by Ammar Habib
I take the cloth from him and follow his instructions.
“Cuts aren’t too deep and will heal in time. Doesn’t look like you need to go through the fun of stitches.”
“I’m in tears already.”
He slightly smiles at the sarcasm. “You’ve had quite a day it seems.”
“I hope not all of them are this exciting. When I woke up today, I was not planning on getting nearly killed so that some punks could score an easy couple of hundred bucks.”
“Rest assured, it was not a day wasted. None of those three will be seeing freedom anytime soon. Assault of an officer with deadly force and possession of over ten kilos of cocaine is enough to put anybody away for a long time.”
“Hopefully long enough to make them rethink their lives.” I glance down for a moment. The vision of Miller’s knife nearly cutting me down flashes in my mind’s eye. He was willing to gut me just for a few bucks. What kind of man does that? “It was a bit too close for comfort.”
The officer reassuringly puts his hand on my shoulder. “You made it out and that’s what’s important. Not every officer I’ve known who’s gotten into a scuffle like this is around anymore to say the same thing.”
I’m not entirely sure how to respond to that. Looking at the man’s badge, I read his golden name tag. “Thanks for the help, William.”
“Make sure you let a doctor have a good look at you.”
“I will.”
He takes a step back and turns away as I rise to my feet. I make my way over to the officer who took down my report. He’s standing next to his car’s open door. Seeing me coming, he politely smiles.
“What’s the word back at the station?” I ask.
“They’re all glad you made it, Ana.”
I take another glance at the scene all around me. Blue-clad officers are all over the grounds as they each carry out their assignments. There are plenty of officers here, but I notice the one who is missing. I’m sure the station paged my oh-so-amazing partner and told him what had happened. But, not entirely surprisingly, he’s failed to show up even after hearing his partner was attacked.
“Does Bryan know?”
The officer nods. “I spoke to him a moment ago. Told him everything that happened.”
“What did he say?”
“Well…” He hesitates, looking away for a quick second. “He was upset.”
“About what?”
“About you—well, as he put it… about you not following protocol and costing the entire department time and resources. He said you were ‘reckless’.”
“Reckless?”
After a pause, the officer slightly nods.
Not exactly the best beginning of a partnership.
***
Outside of the soreness, my body and mind are fully functioning by the time I return home to change out of my clothes and take a shower, not wanting to show up at the police station looking like a post-fight kick boxer. But I don’t bother to stop by the hospital before arriving back at the station. That can wait. The bruises and cuts on my legs are covered by a pair of jeans, leaving only the marks on my arms and head visible.
I aggressively push through the station’s front doors and make my way to my office. I get a few stares, but nobody says anything to me and I disregard their gawking. I am only focused on one thing—or to be more exact, one person.
As I continue down the corridor, somebody comes in my path only a few feet away. Mark Davidson steps out of his office, obviously for a stretch, but stops when he sees the cuts on my face.
“What happened to—”
Without a word, I forcefully shove him out of my way. He staggers back into his office, barely able to keep himself from falling over. I don’t even look his way or hesitate as I move passed him. My office door is slightly open, signaling that somebody is in there, and my gut tells me just who it is.
Bryan is sitting across from my vacant chair looking down at his hand. He was apparently waiting for me. But his head slowly turns to face me as I loudly slam the door shut. His eyes don’t show any concern or happiness to see me alive. However, before I can say a word, he’s the one to speak. “We lost Guel.”
For a moment, confusion replaces my anger. “…what?”
“You were supposed to meet Miller first before making contact with Guel. We’ve lost Guel and Lord knows when we’ll get another crack at him.” He pauses. “Or did you forget all that?”
There’s an awkward silence in the room. But it is just the calm before I explode. “I almost died out there and all you’re concerned with is some punk!? What the hell is wrong with you—”
Bryan suddenly stands up. He towers above me and that stops me in my tracks. “Rule number one, Ana: never lose your gun. Rule number two: never let the suspect choose the meeting point. You broke both rules today and that’s why you almost got killed.”
For a moment, I’m at a loss of words.
“You should have been the one calling the shots, Ana, not Miller. You knew that, but you still went along with his meeting point. Lucky for you, God was on your side today and has given you another chance. I suggest you make the most of it and learn from today. Because your mistake has ensured that another dealer is still out on the streets. A dealer who has already destroyed too many lives. And how many more lives will Guel destroy before we get another chance at him? How much has your mistake cost the people you swore to protect?”
I have no answer.
Bryan slowly walks by me. “So don’t come in here blaming anybody but yourself for what happened out there. If you’re looking for somebody to be angry at, then look in the mirror.”
Before I can even register what he said, Bryan is gone.
***
After his departure, I’m speechless for a little while. With Bryan’s words in my mind, I go to the hospital like suggested and have the doctor take a look at me. But even there, I can’t think of anything other than what Bryan said. I hardly even catch anything the doctor says.
Eric—the doctor—cleans a few of my cuts more thoroughly than William did. But like William’s prediction, he says I don’t need any stitches and sends me on my way as quickly as I arrived. I’m surprised he doesn’t ask me how I received the beating. I drive back to the station almost on autopilot. By the time I get there, the emotions of anger cast a shadow on Bryan’s words.
I don’t know what Captain Scott was doing before I barge into his office. He may have been on the phone with the sheriff himself, but I can care less at the moment. I open his door without knocking before I commandingly close it behind me. He immediately looks up from his paperwork.
Cap politely smiles, unfazed. “You’ve had quite the day, Ana. I’m glad to see you visited a doctor.”
“Sir, we need to talk.”
Hearing my tone, he slightly leans back in his chair. “What about, Ana?”
“Bry—my partner. I don’t think it’s going to work out.”
“And why’s that?”
“He’s…”
“Uncaring?” His calm tone hints that he expected this visit.
I slightly nod.
“He’s been like that for some time now.” Cap now fully leans back in his chair, but keeps his eyes on me. “It tends to happen to people who go through what he did. I’ve seen it happen to countless officers like him. But I did think that you’d last at least a week before coming to me.”
I almost don’t want to ask the next question. “…what happened?”
“You should go and see for yourself. I’d advise you to take a look at his office and then at his hand. See if your deductive skills can figure it out. If you still want a new partner after that, I’ll see what I can do.”
“…alright.”
“You’ve been through a lot for your first week.” Cap returns to his original posture. “Take next week off if you want. Maybe you can reassess if this is the type of career you really want.”
Not entirely knowing what to say, I turn around to leave.
&
nbsp; “And Ana…”
I look back at Cap. “Yes, sir?”
“Next time: knock.”
***
The captain’s words remain at the forefront of my mind when I finally make it home. The low sun is almost touching the horizon as it paints the sky in a mix of red and orange. Walking in through my apartment’s front door, I can’t focus on anything as I replay Cap’s parting advice. A good part of my mind is rethinking my career choice. And by rethinking, I mean seriously considering the options here.
When I went to Bryan’s office after speaking to the captain, the room appeared vacant and the door was securely locked. Turns out that Bryan had just left to meet some informants and would be gone for a while. I had no interest in waiting around for him.
Finally back in the confines of my apartment, I no longer need to keep up this alpha female act. The adrenaline that pumped through my veins is all but gone, leaving me completely exhausted. The pain and soreness is at its worst now and rings from every corner of my body. Entering the larger bedroom that holds the web of facts, I slump onto the floor like a sack of dead weight. My elbows rest on my thighs as my head hangs low. My gaze focuses on the maze hanging from the wall opposite of me. I focus on the photo of my sister at the center of it.
After a long moment, my eyes close and I see the vile face that tried to kill me. I smell the foul odor that radiated off Miller and his wolves. At first, there is absolute peace in the room as my mind’s eye witnesses the fight once more.
But it is merely the serenity before the storm.
Suddenly, my body begins to uncontrollably tremble as the scene is again replayed in my mind. Goosebumps form all across my arms and legs, and it is not from the cold. Before I even realize it, my eyes swell with tears and streams are flooding down my cheeks. My irrepressible sobs fill the apartment, loud enough to be heard outside. And the more I cry, the more I realize just how close I was to dying. I finally realize what really happened.
In this moment, sitting here all alone in this empty room with no companion other than my thoughts and the web of facts that has driven me for so long, I finally realize that only a few inches separated me from death at the hands of Miller’s knife. I realize that another human being tried to kill me. Another person deemed my life less valuable than a wad of dirty, green paper.
And he was willing to murder me in cold blood for it.
No matter how hard I try, I cannot stop weeping or quivering as fear courses through my every vein. It goes into my very heart and drowns out anything else. I can’t do anything to stop it. I’m powerless… completely powerless. It’s as if I’m the little girl again.
The little girl who just learned that her sister was dead. The little girl who lost her best friend. The little girl who suddenly felt all alone.
Except… this time, I really am alone.
Chapter 4
The Vow
Like the nights I have come to know, I spend this one alone. But the chaos in my mind keeps slumber far from me until an hour before sunrise. And when dawn arrives, I have all but forgotten about the family get-together. Fortunately, my mother calls me an hour before it starts. Sleeping on the long couch, I almost fall off when the loud ringing suddenly cuts through the silent room.
The phone call wakes me up from a hazy dream. Luckily, by the time I answer the phone I am able to hide my weariness and make her believe that I was in the process of getting ready. She buys the lie. Hanging up, I make a quick dash to the bathroom.
The first thing I check are the cuts on my face. To no surprise, they’re still there and can be seen just as easily as the day before. There’s no possible way to explain them without arousing suspicion. But by casually letting my long hair down, the cuts are covered up. Thank God for that. I take a quick shower to freshen up, hoping to smell like a lady who has a desk job and not one who spends most of her hours out in the Texas heat. The cuts still sting a little when the water crashes against them, but I ignore the pain.
I wear a pair of white jeans and a long-sleeve pink tunic to cover all the small cuts and bruises on my arms and legs. Had the coming day’s festivities been out at the park instead of at my parents’ home, these clothes would be hell to wear. One final look in the mirror confirms that everything needing to be concealed is.
And with that, I am off.
***
My parents own a nice-sized home. Some may even call it a mansion. Daddy came to this country as an 18-year-old man with hardly a cent to his name and just a single suitcase of clothes. He was the true blue immigrant with nothing to claim his own except for the American Dream. He started off as a construction worker. When he had enough money, he married my mom and brought her over to the states. It was not long after then that he started his own lawn care business around the time my sister, Angela, was born. And by the time I was brought into this world, his business had expanded to include two car washes, a motel, and a couple of convenience stores.
I’m the last one to arrive. As I drive past the open gate at the end of the long driveway, I see my brother’s bright golden Lexus already on the driveway. It’s parked right behind my mom’s red Cadillac and my father’s jet black BMW.
The home is by far the biggest in the neighborhood. And in an area like this, that is certainly saying something. Standing three-stories high, the red-bricked building is visible for miles around. It’s surrounded on each side by two acres before the property ends. Ancient trees provide plenty of shelter on the lot. In one tree is a tree house I grew up playing in. Tied to the thick branch of another tree is a set of swings that my sister would push me on.
The long driveway goes from the gate to the estate’s front door. There are two white pillars on either side of the large front door that hold up the second floor’s balcony. The white window shutters and white designs on the exterior of the house complement the red bricks perfectly. This place is the definition of a million-dollar home.
As my vehicle comes to a halt, the back of my mind is worrying that my disguise won’t hold up and that my parents will see right through my lies if they start asking questions. Or even worse, they’ll catch sight of my wounds. Stepping out of my vehicle, I make my way to the heavy wooden door. It opens before I even ring the doorbell. Standing on the other side is my sweet ‘ole mother. My mom is as nice as they come. Quick to forgive and slow to blame. She didn’t speak any English when she first came to the states and had to put up with a lot because of it. I imagine that those experiences gave her such a tolerant heart.
The first thing she does is envelop me in a hug. It’s the type of embrace only a mother can give. And without even thinking, I reciprocate the gesture.
“Hey, baby.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting, mama.”
She seems to hold me for a long time. Long enough for our heartbeats to almost sync with one another. But, she finally lets go and I’m able to enter the house. “Everyone’s out back.”
I follow her into the foyer. There is a circular staircase that leads to the second and third floors. The wood of the railings and steps matches the floor’s polished wood. To the left is a home office and to the right is one of the house’s two dining rooms. But straight ahead is the back door.
Within moments of me stepping in, a small brown mutt comes charging around the corner and towards me, barking as it does. Its curly fur bounces in the air as it runs full speed ahead. For a moment, I think that it will ram right into me. But it suddenly stops at my feet. With a quick sniff of my toe, it briskly turns around and trots off without a second glance.
“Glad to see you too, Chica,” I mutter with a smile.
The backdoor leads to a large, covered patio. There are plenty of black, comfortable lounge chairs out here—close to twelve or so. To go along with the chairs are several matching tables. Not far from the patio rests a large swimming pool surrounded by mosquito netting. Around the pool are a few pool chairs.
Even from inside, I heard the Spanish music blasting through
the outside speakers. It’s a family tradition for cookouts, and I doubt my brother can even operate the grill without these melodies. As soon as I step outside, I hear Ramon’s voice. “Hola, hija.”
“Hey, bro.”
Ramon stands behind the grill at the edge of the covered patio. With a spatula in hand, he’s dressed in a pair of worn-out shorts, flip-flops, and a stained t-shirt. He’s even slowly wiggling to the music as he mouths the words. He looks like the stereotypical Mexican cook. He’s a big fella with an even bigger heart. Whenever I see him, I am reminded of how being a minister is the perfect job for him.
I haven’t even been here for two seconds when my sister-in-law seemingly comes out of nowhere to give me a hug. “So good to see you, Ana.”
“You too, Laura.” I see my dad sitting on a lounge chair not far from my brother. “How are you doing, dad?”
“Seeing you makes my day brighter every time.” He smiles at me as he reaches into the cooler at his feet.
“You’re as charming as ever.”
Daddy tosses a can of cold soda towards me and I easily catch it with one hand. “Saved that one just for you.”
I take a seat at the table across from him and am joined on either side by my mother and sister-in-law. The covering protects us from the endless early summer heat, while the fans keep our little sanctuary cool. But the aromas of the burgers and hot dogs Ramon is grilling are to die for.
“It’s only been a few weeks since you’ve moved out and you’ve already lost weight,” my mom almost immediately comments.
“I don’t have anyone with me to make me overeat.”
She lightly pushes my shoulder in jest. “It’s better for a person to be healthy than skinny.”
I look over at my dad. “I think daddy’s the proof of that.”
Laura and my mom stifle their laughs, but Ramon doesn’t hold back as he continues working at the grill. My dad looks over at him and speaks with a grin plastered to his face. “You’re in the same boat as me so I wouldn’t be laughing too hard over there.”
