s crawl. He knew first hand what it meant to grow up without a father. Man-to-man bonding is an important thing for a boy, without it something just feels off.
“Don’t say that.” He said. “I spoke with Mr. Stark right before he passed and I know that he cared deeply for his son. Perhaps he-”
“You spoke with him?” She slowly pulled her hand away.
“Yes.”
“And what did he tell you?”
“Just that he loved his son,” the detective answered. “He was upset about the accident. He wasn’t sure the boy was going to make it and-”
“And what did he tell you of my daughter?” She asked.
“Nothing.” Ryan assured her, searching his memories of the conversation.
“You say he shot himself, detective. Surely he must have said something before that.”
The elderly woman was digging, looking for something perhaps, though Ryan couldn’t be sure what that something was. Still, her demeanor suddenly seemed to change. It was almost as though the air itself thickened.
“I should go,” he said again. “I hope your grandson recovers very soon.”
Stepping into the hallway Ryan took a slow breath. Maybe Michelle was right, maybe he shouldn’t have gone up there, he thought.
Approaching the elevator doors Ryan heard a familiar ding letting him know they were about to open. Three men, two security guards and a suited older gentleman stepped out. As they passed, the elderly man briefly locked eyes with Ryan before whispering something under his breath. The taller of the two guards immediately cut his gaze toward the detective.
Senator Ogdon, Ryan thought recognizing the mans photo from the news report.
Chapter Seven
This would be one of the last few times he would see this place, Ryan thought as he stepped into the police station. A mix of pride and relief washed over him as he headed down the hallway toward Chief Evans office. The smell of freshly brewed coffee carried through the building. It wasn’t the normal police station crap though, this was thick and velvety, this was the good stuff.
Ryan knew right away it was his partner Kit that was responsible. The woman loved coffee too much to ever use the inferior crap Chief Evans provided his officers. He stopped just outside his office door and listened as Kit slowly sipped the warm and calming brew.
The idea of telling her about his plans to leave the force still g
ave him pause. Though he knew the woman well Ryan wasn’t sure exactly how she would take the news. Perhaps she wouldn’t care. Maybe she would just tip her hat and see him out the door. Or maybe and probably far more likely, she would be disappointed and a little angry.
It had nothing to do with her, he reminded himself. This was about him and him alone. Still, he knew he had to tell her today.
“You wanted to see me?” Ryan stepped into the chiefs office.
Chief Evans lifted his head from a thin stack of papers and looked to him. So much history existed between the two men, so much more than either of them had the words or the want to articulate in that moment.
“You forgot to sign this,” he handed Ryan a sheet of paper. “And you’re still sure of your decision?”
“I am.”
“That’s a shame to hear.” Chief Evans reclined just a little in his chair. “I was hoping you’d have changed your mind by now, Devereux.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?” Asked the chief.
“The whole ‘we’ll miss you around here’ thing.”
“Listen boy,” he placed his thick arms on the desk and focused in on his officer. “I’m not going to pretend we haven’t had our issues but I’m also not one to talk out of my ass and you know it. I say what I mean. You’re hard sometimes, but you care and that’s always a good thing.”
“I appreciate that.” Ryan answered. “Have you found a replacement?”
Chief Evans let out a deep slow sigh and scratched his head. In all of the years Ryan Devereux had known the man he’d never once seen him at a loss for words or slow to respond. But there was something else going on, something the detective couldn’t quite put his finger on in that moment.
“You’re not the only one leaving.”
“What?” Ryan asked.
“I’ve been doing this a long time.” Answered the chief. “Some might say too long. But now I think I’m finally done.”
“You’re leaving too?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “Not today. I’ll wait until after you’re gone before I make my announcement but my time here has reached an end.”
