Unforgiven: A Conspiracy Thriller

by Stacey Fields

  Both Rachel’s and Joy’s families were horrified, but relieved to hear of his discovery. The thought of losing their loved-ones because of a few men’s greed-driven pursuits brought them an entire new wave of emotions. It was hard watching them go through the process, once again, of having to accept the reality of what had happened, but at least this time they were thankful that they had the truth. The two families began to spend a lot of time together, and the support network that formed between them was strong.

  The man who came forward and confessed to Rachel’s murder was questioned again, and this time he did break. He admitted to being a hired gun, and that his boss Mickey Walsh had paid him to commit the crime. Mickey was also brought up on multiple charges, and this time they stuck.

  Lindsey had spent the last few weeks working with the gang unit again, drawing up charges against not only Kipp and The Underground Mafia, but also against Ronny and The Lords, as well as their associates The East Side Kings. “It may not get the gangs completely off the streets,” she explained to Michael one day when they met for lunch during her break. “But it will at least throw a huge wrench into their organizations.”

  “I’m sure your partner would be very proud,” he replied.

  “Not as proud as Rachel would be of you,” she countered. “You never lost faith—you never gave up.”

  After things had calmed down a bit, Michael held true to his word and went back to work at George’s garage. They were able to fix up Lindsey’s car pretty quickly, and after the week of free labor he owed, he asked George to put him back on the regular schedule.

  On the morning of October 14th. Michael woke up knowing in his heart that there was still one thing he needed to do to completely make the transition back to his normal life. He had considered calling Jason to see if he would join him, but in the end, he knew this was something he had to do on his own.

  He had placed the bottle of Jameson next to his bed the night before, just in case. But in the morning when he woke up, he didn’t feel the need to reach for it. He took a warm shower instead of a cold, and ate a breakfast that consisted of more than stale, dry cereal.

  Despite the change in his routine, driving out to the graveyard, he felt the familiar ache build up in his chest again. He wanted to push it back down, to ignore it until the nine-month anniversary of her death, which would be coming up in only three days. But that would do no good.

  What he needed to do was exactly what he was doing. He needed to let his grief move past its stage of being a ritual, he needed to let it move on to the next stage—the stage where he let it wash over him when he needed to, but he didn’t let it consume him. He needed to let it become part of his life, not his entire life. He knew he would have to forever carry the hurt with him, but that didn’t mean it had to define him.

  Walking slowly to where she was buried, Michael felt a lump form in his throat, and his jaw tightened. Reaching the large gray stone with her name written across it, he let himself collapse to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “I bet you didn’t expect to see me here today,” he said smiling between his tears. “I didn’t expect to be here, either. But it’s good, right? It’s good that I can come visit you whenever I need to. I’m not afraid of it anymore, Rachel. I’m not afraid to let myself come here anymore. I know it won’t cripple me the way it used to. I’m getting back to my old self.”

  He leaned forward and ran his hand along the stone in front of him. “I figured it out, Rachel. I did it! I know why it happened, but I still don’t understand why you kept it from me. Why didn’t you tell me what you had discovered? Why did you keep it a secret from me?”

  He leaned back and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Were you worried about me? Did you want to keep me safe? I’ve spent the last nine months blaming myself for not keeping you safe, but maybe it was you that was really protecting me the whole time. I don’t know,” his voice trailed off.

  “Lindsey was right, you know,” he continued. “Getting the answers wasn’t what helped me. It was having a purpose again. Knowing the reasons why you were taken away from me didn’t bring you back, and it doesn’t make it any easier accepting that you’re gone. But the process of doing something again, that’s what helped. It pulled me out of my routine of pity and sorrow; it forced me to think about something that wasn’t myself and my pain. And that—that helped a lot.”

  He pushed himself up to his feet and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I would love to stay longer,” he said down to the stone in front of him. “But I have to go to work,” he added with a smile. “I know you’re happy for me, Rachel. I know you’re proud of me. You wouldn’t want me to suffer forever.”

  He turned to begin walking back to his car, and he saw her standing not too far away—Lindsey O’Neil. “What are you doing here?” he asked walking across the graveyard to where she was waiting for him.

  “My partner is buried here,” she explained. “I came to visit before heading in to work, and I saw your car in the parking lot.”

  “Rachel is buried here, too,” he said pointing back over his shoulder in the direction he had just come from.

  “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you here before,” Lindsey observed.

  “I don’t come out here too much. I’ve actually been here less than ten times since she passed.”

  “Really?” Lindsey said staring up at him with an expression of shock. “I come out here all the time. I don’t know, there’s something peaceful about it.”

  “Peaceful how?” Michael asked.

  “Maybe it’s stupid, but I find something therapeutic about coming out here to see him,” she said glancing to her side, in the direction Michael assumed her partner was buried. “I talk to him, about the cases and things that are going on. A lot of times it helps me figure things out,” she added with a shrug. “I don’t know; it helps me a lot, at least.”

  Michael nodded. “I had never really seen it that way before,” he admitted. “But lately, things have been changing a lot for me.”

  “I’m glad,” she smiled. They turned to begin walking towards the parking lot.

  “How are the cases coming along?” he asked as they walked side-by-side back to their cars.

  “Pretty good,” she said. “We have enough evidence to bring in Ronny for sure, and a few of the other higher-up members of The Lords. Henry from Meditech and his little buddy Glen have agreed to cooperate and give us any information they have as a sort of plea bargain.”

  “And Kipp?” Michael asked.

  “That’s a pretty clean-cut case. Not only did they kidnap and hold a police officer hostage, but there were five additional eye witnesses that came onto the scene and caught them in the act.”

  “That’s good,” Michael observed.

  “How’s the mechanic’s?” she asked.

  “Not bad. It keeps me busy, which is nice. But it’s not high-stress and dangerous, which is also nice.”

  “Nice?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “It’s a much needed change of pace, for now at least.”

  “Ever considered going into law enforcement, Michael?”

  He couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh. “Are you serious?”

  “Why not?” she asked. They had reached his car and she walked over with him, leaning against the hood as she spoke. “You’re pretty damn good. We would have never caught all those men if it weren’t for you.”

  “Because I did exactly what the cops told me not to!” he countered. “I don’t think I could handle following all those rules and having my hands tied like you all do so often. Besides,” he added with a smile. “I got to have all the fun of chasing down the bad guys without having to do any of the paperwork that came after.”

  “Thank you for all of that, by the way,” she said rolling her eyes.

  “I’ve spent enough of my life in a uniform,” he continued. “I’m good just taking it easy—for now at least.”

  “So, that
’s your plan? Just keep your head down and work at George’s garage?”

  “That, and I’m thinking about getting a plant—a real one,” he said to her with a chuckle.

  “And I thought you said you were done doing crazy things!” she exclaimed with a giggle. “Are you sure you’re ready for such a big step?”

  “It may be hard, but I think I can handle it. I’ve done crazier things in my day.”

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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