The Forging

by Jeffrey Hancock

  “What value is the word of a liar? Under oath, you swore you saw Detective Ralph Daves, a fine officer, and close friend, weeks after he died. I think you made a deal with the creep Galos. So, what was your take from the drugs he stole?”

  “I can’t explain what happened, but I am no liar, and I keep my word.”

  Detective Hawkins pulled his partner away from me, and they whispered with each other for a few moments. When they were done with their confab, Frank said, “Take the cuffs off him, Joe.” Joe spun me around again and unlocked the cuffs.

  I turned back and rubbed my wrists. Detective Hauser had been a wee bit too enthusiastic about putting those cuffs on me. “Thank you.” It looks like I won this round, but there is no need to rub Houser’s nose in it. “As I said earlier, I give you my word. I’ll talk to you before the day is out. Say about four?” The detectives walked back to their car.

  As they got in, Frank said, “Four o’clock. Sharp.”

  Joe added, “Don’t make us come looking for you.” The doors to the sedan slammed shut. Then they drove off.

  What was that all about? They can’t think I am anything but a victim of a vengeful nut job. I looked up at the video camera and made a mental note about finally fixing it for Mrs. Blake. I am surprised the bluff worked. Not being able to lie convincingly is why I never play poker. I took a deep breath and sat in my car and drove to my father-in-law’s house.

  Ringing the bell at John’s door, I immediately heard my darling Mo gleefully scream, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.” A shadow fell across the peephole. I heard both locks on the door being unlocked. John opened the door and motioned for me to come in. He does not look well at all. He is bent more than usual, and there are dark circles under his eyes. The creases in his face are more pronounced too. I don’t think he got a wink of sleep last night. I felt guilty I had been able to get a few short hours of rest.

  “Come in. Come in. Take a chair. That’s what they’re for.”

  Moiraine pushed by her grandpa and wrapped her arms around me. She hugged me long and hard. She is scared. I don’t blame her. I’m scared too. “When is mommy coming home?”

  “Just as soon as the doctors say she can.” I pulled Mo off me and maneuvered over to John’s couch. His home is always in shipshape order. With all the fine handcrafted furniture conveying a warm feeling of comfort. The coffee table has several photo albums open over it. John started flipping them closed as I sat down.

  “I was showing Mo some pictures of her mommy when she was a little girl.” As he straightens up the albums, I could see his eyes start to well up. “Darn allergies acting up.” John is a man of the old school. You don’t show emotions at least not to other men. He pretended not to be hurting, and I pretended to believe it was allergies. “Has there been any word yet from the doctors?” He asked as he walked out of the living room and into another part of the house with his arms full of the photo albums.

  “Nothing yet, but you know what they say no news is good news.” Clichés and platitudes are things I say when I don’t know what to say.

  John returned with a wooden box a little bigger than a cigar box. He set the box down on the coffee table and sat down in one of the leather wingback chairs. He sat on the edge of the chair. “Mo Honey, why don’t you get some of the drawing things you keep here and draw your mommy a picture to cheer her up.”

  “That’s a great idea, Grandpa.” Moiraine stood and ran over to the large china hutch. She opened a drawer, pulled out some paper and crayons, and began to work on her masterpiece. Despite how I feel, I smiled. I noticed John is smiling too. Little girls, if anyone tells you there is no magic in this crazy world of ours, remind them of little girls.

  “Nate, this isn’t easy for me to say. But I wanted you to know some things before it’s too late to say them. I’m sure it’s no surprise to you, but when you and Char first started dating, I didn’t like you.” We both chuckled. “My first impression of you was of … well, let’s say I didn’t think you were right for Charlene. I didn’t believe anyone was right for her to tell the truth. Over the years you proved my first impression of you was wrong. You’re a worthy man. I couldn’t have hoped for a better man to marry my little girl or to be the father of my granddaughter.”

  My God! We are having a moment here. I felt a swelling in my chest and a lump in my throat. “John, I don’t know what …”

  “No. No. Let me finish. It wasn’t meant for my Marlene and me to have a son. But if we had had a son, I like to think he would have been like you. So, I want you to have this.” He motioned to the box. “It is in my will you are to get this, but in light of what happened yesterday, I want you to have it now. Go on now open it.”

  Reaching over, I picked up the box. It is warm to the touch. The box is made of a hand-polished walnut deep and rich. I lifted the lid, and inside was a 45-caliber pistol. Déjà vu all over again. In my reoccurring dreams of Mr. Psychopath, this gun had been a major player in most of them. John didn’t strike me as the kind of man to own a pistol. It has been well cared for. It has the dull sheen of recently being oiled. I picked it up … Flash.

  My heart is racing. I am on the ground, trying not to make a sound. Next to me is some poor Joe who had bought it. In the confusion of the firefight, I lost my rifle when they overran our position. Looking around, I couldn’t see where this guy had dropped his rifle, but I saw he still had a sidearm. Quietly I pulled it free of the holster. Thanks, buddy, I owe you one. The sound of three or four people moving through the bush reached my ears. I tried playing possum. If it is our guys, I am alright. If it is the North Koreans, they might take me for dead. I heard the rustle of dry grasses as someone moved through them. Oh God, they’re North Koreans, their whispering gave them away. A few more footsteps, then more whispering. They are taking the boots off the Joe next to me. I started to feel them tugging on my boots. They started to roll me over. As soon as my hand is clear, I’ll start firing. Now! I can’t see. I just fired my weapon at any movement…

  What the hell? I started to feel drained and weak. My heart is trying to pound its way out of my chest. Suddenly I am shaking and cold.

  “Are you all right, son? You look like you’re going to sick-up.” John asked. He stood and went to the kitchen. He brought me a glass of water. I drank. I am surprised I even managed to get some of it in my mouth. My hands are shaking so badly.

  “Thanks. Give me a minute. I guess what’s happened has finally gotten to me,” I lied. I couldn’t tell John what I experienced. He would think I’m nuts. It happened to me, and I think my set of encyclopedias is missing a few volumes. After a few minutes of trying to lower my heart rate, I turned my focus back to the gun.

  After I pulled back the slide, I checked the chamber for a round. It is empty. With the safety off, I dry fired the gun. The action is smooth. It both feels strange and familiar at the same time. I have never picked up a pistol before, yet I knew what to do.

  “I see you know your way around one of those babies. Good. If you take proper care of it, it will take care of you. You see this gun saved my life in Korea. It may save your life or the lives of people you love.” John turned and looked at Moiraine for a minute, “I hope you won’t need it. But if you decide to use it, son, don’t let anything worry you about it. You see I took this off a fallen soldier. I’m not exactly sure why I kept the gun, but every year on the anniversary of that day I take it out to the desert and fire off a couple of rounds. Then I break it down and give it a good cleaning. It’ll get the job done. Be sure not to lose it because there’s no way anyone who finds it would be able to return it to you. If you get my meaning.” John looked me in the eye with an intensity I had never seen before. John stood from his chair and walked over to where Moiraine is drawing. A smile came to his face as he looked at her artwork. He turned back to me and said, “A man has a right to protect his family against the evil in this world. And if what you tell me is true and I have no reason to doubt you, that man is pure evil.”


  I put the 45 back into its box and closed the lid. “It saved your life. You’ll have to tell me the story sometime.”

  “No, son, I don’t,” John said with finality in his tone. He sat back down in his chair. “It’s a hard thing taking a man’s life. Whether you answered the call of your country, protecting the lives of your family, or preserving your own life, no matter the reason, you are never quite the same after. I wasn’t.” We sat there for a moment, looking at each other. The only sound in the air is the scratching of my daughter’s crayons on the paper.

  “Can I have some juice please?” Moiraine asked as she continued her coloring.

  The question broke the tension. “Why of course you can,” John said. He stood and went to the kitchen to fulfill my daughter’s request. “While I’m up, can I get you anything, Nate?”

  “No, thank you, John. I have some things to see to before I head over to the hospital. Can you keep an eye on Mo for a while more? If this is too much or you need some time for yourself, I can make other arrangements.”

  “Oh, God, heavens no. It’s no trouble at all. She has been a great comfort to me.” I stood as John put a glass of juice in front of Moiraine. She grabbed the glass and took a big drink. I made my way to the front door. “As soon as Mo finishes her artwork, we’ll be heading over to the hospital ourselves. I guess we’ll see you there when you are done with your errands.”

  “It will most likely be a couple of hours until I get there. Bye Mo, I’m leaving.”

  I heard her running to the front door. “Huggies, kissies, kissies, huggies.” She jumped into my arms as I bent over to give her a hug and a kiss. I felt strength filling me as her love flowed. I need strength now more than ever. I said my goodbyes to Mo and John. I turned and walked out the door and waited to hear it close and locks to engage. I got in my car and started her up. Before I started to pull away, I noticed Moiraine looking out of the window watching me. As I tapped the horn, she smiled and waved.

  The drive to my appointment was uneventful and quiet. I kept both my internal iPod and the car’s radio silent. I needed the quiet to empty my mind of all the turmoils in my life. I finally arrived at my destination. I exited my car and made the walk to the building entrance. It has been quite some time since I had been here last, it is exactly as I remember it.

  I made all the arrangements. The appointment took a couple of hours; however, it seems as though it was over in a few blessedly fleeting moments. I am finished with my errand, so I headed to the hospital. When I entered my wife’s room, both John and my daughter were there holding vigil. “How’s she doing?” I asked as I walked to her bedside.

  “Nothing new to report, but I’m worried. Charlene should have woken up,” John whispered to me to keep his worries from Mo. “Still, she is holding on. It must mean something.” John grabbed hold of Moiraine’s hand and said, “Come on, Bug. These old legs of mine need to be taken out for a walk once in a while.” They exited the room so I could have a few minutes alone with Charlene. I brushed her hair with my fingers. Tears started rolling down my face. I cried silently for my wife. Time, since the events of yesterday, had not passed at its normal rate. What felt like a few minutes were, in fact, hours and when events dragged on for an eternity, only moments had passed. I don’t know how long I was there watching her and crying, but I was interrupted by a cough. I quickly wiped my eyes and turned. Dr. Hazer is standing in the doorway.

  “What’s up, Doc?” I could slap my mouth for letting that one slip out. Humor in adversity is my fallback position. I hope I don’t fall back any further. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist myself. How is my wife doing?”

  “Well, all appears fine. Considering all she has been through; her vitals are fairly strong. I am concerned she hasn’t regained consciousness. I would like to run a CT scan. After the bullet hit her, the fall to the ground may have given her head a jolt. There is no external injury to her head, but I want to cover all the bases.”

  “Whatever you want, Doc. Show me where to sign.” Dr. Hazer handed me a clipboard with a form on it. I didn’t even give it a cursory read. I put my Nathan Alexander Embers by the x. “Is there anything else you need from me like blood, a kidney, my left nut? If I have extra of anything she needs, all you need do is ask for it. Even if I don’t have an extra, you can get it from me.”

  Dr. Hazer gave an amused little smile. “Why don’t we hold all those in reserve.” I returned the clipboard and form with my signature on it. The doctor left without further comment.

  Alone with my wife again. It is quiet except for barely perceivable sounds from the other rooms and the nurses’ station. “It’s all my fault. This would never have happened to you if I hadn’t pushed them to prosecute mister bleach-blond psychopath. Why did I push so hard? I know because I wanted to be vindicated after my cowardice. Because I wanted to prove to myself, I made the right choice in not fighting. Could I have been more wrong? I should have fought him. Defeat and death most assuredly would have been mine, but it would have all been done and over with.” I could hear Char’s voice in my head as clear as if she was talking.

  “Nathan, you are an idiot. Of course, you did the right thing. You gave Moiraine and me over two more years with you. You had no idea he was going to assault our family. Be at peace, Husband Mine.” I even imagined her taking hold of my hand the way she would when I have a troubled mind.

  As I am leaving, I take a look at Mo’s artwork. It is a rendition of her mom lying in a hospital bed with a nurse by her bedside. Cute. I have to hand it to Moiraine with everything she has been through in the last twenty-four hours she has held up like a real trooper.

  I pulled out my cell phone and texted Char’s father, “the cops want to talk to me. I said I would meet them at 4. Take care of Mo.” I sent the text on its way and left my wife’s room. The trip to the police station will be another silent journey I would rather not have make.

  I arrived at the station with time to spare. I told the desk sergeant I am here to give a statement to Detectives Hawkins and Houser. He picked up his phone and buzzed the detectives, “He’s here.” There was a pause, he said, “Okay.” The sergeant told me to wait, and someone would be right with me.

  About five minutes passed before another uniform came into the waiting area and asked, “Nathan Embers?” I thought he was going to lead me back to the detectives’ desks, but instead, he put me in what I guessed is an interrogation room with the obligatory crappy set of chairs and an old metal table. The room was painted in a World War II-era faded olive green. There is a two-way mirror on the wall opposite of one chair. It is cleverly disguised as a mirror. The desk sergeant told to sit down. In an upper corner is a video camera with a glowing red light on it. I blew it a kiss. The room has an odor. It is a mix of old sweat and vomit. After about ten minutes of what I can only assume is meant to have me sweat it out, I stood from my chair and approached the two-way mirror. I fogged up the mirror with my breath and wrote in the condensation “Can we get on with it? Love, Nathan,” then sat back down. My little act of rebellion got an immediate response.

  In walked the men of the hour. “You’re late,” Detective Hawkins announced.

  “We don’t like to be kept waiting.” Detective Houser chimed in.

  I sighed. “Okay, guys, somewhere along the line we got on the wrong track here. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, but if it gets us moving in the right direction, I apologize for my part in all this.” I motioned with my hands to the room. I met their gazes in turn. We all sat there looking at each other for a couple of beats.

  “Let’s go over what happened at the corner,” Hawkins said as he broke the silence.

  I repeated the statement I gave the cops on the scene. All over again, every sensation thought, and fear slapped me around again then kicked me while I am down. My hand even began to cramp with the memory of putting a stopper in the hole in my wife’s heart.

  “Nice touch the part where you said you were afraid for the kids. I’m sure it
will play well with the jury.” Houser said. “Now that you have gotten to recite your well-rehearsed statement, I want the truth.”

  “It is the truth absolute and unedited.”

  It is Hawkins turn to talk again. “It isn’t how Mark tells it.”

  My heart raced. “You have him? Here? The bastard tried to kill Charlene. She’s not out of the woods yet. She still hasn’t regained consciousness. I want him put in the darkest dankest hole of a cell you have.” He is going to pay.

  Hawkins interrupted me “He says everything was your idea from stealing the drugs out of the pharmacy to blowing the trial so he would get off if he were caught. Said you masterminded the whole job. The poor kid got mixed up with the wrong guy if you ask me. Tell us the real story, but this time, none of your fancy memory tricks. I want you to use different words.”

  They want me to impersonate a thesaurus the smartest of all dinosaurs. “I can’t do it.”

  “Why not?” asked Houser.

  “My memory doesn’t work like that. I can give you the gist of what happened, but there are no details. It’s like reading a dull story. Believe me, I wish I could remember the way everyone else does. It would make my life less painful.”