The Tracker

by John Hunt

  Earl nodded, “Should be here soon.”

  Earl’s phone rang and he answered it and turned his back to everyone in the room. Owen studied Taylor and watched the chest rise and fall. Taylor’s face glistened with sweat and he was as pale as the white suit he wore. They should get a blanket on him to prevent shock and probably un-cuff that hand. That would lessen the pressure the most. He was nervous to do that though. Better to wait for the ambulance. What if he woke up and he was un-cuffed? Owen had seen what Taylor could do.

  Owen went to one knee beside Taylor’s head and put a hand on his forehead. Sweaty, but cold. Definitely should get a blanket on him. He lifted his hand away from Taylor’s forehead and then Taylor opened his eyes and Owen saw the impossible. Taylor’s eyes were all black with stars swirling in them, the void of space in a gaze. The dark orbs found Owen and Taylor smiled. Blood covered his teeth.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Owen said and pushed back. He tripped over Taylor’s outstretched legs and fumbled and while trying to regain his balance he bumped into Earl.

  Earl spun, saw Owen’s face and turned to Taylor, immobile and unconscious on the floor.

  Earl said into the phone, “I’ll get back to you later,” and hung up. “You alright Owen?”

  “He’s awake. I saw it…uh, him. I saw his eyes. He smiled at me.” Owen swallowed hard. He felt queasy, like sharp little stones were rattling around in his stomach. He couldn’t understand what he had seen. Couldn’t even place it anywhere in his head where it would fit, where his brain could say, that happened, that was real. His hands shook and he couldn’t take his eyes off Taylor. He lay in the same position as before. Like he hadn’t even moved or opened his eyes and maybe he hadn’t. Owen had to take that into consideration and if so, if he imagined it, what did that mean for him?

  Earl said, “Well, his eyes are closed now. It’d be tough to fake unconsciousness when your arm is like that though. Probably some weird reflex thing.” Noticing Owen’s expression he asked, “Are you okay, man?”

  Owen didn’t take his eyes from Taylor as he said, “I don’t know.” Owen stood, forced himself to look away from Taylor and stuffed his shaking hands into his pockets. He couldn’t tell Earl what he had seen, not now or maybe not ever. He needed time to mull it over, process it first, decide if what he had seen had been the tired imaginings of a man who had worked too many hours of overtime and sat for hours listening to the story of a mass murderer. What had happened? Did he get sucked into Taylor’s story? Was that all it had been? Taylor believed the story and so he told it like it were fact and not a design to get out of going to jail for murder. To Taylor, it had been real and he had conveyed the reality of it to Owen. And it got to him. It must have because what he had seen couldn’t have been real. Wait. He could review the interview video later, see if it happened. He could decide what to do about it then. Right now, he had to make sure Taylor didn’t die because looking at him, Taylor didn’t look good at all.

  Owen swallowed and said, “We should get a blanket on him. He, uh, was cold, real cold. Probably going into shock.”

  Earl studied Owen and said, “Okay. We can do that.” Turning to the doorway Earl said, “Helen? Can you get one of those emergency blankets for this guy?”

  She said, “I’m on it,” and disappeared from the doorway.

  Earl said, “What’s taking the ambulance so long?”

  Owen said, “They’ll be here soon. But listen, I think it would be a good idea to cuff this guy to the stretcher, just in case he is faking. And I want a uniformed cop in the ambulance with him and one following to meet up at the hospital.”

  “I was going to send two cops anyways. He is our prisoner so that’s standard procedure. The ambulance crew might not be impressed with cuffing an unconscious man to their stretcher though. You know how they can get.”

  “Yeah, well, at this point I could give a flying fuck what they think. This guy is dangerous. Real dangerous.”

  Earl said, “Alright, alright. Man, who shit in your Corn Flakes?”

  Owen exhaled and said, “I know. Sorry. Been up a long time. I, uh, got a bad feeling about this guy.”

  “Hell, everyone does. He murdered four people.”

  -21-

  Dead weight…

  The firefighters arrived first with heavy bags slung over their shoulders. They wrapped a neck brace on Taylor and checked his vitals. The ambulance showed up shortly after and couldn’t get their stretcher into the tiny room and had to leave it in the hallway. The firefighters and one of the ambulance crew discussed how to get Taylor out. One of the paramedics kneeled on the floor by Taylor checking his vitals and looking for injuries other than the obvious rapidly purpling and swelling arm.

  With a disapproving frown, the older paramedic with a white halo of hair and yellow moustache said to the cops in the doorway, “Can one of you guys take the cuff off him? He’s unconscious and he won’t be using that arm anytime soon.”

  Earl nodded at Owen. Owen leaned over the paramedic and struggled to get his key into the hole. He had done this a thousand times in his career and it should have been a quick, routine movement. His hands acted as though this was the first time. After what felt like an interminable amount of time, he freed the hand. It dropped off the table and the older paramedic said to his partner, “Jessica? What do you think?” Owen thought she must be new and this was part of the training protocol using real-world practical experience.

  “He’s in shock. Unconscious. Fluctuating vitals. Broken forearm. We need to get him going.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking.” To the firefighters he said, “Can you help get him on the stretcher in the hallway?”

  A firefighter who looked like he squatted cars said, “No problem.”

  The paramedic said, “He’s dead weight and he’s a big boy. This could be tough. You guys have a spinal board? We could roll him on one of those and then at least we have handles to pick him up with.”

  “Yeah. I don’t think he’d fit on one but yeah.”

  “What do you think, then? Would it be easier without one?”

  “I think so. You have any spinal concerns though?”

  “No. The neck brace is more precautionary I’d say. One of your guys put it on right?”

  “Yeah. The cops said his head hit the wall on an angle so we thought we’d better get one on.”

  Owen listened to the conversation with an eye on Taylor. Had he seen what he thought he had? Jessica had lifted Taylor’s eyelids and from her reaction had seen nothing unusual. Owen flinched when she did it, expecting the black eyes, the blood grin with Taylor reaching up to twist her head off. His hand went to his waist to feel his gun only it wasn’t there. You don’t wear a gun during a video interview. He watched the struggle to pick up Taylor. He watched the big firefighter’s neck cord with veins as he lifted and heard him say “Crap” when they dropped his feet to the floor. It took six people to lift him and put him on the stretcher in the hallway. Still hard work even though they had lowered the stretcher to its lowest setting. Once on, they stood around Taylor, hands on hips, huffing and sweating. He heard another firefighter, a black woman with what appeared to be apples in her biceps say, “Dude must be four hundred pounds.”

  Owen responded but it sounded far away from him, like his own voice at the end of a tunnel saying, “Three hundred and sixty-six. We weighed him when he was arrested.” They turned to him, he was aware of all the eyes on him and knew he must either sound strange or look strange but he only had eyes for Taylor. He didn’t like Taylor leaving like this. He had a sensation in his stomach like it had been hollowed out. A headache pulsed behind his right eye. It didn’t feel right. Because of what he had seen. No, because what he had thought he’d see
n. The unreal turned real before him? Because it hadn’t been real. He knew that. It had to be the convincing manner Taylor had told the story, the hours Owen had been awake without sleep and an over active imagination. What if he was faking it? That arm, he couldn’t be faking his arm. Owen heard it snap and saw the bone pushing underneath the skin. No one could fake being unconscious with that injury. The Tracker doesn’t exist.

  Owen blurted out, “Make sure you cuff him to the stretcher. Both hands.”

  The older paramedic said, “Not on the one arm. It’s useless and I don’t want to injure it any more than it has been already.”

  Owen realizing the paramedic wasn’t only mad because he had walked in to find an unconscious man still cuffed to a steel table, he was thinking while flashing his beady accusatory eyes that Owen had something to do with it, had maybe even injured him and Owen tired and grumpy, opened his mouth to say something he’d immediately regret when Earl cut in and said, “That’s fine. One arm but we’re sending an officer with you in the ambulance. And a cruiser will be following behind.”

  “I expected that. No problem. We’ll make room for the officer.”

  When the paramedics had attached all the electrodes they needed and secured the arm, a uniform officer secured the cuff to Taylor’s right hand and to the metal railing of the stretcher. After they all filed down the hallway to the elevator, Earl and Owen left the interview room and went into Earl’s office.

  Earl said, “You good, Owen?”

  Owen, chewing on a nail and staring at the wall looked up at Earl and said, “Send two more cops. To meet them at the hospital. Four should be good. Four should be plenty.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “I mean it, Earl.”

  “Shit, Owen, you know that’s not up to me. That’s up to the uniform supervisor on the desk. If she’s got the resources to spare, she’ll send them. But look, it’s almost six in the morning, it can’t be that busy right?”

  “You gotta make her, Earl. We had four cops take him to the washroom for crying out loud.”

  “Yeah, when he was not unconscious. See the difference here? Jesus, Owen. What’s got you all riled up?”

  “I thought I saw something in there. In the interview room.”

  “What?”

  Owen couldn’t meet Earl’s eyes, knowing how crazy it would sound, how crazy it was and so when he spoke, he muttered the words into his chest. He said, “The Tracker.”

  Earl stared at Owen for some time, his mouth turned down with his flat-eyed cop stare measuring. He said, “You need to go home and get some sleep.”

  “No. I can’t right now. I need to know. I need to look over that interview again. I need to see it.”

  “See what? The fucking Tracker? Is this a real conversation we’re having right now?”

  Owen stared back.

  Earl shook his head, “Hey, Owen? It wasn’t a suggestion. Go home.”

  -22-

  The rookie pulls guard duty…

  Rajinder Grewal thought this was the best first night a new guy could ever have. Here he was, fresh out of police college, being assigned guard duty for someone famous! Not famous, more like infamous and in Rajinder’s estimation, that was so much better! His coach officer accepted the assignment with resignation. It was nearing the end of their shift and she knew they would be at the hospital for a long time before getting relieved. They were short staffed and although the night started out slow for calls, other than the Taylor arrest, the morning always picked up real quick. His coach, Samantha, kept hitting refresh on their computer terminal in the car and seeing the mounting calls of suicide attempts and motor vehicle collisions, she said to Rajinder, “We’re going to get fucked. You watch. We’re going to get it right in the ass. Man, would you look at these calls.”

  Rajinder didn’t get it at first. Why wouldn’t you want to do calls? That’s what they were paid for, right? Then he considered the fact Samantha had been on the job a lot longer and maybe the shine of it had worn off. By her words, he decided that the shine had probably worn off long ago. Then they got the call to attend the station for prisoner transport and she said, “See? Getting fucked with a fist full of sand, just like I said.” He didn’t reply because he wasn’t supposed to. New guys didn’t have opinions. They just did what they were told until they had been on long enough to give the gears to the next batch of rookies. The cycle of ridicule could continue and Rajinder could participate provided he passed all the subtle and not so subtle tests of fitting in. Keeping his ‘new guy’ opinion to himself was one of the not so subtle ones.

  They pulled into the station and saw an ambulance idling at the prisoner garage. They parked, walked into the front desk and through the back to the boss’s office. The detective from upstairs, Earl (Rajinder had only met him for a moment at the start of shift) had been in the Staff Sergeant’s office when they walked in. The Staff Sergeant, his boss, Olivia Barnes waved her hands at Earl and Rajinder heard her say, “I don’t have enough people to send four to the hospital, Earl. I just don’t.” She pointed at her computer terminal, “Look at the calls! Two people called in sick last night and right now, I have no one on the road. They are all tied up on calls. I can’t send anyone else!”

  Earl said, “Can you call some people out? Owen had all but begged me to get at least four cops guarding this guy. And I agree with him. This guy is dangerous, Liv.”

  “I am calling people out. Once I get someone to answer their fucking phone, I’ll have them come in and go directly to the hospital. I called the Tactical Unit supervisor but they were out of town doing their week long training session at the army base. They do it at this time every year but I forgot and was grumpily reminded by the good Sergeant. So I’m trying to get anyone to come in. Goddamn call display has ruined people answering their phones. That’s the best I can do and I’m doing it.”

  “That’s all I can ask, Liv.”

  Earl left the office, nodded at Rajinder, said hi to Samantha and entered the elevator. Samantha said, “Staff? We going with Taylor?”

  “Yeah. One in the ambulance and one following with the cruiser. Meet up at the hospital and stand guard on this guy. Do good notes. And if the guy wakes up, call in here and don’t talk to him unless he asks you for something. Even then, say little. Got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good. Now get outta here.”

  “On our way.”

  Before Samantha turned away the Staff said, “Oh and Samantha? Be careful. If Owen and Earl are nervous of this guy, there’s good reason.”

  “Yes, Staff.”

  ***

  Being the new guy, Rajinder had to ride in the ambulance but being the new guy, he didn’t see it as a bad thing. Until he saw Taylor. Climbing into the back (the back of his mind registered the antiseptic smell which always reminded him of his grandmother who had died of cancer in the hospital) he wondered how the guy had fit inside. He made the interior of the ambulance cramped. The stretcher didn’t accommodate his sheer size. One of Taylor’s hands could engulf Rajinder’s head. The metal railings on the side weren’t lifted. They were underneath Taylor’s shoulders because he couldn’t fit in between them. The right hand had been cuffed to the railing. The other arm lay across his broad chest, purple and swollen, with a white pulse clip on his index finger. The paramedic smiled at Rajinder’s expression and said, “Big dude, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a seat over there. You have to pull it down. See it?”

  “Yup.”

  “Good. Buckle up for safety.”

  Rajinder frowned, found the belt and clipped it on.

  Samantha stood at the back of the open
doors, gazing at Taylor with awe. She said, “You good, Raj? You want to switch places?”

  “No. I’m good. I can’t wait to tell my parents about this.”

  A smile ghosted Sam’s mouth and she nodded, “Okay. I’ll see you there.”

  Samantha closed the doors and the paramedic sat across from Taylor, monitoring the beeping machines, adjusted the pulse clip, grunted and wrote something on a clipboard. The paramedic banged on the front of the ambulance, two hard raps, and they chugged off towards the hospital with Rajinder’s knee rubbing against Taylor’s shoulder. A tight fit in here. He moved his knee away, nervous of the murderer but ramped up about this assignment. Rajinder excited about this excursion, couldn’t help but smile.

  -23-

  10-33…

  The ambulance lights lit up the storefronts as they passed. Street people, who had been up most of the night stealing bikes or rifling through unlocked cars parked in driveways, made their way to the local community centre to get a free breakfast. Rajinder saw these people through the back window as they drove. They always stopped, tense, watching the cop car following behind the ambulance and continued on their way when the cruiser passed without giving them any notice. Rajinder had spent most of the night getting acquainted with the street people. They liked Samantha and would chat with her if she stopped to say hi or see if they had a place to stay. Samantha told Rajinder it would be a good idea for him to get to know these people because you’ll see their faces a lot on videos of thefts and the detectives upstairs noticed officers who knew the guys on the street. Most times they needed to find someone for an interview and people with no income, no address and sometimes no family are really hard to find. If you could find them for the detectives, making their jobs easier, they remembered. Rajinder thought it made sense and he made an effort to remember the names of the people Samantha pointed out to him. He didn’t recognize most of the people except for the one guy rolling the nine hundred dollar, red Specialized bicycle. Samantha had been positive it had been stolen. They couldn’t prove it because if it had been stolen, the victim hadn’t noticed it yet or reported it so the bicycle wasn’t on the police system as stolen. From Samantha, he learned the guy would sell it fast to get a few quick bucks for crystal meth.