Hell Chose Me
Page 25
Dahlia lay a hand over her belly. She tried not to get attached to the idea of a life growing in there, especially since she’d just made an appointment to terminate that life. But she couldn’t ignore it. She had to allow herself to mourn—the thing she hadn’t let herself do for her marriage.
She never expected things to go downhill once her husband made it off the beat, but that’s when Dale started changing. Hardening. She used to love how he was the most un-cop-like cop she’d ever met. Now he was closed off, secretive, grumpy. Like living with a teenage version of herself.
Well, Dahlia could keep a secret, too. Like the baby Dale didn’t know he had, and after today, never would.
Lewis returned to Mayor O’Brien’s office with more bad news.
“There’s another video.”
The mayor let out an exasperated sigh. “Do I want to see it?”
“It’s more of the same.” Lewis pressed play on his laptop and a shaky cell phone video began playing. Tat was behind the camera, talking to Mayor O’Brien, but the image was of Lauren, his daughter.
She wasn’t bound or gagged, wasn’t bloodied. She didn’t look kidnapped at all, just annoyed. Her brief detention would make her news story all the more attention-worthy—and Pulitzer-worthy.
Lewis talked over Tat’s ramblings. Nothing he and the mayor hadn’t heard before since the first video the night prior. Direct messages to the mayor criticizing the new drug crackdown. Veiled threats of what would happen if he didn’t back off.
“Chief Schuster has a man on it.”
“A man? Singular?”
“They decided it was best to try inserting someone they think can get her out without a big gunfight.”
“Jesus H.”
“They still don’t want to go to the press with this. I told them I’d give them four hours.”
O’Brien pushed his chair back from his desk. “Why the hell would we want press in on this at all? Now or four hours from now?”
“Because it makes you look sympathetic, which we could really use right now. Do you need me to recite more poll numbers for you?”
“No. I know how shitty the polls are. I thought that’s why we did this whole drug war thing.”
“It is.” Lewis walked the floor of the mayor’s office like he owned it and Mayor O’Brien was only renting space. “That made you look tough on crime. This makes you look vulnerable. The worried father. You yourself a victim of these evil drug kingpins after your vow to take them down.”
“I am a worried father. You know what Tat is capable of.”
Lewis maintained his calm. “It’s a show. He’s made no ransom, just the idiotic call to repeal the new crackdown. Well, gimmie a fucking break. He’s busting your balls and we might as well use this because this could be the only thing that might swing this election for you. We could get a ten-point bump from a missing daughter, come on.”
“Jesus, Lewis. You’re talking about my only child.”
“I’m talking about your job. Lauren will be fine. Let’s not squander the opportunity that just fell in our laps.”
O’Brien rubbed the bridge of his nose. His all-American face had been carved through with lines during his first term. The golden boy mayor of last election was gone. He needed more makeup now when appearing on TV. He’d started to dye his hair. The entitled, silver-spoon-fed pretty boy was what people saw these days, sucking on the teat of special interests.
And they were right.
Mayor O’Brien stared at his subordinate. This brash kid from Yale who did everything by the manual for political assholes. But Lewis had steered him into the mayor’s office and he was handling this latest downturn in public opinion. Lewis could be trusted. O’Brien studied the young man and hoped like hell it was true.
“Okay, what do you want? A press conference?”
“We’ll work that out when we’re closer. Let’s see how this guy does first.”
“And who is he again? Some kind of special forces or something?”
Lewis turned to leave, exercising his control over the conversation. “Some crooked cop. They’ve got him by the balls so he has to do whatever they say.”
“What the…? Is that really the best guy to go and get my daughter back?”
Lewis shrugged. “He’s the guy they picked, so he’s the guy we’ve got.”
Lewis ducked out, leaving O’Brien alone thinking about hair dyes for when he stood in front of the press to announce his daughter had been saved. Or to tell them she was dead.
Dahlia watched the printer as it sucked up paper and laser jetted ink onto them. The steady noise filled the otherwise quiet house. For a few weeks they had the exuberant sounds of a puppy, but now even that was gone. Their last-ditch effort to have something to love in the house. If it couldn’t be each other, maybe a third party would remind them what it felt like. When the puppy started panting and falling over, Dahlia thought for a moment the dog was being slowly asphyxiated by the toxic air in the house. The animosity and the simmering suspicion between the puppy’s new owners.
Congenital heart defect was the real reason. A hole in his heart. Neither of them even cried. It all seemed so predestined. Last night, the puppy died quietly in his crate. Dale promised they would bury him in the backyard under a stone, but then he got that urgent call to come in to the station…
Dahlia leaned down and pulled the pages out of the printer. Directions to the clinic. She stared at the final destination, fifty-six miles away. The appointment time. Dale being late tonight would be a good thing. The papers were still warm from the printer but going cold. Like the life inside her. The one she didn’t need. Didn’t want. Not with Dale. Still…
The front door opened and Dahlia flipped the papers to the blank side and tried to hide the surprise on her face.
Dale looked somehow ashamed for being in his own home. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I only have a short time. So…do you want to…?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
Even for a funeral it was somber. The pup hadn’t had time to get very big so Dale didn’t need to dig a large hole. Five shovelfuls did the trick. Dahlia did finally cry when Dale set the black plastic trash bag in the ground. But she didn’t feel like her tears were all for the dog.
Dale put his arm around her shoulder and warmth passed between them. A current of possibility, a spark that all was not lost. Neither one of them had any words for the dog or for their marriage. Finally, Dale cleared his throat.
“I gotta get going.”
She moved away from his touch.
Dale started filling the hole. “When I get back, we should talk. Some things at work…things are different.”
“Okay.” What did that mean?
He set the shovel in the ground and leaned on it. “Hey, Dahl? I love you, okay?”
Yes, make it okay. Love him back and it will be okay. And she did love him. Somewhere in there. In memories. In photos. In his arm around her, same as it ever was. “I love you too, Dale. We’ll talk when you get back.”
“Yeah. When I get home.”
She could tell there was a lot on his mind. A heavier weight than usual, which must have been crushing him. She let him go with a brushed kiss on the cheek. She had her own places to be that afternoon.
After he’d gone, she lifted her printed directions off the desk. The pages in Dahlia’s hands had gone cold.
Click here to learn more about All the Way Down by Eric Beetner.
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