by Dave Daren
The guy’s history was proof of that. Even after everything he’d been through in the military, he still dedicated his life to helping other veterans and worked constantly to make their lives back home easier. He had a good heart, and that was the sort of thing that was hard to come by, especially in politics, which I assumed was why he’d been the first name I came up with.
I was positive that once I told him about everything Sheriff Thompson had done in the past, and the things that he still continued to do, that David wouldn’t hesitate to agree to help us. I’d have to explain that we weren’t really looking for a win, but that we wanted to expose the corruption. I decided that would be the best way to sell David on the plan, though I would have to warn him about Thompson’s antics as well.
The walk to the sheriff’s department seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. One minute I was walking past the small parking lot for Landon Legal, and the next I was crossing the street at the same intersection that Brody and I had used what felt like a lifetime ago when we had first approached Todd.
If I thought too much about how quickly things had spiraled out of control with our investigation into Thompson, I feared that my brain would simply turn to dust. So I blocked that out, lifted my chin, and crossed the street.
I walked into the parking lot of the sheriff’s department and glanced around to see if I recognized any of the cars in the lot in what I knew to be a futile gesture. I wasn’t even sure what I planned on saying to the deputies, or God forbid, Thompson himself, to get my phone back from wherever they’d stashed it.
But, anything I said was better than not trying anything at all.
With my mind made up, I pushed through the narrow, sepia door of the department and into the stagnant air on the other side. I glanced around as soon as I crossed the threshold and saw a few of the desks were filled with men in matching, hideous brown uniforms.
I recognized only one of the four deputies, but I didn’t remember his name. I think that I had seen him at the auction, or maybe he’d been a part of one of my previous cases. That was good enough for me, and I walked over to his desk rather than deal with someone completely new.
No one looked up as I moved across the room. All four of the deputies seemed preoccupied with their phones, their computers, or whatever piece of lint on their desks that was much more fascinating than whoever had just come in. I almost appreciated their distraction, though it didn’t say much for the readiness of our local sheriff’s department.
I stopped in front of the deputy’s desk, but he didn’t look up until I rapped my knuckles against the fake wood. He looked up in surprise, like he hadn’t even heard me come in.
He had a thin, hawkish nose, and a thick pile of dark hair atop his head. He reminded me of some sort of strange bird, and he blinked up at me with dark eyes.
I glanced down at the thin, rectangular nameplate below the golden star on his chest to read that his name was “Harris.”
I could practically see the moment the recognition kicked in on his face because his expression turned from one of mild confusion to a look of taut hate. The shift in his energy alerted the other three men in the room as well, and all of the attention was suddenly on me.
I wished I had changed clothes that morning, or at least, gone home and changed like Evelyn had suggested. Well, they would just have to deal with my rumpled appearance.
I plastered a pleasant smile on my face and wished I’d had a cowboy hat that I could tilt at the man before me.
“Good morning, Deputy,” I said with a level of cheer I didn’t exactly feel. “I was brought in last night to speak with Deputy Quentin, and he never returned my personal belongings.”
I was trying to be as nonconfrontational as possible. Sure, I wanted to be blunt and tell the room full of deputies exactly what I thought, but I knew that wouldn’t do me much good.
Instead, I continued to smile and keep a pleasant air about me, as if I didn’t have numerous heinous memories of this department and the people that ran it.
Deputy Harris cast a look over his shoulder at the other three deputies, and the four of them seemed to have a silent conversation that I couldn’t even begin to follow.
Unlike Quentin, Harris didn’t exude the same sort of caustic energy. He didn’t seem like an animal that wanted to rattle the bars of its cage. If anything, he reminded me of a more self-assured Jenkins.
After whatever silent conference he’d just been a part of, Harris looked back at me with a blank look on his face. He seemed to give my appearance a cursory glance before he cleared his throat.
“You can’t have your keys or wallet back,” he said in lieu of a real answer.
I exhaled a deep sigh through my nose but worked to keep my expression calm and neutral.
“I understand,” I said, even though I did not understand.
Logically, I assumed that keeping my wallet and car were petty gestures, but they also could have been keeping my bigger ticket belongings to try and see if I had any information on our investigation squirreled away in them.
Which made me wonder why the other items would be returned. The sheriff’s department’s willingness to hand back my phone made my stomach churn with anxiety, but I obviously didn’t dare voice that opinion aloud. I just had to hope it was still in one piece, and that they hadn’t found a way to look at the contents.
Harris pushed himself up from his desk, and I was jarred to see that he towered over me. He didn't say another word before he turned on his heels and headed through the singular doorway that led to the rest of the small precinct.
I slipped my hands back into my pockets just to give them something to do other than provoke a fight and avoided eye contact with the other three deputies.
After another silent conversation, the remaining trio pretended to go back to whatever tasks they’d been pretending to do when I walked in. But I could feel their eyes on me whenever they seemed to think that I wasn’t paying attention.
At least the reception I was getting was slightly more professional than what I had received from the deputies the night before, and I wondered if they had been given some sort of trouble by Thompson for their behavior. I doubted Thompson would have complained, but something had clearly changed in the way I was being perceived.
Maybe it was as simple as people behaving differently in the morning than they did at night.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it also wasn’t a behavioral change that I wanted to investigate too deeply. It felt too much like looking a gift horse in the mouth. And so, I waited with my hands in my pockets for Harris to return while I pretended that I wasn't being watched like a particularly skittish animal in the zoo.
After a few long, stretching minutes, Harris reappeared back in the doorway of the hallway with what appeared to be my phone and watch in his hands.
I noticed right away that neither items were secured in the standard plastic evidence bags. That set the alarm bells off in my mind again, but I kept my face neutral.
“Thank you,” I said in a way that I hoped came across as genuine. It didn’t matter how lowly I thought of the sheriff’s department, I wasn’t in the game of making more enemies than necessary, not even when I wanted to.
Harris didn’t say a word as he lowered his towering frame back down into what I now saw was a too small desk chair. Once he was seated he thrust the watch and phone in my direction.
I snatched my phone and watch back before he could change his mind. The first thing I did was return the watch to its proper place on my wrist. As soon as I fastened the leather band, I felt more like myself than I had all morning.
My phone was a slightly different story.
I made a show of not checking to see if the device was even on before I slid it into my back pocket. I didn’t want the deputy to see my suspicions, even though I was sure he thought I had plenty.
“Is there anything I need to sign?” I asked.
Harris gave a singular shake of his head, a
nd his blank, dark eyes bored into me so strongly I was afraid they’d leave holes.
I gave a slow nod and took a small, half-step backwards.
“Alright, thank you again,” I said, even though I knew I didn’t sound all that thankful. “I’ll just be on my way.”
And with that, I turned on my heels and made quick time toward the front door. I didn’t want to spend any more time in the suffocating department than was absolutely necessary.
As soon as I was back out into the sun, I heaved a deep sigh of relief, but I didn’t make any moves to pull my phone from my pocket until I had crossed the street once again and was out of sight of the department windows.
As I started the walk toward my apartment, I tugged my phone free of my pocket and then clicked the screen to life. The stock image I used as my home screen popped up, and I was a little surprised to see that the battery hadn’t run out overnight.
But after my last phone had been shot out of my hand, I had taken a few more precautions with the newer model. For one thing, I kept all my important photos and files set to upload to a Cloud drive immediately after they were taken or written, and I usually deleted the copies on my phone weekly.
At times, it felt like the actions of a paranoid man, but I realized just how important those precautions were after I swiped up on my screen to punch in my password. A small message sat across the top of my screen in unhappy-looking red lettering.
One Password Attempt Left.
So that’s why my phone still had a charge, I realized.
The deputies, and maybe even Thompson himself, had probably charged my phone last night or this morning and tried to break into the device.
Clearly, they hadn’t succeeded, but I still felt relieved that I never kept anything important on the device for long. I tapped in the correct password and watched as the lock screen melted away to the actual primary screen of my device.
I glanced up from my phone to make sure that I was still walking in the right direction toward my apartment. Satisfied that I was still heading in the right direction, I sent off a quick text to David to make sure that he was actually at the park.
Hey! Sorry I missed our run. Are you still at the park anyway? I have a favor to ask.
While I was fairly certain that the sheriff’s department hadn’t had any luck breaking into my phone, the paranoid part of my brain reminded me that they might have found some sort of way to clone the device. And if that were true, they’d have all the time they wanted to look through it.
Even though it sounded like science-fiction, I’d just read a story in the news a few weeks earlier about a syndicate of computer hackers on the East Coast that had been known to create duplicate devices for the right price. I didn’t think anyone in the Sheriff’s Department had the skills to pull that off, but I wouldn’t put it past Thompson not to pay someone to do it. Or promise to knock some time off their sentences.
Once the message indicated that it had been properly sent, I swiped out of my messaging app and over to the phone app. I started to type in Clara’s number, and I watched as her contact information sprang up on my screen. I knew that it would be easier to just send her a text, but I had promised that I would call, and I was going to keep that promise as minuscule as it might have been.
After another quick pep talk, I clicked the green button labeled “CALL” and brought my phone up to my ear.
The dial tone rang as I continued to walk, and I felt sweat begin to roll down my back in a way that was far from pleasant. The cool morning air had already begun to lose its fight against the sun as it moved across the sky, and I knew a fresh set of clothes wasn’t the only thing I would need.
While the dial tone continued to ring, I felt my phone buzz against my ear and cheek, and I assumed that it was a text from David. I ignored it for the moment, but the dial tone never gave way to the sound of Clara’s voice, and instead, I was sent to an automated voicemail line.
“Please leave a message after the beep,” the voice said in its cool, mechanical tone.
I waited dutifully for the low, sustained beep before I cleared my throat.
“Hey, I got my phone back,” I said, and I could tell that the smile on my face came through in my words. “And I promised you’d be the first person I called. Let me know when you’re able to get things sorted with Emma’s sitter, and we can set something else up. I’m free anytime.”
It was sort of a lie, I supposed, that I was free anytime. After all, I had thought I was free the night before but that hadn’t ended up being the case, thanks to Sheriff Thompson and his deputies.
“Thank you again,” I said before I could hang up and end the voicemail. “For picking me up. And understanding the situation. And… yeah, just call me back soon, alright?”
I hung up the phone before I could embarrass myself further and pulled it from my ear to check if I had actually received a message from David. I exhaled a deep sigh of relief when I saw that he had actually texted me back, and that according to his message, he was still at the park, and I should swing by for a late run.
I sent back an affirmative message before I slipped my phone back into its rightful place in the pocket of my trousers for the rest of the walk to my apartment.. Not more than five minutes later, I was back at my building, and I walked up the steps with more energy than I had when I’d left.
Of course, Deputy Harris hadn’t given me my keys back, so I was forced to use the key I kept on top of the doorframe once again. I reminded myself that things always could have been worse, and I’d manage with that small inconvenience for the time being.
I wasted no time changing out of my clothes from my missed date and instead switched into a pair of basketball-style shorts, a loose, comfortable t-shirt, and my running shoes. I also had the foresight to grab my pair of wireless earbuds that I’d splurged on after graduating from law school.
Once I was back in the hallway outside my doorway, I made sure to lock up my apartment and then slipped the key back up into the cranny over the doorframe.
I quickly synced my headphones to my phone and nestled one of the buds into my ears. I flipped on my running playlist as I set out for the park because I hated walking along in silence, even for the short distance to Lincoln Park.
As the music began to pour through my earbud, I started to rehearse what I wanted to say to David once again. It was a balancing act, because I didn’t want to coerce him into something he didn’t want to be involved in, but as I went over the points, I realized just how much hope I was pinning on his acceptance. He felt like a buoy in the middle of the ocean, and I was halfway convinced he was our last chance to save the town from Thompson.
Before Thompson’s threats came to fruition against all of us at Landon Legal, it had been easier to brush off his comments as just empty words thrown at us in anger. But his behavior had shifted from a mildly corrupt nuisance to legitimate danger, and I had no doubt that the rest of the citizenry would soon fall victim to Thompson’s ego as well.
I couldn’t forget the look of fear in Evelyn’s eyes as she recounted what had happened to her on her way into work, and I knew she wouldn’t be the only one with that look on her face if we didn’t stop the corruption.
I also knew that David cared about the community, that much was obvious from the line of work that he’d willingly gone into after coming back stateside, and I knew that he’d had his fair share of issues with power corrupting authority.
He’d never liked to tell me much about what had happened while he was deployed, and I had assumed that was partly because many of his stories were classified. Of the few bits he had let slip, it was obvious he had no love lost for commanders that let power go to their heads.
I also knew that when I told him about the swath of evidence about Thomspon’s other crimes we had gathered, he would be just as enraged as I was. But would it be enough to convince him that throwing his hat in the ring was the right thing to do?
I knew that putting this much hope int
o a man I hadn’t even floated the idea by yet was like putting all of my eggs into one basket and then throwing the basket from a moving vehicle, but I was desperate.
The election was in less than a month, and Thompson seemed to be losing more and more tact as time went on. I didn’t want to bide my time until someone was seriously hurt before I tried to do something about it.
I pushed those thoughts aside, however, as I turned into the entrance of the park.
Despite the heat, it was a pleasant day outside. The sun was still low enough in the sky that the temperature hadn’t hit its peak, but high enough to provide a perfect view of the clear, cloudless blue sky. The park wasn’t crowded, but then again, it never was at this time of day.
A few small children played on the bright, colorful jungle gym equipment that sat in the center of a sandlot to the left of the park’s entrance, and a group of adults I assumed to be the kids’ parents sat on the benches that surrounded the sand. Just past the play area and the swing set, a handful of people laid on colorful yoga mats and followed the lead of a man I assumed to be their instructor.
Most days, I’d go by with barely a glance, but today, the man and his students were well into their class, and I was equal parts mystified and horrified at how easily he was able to bend down and touch his toes from that strange angle on his pale-blue mat.
I pulled my focus away from the yoga class, however, as I continued down the winding sidewalk that led through the park toward the large oak tree where David and I usually met for our weekly runs.
While I tended to run in my neighborhood most days of the week, I always enjoyed my runs in the park. There was just something about being in the beauty of nature before the rest of the world had a chance to wake up that made me feel particularly alive.
As I rounded the corner toward the tree, I was pleased to see that David was already there waiting. He was a tall man that rivaled my own height, but while I was built more like a swimmer or a runner, he was broad and muscular in a way that would have seemed like a threat if he were any less of a stand-up guy.
