Jack walked through the door of his empty apartment, and dropped his keys on the end table beside his chair. He laid his phone beside them and noticed the missed call and the voicemail indicator. He activated the application and started the message.
“You have...one...new...message.” A feminine voice exclaimed. A shrill beep sounded, and then after a short pause he heard his brother’s voice.
“Jack. Hey, I just wanted to see how things went. Call me.” He deleted the message, and the voicemail indicator disappeared. He felt despondent when he realized that his brother Mike had been the only caller. Tracey hadn’t called. That was both good and bad, Jack reasoned. If she had called, that would mean that she was mad enough to tell him off immediately. But since she didn’t, then either she wasn’t that mad after all, or she had completely given up on her idiot husband. He thought about what to do, as he walked to the kitchen and retrieved a beer from the refrigerator. He twisted the cap off of the bottle, and took a long drink from it. He walked back into the living-room and sat down in his chair. He reached over and hit the power button on the TV and turned the volume down low. He wasn’t interested in watching TV, but he wanted some kind of background noise to break the morgue-like silence in the apartment. He took another drink from his beer, and then sat the bottle on the end table, and reached for his phone. He keyed the contact and waited as he settled down in his chair and stared blankly at the mumbling TV.
“Hello.” Mike answered.
“Hey man. What’s up?” Jack asked, more as an introduction than as a question.
“Jack! So how’d it go?”
“Not so good.”
“What? Did you say something stupid? Awe man, I can’t believe that-”
“I didn’t make it.” Jack interrupted. He wished that he had even had the opportunity to say something stupid. That would have been easier to overcome.
“You didn’t make it! Are you nuts?”
“Something came up. I couldn’t-”
“How many times do I have to beat it into your head, man? Some things are just too important to blow off. Do you-”
“Mike. I walked into a double murder in progress.”
“A what? Did you say double murder? Did you get the guy?”
“No. But he almost got me. A couple of times.”
“Awe man, I’m sorry. I thought you just blew it off.”
“I’m afraid that Trace will think the same thing.”
“No, not Trace. You gotta call her and tell her. If you wait until tomorrow she might not even speak to you.” Jack knew that he was right, but as he heard it from Mike, it made him feel better anyway. “Hang up, man. Call her right now!” Mike encouraged.
“Okay. I’ll call you later and tell you if I survived.”
“You? Survive? I don’t think they could kill you if they had too.” Mike responded. Jack said goodbye and hung up the phone. He took another drink from his beer before he called Tracey’s number. The phone rang three times, and Jack almost hung up, when he heard Tracey answer.
“Hello?” She said.
“Trace. Look. I’m sorry.”
“You bastard! It’s bad enough that you didn’t show up. And that you didn’t even call us to let us know. For all we knew you were dead in some alley. But then to act like you did and scare the kids. That’s unforgivable.”
“But Trace I-”
“I’ve already heard all that I want to hear out of you, Jack King. It took me over half an hour to calm the kids down after your theatrics.”
“But-”
“But nothing! You just don’t get it Jack! And until you do...don’t call. Don’t call me, and don’t even think about coming back over here, not after tonight. If I even see a letter in the mailbox from you I’ll slap you with a restraining order so fast your head will spin.”
“Trace, I-”
“I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say! Don’t you get it Jack? You’ve already said way too much! One day you’ll wake up and realize what you’ve missed! One day, Jack, you’ll get it. No matter what else happens in the world, you’ve got to take care of your own! When you understand that, then maybe I’ll listen to you!” She said and then the call went dead. Jack sat there and listened to the silence with his mouth still slightly open. He had known that she would be mad. Probably even furious. But he never dreamed that she would have been as mad as she was. He finally gathered his thoughts, closed his mouth, and without further hesitation he called Tracey again. It went instantly to voicemail. He hung up, took a drink from his beer, and then called again. Voicemail. After five attempts, frustrated, Jack started to get up. He thought that if he had to go over there, he would, but Tracey’s words came back to him.
“...restraining order...” She had said. Jack knew that she meant it. He finished his beer and went to the refrigerator for another, his phone in his hand. He opened his second beer, took a drink, and then called Mike while he leaned against the kitchen counter.
“Hello?” Mike answered.
“Hey, Mike.”
“Jack. How’d it go?”
“She hung up on me.”
“Wow! She must be mad. Give her a little time and then call her back.”
“I already did. It goes straight to voicemail.”
“Man, what did you say to her.”
“Nothing...she wouldn’t give me a chance.”
“Ouch!”
“She even went as far as to tell me that if I called back or went over there that she would put a restraining order against me.”
“A restraining order? That doesn’t sound like Trace.” Mike said, with a certain concerned tone.
“I know. I think I really did it this time.”
“Didn’t you tell her about the double murder?” Mike asked.
“Like I said, she didn’t give me a chance.” Silence surrounded Jack as he thought about what to say next.
“I tell you what, Jack, I’m not doing anything, and I don’t have anything planned tonight. I got that consulting contract earlier today, but I really don’t have anyone to celebrate with...why don’t I go over and talk to her for a while. You know...let her know what happened and all.”
“I’d appreciate it. Just don’t tell her that I had anything to do with it, or she might just shoot you on the spot. Hey...congrats on the contract. I had forgotten about it, with all that’s happened tonight.”
“Understandable, brother dear. No need to apologize. I’ll call you, but probably not until tomorrow. In the meantime, you get some rest. Let me handle Trace.”
“Thanks, Mike. I owe you one.”
“You probably owe me more than one, but who’s counting anyway.” They said goodbye, and Jack put the phone back on the table. He took a long drink from his beer, and then picked up the remote to the TV. He flipped through a few channels before he clicked it off. He sat there in the dark, and listened to the unbearable silence while he finished his beer. Finally he got up and went into the bathroom, as he hoped that a shower may make him feel better.
He shut the bathroom door behind him, and walked to the shower. He bent over, turned on the water and set the temperature hot like he preferred. He started the shower, pulled the shower door shut and went to the sink and began to undress. He removed his shoulder holster, and wrapped the straps around the holster itself, before he carefully laid his loaded weapon on the bathroom counter. Piece by piece he piled his clothes beside it, and stepped back towards the shower. Just as he was about to step in, he remembered to get a towel out of the linen closet by the door to the bathroom. As he rummaged to find a towel, a sound from the living-room startled him. He knew that no one had a key to his apartment except for him, and that he had turned the TV off. He knew that a sound, any sound would mean that an intruder was in his apartment. Instinctively he grabbed for his gun, threw the safety off, and readied himself to open the bathroom door. Suddenly his nakedness hit him l
ike a brick wall, but with no time to dress, he had to proceed.
“Hello?” He called from behind the closed door. Silence responded. “I’m armed!” He called out again, and another sound echoed back in response. Jack grabbed the door handle with his left hand and flung it open. He brought his weapon down as he exited the bathroom. Carefully he surveyed his apartment, but found no one nor any evidence that any one had been there. Puzzled, but relaxed, he chained his front door, checked the window locks, and went back to his shower. He supposed that with all that had happened that day, he might have imagined the sounds, but after he had checked it out, he felt better. As he stepped into the shower, the tensions of the day began to ease out of him as the steaming water poured over him. Jack accepted the fact that this shower was probably the best idea that he had had all day. It was just what he needed. A long hot shower, and then a good night’s rest.
After the shower, he rechecked all the doors and windows, and content that they were locked, he climbed into bed. His head had barely hit the pillow, when sleep overtook him. But it was a restless sleep, as his mind continued to work overtime. He could feel that Tracey reached for him. That she called for him. But he couldn’t quite grasp her. Her face showed anger, her voice rattled with fear, and her hands pleaded for him to help her. No matter how hard he reached for her, he just couldn’t get to her. Suddenly her voice was replaced by bells. Each time she opened her mouth bells would sound. Puzzled Jack tried to yell back, but his voice too had turned into the sound of bells. There they stood, just out of reach from one another, as they made sounds at one another that sounded like a bell as it rang...and rang...and rang.
Suddenly Jack sat up, and ripped himself from his dream, as he realized that the sound he had heard in his dream was his phone. He grasped in the dark for brightness of his phone on the table by the bed. As he struggled with the unlock sequence on the face of the phone, he noticed the clock on the night-stand. One-fourteen A.M. the angry red display acknowledged. Just as he finally unlocked the phone, his elbow bumped the lamp on his night-stand, and sent it to crash to the ground.
“Christ!” He said under his breath as he finally was able to bring the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He asked.
“Mr. King?” The lady on the other end asked.
“This is Jack King. Who is this?” Jack fired back angrily, still groggy from sleep.
“Mr. King, my name is Sheila with Perennial Security. We’ve had a perimeter breach at your other location, and are calling to notify you as per your previous instructions. Would you like us to dispatch the police?”
“Have you called that number?”
“Many times sir, but it goes straight to voicemail.” Jack’s mind began to whirl. The security system that he had paid to have installed last year was designed to cover the house when it was empty as well as the perimeter when they were home. When Tracey had forced him to leave he had left explicit instructions with Perennial that if an alarm was reported that he was to be notified immediately. He hoped that it was a false alarm, but he instructed the operator to dispatch the police anyway.
“They’re being contacted as we speak, Mr. King. Will you be responding also?”
“You’re damn right I’ll be there.” Jack said as he crawled out of his bed and was reaching for the light switch for the overhead light.
“What will you be driving, Mr. King, so that I may alert the authorities to be on the look out for you.”
“Just tell them that Detective King will be coming.” Jack finally found the light switch and flicked it on.
“Detective. Oh, I see. Yes sir, Detective King, I will. Will there be anything else?”
“No, mam. Thank you for calling.” Jack hung up the phone in his now harshly lit bedroom, and fumbled for the clothes that he had worn the night before. He hopped into the living room as he pulled his pants on, and he grabbed his shirt off of the door knob of the bedroom door. He buttoned his pants, and climbed into his shirt, and stepped into the shoes that he had left beside his chair in the living room. Half at a walk, and half at a run, he went back to the bedroom and grabbed his phone from where he had tossed it on the bed. He quickly made his way to the door, grabbed his keys off of the table beside the front door, and fumbled with the series of locks on the door. With the door open he began to leave, when he remembered his gun, still on the dresser, back in the bedroom. He ran to the bedroom, as he cursed himself. His gun was the single most important tool of his trade. Finally, with his holstered gun in hand, he left the apartment, and ran at full speed to his car. As he climbed in, he started the car, and peeled out before he had turned on the headlights or even shut the door. As he accelerated towards the exit from the parking lot, his door slammed shut. He approached the stop sign at the entrance to the main road, and his headlights came to life. He did not stop, but accelerated through the stop sign and out onto the main road, causing the back end of his car to swerve, and smoke to pour up from underneath his car as he laid dual trails of rubber on the asphalt. He had to get there, and he had to get there fast.
Jack slowed as he came to a red light, but then accelerated through. From the right, Jack saw another car as it approached the intersection, and accelerated even more to get out of it’s way. The other car braked, began to slide sideways, and barely missed the rear of Jack’s car, before it came to a halt in the middle of the intersection. Jack saw the driver of the other vehicle in his rearview mirror. The driver shook his fist in anger, and suddenly it dawned on Jack the he should turn his emergency lights on. He activated the lights. A silent blue flicker began to flash from his car, as it emitted beams of light through the mist of the early morning. Jack reached for the police radio which was mounted in his vehicle, and turned it on. He grabbed the mike, and called dispatch.
“Charlie two-twelve.” He said.
“Charlie two-twelve.” The lady’s voice responded.
“Which unit is responding to the signal thirty-two on Challen Ave?” Jack asked.
“Three-fifty-one has the lead.”
“Roger. Three-fifty-one...Charlie two-twelve.” Jack said into the mike as he ran yet another stop light. He glanced at his speedometer and saw that it hovered near one hundred miles per hour. He was glad that it was still early morning or he would never be able to make this kind of time. “Three-fifty-one...Charlie two-twelve.” He said again.
“Charlie two-twelve.” A male voice responded.
“What’s your ten-fifty-two at the signal thirty-two?” Jack said, as he asked about the officer’s estimated time of arrival.
“About a minute. Over.”
“You call me when you get there. I want to know what’s going on.”
“Yes, sir, Detective. Over.” At least with his radio, Jack would be in touch, even though it would be another three or four minutes before he could get there. Hopefully he could keep up his current rate of speed, and cut that down to maybe two minutes. Suddenly the radio barked again.
“Three-fifty-one.” The male officer said.
“Three-fifty-one.” Dispatch replied.
“I’m ten-ninety-seven at the signal thirty-two.” The officer said, as he signaled that he had arrived at the scene.
“Ten four, three-fifty-one. Do you need back-up? Charlie two-twelve is in route.”
“Negative. Everything looks quiet from the outside. I’m going in.” Jack fought his way through the few cars that were on the road, and almost crashed into an obviously drunk driver as the other car weaved back and forth. He knew he should have stopped, or at the very least called for a unit to stop the driver, but at the moment, he had but one single priority. “Three-fifty-one.” The officer said.
“Three-fifty-one.” Dispatch replied.
“Ten-thirty-four to twelve.”
“Roger, three-fifty-one.” Dispatch replied, as Jack reached for his radio and switched to channel twelve. He wanted to follow the conversation. His he
art sunk slightly as he finally turned off the main street and into the subdivision where he had once lived with Tracey. He was only a few blocks away now, but when the officer signaled that he wanted to change channels, he knew it was bad news, no matter how you looked at it.
“Three-fifty-one.” The officer said now broadcasting on channel twelve.
“Three-fifty-one.” Dispatch replied.
“I need a ten-seventy-one.” He said, as he requested an ambulance. “We have several signal sevens.”
“NO!” Jack screamed inside his car.
Chapter 17
BackTrek Page 16
