by S. R. Rashad
Do you understand what I am saying here, Ryan?”
“Kinda, not really.”
“Ok, let me put it this way. Your friend lost his sense of self and he's trying to find it in a job that he feels is about to abandon him.”
“Ok, so what can I do?”
“Your doing it now, Ryan. This is a good start. When he comes to you, listen to him. Don't be quick to judgement. Tell him you are there for him. Keep your door open. Let him know you are a safe harbor. This will help him tremendously.”
“Ok, doc. But how do I find him?”
“Work gave him his sense of purpose. If he is not there, he’d be home or around places or things his wife loved. Places that give him a sense that she’s still around. This would be my guess.”
“Ok, I’ll try those places.”
“That's good. Remember let him lead the interaction, Ryan. Be patient and listen, reserving judgement. And, tell him, I’m still here and the sessions or still available for him.”
“Will do, doc. Thanks buddy.”
“Absolutely, Ryan.”
The captain leaves the doc’s office on a mission. He is confident he'll find his friend and he is willing to do what it takes to help him get through what comes next.
Chapter 22
A Hot Bloody Mess
His exhausted body had its way again. This time, his little sleeping adventure, cost him two hours. Peter and Claire have a decided lead. They could be anywhere. He's totally relying on his ‘track your phone’ app, now. It better damn well be working properly. If there's a glitch or his battery dies, he’s fucked. But luckily everything seems to be in working order. He's been following the signal for nearly as long as he had napped. And now, he’s closing in. Mainly because, it seems, they haven't moved from their last location in over an hour. He's sure they've stopped. Perhaps, they’ve pulled over to rest, but it would have to be on the side of the road. Because according to his map, there's no rest stop near. He's leery. As he nears, he decides to approach with caution. Having no idea what to expect, he slows the car down and gets his sidearm from under the seat. There's a lot of debris in the road. He's sure they've been in an accident. Maybe they're dead, maybe not.
What if, the debris is a decoy. He won’t take that chance. He drives his car further down and off the main road and a few feet into the brush and trees, just a couple hundred yards from where his iPad indicates his phone should be. He walks through the trees looking for a wreck and he sees it. It’s their truck but he doesn’t see any sign of them. Unless they’ve flagged down a ride, they’re here. Shit, they may be spying on him. This is something he would do. Creating a decoy, is the best way to see if someone’s following you. A minivan approaches the wreck and a guy steps out. It's definitely not Peter, too short, too fat. He walks over to the guy, looking at the wreck.
“Hey there!” he says.
“Oh, hey. Did you see the accident?” The little fat man asks.
“No, just the debris. I jumped out my car looking for my dog who wandered off and came across this. It looks bad. Whoever was in this truck is probably hurt pretty bad, huh?”
“No, they’re fine.”
What? Does he know them? Is he helping them? He thinks. He has to be cautious.
“Oh, that’s good. Friends of yours?”
“No, just a couple I want to sell my minivan to. That’s if I can’t fix their truck. And by the looks of this, it looks like it would cost them more than the truck’s worth to try and fix this heap of junk. They’d be better off getting this Beauty.” Henry says as he motions to his minivan.
“Seems like a solid minivan, sure. Hey, I bet they’re in the hospital or something, though?”
“Nope, they just checked into the motel in town.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear.”
“Yea, seeing this mess, they sure are lucky.”
“It seems that way, huh.”
“Well, I better get back and let’em know what I think about their truck.”
“Ok, what motel, perhaps I should hold up there till I can find my dog?”
“Sorry about your dog running off. Where’s your car? You wanna follow me? I’m heading back that way now.”
“Sure, can you give me a lift back to my car. It’s a ways down the road.”
“Yea, hop in.”
Henry drops him off by his car and He follows Henry back to the motel. The two of them enter the motel. Looking around, things seem off to him, a little eerie. There’s no one around. Why is there no one around. He's on high alert.
“Hey, where do you suppose the clerk is?” He says as he rings the bell furiously.
“Well, I don’t know if ringing the bell like that is gonna help.”
“Apparently, it’s not… is it break time around here, or something?”
“You know what, he may be out back, smoking.” Henry says.
“Or he could be hurt.”
“What are you saying?”
“You need to know the truth. I've been tracking the couple you saw. They're dangerous, so be on alert.”
“You sure. They didn’t seem that way. What if he's just getting something from his car, or something?”
“Let’s go see.” He says as he reaches for his gun. Something's going down. He feels it.
Henry sees his gun and it weirds him out.
“Oh boy, what’s that for?” Henry says nervously.
“Well, in my line of work, you have to be prepared for all eventualities.
“What’s your line of work, again?”
He never told Henry his line of work.
“Let’s just say you should consider yourself lucky to have me here at this moment, especially with these two.”
“If you say so.”
They walk down the hall toward the back entrance.
“Oh man, is that blood?” Henry says, in a near whisper, as the simple shock of seeing the blood, is making it hard for him to get his words out.
He looks at the closed door to the office and sees the blood on the doorknob.
“Yeah, Henry. That certainly is.” He says as he points his gun at the door.
“Henry, I’m gonna need you to open that door and step back as quick as you can.”
“You want me to grab that bloody handle?”
“Listen, we don’t have time for the girlie man routine. I’m gonna count to three and you’re gonna open that door. You got it.” He says giving Henry the most deadly serious look.
“Yea ok, I’ll do it.”
“One, Two, Three…”
Henry turns the bloody handle and pushes the door wide open and moves out of the way, in one swift motion. This is the fastest Henry has moved in years.
“Shit, is that the clerk, Henry?”
The Clerk’s dead body is sprawled across the office floor, mouth filled with blood, metal letter opener in his neck, and blood flowing down the sides of his cheeks and onto the floor, his eyes open, but they can only see the whites. Since his pupils are so far in the back of his head, it's difficult to make them out.
“Yea, that’s him. I ain’t never seen no dead body before. Have you?”
“Yea, Henry. Yes, I have.”
“What the hell is this about. It looks like he was reaching for a gun. You think they came to rob the motel and he was trying to stop them. I thought there was something fishy about those two.” Henry’s lying. He didn't think that at all. Just a second ago, he thought they were nice.
“Hey, mister, what if they’re still here?”
“I don't think they would stick around after this, do you, Henry?”
“You never know.”
He doesn't like this Henry. He believes him to be a fool, a waste of 46 chromosomes.
“You think we should go check the rooms and see if maybe they're hiding out.”
“You want me to go through all the rooms, Henry?”
“Yea, how are we gonna find them. I mean they gotta be here. They have no car, remember.”
“Inste
ad of checking all the rooms. Let's check the registry.”
“Yea, I like that idea. You think I should grab that gun on the floor?”
“Well, Henry, that would be tampering with evidence, so that’s up to you.”
“Oh, I better not then.”
“Look here, Henry.” He points at the names on the registry. “The last name to sign in on the registry today, Claire Baylor. Single room, double bed. Room 212. That's them. You wanna come?”
“Maybe, I should get the sheriff. He's not too far away.”
“Ok, but perhaps, you should come with me first. Let’s check this out. After all, it's your hunch that they're still here, right? Now, don’t you wanna be the hero. Something to tell the wife and neighbors, huh?”
“Yea maybe, you're right. Let's go get ‘em.”
“Yea, that's it, Henry. Let's go get ‘em.” He laughs.
They enter the second floor walkway. A trail of blood appears to lead to room 212.
Henry is beside himself with fear.
“Oh, this is not good. How many people do you think they killed? What if they fought over the money and killed each other? What if…”
He stops Henry abruptly and sternly.
“Henry, I'm gonna need you to be calm and quiet. If you can't do both, choose one, ok?”
“Ok.”
“Same drill, Henry.” he says as he points his gun at the closed door.
“Ok,” Says Henry.
But Henry’s not ok. He seems as though he’s having a panic attack or something of the sort. And his hands are shaking uncontrollably as they fumble around the door handle.
“Henry, Breathe! And steady yourself, man!”
“I’m breathing.”
“Good…you ready?”
“Yea.”
“One, two…
Henry opens the door before he gets to three.
“Oh Shit! Oh shit! Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell!” Henry yells and curses as he is having a complete freak out.
“Yea, this is some pretty heinous shit, Henry.” He says as they stare at the doc’s handiwork.
Blood and brain matter’s everywhere. He enters the room as Henry’s sure to pass out by the sight. Henry remains hunched over outside while he searches the room and the bathroom for clues as to what set Peter off, or where he might be going. It’s hard to make her out with her head beaten to a pulp, but he believes it’s the woman who was traveling with Peter. With no clues in the room, he’s sure he overlooked something in the office or at the front desk. He exits the room and sees Henry's sitting on the ground with his hands on his head...
"Hey, Henry! Get up! Come with me.”
“Mister, I have to go. This is too much. That poor woman, my friend Billy downstairs, I don't know what this is about and I don't wanna know. I'm getting the sheriff.”
“Ok, I can understand. But tell me what kind of car did Billy drive? I bet it's not there.”
“He drove a black ford 150.”
“Good. Before you go running off. Can you tell me if you see his car out back?”
“Ok, I’ll look then I'm going.”
“Ok.”
While Henry heads out back to look for Billy’s car, he looks through the stuff on the front desk and comes across last week's paper and sees Dr.VonNetzer’s picture on the front page. So this is what triggered his rage. So that woman wasn't lying when she said he was Frank. She just didn't know who she was really dealing with till the clerk foolishly showed her the picture, fuck.
Henry comes back and sees him looking through the motel’s paperwork on the front desk.
“Hey, mister, the truck’s gone. What are you looking for on that desk?”
“So Billy’s truck is gone, ok. I need to find the plate number.”
“I don't understand. How are you gonna do that?”
“Henry, my friend. Do the employees have parking spots here?”
“Um, yea. I think so.”
“Of course, they do. This is to make sure they show up for work and not complain that they can't find parking, see.”
“Yea, so.”
“So, Henry, they have to write down the make, year and number of their car to prevent it from being towed accidentally. Now, help me look for a piece of paper with a list of employees and their cars.”
Henry finds it almost immediately.
“Hey, I think I found it. That was easy.”
“Let's see.” Henry shows him the paper. It reads: William Hogan, Wisconsin plate, 342-DGF, Model, black ford 150, yr 1998. “Yea, this is it. You did good, Henry. You did good.”
“I did.”
“I want you to go to the sheriff, now. Make sure he gets this paper and have him put out an APB on the car and the license plate.”
“What's an APB?”
“Don't worry, just tell him. After they get over here.”
“Ok.”
“Here, first, I need you to write the plate number down for me.”
“Ok, mister, are you coming to the sheriff with me?”
“No, it's your time to be the hero.”
“If you say so.” Henry says, smiling. Henry likes the sound of that. He hasn't ever been considered a hero.
“You know what, Henry, I bet the story will sound a whole lot better if you don't mention me. Imagine how everybody will feel about you then. You found this out all on your own. People will be amazed for sure. The town will talk about you for years.” He says as Henry’s eyes light up, just thinking about it.
“Ok, mister, I can do that. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“No, that's it.” He says as he keeps last week's paper with the doc’s picture on the cover from Henry, folding it and putting it in his jacket.
He wants these local nitwits to believe that they have a Bonnie and Clyde robbery situation gone wrong and why won't they believe it. After all, once ole Henry gets through telling his tale, and he's sure it's gonna be a grand one. That'll get bigger and bigger and more elaborate when Henry’s done telling it. And who cares. Let them have a grand Bonnie and Clyde type tale via Henry, as long as he gets the doc. The monster belongs to him.
He’s sure Henry will tell the tale the way he needs him to tell it. He's been taking mental notes of Henry from the time they met: First, why was Henry trying so desperately to sell the minivan. Henry probably hates the thing. It had to have been his wife's idea to get it in the first place. And Henry boy has been feeling emasculated driving it. But if Henry told his wife he sold it to a nice couple, who really needed it, he gets rid of the damn thing and keeps his wife's respect. Equally important, he couldn't help but notice Henry’s willingness to continue to try and please him the entire time, telling him what kind of man Henry is…pure beta, the wimpiest kind at that. And he knows if Henry mentions another man was there, given the kind of man the town must know Henry to be, everyone will automatically assume the other man must have done all the work, been the hero, the take charge guy. Therefore, it strongly benefits Henry to say he was by himself, to make his story, what ever it's gonna be, believable. Like the story where he knew Frank and his nursemaid, Claire Baylor were up to no good. This will in all likelihood be the story he tells. And even if Henry decided, or out of nervousness, at the last minute, to mention another man, he knows it’ll only be Henry's finger prints found throughout the motel. Shit, he'd be damned if he left his finger prints anywhere.
Chapter 23
The death and resurrection of Laura Danger
Laura died that fateful Tuesday morning, killed by a vigilante’s bullet, outside the courthouse where she helped to free a madman. She still walks and talks. Her heart still beats. Her lungs still fill with air. But her old ways of being, of thinking, of feeling, have been mortally wounded. Her thirty-seven years, honing and moulding a life, shattered. The core of her being forever changed. Soon, she will come to an impasse. Something new will have to emerge.
So, this is gonna be an interesting week for you, Laura. You meet with the two
specialists Jim set up for you. Don't try to make a good impression, just remain open and ready to take suggestions, ok, lady. That’s all you have to do. Don't complicate it. I’m not sure why I need a head doctor or a physical therapist. It's not like I'm having crazy thoughts or ideations, but what the hell do I know anyway. And this physical therapist, do I need to learn to walk again. I'm still not sure what the heck this is about, but Jim wants an ‘all clear.’ I guess. So, I’ll just have to put on my big girl pants. And do it.
“Hey Jen, hon. I’m off to go meet my two new best friends.”
“Laura, play nice!”
“Me. Of course. For sure, you know I will. Are you sure you wanna work from here, today? I think it would be ok to leave the little guy alone for a bit.”
“Oh, I know. I just thought it would be nice not to go to the office today, is all.”
This girl is no liar. I tell you. She's gonna smother that poor puppy. To be honest, Laura. You wanna stay home with him too, don't you.
“We could just get Juan to watch him. He said he would.”
“No, Laura. Leave poor Juan alone.”
“Ok, for you, I will.” We both laugh.
The phone rings.
“Hey, Juan.”
“Hello miss Danger, your car is here.’
“Thanks, Juan. I’m coming now.
“Hey, Jen! My car is here.”
“Ok, Laura. Remember, this is all just to help you.”
“Yea, I got it. See you.”
“See you.”
“Let me get the door for you, miss Danger.”
“Sure, Gary. It's good to see you.”
“It's good to see you too, miss Danger. So, you’re back to work?”
