(2012) Officer Jones

by Derek Ciccone

  Chapter 29

  The Saturday prior to Labor Day, two years to the day, was a day permanently scarred into the memory bank of Noah Warner.

  It was the night part of him died. The biggest part. He had made remarkable progress over the past year, to the point where he was able to tell the story of that night to a local reporter. She promised him that she wouldn’t release it until he was ready. He was close, but not there yet.

  Noah left the fair in his Jeep—a Warner family hand-me-down that every member has taken ownership of at one time or another over the last twenty years. It was a lot different from the flashy convertible Mustang he drove up until the accident. He was glad to see JP, and hoped to spend time with him while he was in town. But this was not a day that Noah could be happy.

  He soon arrived at his destination—The Rockfield Cemetery. He parked the Jeep and swallowed hard. Indescribable feelings surfaced. He grabbed the single red rose off the passenger side seat and slipped his denim jacket on over his black T-shirt. As the sun sunk behind the trees, the crisp feel of fall was in the air. The same as it was two years ago.

  He walked the path to Lisa’s resting spot. He wore out the grass the first year. The second year had mostly been special occasions and anniversaries. Lisa would understand. She was the only person ever to truly understand him.

  He stood before her headstone and read it again, still trying to connect it to reality. Lisa Spargo—a beautiful shooting star that brightened the world. Noah knelt down and placed the rose in front of the grave. He forced the words, “Hey Leese, sorry it’s been a while. I missed you.” He tried to keep it together, but he never could. He didn’t even acknowledge the tears, or attempt to wipe them away.

  He’d met Lisa the first day of seventh grade. The Spargos had moved to Rockfield from Boston. Lisa was the sassy, big city schoolgirl who seemed light years older than the rest of the students. Noah was the small town rebel who would go to any length to impress her. The connection was instant.

  It seemed like just yesterday they were roaming the halls of Rockfield High. Lisa in her tight jeans, her curls bouncing with each confident strut—Noah in his denim jacket, the one he wore if it were ninety degrees or fifty below zero. Rebellious youth who looked like they popped out of a James Dean flick, riding around in Noah’s Mustang as if they owned the world.

  It wasn’t always fun and games, but they loved each other so hard it hurt, and that was all that mattered. Their toughest stretch was the years after graduation. Lisa went off to college in Boston, while Noah didn’t have much interest in school, and remained in Rockfield. When he wasn’t getting into trouble, he worked as a bartender at Main Street Tavern. Her parents never approved of Noah, and encouraged her to cut her ties with him. But it would take more than distance and disapproving parents to keep them apart. All leading up to the moment that Noah asked her to marry him, two years ago to the day.

  Day turned to dusk, and then to night. Noah continued to sit on the wet grass in front of Lisa’s marble headstone and talk to her. He wanted to hold her in his arms again so bad that he would make any deal with the devil just for a few precious seconds.

  He gave updates on her parents and siblings—the ones who blamed him for her death, but he still loved them, for no other reason than Lisa loved them.

  He tried to keep the topics to happy memories and the positive strides in his life. He told her about JP returning safely. Then he reminisced about the time he tried to use his famous brother to impress her when they first met. Lisa wasn’t much into the news, and had no idea who JP was, but she became a fan when she met him during one of his rare visits. Lisa knew that Noah looked up to JP, and that was good enough for her.

  He held the most important surprise for last—his return to school. He didn’t want to tell her during earlier visits, for fear he would get her hopes up if he wasn’t able to stick it out. He could almost feel her pride when he told her.

  The part she’d be most impressed with was that he was going back because he wanted to—not for her. It would take him years, but without her, it seemed like he had too much time on his hands anyway.

  Noah eventually drained all of his emotions. He again apologized for his recent absence, vowing to make a quicker return next time. He could almost hear her playfully say, as she often had, “You better, Warner, if you know what’s good for you!” Accompanied by that infectious smile that made him melt.

  Noah’s pilgrimage wasn’t over. It was important for him to go to “the spot.” He put the top up on the Jeep and was on his way—to make a return trip to hell.

  Noah took Zycko because he needed to follow the same path they took on that night. Last year it was a route to the end—a dead end—as he’d planned to join her. This year he just wanted to pay tribute to his eternal soul mate and try to make some sense of the whole thing.

  Zycko Hill was dark and menacing, just as it had been that night. Noah replayed it, second by second, as if he were viewing each moment in slow motion. He passed the entrance to the nature preserve, known as The Natty. It was a protected area beside the Samerauk River, best known for being the hangout for Rockfield’s youth. It was also the place where he’d asked Lisa to marry him.

  He twisted the Jeep around another curve, passing the blinding bright lights of a pickup truck coming in the other direction. Noah remained in a hazy state, re-living the accident.

  Just before they crossed the small one-lane bridge, the giddy newly engaged couple looked at each other and Lisa mouthed, “I love you.” They both smiled.

  Then out of nowhere, the light rain turned into a downpour. The wipers struggled to clear the windshield. Lisa urged him to slow down.

  Noah listened, but the rain intensified. Just after crossing the bridge, the car began to hydroplane. Noah slammed the brakes, but it only made it worse. No matter what he did he couldn’t stop the car from sliding. Noah cursed and Lisa screamed.

  With a massive jolt, the Mustang slammed into a large oak tree. The passenger-side door took the worst of the collision, and of more importance to Noah—Lisa. She couldn’t get out, as the door was jammed against the tree, branches shooting through the shattered window.

  Noah maneuvered her out through the driver’s side door and examined her from head to toe. She was shaken, but not a scratch on her pretty face. It was a miracle.

  Lisa encouraged Noah to call the police and report the accident. He briefly argued with her, wanting to sober up a little from their celebratory champagne before getting the police involved. Lisa assured him that the conditions, and not alcohol, caused the crash. Noah gave in and made the call.

  They stood in the rain, waiting for the authorities to arrive. Noah complained about the twisted metal of what used to be his car, while Lisa kept reminding him they were lucky to be alive, and still had a wedding to plan.

  As they waited, Lisa mentioned that she felt cold. Noah went to bring her his denim coat, but before he could get to her, she collapsed.

  He called 911, this time in a panic. It seemed like days passed before he could hear the ambulance siren echoing off the river. They rushed Lisa to the hospital.

  Noah thought it was some sort of cruel joke when the doctor told him that Lisa was dead. “She’s fine! Not even a scratch!” he kept yelling. He was too distressed to hear the explanation from the doctor that the impact with the tree caused massive internal bleeding and there wasn’t anything that could be done for her.

  Later that night, he was arrested and charged with driving under the influence, along with vehicular manslaughter. The nightmare had begun.

  Chapter 30

  The sound of Lisa’s scream woke Noah from the nightmare. He spotted a pair of headlights following too close behind him. He was in no mood for such a trivial annoyance on this night.

  As Samerauk Bridge came into his field of vision, lights flashed behind him.

  “Cop?” Noah muttered, unable to think of any violation he might have committed. In his brasher days he would have
made a run for it. But he cooperated, pulling off to the side of the road just before the bridge.

  Noah took a glance into his rear-view mirror. He recognized Kyle Jones exiting the cruiser and walking slowly toward the Jeep. Jones was known to have a special dislike for drunk drivers, which had put Noah in his crosshairs. He’d heard rumors about Jones planting evidence and doctoring Breathalyzers. It wasn’t their first encounter, but he had a bad feeling about this one.

  Noah rolled down his window, and a gust of wind blew through the Jeep. “Can I help you, officer?”

  Jones smiled, but didn’t look happy. “Please step out of the vehicle, Mr. Warner.”

  Noah began to argue, “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, Jones. I don’t…”

  The officer took matters into his own hands. He opened the door, and in one fluid motion, grabbed Noah by his jacket and tossed him to the ground.

  When Noah tried to get to his feet, Jones took his nightstick and pounded it into his knee. Noah collapsed back to the ground in agony.

  Jones pounced on top of him, pushing his face into the pavement. He forcefully twisted Noah’s arms behind him and handcuffed him. He pulled him to his feet, pushing him face-first against the hood of the car, and grinding his nose into the still-warm metal.

  “What the hell are you doing, Jones?”

  The officer remained calm, almost trance-like. “You are under the arrest for the murder of Lisa Spargo.”

  Noah had watched enough TV to know you couldn’t be charged for the same crime twice. He tried to reason with him.

  Jones would hear none of it, again jamming Noah’s face into the hood of the car.

  “You took an innocent life, Mr. Warner, and now you must pay with your own.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I’m crazy?” he repeated with condemnation. “Crazy is murderers like yourself being allowed to drive the streets.”

  “You will never get away with this,” Noah shouted as loud as he could. The only response was his voice echoing back at him.

  Jones’ expression never changed. “I remove the evildoers one at a time. If they couldn’t connect me to the death of Senator Kingsbury, with every law enforcement official in this country working on it, I truly doubt I’ll be connected to the suicide of a small-time punk like yourself.” His nightstick landed another blow to Noah’s back with a hollow thud.

  Noah gritted his teeth. Only the intense pain distracted him from grasping Jones’ insane claim of killing a US senator. “My brother will never let you get away with this.”

  Jones laughed condescendingly. “JP Warner is too wrapped up in his own vanity. He will only be concerned how good he looks in the suit he wears to your funeral.”

  “He will know I didn’t kill myself.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time you attempted to take your own life. The way I see it, on the anniversary of your murderous act, and ravaged by guilt, you couldn’t bear to live another day without your beloved Lisa. And this year you found the guts to go through with it.”

  The mention of Lisa’s name shot a warm energy through him. Noah wanted to live. He kicked his leg back like a mule, knocking Jones to the ground. He began running away over the bridge, his hands still cuffed behind his back.

  Chapter 31

  With Tommy present, Gwen and I remained on our best behavior. We weren’t exactly swapping old stories and falling into uncontrollable laughter, but she hadn’t shoved me to the ground in over an hour, so I considered that progress. But a tense awkwardness still hung in the air. There was too much clutter between us to let down our shields—hurt feelings or wounded pride could surface at any moment.

  As nightfall arrived, Gwen dropped Tommy off with his father. Despite having been briefed, I was still surprised at how frail Mr. Delaney looked. I remembered him as the strapping carpenter with the year-round tan from working outside, muscles bulging everywhere. I always wanted to be Mr. Delaney when I grew up. Maybe I still did.

  He greeted me like the long lost son and told me how happy that Gwen had finally got rid of the old guy with the funny French name, so that his daughter and me could rightfully be together once again. He didn’t actually say that, but he did give me a warm greeting.

  Gwen kissed her father goodbye, and I’m pretty sure I heard her whisper in his ear, “Don’t get your hopes up, Dad, it’s not gonna happen.”

  Without Tommy’s presence, Gwen and I returned to silence.

  Silence has never been my thing, so I broke it, “I missed this.”

  “This?”

  “The whole thing—the town, the people, the atmosphere.”

  “The smell of cows?”

  “I missed you.”

  I caught her blushing, but she quickly covered it with the stony look of ambivalence. “What do you want?”

  I was still surprised I said it. I didn’t mean to, but my mouth always had a mind of its own. “What do you mean? I thought it was a simple statement.”

  “Everything you do is scripted, so obviously you said that because you want something.”

  When my critics called me scripted and self-serving, I always brushed it off. But coming from Gwen, it felt like a gut-punch. It was like the girl from Columbia all over again … only worse.

  I covered the hurt with a grin. “What I want Gwen, is to win you a stuffed animal for old times sake. I’ll bet Policeman Kyle never won you a stuffed animal at the fair.”

  Gwen took a deep breath, before turning to face me. She displayed the look of a doctor who was about to deliver life-shattering news to a patient.

  “Listen, JP, this was fun and all tonight. And I’ll even admit it brought back some good memories. But I must be going—Sunday is my big day at the paper.”

  She tried to shake my hand. When I refused, she gave me a “your loss” shrug, and said, “Take care, JP. And when you make your next trip to East Dangerous, please try not to get yourself killed. It was actually good to see you again.”

  She walked away. But she wasn’t walking out of his life again without a fight. “Do you want to know what I really want, Gwen?”

  “You had your chance,” she said, her step never slowing.

  “I want a job.”

  “That I can’t help you with.”

  “Sure you can, I know you’re running the Gazette. Murray told me.”

  “We’re not hiring.”

  “Don’t make me go to Murray—you know he’ll hire me.”

  That made her stop. She pirouetted back toward me, looking annoyed. “Except that he gave me the last word on staffing in my contract. Like I said, we’re not hiring, but even if we were, we would hire someone who would stick around more than a couple of weeks before he went off to something bigger and better.”

  “I told you, I’m here for good.”

  She turned and began walking away again as if to say she wouldn’t even dignify the statement with an answer—this time her strut had finality to it. She kept getting farther away—like a dream of mine where she keeps getting smaller and smaller, and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

  Without turning, she bellowed back at me, “We’re not interested in your services at the time, Mr. Warner, but thank you for your interest.”

  “I don’t know why not—I was just offered the highest salary of anyone in the history of the news business today. I think that would be quite a coup for the Gazette.”

  “You use the term news business loosely. We can’t afford you!”

  “I’ll work for free.”

  “We can’t afford that much.”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  I knew her stubborn pride wouldn’t allow her to accept the Gross National Product of Japan to hire me, but I kept shouting, and receiving many strange looks from the fair-goers.

  “I’ll give you exclusive rights to my first interview since the hostage crisis. All the major networks would kill for it.”

  “That’s the thing that makes you great, JP. Most people waste so much time t
rying to conceal their inflated opinions of themselves. But not you.”

  “You’ll sell more papers than you will the next three years combined!”

  The Gazette was in constant financial trouble—what small town paper wasn’t? Hell, most major newspapers were. But I knew she wasn’t going to cave in.

  All I could do was watch her long legs glide away. I continued watching as she reached into her purse and pulled out a cell phone. Calling Jones? A late night dinner after he gets off his shift? And then arrest me for harassing his girl?

  My stomach sank.

  She pushed her long hair behind her ear, and answered a call. Maybe Jones was calling her. Whatever was said, it stopped her in her tracks—a jolting stop. She dropped the phone back in her purse and began jogging back in my direction. Her face filled with dread.

  I had often dreamed of Gwen desperately running toward me, but I got the feeling this time there would be no leaping into each other’s arms and kissing like there was no tomorrow, like in the dream.

  When she reached me, she said, “It’s your brother, JP—it’s Noah.”

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  Part Three -

  Noah’s Ark

  _______________________________________________________

  Chapter 32

  Gilbert, Arizona

  Labor Day Weekend—1995

  “Are you almost ready?” shouted Lucy Enriquez.

  Kyle took another glance in the mirror, playing with his short-cropped hair. He was admittedly pretty average in all regards, from his looks to his medium height, and he certainly wasn’t one of those charmers who could captivate a room with his personality. So he was as surprised as most that he was able to attract such a desirable girlfriend as Lucy, even if she wasn’t always a ray of sunshine.