Foreword

There will be robberies, a few fist fights in local bars, a missing child that

has the city in an uproar, an insurance agent makes an

appearance to discuss discrepancies, new relationships form,

and Freddy prepares for the final reckoning.

Who will die? Who will be scared for their life?

This is about relationships coming about,

people helping people, friends helping friends.

To be sure, Freddy practices on a few people to “tune up” for sweet Janis.

Enjoy.

**********

Excerpt

Daniel Watson checked into Room 131-A.

He hadn’t planned to be so secretive or vague about his visit with Baker, but because of an unknown insurance policy recently found, and secretly hidden away for a very long time; he felt doing things this way, without a lot of fanfare, or just blurting out, “Guess what? There’s more money for you and you’ll never guess in a million years from who.”

Doing it this way would be the better way. Ease the anxiety as well as the surprise, or most likely; the shock.

Tomorrow, he would arrive at her office, and explain the near-fatal mistake made.

After all, Daniel Watson wasn’t a man for making mistakes. Twenty-seven years in the insurance field, and in all those years, he has never seen an error in reporting like this, ever. An error that resulted in both theft and fraud.

**********

Evil perpetually tends to disappear. Herbert Spencer (1820–1903)

If you fail under pressure, your strength is to small. Proverbs 24:10

Failure has never been an option. Everyone has a weakness. Once I find it, your mine.

Trust me, when I squeeze the trigger, the pressure of your life is but a

failed memory. And will I disappear? Not on your life. Freddy

**********

December 19th – 3:55 p.m.

“It’s not the same, but at least we have a roof over our heads again which is better than no roof at all.”

“Look at it this way, mom; new home, new start, with a new year around the corner.”

Baker winced at the words ‘new year’. She knew what was awaiting her when the new year would surface.

She just didn’t know when.

“You have a point, bub. At least one amazing thing came out of that fire.”

She looked at the top of a new Christmas tree they bought. Another real one with brand new ornaments hanging from its prickly limbs, new lights twinkling off and on, and tinsel again adorned in its silvery, glistening way.

“The angel from the tree, huh, mom?”

“That’s right. Somehow, when the blast hit, the force was so great, the angel shot out through the picture window before it had a chance to be engulfed by the flames.”

She thought over what Carl and Fire Marshall Jessup told her.

“It was pre-set on a trigger mechanism, whereby the second the door handle was twisted in any direction, it set off a pulse signal to the reactor which triggered a tiny relay box to set off the charge. It’s been noted there were, at minimum, twelve C-4 charges, three on each side of the house, approximately ten feet apart. It would be a surprise if anything inside your home were left undamaged,” said the Fire Marshall.

The angel was the only thing that survived and undamaged.

“J.B., if this was Freddy, he’s changed his M.O. Maybe he has someone else helping him. If not, he’s breaking away from the norm, but then again, I’m no mind-reader, but it seems he’s in a hurry to try to eliminate you.”

“Maybe, just maybe, Carl. He knows if he gets too close to me, I will bring him down. Maybe he’s trying to kill me via long-distance, so to speak.”

“One thing is certain; that blast killed Matthews and his team, just obliterated them. We were lucky just to find a few bits of bone and skin tissue just to make an Ident.”

Baker’s mind drifted to the night where her and her team and a few other officers crowded the space in Benny’s Pub on two different occasions. Each time to remember four men who gave their lives doing their job.

It was always in Benny’s that anyone who wished, could stand up and say fitting words of brotherhood, to talk about their partner, their friend.

Gone.

Taken away in the line of duty. Men never expecting one moment to be their last. Never to know what the next moment held. To be sure, each man and woman who fell doing their job knew the risks of being a cop. A good cop. It’s just that no cop knew when. Or how.

Then came the funerals. Eight good men within a few weeks. It was as if the Twenty-Second had a curse placed on it.

If Freddy had his way, there would be three more funerals. Two more dead cops, and Stevie.

Baker shook away the thought, thinking at least another good thing came out of all this; other than finding a new home (which they did as quickly as possible as living in a motel wasn’t Baker’s thing), and having it completely furnished just a few days before Christmas, which also was Satchell’s promotion to Captain. It was supposed to go to her, but she declined. When Captain Todd approached Ed, he refused the offer faster than she did.

And now, here she sat, Stevie by her side, home from school break, the first full day they were in their new home while Ed said he had errands to run, and he dropped them off with the keys to officially enter their new home.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time in the house. Ed and Baker spent the past week arranging and rearranging the furniture they purchased to fill the echoing void.

When you walk through the front door, the first thing you see is a spacious living-room, furnished with a western-style motif. The kitchen was large. And it had the stove centered in the middle where you could walk around it. It came with a dishwasher and trash-compactor. A large double-wide fridge with self-making ice-cubes (as long as it stayed plugged in or didn’t lose power). Two full baths and a half-bath. The half would be for company. The full baths were for her and Ed, the other, Stevie. There was a spare room that became a study, complete with a new computer, and printer-fax. It was open for use to whoever needed it. It was really for Stevie, but it was still up for grabs.

The house also has an attached double-garage, which, until Baker got her insurance check (which her agent said would be forth with), it would only house Ed’s car. Her’s was destroyed in the blast. Cringing at the thought, she was grateful none of the neighbors injured, died.

Overall, is was still a modest single-story home. Huge backyard which meant a lawn-mower come Spring.

As she and Stevie sat in front of the tree which sat in the living-room to the far right of the fireplace, and just to the right of a large picture window, Baker glowed from within as she looked at the tree adorned the way it was. Ed went a long way without telling her or Stevie when he first put it in the house. It was one of his many surprises. The angel on top made her positively warm inside herself.

The only thing missing were the gifts under the tree, but she would take care of that part, either tonight or at least by the twenty-fourth.

Seven days away.

She had given Stevie five-hundred dollars to spend as he saw fit. After all, he earned it after his daring efforts during the basketball tournament. The doctor’s and staff at the clinic said it would be sometime after the twentieth of next month before he would get a new bionic leg, new and improved even. Until then, Stevie was back to crutches.

But that wasn’t the only thing holding him up.

Less than a week before, a girl named Ellie Whitmore entered his life. Besides basketball next year, suddenly it was Ellie this, and Ellie that. She already knew where part of that five-hundred would be going and to who.

Baker had remembered it had been Ellie who had called the police over Jason Kempler and the shootings at the school. She’s in Stevie’s life now. Just a part of the circle of life we live in.

He’s fallen in love. A most fortunate curse.

Both her and Ed had to find Freddy first, before he found them. That way, Stevie and Ellie can enjoy their time together, and longer if it amounts to something.

Geeze. Christmas, New Year’s and then January tenth. Stevie will be sweet sixteen, but he’ll have already been kissed before then.

Thursday – December 21st – 11:59 a.m.

“I really appreciate this, Stan. I will call you on the twenty-four, the minute she’s out of the house so you can make delivery. The door will be open.

“Helluva Christmas present, Ed. Merry Christmas to you and yours.”

“Same to you, Stan.”

Ed got in his car and headed for the house. On the way, he called Baker on her cell. She picked up in the middle of the first ring.

“You two hungry?

“Good, get ready then. I’m about eight minutes out.

“I’m not picking the place. Thought it was Stevie’s turn.

“Ah, sure, I’ll hold.”

Ed continued driving on a very cold and somewhat windy day. Not much in the way of traffic to contend with, but it did begin to snow.

“Say what? Oh, I see. An extra passenger, huh? I don’t see why not. Tell Stevie to let Ellie know we are on our way. I can see the house from where I am now. So shoes and coats on, gang.

“Love you, too, Jan.”

Crosstown – 12:17 p.m.

“Officer’s requesting assistance. We have an armed robbery in progress.”

“Roger that. Your location?”

“Fifteenth and Banyon,” replied Prescott. “The victim doesn’t appear to be injured, but the assailant has hidden himself behind a green trash dumpster in an alley.”

“Roger that. Another unit has been dispatched and should arrive within two minutes.”

“What do you think?” asked Prescott.

“What do I think about what,” said Dianne Andrews. “The old man is safe in the car, but whoever that is in the alley is bound determined not to give up without a fight.”

“Yeah. How many rounds has he fired so far?”

“Not sure, but I think eight or nine. Wouldn’t surprise me if he has more than one clip,”

“He looked kind of young, too, didn’t he?”

“Looks can be deceiving, Johnathan, but he did look like he was still in his teens.”

Bubble lights flashing and that screeching sound of another black and white pulled up alongside their own. Two men got out and approached Dianne and Johnathan.

It was Stan McNeil and the new guy, J.W. Roberts.

“What have you got?” asked Roberts.

“Robbery gone bad. We happened along while it was in progress. The perp’s in the alley with no way out, and he’s armed,” answered Dianne.

Just as the words escaped her lips, several rounds were fired, bouncing off the asphalt and both police both cars.

“I have an idea.” Roberts looked at McNeil. “Cover my back. I’m going to cut across the street, circle around behind him and see if I can get access from one of those buildings to get in the alley. If I can, I can get the drop on him before he has a chance to react.”

“Hold on a minute. What if he decides to not let you play Wyatt Earp and give up all peaceable like?”

“If that happens, Prescott, then I guess there’ll be another dead cop to bury, or one less thief on the street waving a semi-automatic around like it’s his best friend.”

Just that quick, Roberts took off, and McNeil, Prescott and Andrews took positions and returned fire, keeping the thief pinned down so he couldn’t see what Roberts was doing.

Then it became quiet. Almost too quiet.

“Hey! Whoever you are in the alley, this is Officer Andrews. We can keep this up all day long, or we can call S.W.A.T. in here and let them take over. I’m pretty sure you know how they would handle this. They have a record for filling body bags. Give it up. Come out, hands empty and over your head!”

McNeil and Prescott looked at each other as if to say, “What S.W.A.T team?”

“Lady, kiss my ass. I go down, I go down!”

With those words, the teenager heard the fatal click of a gun behind the base of his left ear.

“If you don’t drop that gun right and hit the ground,” Roberts said tight-lipped, “you’ll go down even faster, and won’t even know it.”

The kid broke into a sweat and realized he didn’t want to die. All he wanted to prove to his friends he could be tough, like them.

Roberts knelt behind the young boy’s body, grabbed first the right wrist, then the left, and had him cuffed securely, as he yelled out, “I got him. You can come in. It’s over.”

On the ground, less than five feet tall, and maybe a hundred pounds, lay a thirteen-year old kid, who had tried to be a tough guy. Trying to prove to the world he has what it takes to be the baddest man in town. Now, he lay face down, sweating, having already peed his pants, soaked in the already snow-filled dampness of debris.

“Damn shame, really. No Christmas tree for you this year, kid.”

Dianne Andrews thought over what McNeil said.

No tree for me either.

Roberts and McNeil took the kid down to the station house, as Prescott and Andrews followed with the old man in the back seat to fill out a statement of what happened.

Hopefully, most of this mess could be straightened out. The rest, the court would decide on.

Inside their car, McNeil driving after booking Lansing Pike for attempted robbery, attempted assault on police offers and possession of an illegal firearm; he looked over at Robert’s and said, “If that kid hadn’t put down that gun, would you have blown out the back of his head?”

Without blinking an eye, J.W. said, “In a heartbeat. But it didn’t happen. The kid did the right thing, and so did I.”

McNeil felt a chill ripple through his body. He wondered if Roberts is a loose cannon waiting to explode.

Back inside the Twenty-Second, both Dianne and Johnathan; were finishing their paperwork. Getting a statement from old Mr. Walter Falls, who said he would press charges, but also said, “His damned parents are the ones need locked up. They ain’t raised that boy right. He has to pay for what he did to me, but his parents need to be punished right along with him.”

Burger King Parking Lot – 1:51 p.m.

Both McNeil and Roberts settled back enjoying their fast food delights. A double-whopper, extra tomato with extra pickles and a large vanilla shake for McNeil, and a fish sandwich, mayo, and tomato only with a carton of milk for Roberts.

Neither man spoke until they finished eating. Twenty minutes later, McNeil was first.

“That was a fine takedown earlier. What got me was how fast you got to him.”

“It was the building to his right. Went in, down the hall and found a back door that led to the alley. Opened the door, and saw him crouched down about twenty feet away. Creeped up on him and bingo; he never had a clue.”

“Something else I saw, too.”

“What’s that?”

“A look of excitement in your eyes. That look of: give-me-a-reason-asshole look is what I saw.”

“McNeil, I was just doing my job. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I hope so Roberts. We don’t need a hot-shot cop here. I say that because we all know what happened in Texas.”

“If you know, then you also know I wasn’t charged in any wrongdoing.”

“Yeah, we know that, too. But just because your whatever was killed, I guess the term is significant other these days; anyway, you went on a hunt, a goddamn vigilante hunt. You found them, and killed all of them but one. We go by the book here, Roberts. Keep that in mind. Baker runs a good ship, and no one wants to see it sink, especially if you decide to go solo down the road.”

“McNeil, that was a one-time thing. I can assure you that that won’t happen again.”

“Fair enough. But answer me a question. Why did you let the one live? I heard he got twenty years.”

“I ran out of bullets.”

There was a brief spasm of silence before McNeil started the car.”

“By the way …”

McNeil looked over at J.W.

“He had a name. He was my significant other as you put it. He was also my lover and my best friend, and,” J.W. looked at McNeil with a steely look, “if it ever happens again, I would do the same thing. No one gets away from destroying what I love. No one. His name is Gerald Hammer.

“But, like I said before. I won’t go solo on the job. But I won’t hesitate in bringing a perp down for keeps if they give me no choice. Otherwise, I play by the rules, McNeil.”

“Fair enough.”

“Adam-18, there is a disturbance at 1257 Ridgeway Lane. Possible break-in.”

“Roger that, we are on our way,” responded Roberts.

“You’d think people would give crime a rest over the holidays.”

“Wishful thinking. We both know crime never takes a holiday.”

In less than five minutes they arrived at the location, and there was a potential perp trying to break in, no less into his own house.

McNeil and Roberts were slowly making their way toward the man when they both started smiling. It became obvious was near to falling-down drunk and his speech was comical.

“Ah, c’mon, Hel, Hel, Helen. Let me in for gos sssake. I got your prechent in the car!”

The front door opened and out walked a rather portly woman, mid-forties, and she stared past her husband to the two policemen.

McNeil motioned for Roberts to hang back as he approached the woman.

“Afternoon, ma’am. I take it this is your husband wanting to get inside.”

“Yes, but I told him no more drinking! Look at him! Drunk as a skunk and I bet he smells like one!”

“Well, ma’am, if we arrest him, it’ll be for public intoxication and being a public danger to himself and others. He could go away for a good six months to a year; especially if Judge Ward sentences him. He doesn’t care much for drunks either.”

“Six months? A year? That long? I just thought you could hold him about a week until he sobers up and realizes where he is and what he’s done to our family.”

“Ma’am, generally for public intox, we can only hold him seventy-two hours. But you also called us about a someone breaking into your house, and from the looks of his current condition, he is certainly a danger to himself and others. Unless you let him back into your house, we’ll have to take him in and book him. That means an arrest. Has he ever been arrested before?”

“Charlie’s never done a mean thing in his life.”

“Ma’am,” he turned to yell back to Roberts, “guess we’ll have to take him downtown.”

“Officer, stop calling me ma’am. My name is Cathie Hinesdale, and you don’t have to take him anywhere.”

She brushed past McNeil and headed straight for Charlie. Bending down, she looked up at J.W. “No need, officer. He’s going inside with me. C’mon, up you go Charlie. Let’s get in the house before you catch a cold or something.”

J.W. looked beyond her to McNeil who was grinning, and nodded his head saying, “Case closed. Let’s go.”

And that’s exactly what they did.

Wagon Wheel Inn – 7:25 p.m.

It was over before it started. A drunken fight over a pool game. A fifty-dollar bet on a three-rail bank-shot call on the eight ball. The guy made the shot. The loser didn’t want to pay.

Two pool sticks, one back door, five teeth (between both men) broken, along with the loser’s nose.

Within ten minutes of the fight, two police units were dispatched on site.

Henry Clausen, Terrance Klugston, Rick Lowery and Charlie Barnyard were there to separate both men, and cuffed them both. Clausen radioed for an ambulance.

Barnyard started singing.

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful, and the crimes aren’t all that delightful, and as far as the holidays go, broken bones, black eyes make my job fun.”

“Hey, Charlie?”

“What, Henry?”

“Don’t quit your day job any time soon. You’d starve if you went Motown.”

The Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane – 8:59 p.m.

Stevie was already fast asleep. What with having to exert himself more with his crutches, and then later, after dinner, he spent almost a good two hours at Penny’s Arcade with Ellie. All the excitement and officially moving into their new home had taken its toll on him.

Baker and Ed weren’t exactly filled with energy either.

They sat side by side on their new couch, Baker’s legs curled under her, her head resting against his chest, his arm draped around her shoulder. Two tired cops. Two tired parents. Two tired lovers both ready for bed, but they were content.

And for the moment, that was all that mattered.

Lazy Rest Inn – 10:17 p.m.

30 Miles North from Montie

Just outside of Stanhouse, the same name as their high-school basketball team the Pythoner’s defeated; sitting in a chair in Room 10, staring at his features, is Freddy.

He is quiet.

No rage surfaces across his muscles. No fire engulfs his eyes. He stares into a mirror at his real self of who he is, and what he has become.

We all know the story of how it was his brother who framed him for a crime he didn’t commit. A crime he spent nearly twenty years in a state institution for the criminally insane. Freddy was young at the time, but he exercised every day; fine-tuned every muscle, read as much as he could of the world outside his cell, and when the day came, he made his escape. Freddy went on a rampage of murderous acts, one that included his own brother, Peter. Freddy considered that to be retribution for wasted years.

Looking in the mirror, his image staring back, was the real face behind all the many guises he had used over the years, and the real face held a haunting, creeping nightmare that never ended in sleep, never disappeared when he woke. It only remained hidden behind the many identities he personified.

When he escaped, Freddy desperately tried to be the person easily accepted by others. He took on a new life, a new attitude, and resolved himself to live a good, but quiet life. In doing so, he gained a small circle of friends; even met a wonderful woman who loved him deeply, and he would do anything for her. His world wasn’t euphoric, but it was calming and pleasant.

One day, that changed.

After Freddy managed to escape, the next four years of his life were good ones. His first week in a new city, he met and fell in love with Rhonda Griggs. She was the only one who knew the truth, and she kept his secret because it just wasn’t about being in love, but of the trust they built between each other.

Rhonda has a few friends who were into the “create-an-identity profession” as she put it. Getting a new birth certificate, social and driver’s license, along with a few alterations to Freddy’s face; such as a full beard and moustache, a dye job from blond to auburn, and contacts from blue to hazel; Freddy became Brian White.

And Brian White found a job as a make-up artist for a local Broadway theater, and mastered his craft well.

He had a great job, a wonderful woman, and as the months rolled on, the anger against his brother diminished.

Then, as it was said, things changed.

A fire erupted throughout the apartment building where he and Rhonda lived; their private space on earth was gone forever.

Without thought for himself, Freddy rushed to the third floor to save Rhonda.

Firefighters tried to grab him as he rushed through the front door. Running up each floor, skipping two or three steps at a time, when he got to his apartment door, it was already off its hinges and partly ablaze. Searching inside, he found her next to the bed. The flames hadn’t gotten to her yet, but she was face down and unconscious because of the smoke. Checking her pulse, it was slow, but she was still alive.

Picking her up in his arms, he made his way back down the steps to the outside when part of a wall imploded, sending them both over the railing, and hurtling two stories below.

Rhonda landed first with a deathly thud she never felt.

Freddy followed in mere seconds, screaming out her name.

He didn’t know anything else for the next thirty-seven days before he woke up in an intensive-care burn unit.

The broken bones would heal. His heartache and loss over Rhonda’s death would never heal.

Sixty percent of Freddy’s body suffered first and second-degree burns; the worse being his arms, hands, face, and neck. Doctor’s explained it would take several surgeries to correct his features, but that scar tissue would still be prevalent, mostly his face and hands. When he was finally strong enough after corrective surgery to portions of his neck and arms, Freddy checked himself out. He was through trying to look better. Without Rhonda, it just didn’t matter any longer.

As time took its course, Freddy hid behind a mask and wore long shirts year-round, and gloves on his hands.

One of his former co-workers from the theater mentioned to him one day, “If you do it right, you can apply makeup to yourself, and you wouldn’t have to hide in the shadows any longer, Brian.”

Freddy learned to become a master of disguise. He studied long hours into the night how to make prosthetics. He was able to purchase equipment to create full facial latex faces to replace his scarred one. Over time he took on new identities by buying ID's off the street. Freddy would become whoever Freddy wanted to be.

Then came his first contract kill which he found didn't faze him in the least to rid someone he didn't know. It was a job and paid well. Word of mouth spread and before too long, Freddy was in high demand.

Each passing day, all the old angers resurfaced. He thought about his brother, and began to hunt him down. In the process, he also removed people that were just as evil as he was, but on a far different level, and those he removed on his time, his own way.

Freddy called it, “Real Criminal Justice.”

For the moment, he sits in a dingy motel room, idling away time. Looking over potential people to rid the world of, as he also planned the final moments of an entire family.

Yes, the bitch will die.

The Squad Room – 8:41 a.m.

Friday – December 22nd

“And that’s it people. What with the new snow cover, until the city trucks can get out to clear the main streets, just be watchful for any fender benders. And be nice to people between now and Christmas.

“Judges Gaffney and Reardon sent me a memo that reads as follows: ‘Short of murder, serious assault, or any robberies with or without a weapon; do not make any arrests unless you are given no choice’.

“In other words, they don’t want the jails filled with fender bender’s, public intox, so use your discretion. Someone gets in a wreck and doesn’t have insurance, write them a ticket, with no court appearances until after the fifth of January. The judges don’t want jails filled adding a lot of court costs for minor violations that aren’t felonies. It’s obvious the judges want to be home for Christmas, just like all of would.

“Again, you run into someone drunk, take him or her home. If they give you a hard time, bring them in to sleep it off and we’ll release them the next day.

“Only the priorities get locked up. Any questions?”

The room stayed quiet.

“Okay. Most of you will be home for Christmas, so I want to wish you and yours a safe and Happy Christmas. Now get out there and be safe, and keep our streets safe.”

Overall, the day would prove to be a quiet one.

No robberies, no shooting’s or killing’s, no one injured in any mishaps, and strangely enough, no fender benders.

The city snow-plows and ice trucks were out in full force by ten, and by five, the streets were clear. Tomorrow, they would work on secondary and residential streets.

More snow was expected, but not until Christmas Eve night.

16 Carrion Lane – 4:16 p.m.

At 4:19 p.m. – things changed.

Do you remember Stan? The retired cop who works, or use to work as a security guard at the Medical Examiner’s Office on weekends?

Stan-the-man, the one no one ever worried about, or thought about too much, unless he happened to be at Benny’s Pub, or he would stop in at the Twenty-Second just to say hello and shoot-the-breeze with a few of the guys.

Stan, who put in his twenty, and lived alone. Stan, who had fourteen citations for outstanding service that were in a box in a closet collecting dust.

Stan, who had two pictures in his wallet of his wife and daughter, the same two pictures could also be found hanging in his small living room, and on the dresser in his even smaller bedroom. Both dead over seven years, but Stan isn’t one to forget deep love.

Carrion Lane is about two miles outside of Montie; almost country since you would have to drive a half mile road off the main road to reach his home. His nearest neighbor was a quarter mile away. Quiet. Stan always enjoyed quiet.

Sadly enough, he wouldn’t be missed for the next week as he’s on vacation.

December 28th, he will be found, dressed in full uniform, with the side of his face blown away, and no suicide note.

12th and Westminster – 6:09 p.m.

“Plans for the holidays, Johnathan?”

“Probably spend the day with my parents upstate, then back here. You?”

“Baker and Manning have invited me over for Christmas dinner.”

“That was nice of them.”

“I honestly wouldn’t know what to do that day if they hadn’t invited me, what with it being my first Christmas without ….”

“No need to say more, Dianne. I understand. There’s something I want to say. I don’t know if this is a good time or not, or if any time is a good time, but once I say this, the better I’ll feel. Just hear me out, okay?”

“Oh my. Mister keep-me-in-the-dark-copper; go for it,” she grinned.

“First off, I mean no disrespect to you as a person, or your marriage, so I hope this comes out right.

“About a week or so after we teamed up, I started having feelings for you.”

Dianne shot him a surprised look, but said nothing.

“Like I said, hear me out.

“I’d go home kicking myself for falling for you because you were married, and as far as I knew, happily married. I wasn’t about to just jump in the middle and confess my heart. I’m not that kind of guy. My mother raised me better.

“One day when we were on shift, you told me about him having cancer. You asked me not to tell anyone, but you had to tell someone. It was building up inside you. I felt honored and special you would trust me enough to listen and understand, and I kept your secret. Trust is very important to me.

“Then came the day he went in the hospital. The same day everyone found out about the cancer; and then he slipped through your life and passed away.

“I couldn’t bring myself to say anything then because I knew it would be so wrong. Hell, it’s probably still wrong, but I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve, Dianne.

“I’ve fallen in love with you.

“I don’t know if you could see us being together sometime down the road or not. If not, trust me, I understand. I’ll put in for a transfer to another shift, another partner, and never bring this up again. But … I wanted you to know I feel you still have a lot of life in you to still be lived, that you are a hell of a cop, and a beautiful woman.”

As Dianne turned into the Twenty-Second’s parking lot, she asked, “I see. Are you finished?” The engine was still running after she put the car in park.

Johnathan stared into her eyes.

“I’m finished if you say no, and my life will just be beginning if you ever say yes.”

“What about a maybe?”

“Maybe’s good, too.”

“Johnathan, for now, maybe is the best I can offer.”

“Fair enough. Like I said, I won’t bring this up again unless you want me too. Otherwise ….”

“Otherwise, we are partners, and friends.”

She unbuckled her seatbelt, shut down the engine, reached across to Johnathan and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, Johnathan. Merry Christmas.”

The Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane – 9:45 p.m.

The three of them had only been home thirty minutes, but in that time, certain bags were declared off limits to each other. Within the next hour, every bag was empty, and the former contents were wrapped in bright holiday wrapping, some taped with ribbons and bows. Two gifts were marked for Ellie.

Baker planned for three o’clock for Christmas dinner, and Ellie would arrive some time after five. Her parents had planned dinner at the same time. It was agreed that gifts would be exchanged after she arrived. That was the deal.

For now, the Christmas tree was packed with large and small gifts strewn about. At the sight, and with the white snow adorning the outside, it certainly felt like a true Christmas.

Baker has Stevie, her true joy in life. She has Ed, who gave her back the missing pieces from a broken heart; and all three were healthy and very much alive.

The last couple of years had been rocky ones, but Baker made it through, and she was determined to make it through another year. She made a vow that Freddy wouldn’t stop her from seeing Stevie growing up, and for Stevie to realize his own dreams and goals.

Reaching for the mail on the coffee table she had tossed there when they first came home, and with Stevie in bed, and Ed fixing hot chocolate in the kitchen, she spoke softly, “You’re going down, Freddy. The party is over. You just don’t know it yet.”

Looking at the mail, she stared at the standard fare of bills. The water, electric and heating, and already the cable bill. But there was one she saw addressed to her from Daniel Watson, the insurance agent from Med-Life.

In the letter he wrote, he stated he would be arriving in Montie, December twenty-seventh, to personally attend to matters pertaining directly to her.

She tried calling his number but got a recorded message. Probably gone for the holidays, she thought. Oh well.

“Here you go, Jan. A cold night outside, but nice and toasty inside, and a steaming cup of sweetness for my sweetie.”

“Thank you, Ed. Thank you for remembering the tree. Thank you for being good to and for Stevie, and thank you for not giving up on me.”

“No thanks necessary. Way I see it, you would have married me give or take in the next twenty or thirty years anyway. I’m just glad you opted for now instead of then.”

She reached over and brushed her lips against his.

“You are a nut, you know that? But that’s another reason I love you.”

She showed him the letter from Watson.

“Odd he would want to do that, I mean come here personally. According to the letterhead, his office is in Albany, a good two hours from here. I guess you’ll find out what the personal matters are after he shows up.”

Ed stood, went to the fireplace, and placed two more logs on the fire. Sparks flew briefly as flames licked the bark of each log.

“There, that should keep us even warmer.”

As he walked past the light switch, he flipped it down and except for the pale night light reflecting across the room from outside, and the lights twinkling on the tree, Baker and Ed were held in shadows of their home.

Nestled close to her, Ed kissed her neck and whispered in her ear, “Why don’t you and I go to bed and christen the sheets and mattress.”

“You really know how to woo a woman. I thought you’d never ask.”

Christmas Weekend In Montie

Saturday was a busy day for many businesses and shoppers. It has always been the unwritten law that Christmas Eve where more money is spent on that one day other than Valentine’s and Mother’s Day. People all over were looking for that special or unusual gift.

That very morning, Ed took Baker and Stevie out for some last-minute shopping, and as planned, a dealer named Stan Jensen, left a gift in the garage.

When they returned home, no on other than Ed looked in the garage as he pulled into the drive way. What he saw made him smile.

Other shoppers out and about such As Captain Raymond Todd, along with his wife, Elaine, each doing their last-minute gift finding for friends and neighbors. Both wore smiles; especially his wife. She was happy that in one more week, he would be officially retired from the force.

Her wish had finally come true. She wanted him to spend his remaining years with her, without fearing for his life. Her nerves were frayed when he was shot. They spent the last several days planning a trip and intended to take advantage of every day they were away.

Johnathan Prescott went to a specialty store and bought a Christmas card and signed it: Always There, John.

He sealed it and later slipped it into Dianne’s locker. He knew she wouldn’t see it until Monday, but a day late was better than no day at all.

As he turned to leave, he walked right into Dianne.

“Sorry. You surprised me.”

“No problem, Johnathan. What’s up? How come you are here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I, uh, I left something in my locker I need to get.”

Oh no, Johnathan thought.

“Oh, all right; well. I have to run. Have a safe Christmas.”

Dianne smiled.

“You too, Johnathan. Enjoy your time with your parents.”

When she was sure he was out of sight, she grabbed a card from inside her coat pocket addressed to Johnathan and walked over to his locker and slipped it inside.

She knew he wouldn’t see it until Monday, but being late was better than nothing at all. She signed her’s: Maybe, sounds good, Dianne.

Then came the afternoon where Ellie picked up Stevie for a date to see a movie. Ellie’s six months older than him, but she’s driving her mother’s Mazda.

The thing that made Ellie fall for Stevie was his strength and courage to put himself on the line for his friends. There are other jocks in school that are cuter and taller, but Stevie just had that unexplained aura she could feel, and she was drawn to him effortlessly.

Their day ended with an early dinner (pizza), at Pizza Hut, followed up with a hug and a couple deep kisses after she drove him home, before he went inside his house.

The rest of the day had thousands of people wrapping presents, placing name tags on various sized gifts, and preparing for the festivities. Of course, no one was thinking ahead to New Year’s just yet.

Travel would be minimal and there would be no accidents.

Satchell poured himself a glass of red wine and gave a toast to all those gone to heaven (or even hell for those most deserving), wiping away tears from his eyes, he poured one more glass, drained it and went to sleep.

Such a private man he is; and we may never know all there is excepting to say he will do all he can, while he can, to be the best he can be, for himself and the Twenty-Second.

And then came Sunday morning.

Christmas started at first light for most homes with the sounds of small feet running and screaming voices of the little ones who would first check the plate that held chocolate chip cookies and next to it a glass of milk, finding one gone, the other empty; when half-awake smiling parents would hear, “Mommy! Daddy! Look! Santa was here!”

From there, gifts were opened in a melee of laughter and giggles, and wrapping paper was tossed about, forgotten because of what it covered: toys, clothes, CD’s, I-Pod’s, computers, DVD’s, and yes, even books.

For those much older, car keys for a teen’s first car, or like one very unsuspecting adult, car keys to a brand new 2012 Fire-Red Hummer, sitting ever so quietly in the garage.

Baker was surprised, shocked, happy, and in joyous tears.

Hey, it’s Christmas.

Dianne enjoyed a great Christmas dinner along with a classic holiday movie, and shared laughter as jokes and stories were told.

When Ellie arrived, she briefly kissed, then hugged Stevie, and they exchanged gifts. Then she kissed him several more times after she saw what Stevie gave her.

One was a locket with his and her picture inside of it, side by side when opened. The other was a ring to make their going steady, official.

Ellie gave him a bracelet with an inscription on the back that read: I Do For You. On the back part of the clasp were the initials: S & E.

There was one person not so happy.

There was one person putting a plan together. An end-all plan.

But he also knew he had to do a warm-up exercise first. He had a contract on a man named Murphy in Manhattan. Once he was out of the way, he would be free to concentrate on sweet-Janis.

Monday – December 26th

The Ramada Inn – 8:30 a.m.

Daniel Weston checked into Room 131-A.

He hadn’t planned to be as secretive or vague about his visit with Baker, but because of an unknown insurance fraud on a policy that was uncovered, and hidden under wraps for a long time; he felt doing things this way without a lot of fanfare or just blurting out,

“Guess what? There is more money for you and you will never guess in a million years from who.”

Doing it this way would be much better. Ease the anxiety as well as the surprise, or most likely; the shock.

Tomorrow, he would arrive at her office, and explain the near-fatal mistake almost made.

After all, Daniel Watson wasn’t a man for making mistakes or doing the wrong thing. But after twenty-seven years in the insurance field, he had never seen anything as false in wrongdoing as this was, ever. In the end, it resulted in both attempted theft and fraud.

The Twenty-Second Precinct – 8:55 a.m.

Both stood in front of their respective lockers reading each other’s card.

Johnathan was the first to speak.

“Maybe, sounds good; sounds good to me. So, maybe lunch on me today?”

Dianne slowly smiled.

“How about lunch on a plate instead.”

“Deal.”

3:35 p.m.

Later that day, Daniel Watson drove around the city of Montie in his beige Volvo. For as quaint a city as it is, it still retained its architecture easily enough. As he drove, he noticed dozens of homes built up alongside the hilly region just a mile outside of downtown Montie. Many of the older homes and other buildings dated as far back as 1803, were still standing, and were listed as some form of historical reference.

Driving around, with help from his GPS, he located the Twenty-Second Precinct, a building made of brick, stone, and cinderblock. A three-story affair that must certainly have an interesting history of its own.

By the end of the day, he was exhausted. When he returned to his motel room, he called a restaurant that happened to deliver, and ordered Chinese. Then he stepped outside and walked to the gas station next to the motel and bought a two-liter bottle of Pepsi.

Tonight, it would just be him. He would be going over the paperwork again and have in order all the papers Lieutenant Baker would have to sign. Later he would watch a pay-per-view movie. He didn’t know which one, and he didn’t really care. It would be something to do before sleep came to tuck him away. Maybe Thor or Green Lantern.

Daniel wanted this to go smoothly so he could be home and be with Patrick. Even one day away from him, and already he wished he were home. He made up his mind he would call him before he watched a movie.

With any luck, by this time tomorrow, the Lieutenant would be pleased, a potential lawsuit averted, and he would be back in Patrick’s arms again.

4:17 p.m.

“Baker, here.”

“Lieutenant Janis Baker?”

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“This is Wesley Boyd with New York Home and Auto. I’m calling to inform you a check has finally been cut and is being sent on a two-day delivery, today. You should receive it no later than December twenty-eighth.

“I’m very sorry we didn’t get this taken care of sooner, but we had computer problems. Something about satellite connectivity down.”

“That’s quite all right, Mr. Boyd. If you could tell me the amount of the check, please.”

“Discounting age of both the vehicle and residence, and totaling everything you gave us a list of that was destroyed, plus we added an additional five-percent for items you may have remembered, it comes to $216,475.00. You will have to sign for the release of funds. Though the check will be mailed today, I do need a current address where it can be delivered.”

She gave him the new address but informed him that whoever would be delivering the check, was to call her and wait for her at home if she wasn’t there. “Because of my line of work, I can’t be expected to sit at home all day.”

Wesley Boyd’s response, “No problem. The courier can take any signature on your behalf that resides in the home. They will need to sign your name and overtop the signature, place their initials.”

She called Ed with the good news and made him aware of the twenty-eighth as well.

The holidays were certainly looking brighter for a change.

11:58 p.m.

An old, beat up Plymouth Fury pulled into the Lazy Rest Inn.

A black man, about fifty and bald with a thin graying herculean beard stepped out of the car.

His destination would eventually be Montie. He planned to drop in on an old friend from days gone by. In truth, not a friend at all, but this man, once known as Drey (pronounced Dray), whose real name is Reid Thurston, was just released from prison less than a year ago from an Atlanta Federal Prison, is looking for Fred Marsh.

Reid heard that Marsh had done well for himself, and Reid needed some money. He had no qualm in upsetting Marsh’s life if he didn’t give him some money. He didn’t want much; just twenty-grand and he’d be out of Marsh’s life before he could bat an eye.

Reid didn’t know that Marsh’s family and friends knew about his past. Marsh was released from prison nine years ago, started a construction business and married Jean, who is of course, the mayor of Montie,

Reid had a plan, and like all good plans, he had a backup plan.

A Walther P-327.

Tuesday - December 27th

The Squad Room – 8:30 a.m.

“We managed to survive a holiday with no one being shot or killed. No accidents or traffic fatalities. Probably for most of you, the worse it got was cleaning up after dinner and working off the weight of all the food you ate.

“Now, we have New Year’s coming up. We have one thing in our favor just with years past; all our local pubs and clubs will be closed New Year’s Eve by nine, and remain closed until noon January second.

“Fireworks may be canceled as per last year if we get more snow by Saturday. Last reports are for an additional two to four inches. If it isn’t canceled, we will look for sixteen officers to work the park for overtime comp.”

“Is that time and a half, Baker,” spoke up Clausen.

“Nope. Double-time this year. Mayor Marsh sees it as a bonus for a job well done.”

“Her words or yours,” said Devon.

Baker laughed a little.

“Call it fifty-fifty. Anyway, any of you who want the extra duty, there’s a sign-up sheet downstairs by the front desk. If, for some odd reason you can’t find it, ask Dewey where it is.”

More laughter.

Sergeant Dewey McDaley wears coke-bottle glasses and is a year away from forty years served. Dewey is the senior man of the entire Twenty-Second. The last ten years has been served behind the front desk in the lobby when his eyes started going bad, preventing him from doing his job on the street. But when it came to having questions answered about policy and procedure no one else could, then Dewey was where you turned to for answers. His ideas and opinions were highly regarded. Dewey was teased because of his glasses, but not one person could say they didn’t have respect for him.

“Anything else?”

Quiet filled the room.

“Then get out there and be safe and keep our streets safe.”

As everyone was pairing up and leaving, Baker thought it may have been her imagination, but she thought Prescott and Andrews seemed to be walking away hand in hand. Not really her concern if they were, if their personal life didn’t get in the way of their job.

Although, if there was something going on, to Baker, it was too soon after Dianne’s husband passing away to get involved with anyone, especially another cop.

Shaking her head just second, she also thought, of yeah, and hear I am married to a cop.

Her cell phone rang.

“Baker.”

“Good morning, Lieutenant Baker, Daniel Watson here. I am about three minutes away from your office. I hope this will be a good time for you?”

She looked at her watch: 8:45. Then she looked up to see Ed standing in front of her desk with two coffees.

“Mr. Watson, now is as good a time as any.”

She shut off her smart-phone, telling Ed that Watson was on his way, and that she wanted him to be with her for whatever Watson was going to tell her, he couldn’t tell her by mail or phone.

8:53 a.m.

Daniel Watson made his way easily enough to the Twenty-Second, spoke with a rather aging policeman behind a desk larger than life, with thick glasses, and was informed to go up the stairs, turn left, and Baker’s office was the second door on the right. When he arrived, he knocked twice.

“It’s open.”

Twisting the knob, he opened the door to a small office with three filing cabinets to his right, side-by-side. In the middle of the room was a beat up oak wood desk, that had seen better days; three chairs to his left, and behind them was a bookcase, half-filled with law books. On the wall behind the desk were several certificates and awards.

Seated behind the desk sat Baker. The other man, Daniel hadn’t a clue, and it registered in his eyes.

“Mr. Watson, not too worry. This is my husband, Ed Manning. Whatever you have to tell me, can be said in front of him; and please, have a seat.”

“Thank you. Forgive me, but I wasn’t aware you remarried. So much has happened over the last year.”

“I won’t argue that,” she said. “Now, what can I do for you and what brings you here to tell me, you couldn’t tell me over the phone?”

“This.” He opened his briefcase, pulling out a file-folder. “This is a separate policy naming you as the sole recipient to an insurance policy for ten-million dollars.” He handed her the file-folder which was forty pages in length.

At the mention of ten-million, the folder lingered in mid-air for a few seconds before Baker broke out of her frozen trance and took the folder and laid it open on her desk.

Looking at the policy, she said, “Ten million? Are you sure you have the right Janis Baker?”

“Your parent’s names were Larry Arnet Baker and Margaret Janis Anderson Baker, correct?”

“Yes, but what do they have to do with this? They’ve been deceased for quite some time.”

“Yes, I know. They have a great deal to do with this. They both paid into one insurance policy with a provision indicated they both must die accidently, and too insure, as it is originally worded … prompt payment.”

“It’s been years since they died,” spoke up Ed. “What caused the delay until now?”

“The delay was due to criminal intent to defraud Lieutenant Baker. It wasn’t found out until the week before Christmas. It had been found out that the former president, and several board members agreed not to pay. They felt that since you never spoke up about a, or any policy, other than the standard issue, they would keep mute for at least ten years, and then, because the statute of limitations is no longer relevant, they could in turn, reinvest the policy value in mutual funds and stocks.

“After we paid you on the insurance for both you and your son through your ex-husband’s policies; as a lark, I started doing a little digging when I came across a few file notes while I was clearing out my own filing cabinet. Even though no one mentioned this policy, payments continued to be made for sixteen years fulfilling the mandatory payment to cover the cost of the policy payout, almost eight-hundred thousand.”

“That sounds about right. It’s been that long since they both died. But I never knew about this other policy at all.”

“You weren’t meant to know. But charges have been brought up, and our new acting president, Alan Harper, instructed me to contact you privately, to first offer his apologies, and that second, for you to receive a lump-sum amount for ten-million dollars.”

Daniel again reached into his briefcase and pulled out a certified check made out to Janis Lorraine Baker and handed it to her.

Baker’s mouth dropped open.

Ed’s eyes bulged.

They looked at each other and started laughing.

“I’m sorry. What’s so funny?”

“Mr. Watson,” explained Ed, “just this morning we were talking about buying Stevie a car after he gets his drivers license and we were trying to figure out our expenses. This just took care of that problem.”

Baker, controlling her laughter said to Daniel, “What happens from here?”

“You simply deposit the check. Our office will handle the immediate clearance when your bank calls. As to the rest, those who tried to swindle you from what I’ve learned; they are facing at least ten to twenty years in a federal prison once they are found guilty and they will be found guilty. I can assure you that much.”

And that was the start of the last week of the year for Baker and Manning. One thing that would remain a puzzle was why such a high policy. Another thing would be that no one would ever worry financially for any reason.

Where the day was getting started for Baker and Ed; it was a day of moving on for Daniel Watson. He had fulfilled his job as asked.

From the Twenty-Second, he drove back to his motel, called his office informing them the policy was delivered, and that he would be leaving Montie first thing in the morning, and be back in his office by no later than one.

Then he called Patrick, and they talked well over an hour, closing with, “I love you and see you soon.”

Before sleep came that night after watching a movie, he was quite happy with himself for doing the right thing.

It would be the last “right thing” he ever did.

Oh, and the rest of the day?

Quiet. Perhaps too quiet.

Wednesday – December 28th – 8:39 a.m.

The Squad Room

“Let’s get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

She no sooner said those words when her phone rang. It was Ed.

“What’s up?”

“There’s a delivery guy here waiting for you to sign a release form for a check.”

“On my way.”

Money may not grow on trees, but paper is made from wood, and so are checks.

Close enough.

The Ramada Inn – 9:45 a.m.

Daniel Watson packed his overnight bag, went to the Inn’s lobby and helped himself to the free breakfast bar.

He was getting a late start to his day, but for the moment he would enjoy the moment. Before his eyes were several carafes of coffee, two pitchers of orange juice (not freshly squeezed), a plate filled with (store bought) doughnuts, and corn flakes with small cartons of milk sitting on ice (already half melted).

He settled for coffee, juice and two sugar doughnuts. Ten minutes later, he was walking toward his car when he decided to call the office to insure Alan Harper knew he followed through with Lieutenant Baker. Once he was satisfied, he slid behind the driver’s wheel, buckled himself in, placed the key in the ignition and started his car. He then backed out of his parking space and headed for the exit that would get him onto Highway 60.

Not more than a quarter-mile up the road, a semi-tractor trailer jumped lanes and before Daniel could react in time (which would have been impossible); his life burst into flames. He died instantly.

Just goes to show two things. Stick to the original schedule, and not everyone can enjoy the holidays.

The Lazy Rest Inn

Two Rooms – 10:19 a.m.

Reid fished his way through the phone book for all the Marsh’s listed. He found twenty-six. He eliminated all but seven because of the first name, or the initial: F.

He called each one. One disconnected. Two no answers. The next three were not home.

Number seven hit pay dirt when he heard the answering machine kick in.

“We are unavailable right now. If you wish to speak with Jean, you can call her at the city courthouse. If you want to talk to me, I can be reached at 507-998-6347. Otherwise, leave a message. We will get back with you.”

Reid knew this was the Frank he was after, and wrote down the 507 number, and copied down the address listed in the phone book. Now was a good as time as any to take a drive to Frank’s house just to check things out.

10:35 a.m.

Freddy peered out his window, watching the black man get into his car and drive away. He didn’t like the idea of having someone in a room next to him, but it looked like he would have his wish again.

Freddy always played his cards close to the vest. Opening one of his duffel bags (he always carried two with him), he pulled out his surveillance bugs, and without anyone noticing, he slipped into Reid’s room, left the audio mics in two places. If the man didn’t return, he would simply go back, remove the mics and no one would be the wiser.

Staying a step ahead of people is what has kept him out of prison, but more importantly, alive, and able to maintain the work he does. But prison was always a small box in his head. He had no plans of seeing the inside of another one, ever.

11:58 a.m.

He did the speed limit on Monroe Avenue; the street where Frank and Jean Marsh live. Reid wasn’t taking any unreasonable chances.

“Nice digs, Frankie, real nice. Bet you got some expensive things on the other side of those walls.

“Walls. Bet you forgot about the walls, and me, Frankie. But not too worry, my man, I’m good at reminding people. I’m good at a lot of things.”

Without being obvious, he drove the speed-limit, catching glimpses of the house and the neighborhood. Nothing indicated Frank had young kids living at home.

“I think he said he had four kids. Three boys and a girl. Maybe they are all grown up or married. Maybe at work or in college. Hell, it was a few years back when Frankie talked to me about his family. Shit, it’s the fuckin’ holidays. No telling where anyone is.”

As he made his way back for another pass at the house, life began to bristle as he saw a purple Beemer (had to be a woman) pull into the driveway, and out popped and older woman from the driver side, and from the passenger side, a youngish-looking girl, maybe twenty, but no older, opened a sliding door, and out popped a small boy no more than three or four. He grabbed the young girl’s hand.

Reid didn’t see anything else as he drove by, but what he saw was enough.

12:52 p.m.

“F & J Construction.”

“Frankie, my man.”

Frank Marsh recognized the voice right away. A voice from his past he never expected to hear from again.

“Reid Thurston?”

“You always did have a good memory, Frankie. Long time, no see. How’s life treating you? Must be good, then again, maybe not. The way the economy is, seems its about ready to flush its ass down the shitter. Hell, at least you can fall back on your wife’s money if things go south.”

“Cut it, Reid. What do you want? I know this isn’t a social call.”

“That really hurts my feelings, Frankie. Man, it’s been eight long mutha-fuckin’ years since I seen you, and you tellin’ me to fuckin’ cut it!

“Listen to me, Frankie, and you listen real good. I’m short on funds and from what I know and what I’ve seen so far, you can help me get my money right.”

“Reid, if you need a couple hundred, I can help you.”

“Don’t come off to me with chump-change, chump. I’m talking twenty-grand. Tomorrow morning, or I go to your wife, and then the press about your past. Twenty-grand, or I ruin you, Frankie.”

Frank started laughing.

“What the hell’s so funny?”

“You and your idea. Reid, my wife has always known about my past, and so have my kids. They have known since day one. Even the people I do business with; so buddy-boy, you can kiss that twenty-grand bye-bye. It’s not happening.

“Always thought drugs was your bag, not blackmail. My offer still stands. I can give you five-hundred, and then you move on, or move on without the money; makes no never-mind to me.”

Reid became angry and shut off his phone.

“All right mutha-fucka’, I got a surprise for your ass. And Frankie, you will pay big time for being a smart-ass punk.”

Lazy Rest Inn – 1:41 p.m.

Returning to his room after driving past Frank’s house again, he started putting together some ideas.

“I know his wife, kid, and I guess his grandkid are home. I could just walk in on them, wait for Frankie to come home, and tell him to get my money or I tap his family. He knows I’d do it.

“I could snatch the kid. Tell Frankie to get my money or he gets directions to a dead body. He’d believe that, too. He knows I don’t fuck around.

“That’s the deal. Check the place out again tomorrow. See how the traffic in and out of the house goes with the kid, and first chance I get, I grab the kid and go. But I won’t be able to stay here more than two days. It won’t take long before the cops start searching for the kid. I’ll give Frankie one day to get the scratch, or I pop the kid and move on. Fuck it, he ain’t mine. Frankie will wish he had given me the money every day for the rest of his life!

“That’ll work.”

1:59 p.m.

Freddy heard everything.

“The wonderment of evil is a beautiful thing, but this is a dangerous man. I will allow him his deadline if he succeeds, but if he fucks up my plans, he can say goodbye to this earth.”

Reaching for one of his Bowie knives, he began to slowly and methodically, sharpen an already balanced steel-edge.

2:49 p.m.

Baker and Manning were at a scene they didn’t want to particularly want to see. Nor did a few others who were on-scene.

Baker signed off on a few forms with her initials to indicate procedures were met.

“How long, Carl?”

“From the discoloration of the skin, the tears in his neck, under the armpits and behind the knees and stomach from bloating, my best guess is seven to eight days. I can have it narrowed down after the autopsy.

“Damn shame. He seemed calm, level-headed. He always had a kind word for everyone.”

“We never know until crap like this gets throwed at us, Carl,” said Ed. “The only pictures in the house are of his wife and daughter. Inwardly, he was a very lonely man waiting for the right moment to end it all.”

“This is just sad, Ed,” replied Baker. “We come into contact with him several times a month at the Medical Examiner’s Building, and like Carl said, he always had a smile and a good word or comment to share.

“We need to look around and see if he has a will, so his final wishes are carried out. Sweep the place good, Carl. If you find it, bring it to me. I do know he has no other living relatives.”

“And if we can’t find it?”

“We bury him next to his wife and daughter … with full honors.”

Turning, she looked at Ed.

“Let’s go. This is one of those times when I just can’t hang with the big boys.”

Looking into her sad, glistening eyes, each one holding back tears that wanted to burst like a dam. Tears she would shed after they left Stan’s house.

5:16 p.m.

In the Pit-Stop, a local hangout for school kids, at one of the booths were Stevie and Ellie. They were talking while waiting for two burgers and French-fries.

“I see you like the necklace.”

Reaching down to fondle the necklace she said, “Why wouldn’t I, Stevie? It was your gift to me, but yeah, I love it.

“Question for you.”

“Go for it.”

“Mom and dad are going up to Cavern Falls this weekend and we won’t be back until Monday night.”

The smile on Stevie’s face disappeared. He wouldn’t see her for practically four whole days.

“Come on, smile. My parents want to know if you would like to come along?”

Stevie started smiling again.

“Yeah, I would, but that’s going to be expensive, isn’t it?”

“They have a plan. Mom and me in one room, you and my dad in another. They would have had to get a second room for me anyway, and besides, they like you a lot!”

“Cool. I can let you know later tonight or tomorrow morning. I’m pretty sure mom will let me go.”

“We can only hope,” she smiled.

Ellie reached across the table and grabbed one of his hands in both of her’s.

“I don’t want to sound silly or stupid, but of all the different boys I’ve seen in school, and the couple I’ve dated, you are the very first one that has come along and made me feel like a special person.”

“That’s because you are special, and important to me. I don’t know if we’ll go beyond just going steady, but right now, I know you are the only girl I love enough to want to spend the rest of my life with.”

So, we fly away from them as their food arrives, and we center back to other things, at another time.

4137 Monroe Avenue

The Marsh’s – 8:30 p.m.

It was dark and very cold.

Reid parked across the street from Frank’s home, and in his hands, is a pair of binoculars attached to his eyes as he continued watching what movement he could see.

A single-story ranch-style home. A large front window gave way to a huge living room and beyond that, another open area that looked like a dining room.

After sitting in the car over two hours, he knew enough that the kitchen was off to the right, unseen, and that the bedrooms were on the left side of the house.

More movement.

“There! About damn time. She’s takin’ the kid out of the front room. Which room is she takin’ him to? Shit, I hope he ain’t in the same room with his mother. That would mess things up.

“Okay, looks like the first one on the left, a light in there went on. Sweet. Looks like she’s laying him down for the night. If those damn curtains weren’t in the way, I could tell better. Let’s see if she comes back to the front room alone. There, there she is, and she is alone. Good, now I know where the kid is.

“Frankie and his wife are getting up. Turning lights off, and the bedroom lights are coming on but not where the kid is. I knew this would work.

“There goes a third light, but the window is small, must be the bathroom.

“But, I’m in. The kid’s room isn’t being used by anyone but him. Easy in, duct-tape his mouth shut, snatch him up and go. Tape his wrists and ankles together after I get him in the car.

“I hate rush jobs, but I need the cash and quick. Get my ass down to Mexico and hunt up a Bro’ that can get me to South America and I’m good to go.

“Frankie, come to papa, baby.”

Reid was about to get out of the car and walk to the boy’s window after the other lights finally blinked off for the night. As he was about to set his left foot on the street, in his side mirror, he spotted headlights approaching. As they got closer, Reid pulled his left foot back inside the car, closed the door, and slid down so he wouldn’t be seen.

It was a cop car, and it stopped three doors down from where he was parked.

Reid slowly inched his head upward and saw two boys in blue, one male, the other, female, help a man to the front door.

He suddenly felt uncomfortable about snatching the kid tonight. He started the car after the police got back in their car and went up the street, turned right and were out of sight. Reid decided to head back to his motel. He could feel too much tension after that. He didn’t want to make any mistakes.

He decided instead, to come back early in the morning to make sure the kid was still in the house. After all, him and his mother could be there just for the holidays.

If that proved to be the case, the kid would be his by tomorrow night, and he’d have fifty, not twenty-grand in his hand the next day.