by Dan Lawton
“Working? You came all this way to see her, and she’s working?”
“She’s a doctor. She was on call.”
“Oh, that makes sense I guess. What do you want to do then?”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Home I guess. Do you want to come over for a while?”
She nods her head and leans back in her seat, lying against the headrest. She turns to face me and shrugs. “Okay.”
---
The ride home is short. We sit in the quiet mostly while Alicia takes in the views of a new place. Plus, I have run out of things to talk about. Again, that whole social awkwardness thing. I pull into the driveway and stop the car. She looks at the house with approval as we step out.
“Nice house. Cute,” she says.
“Thanks. It’s just me, so it works.” It’s nothing big, a raised ranch with about an acre of land. I bought it a few years ago shortly after I got my first job after college. “Come on inside, I’ll show you around.”
I give Alicia the grand tour. We walk into the living room as we enter, there are two bedrooms and one bathroom down the hall to the left, and an eat-in kitchen is to the right with stairs leading to the lower level. The kitchen opens up and conjoins with the living room to give an open concept feel. It makes the place feel bigger than it actually is.
“This is a nice place George, I like it.”
“Thanks.”
She folds her arms and goes on another mini tour, nodding her head to show her approval. I stand awkwardly, not sure what to do next.
“Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” she asks. “I’ll just be a minute.”
I nod. She finds the bathroom in the hallway and closes the door without looking at me. At the end of the hall is my room, so I go there to put my keys and wallet on the nightstand. I pull my belt through the loops and remove my shirt, tossing it in the laundry basket.
“George?” Alicia’s voice comes from the doorway behind me, and I jump.
I turn to look at her. “You scared me.”
She stands in the doorway with her arms above her head, her entire body leaning on the doorframe. Her clothes are gone, except for her underwear, pink and laced. Her smooth, cocoa skin shines in the light. The push-up shoves her perfectly shaped breasts into the air, and although I try not to, I can’t help but stare. I eye her from head to toe and can already feel the blood rushing to my unit.
“Hi, George.”
“Hey.” My mouth is suddenly dry and the word sticks to the roof of it.
She turns her back to me, but keeps her head turned around and her eyes locked on mine. She reaches behind her and unclips her bra. She turns back to face me, cupping herself to avoid exposure. She takes a few steps toward me and drops one hand, then the second. She lets the brassiere fall to the floor, just in front of my feet.
“Kiss me,” she whispers between her moist lips.
I look at her straight-faced and can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s been a while, so I hope I don’t disappoint. Without further hesitation, I pull her toward me and do what I’m told before she changes her mind.
---
Later that night, as her naked body rubs against mine under the sheets, I lean on my side to face her. I prop my head up on my hand as my elbow digs into the mattress. I gaze at her, and she looks back at me.
“What are you thinking?” she asks softly.
“I want to know more about you. Tell me something most people don’t know,” I say.
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. What are your dreams? What do you hope to accomplish in your life?”
She looks to the ceiling and thinks for a moment, then back at me. “I don’t know, George. I’ve never really thought about it.” I make a face, and she senses my dissatisfaction, so she continues, “To be free I guess.”
Her response is strange, and I look at her awkwardly. She almost looks regretful for saying that. “What do you mean? You are free.”
She brushes it off. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to give you an answer.”
I nod my head in understanding, although I don’t really follow what she’s trying to say, if anything at all.
“What about you?” she says, quickly moving on. “What’s your happily ever after?”
I have never heard anyone say it this way before and it takes me a little off guard. I think I’m starting to really like this girl. “Just to live a simple life, you know? I want to move to Michigan and buy a boat and fish in the Great Lakes. Lake Erie. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.”
Alicia ponders this for a moment. “What’s stopping you?”
“Obligations. Work, a mortgage. Life gets in the way sometimes. Maybe someday.”
She accepts the answer and moves closer to me. I can feel her smooth legs spoon into mine. She grabs my arm and wraps it around her body, then closes her eyes. I look down at her and take in the moment. Things like this don’t happen to me very often, so I refuse to let it go to waste. I’m going to enjoy this. I met this girl not even twelve hours ago, yet I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but if there is such a thing, this might be it.
“Who are you, Alicia Diaz,” I whisper in her ear as I lean toward her, “and where have you been all my life?”
CHAPTER FOUR
BILLY
Seven weeks earlier.
It’s 9:00 A.M. and I’ve already been at the station for an hour. My uniform is wrinkled but clean, and I wait impatiently for the Sheriff to arrive. He’s only been on the job for a few months since he took over for my father. He’s an outsider, a rookie who moved his family into the city from a small town just across the Missouri line. There was a silent uproar in the station when they hired from the outside, but there was no one internally that was ready for the job. I certainly wasn’t an option.
After my father died, I became a changed man. I used to be a police officer because I loved it and because I really felt as if I was doing positive things for the community. Or maybe it was because I had no other options. Since then, it has become personal. There is a local gang in Topeka that is well-known in the law enforcement community and extremely violent, and they’ve been ruling this city for years. They’re known as the Zved’s. My father had made it his personal mission to take them down and spent the last five years of his life in trying to do so. He picked many of them off one by one, but they were always able to replace one with the next, each one more elusive than the one before. There was one guy in particular, the mastermind of the whole operation, who always got away. He’s the one who took out my father.
It was a cold night last December when it all went down. My father got a lead on the whereabouts of Adrian. Adrian Stephenson, I’ll never forget his name for as long as I live. He’s known as Snake on the streets, a nickname that developed over time as he avoided jail and got away with a string of contract hits. Slithered away I guess the nickname stemmed from, which is creative I suppose, but I’ll never forget his real name: Adrian.
My father went by himself to the call. As the Sheriff, it was unusual that he went out on a call at all, never mind by himself. He felt something was going to happen that night, I suppose, and he was right. From what was gathered from the coroner’s report and the crime scene, it was assumed to be one big setup. Adrian and his guys were tired of being tracked by the Sheriff, my father, so they called in a bogus tip and ambushed him. According to an anonymous witness after the fact, it was Adrian’s right-hand man who pulled the trigger and not Adrian himself, but Adrian gave the order and stood there and watched while it happened.
My father died from multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and head. The medical examiner thinks he was dead before he even hit the ground. Since then, my father’s mission has become my mission. This is no longer about justice for the city of Topeka, this is about personal revenge for me and my father.
---
&nb
sp; I didn’t see the Sheriff come in, but he’s in his office now, so I head in that direction.
“Hey, Jack,” I say as I knock on his door.
He looks up from his breakfast sandwich and invites me in. Jack Hearns is in his forties and still has a full head of thick black hair. He’s tall and thick, and his chest hair routinely bursts out from the top of his uniform. Pictures of his wife and two daughters cover the walls in his office. I can tell from how happy his girls look in all of their pictures that he’s a good father. He’s a good Sheriff too, firm but reasonable, and he’s always willing to listen to what you have to say. He reminds me a lot of my own father.
Except for when it comes to one particular subject.
“Come on in, Bill. Take a seat,” Jack says.
I sit in one of the two chairs that are across from his desk.
“How are you doing this morning?”
“I got a tip, Jack. Another one is going down this weekend.”
Mid bite, Jack drops his sandwich on the napkin on his desk and snaps his eyes at me. He has a look of uneasiness on his face. “Bill, we can’t keep doing this.”
“I know, I know, but I think this one is for real. Just hear me out. I received a tip from a legit source late last night, someone from the inside.”
Jack shakes his head. “Listen, I know you really want this, but you can’t force it. I’m sorry about your dad, but-”
“Please don’t talk about my dad, you didn’t know him.”
Jack raises his hands as if to calm me. “You’re right, I didn’t know him. But I knew of him. And I know that he wanted these guys to go down too, just like you do.”
“Jack-”
“Let me finish. But you’ve come to me with five different supposed legitimate tips this month alone and nothing has happened yet.”
“What about that double murder on Cranston Street last week? They could have had something to do with it.”
“A, we’re still investigating, so we don’t even know if it was a homicide at all yet. B, it appears as if there was a sexual assault involved too, which really doesn’t fit the profile of the Zved’s.”
I sigh and lean back in my chair.
Jack continues, “Bill, I’ve been thinking. Maybe you should take some time off, give you a few weeks to clear your head.”
“No, I need to work, I need to keep myself occupied.”
“It’s not a request. Take three weeks, with pay, and get out of Topeka for a while. You didn’t spend much time grieving. That’s not normal.”
“But this is my life, Jack.”
“And it’ll be here when you return.”
I stand up from the chair and start toward the door, not wanting to argue with the man.
“Don’t worry Bill, I’ll tell everyone around the office that you’re on vacation. See you back here in three weeks.”
I nod and leave his office without saying anything. I can feel his eyes follow me as I gather a few personal items from my cubicle and head toward the front door of the station. I stop and glance at the framed headshot of my father that still hangs on the wall near reception before leaving, as I always do. A small granite plaque hangs below it. It reads:
In Loving Memory of Sheriff William H. Lewis Sr. He gave 25 years to the city of Topeka and lost his life fighting for what he believed in. He will be missed by all in our hearts and in our memories, always.
CHAPTER FIVE
GEORGE
Nearly six weeks have gone by and I haven’t heard from or seen Alicia since that one night we spent together. I’ve spent many hours wondering what happened to her after she left here and what caused her to leave so suddenly. I can’t help but think it was something I did to drive her away, although I don’t know what that is. Maybe I was too aggressive with her. Maybe she just wanted a fling, a one night stand sort of thing. I wanted more and maybe that was too much for her. I think about her every day still and wonder what could have been.
One thing I haven’t been able to figure out though, is the meaning of what she left behind. The fact that she acknowledged me and the connection we had makes me less certain that I actually did something wrong. Sometimes I wonder if something bad has happened to her.
I open my nightstand and pull out the note she left behind. The note was on my nightstand when I woke up the next morning, and she was nowhere to be found. I read it every now and again, hoping I’ll find some sort of subliminal message embedded from deep within the text. I haven’t yet. I read the note silently to myself:
Thank you for a great day, George Sanders.
XOXO
Alicia
That’s it. I never even got her phone number. The heartache returns each time I read it, but I can’t help myself. There is something special about that girl and she is going to be difficult to get over. I try to put her out of my mind and move on sometimes, but I swear I can still smell her perfume on the pillows on my bed. I think I would do just about anything to see her again.
I toss the note back into the nightstand and close the drawer. I sigh before making my way down the hallway and starting the shower. Maybe I should just fly to California and track her down myself. California’s not that big, right?
---
It’s July already and the morning is humid and sticky. I sit at the table, eating breakfast while reading the newspaper as I prepare for another day of working for The Man. I have to leave in fifteen minutes, but my enthusiasm is at an all-time low this morning. I dreamt about her last night, so I’m feeling a little down today. I’d much rather sit around and mope.
As I scan through the daily business news, I can hear my phone ringing in the other room. It’s quite unusual for someone to be calling me this early in the morning, so I make my way down the hallway and into my room to where my phone is being charged to check it out. It’s an unregistered number. I shake my head in disgust and assume it’s probably another telemarketer. I let it ring. Almost immediately, it rings again. It’s another unregistered number, probably the same one as before. I pick it up this time.
“Hello.”
“Is this George Sanders?” says an unfamiliar male voice on the other end.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Do you know an Alicia Diaz?
“Who is this?”
“Do you know an Alicia Diaz?
“Who the hell is this?
“Do you know an Alicia Diaz?”
“Tell me who this is.”
“If you know an Alicia Diaz, meet me at Josie’s Bar and Pub in thirty minutes.”
“What the hell is going on? How did you get this number?”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Click.
“Hello? Hello?” I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it, then I return it to its original position. “Hello?”
The male voice on the other end is gone.
I spend the next few minutes pacing back and forth, thinking. What should I do? Is she in trouble? Do I even care? Do I want to get involved? I try to tell myself to think rationally about the situation, but my decision is obvious. My entire body is overwhelmed with the rush of emotion. I grab my keys, run out the door, and slide into my Honda Civic. I speed out of the driveway and head toward the interstate. I hit speed dial two. Bob, the manager of the bank that I work in, answers after the first ring.
“Hello,” Bob says.
“Hi, Bob?”
“Yeah.”
“Hi, Bob, it’s George. I won’t be in today.”
“What do you mean? We have that meeting with the Joneses.”
“I’m know, I’m really sorry. Ask them to reschedule, something has come up.”
He notices my frantic tone. “Jeez, George, is everything alright?”
“I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later though, okay?”
“George, but-”
I hang up, cutting him off. I toss the phone on the seat next to me and loosen my tie. I merge my way onto the interstate in the direction of Josie’s Bar
and Pub, a local hot spot.
I arrive at the bar twenty-eight minutes later. The parking lot is almost empty besides a couple of cars at the far end, which likely belong to the employees. I hurry up the sidewalk to the front door, ignoring the closed sign in the window. My shoulder jams as I yank on the locked door handle.
What the hell?
I shade my eyes as I try to peek inside, but I see nothing. I try the door on the left, then the double doors at the same time, but neither will budge. “Hello?” I yell out to no one as I knock on the glass. I glance at my watch: It’s been thirty-one minutes since the call. The sign on the door says the bar doesn’t open for another hour. I turn to the parking lot, scan, and still see no one. With nothing left to do, I make my way back to the Civic.
As I approach it, a loud hum of squealing tires catches my attention to my right. A large white van rolls into the parking lot at a high rate of speed, nearly flipping on its side. The driver speeds toward me and slams the brakes to the pavement, spinning the van 270 degrees. The two back doors stare me in the face as the van comes to a stop. One of the doors swing open and a shadowy figure points his arm toward me. The arm reaches forward, grabs my collar, and pulls me into the van. The door slams and the driver peels off, out the same way he came in.
It all takes less than five seconds.
CHAPTER SIX
BILLY
The ride home feels like the drive of shame, as if I did something dirty. It’s 9:45 A.M. and the streets are nearly empty. I’m able to cruise well above the speed limit in my patrol car and arrive home within fifteen minutes. It usually takes me twenty-five. I’m still a bit irked by the way Jack dismissed me the way that he did, but I try to tell myself it’s not personal. But if he’s not going to do something to help me either, I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.
I unlock the front door and walk into the living room. My brother, Frank, is napping on the leather sofa. The TV is on in the background, as usual, and I don’t recognize the midday programming. I intentionally slam the door to wake him. Frank’s husky frame startles at the sound and he nearly falls onto the floor. He notices me standing in the doorway.
