Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible

New Living Testament, copyright ©1996, 2004

Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishing, Inc.

Quotations used by permission from Bartleby.com ©1993-2004

__________

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 an exceptionally 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 too 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

__________

The Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane

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, a ten second delay, whereby once 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., since you mentioned this was Freddy's doing, 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 separate 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 police officer. A good police officer. It’s just that no police officer 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 police officers, 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. Hers was destroyed in the blast. Cringing at the thought, she was grateful none of the neighbors injured, died.

Overall, it was still a modest single-story home. Huge backyard which meant a lawnmower 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.

Six 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 Banyan,” 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 perps 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 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 fairly 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 who 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 will 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 he 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 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 day your 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 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 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 all 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 had 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 wonderful 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, neck, and a portion of his back. Doctors 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 IDs 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.

Over time, the only people who knew who he really was, died. He learned from his mentor, Harris Smitters, how to set up drop boxes to get the information from others on who was to be taken out. His payments went to an offshore account where he would be untouchable. The account was in one of his many aliases. If Forbes 500 knew of his wealth, they would list him as the twelve richest man in the world.

But 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 the time. Looking over potential people to rid the world of, as he also planned the decisive 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 fifteenth 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 them home. If they give you a tough 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 snowplows 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.

12thand 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 the best time or not, or, if any time is good 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 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.

“There's no rulebook or guidelines when something like this happens to people. It just happens. 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 sometime 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 frosty 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. The way I see it, you would have married me give or take in the next twenty or thirty years anyway. I’m simply happy 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 rule that on 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 driveway. What he saw made him smile.

Other shoppers were out, running around and hunting for the unusual 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, 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 heir’s: Maybe, sounds good, Dianne.

Then came the afternoon when 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, DVDs, 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. This time there would be no escape, no lucky breaks for sweet Janis.

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 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 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 not have remembered, it comes to $416,475.00. 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 weren’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, providing 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 police officer.

Shaking her head, she also thought, and here I am married to one. 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 suitable 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, which 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 to 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 to 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 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 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 driver’s 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.

As she made her way home, she thought back to her parents Both had their own law firm and made excellent money, but there was a downside on her father’s end. His clientele were criminals. He was well paid, especially when he convinced jury after jury, his clients were innocent. Didn’t matter what the charges were, fraud, embezzlement, arson, even murder. If she remembered right, he lost two cases out of dozens, he was that good. Her mother, a litigation attorney, knew all too well but neither of them spoke openly about it.

As she pulled up onto the driveway, she then remembered a week before the accident, her father lost a case. That made her wonder if it really was an accident or murder.

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 ensure 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 to 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 it’s 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 see you, and you tellin’ me to fuckin’ cut it!

“Listen to me, Frankie, and you listen up 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 extortion. 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.

6 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 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 fairly 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 hers.

“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 police 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.

The Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane – 10:15 p.m.

“Thanks, mom, Ed, for letting me go with Ellie and her parents.”

“Since her parents are going, and since the sleeping arrangements are made, and for the simple fact we trust you; I can’t think of a single reason not to let you go.

But it’s late and you better get to bed. Remember, you have that refit at the clinic tomorrow at 10:30. I don’t want you to miss the appointment.”

“Me either. I’m on it, mom. Night. I love you, mom. Night, Ed.”

“I love you, too, bub. See you after the office meeting in the morning.”

As Stevie walked away, she sighed and nestled against Ed’s chest.

“Ed, I want so much for him. He grows faster and faster every day into a man, and I’m scared for him and his future.”

“I know what you’re thinking, Jan. We’ll nail that psycho, Freddy, and your worries will be behind you. As to his future, we both know that financially, he’s well off long after we’re gone.”

“I hope so, Ed. Oh God, how I hope so.”

Thursday – December 29th

4137 Monroe Avenue – 7:06 a.m.

Once again, Reid was watching the Marsh home, but this time from a few houses away.

He has already watched Frankie get in his truck and head to work or wherever his construction site is.

Twenty minutes later, the garage door opened, and the purple Hummer backed out with only the driver inside. It was Frankie’s wife. Reid spotted, with the binoculars, that there was another car in the garage. A bright blue Ford Taurus, with out-of-state plates. Ohio. As the Hummer backed onto the street and left, the garage door closed.

Reid sat in the car another thirty minutes. No other movement other than the neighbors leaving for wherever they go.

He looked at his watch: 7:50.

He checked his gun. Locked and loaded.

Now is as good as time as any, he thought.

Pulling away from where he was parked, he drove up the street to the Marsh home and pulled right up onto the driveway. The rest of the neighborhood was as silent as a baby sleeping.

This was either going to be really easy, or real hard.

Lazy Rest Inn – 7:55 a.m.

Freddy was forming his own plans. Plans to snare a one-legged kid for bait. He never had any intention of killing the kid, but the threats he made had the desired effect on sweet Janis. He has a mother on a power trip as a cop, and a wanna-be daddy in Manning. How more fucked up can a kid get. But end his life, not happening. The boy will hate him, but that’s nothing new for Freddy. He can get in line with a few hundred other people.

Then there is that self-styled, macho-prick, Manning. He was so going to enjoy stripping the flesh off his bones and hear the pleading cries and shrieks rise out of his mouth, and the pleading sobs from sweet Janis to stop.

She was the main event. Doing Manning would lead to the grand finale. He would take her. Abuse her. Rape her repeatedly. When he was fully sated of his hate for her, Freddy would gently kiss her bruised and battered face, and then cut her into small pieces and leave her, and Manning on the front steps of the police department. It would be a fitting end.

He would pick up the boy at the end of the school day.

Freddy picked up his phone and called a realtor.

“Yes, is this Marie Hampton?”

“It is.”

“Miss Hampton, this is Craig Murray. We spoke some time ago about renting a house at Standing Lake, for at least a year.”

“Oh yes, I remember. My goodness, that was months ago. Honestly, I thought you gave up on the idea.”

“On the contrary. Things have changed since then, and I’ve decided to go ahead and rent it for a year after all, starting January second. It’s still $1,600 a month, correct?”

“Yes, it is. We do require $4,800 up front for the first two months and also the last month, but since you are paying for a full year ….”

“Not a problem. Do you still have my application on file?”

“I pulled your information up on the computer while we are talking, so the paper portion is still in my filing cabinet.”

“Good. I would like to go ahead and have a cashier check made out for the full amount to give to you. I can have it to you in a short amount of time.”

“Very well. Feel free to drop by any time after noonish for the keys. I’m usually in my office all day, except for Friday. Friday, I lock up by noon.”

Freddy smiled.

When a plan comes together, it makes his work that much sweeter.

Yes, sweeter than sweet, sweet Janis.

8:00 a.m.

Still no movement.

Reid decided it was time to move.

Leaving the engine running, he stepped out of his heated car into a blustery chilly morning and ran hurriedly to the front door and pressed a white button on the right-hand side of the door.

Twenty seconds later, the door swung open and there stood a small blond, shoulder-length hair, fair-skinned, green eyes, pert breasts, and overall, too skinny for his tastes; but he wasn’t here to get laid.

She looked at him and then her eyes went wide, and her body started shaking with fear when she saw the Walther P-327 in his hand.

“Back up real slow, girl.”

She couldn’t move.

“Back your ass up or your kid will be short a mother.”

That made her move when he said, kid. Her son.

Moving back, he stepped inside the house and closed the door behind him. Grabbing her by the arm, he put the pistol to her head.

“Listen up, I’m only gonna say this once, so don’t make me tell you twice. Let’s get it right the first time. Which room is your kid in and is he awake.”

Still shaking, she raised her hand and pointed in the direction of the bedroom her son was in.

“He, he’s, first room down the hall on the left, and he was asleep last I looked in on him. Please! Please don’t hurt us! My mom and dad have money. As much as you want or need! Just don’t hurt us!”

He thought for a second.

“Money? Here in the house?”

“Yes. Dad usually keeps two or three thousand in his wall safe.”

“Fuck that! Sit in the chair, girl.”

She jumped as his voice became enraged. Shaking, she sat on a dining-room chair, and Reid pulled a roll of masking tape from the inside of his coat, and began taping her arms and legs together, and placed even more over her mouth. Then he added more tape to go around her and the chair, then tipped her and the chair over on its side.

“That’ll hold you for a while.”

He turned and walked down the narrow hall and into the kid’s room. He was still sleeping. With added speed, he quickly placed tape over his mouth and as the kid woke up, he quickly bound his wrists together.

No sound came from the kid’s mouth, but if his eyes could have screamed, they would have awakened the dead.

In less than a minute, he also had the kid’s ankles bound tight, and then picked him up and put him over his shoulder and walked back to the living room where the mother, Lisa. Still lay in the same spot.

“Listen up. You tell your daddy not to call the cops. He has one day to get me fifty-grand. One day. If he don’t; your kid won’t be around. You tell him I’ll call him at five sharp tonight.”

Before he went out the front door, he peered outside from the picture-window for any signs of movement. When he felt it was safe, he went out the door to his car, opened the backseat door and dropped the kid on the seat.

Once behind the wheel, he backed out of the driveway, making certain he maintained the speed-limit. He checked the time: 8:09.

The kid was making muffled sounds and trying to curl up into himself.

Reid looked back at him.

“Don’t you worry, kid. Your people do the right thing, you’ll be home in no time.”

Reid knew something else. If things fucked up even once, he’d be back behind the walls until he died.

The Squad Room – 8:42 a.m.

“That’s pretty much it. Stanley Martin’s funeral will be this Saturday at ten in the morning. His wishes were to be buried alongside his wife and daughter. It will be an informal funeral, but for those of you who want to attend, I’m asking you to do so in full uniform. He will receive a twenty-one-gun salute. Team members are volunteering to fire rounds.

“Tomorrow night, for those who want to show up, we’ll do our private send-off at Benny’s Pub. For what it’s worth, Stan was there for every send-off, even after he retired. This is another reason I ask, out of respect, that if you attend the funeral, do so in full uniform.

“Beyond that, New Year’s is around the corner, and for those working the weekend into the new year; be extremely watchful and careful.

“We’ve gone twelve years with no fatalities this time of year, and we would like to make that, thirteen.

“So, no questions at this point, then get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

County Courthouse – 9:13 a.m.

Mayor Jean Marsh called home.

The house phone rang until the answering machine kicked in. She decided to not leave a message. Instead, she called Lisa’s cell phone. Her phone rang three times until her message of unavailable kicked in. This time, Jean did leave a message.

“Honey, I don’t know what you are doing, but I just got off the phone with your father, and he wants us all to meet him at Clancy’s, off Highway 60, for lunch at 11:30. I’ll stop by the house to pick you and Seth up. Please try to be ready by eleven. Love you.”

What Jean couldn’t hear were the muffled cries of Lisa as she tried so desperately to get out of her situation and to a phone.

It just wasn’t working for her.

Lazy Rest Inn – 10:15 a.m.

It was finished at last. Freddy certainly is a true craftsman at his art.

Before long, this face that would replace (hide) his own, would be his shining triumph. It would be this face, plus the voice he managed to replicate, that would put his plan in motion toward his perfect ending.

He gazed with an inward smile at the eyeless synthetic mask that lay on the table before him. With the over fifty photographs he had taken of Manning, he stared at his creation; the creation he would wear like a second skin. Ed Manning stared back at him without a clue.

But Freddy knew all the clues. And the answers.

Just sweet revenge, and blood.

A car pulled in, disturbing his thoughts for a moment that caused his reflexes to dart to the window and peer through the dusty, white blinds and saw his next-door neighbor again.

What is this? Someone else is in the car with him. What now?

“What in the hell! He’s got a kid in the car. A white boy all taped up. What the hell is this clown up to?

Freddy would find out soon enough.

10:55 a.m.

Jean Marsh, everyone’s favorite mayor, pulled into the driveway of her home, honked her horn to get her daughter’s attention to get her and Seth out of the house and into the Beemer so she wouldn’t have to get out of the car.

Five minutes went by. She honked again.

Another five passed, and everyone’s favorite mayor became irritated. Shutting off the engine, she practically stormed to the front door, key in hand.

She started to unlock the door only to find out it wasn’t locked. Stepping inside, she yelled for Lisa once, before she inhaled deeply as she saw Lisa on the floor, struggling desperately to get free.

In two minutes, with chafed wrists and ankles, and a set of bruised puffy lips from the tape being removed, Lisa explained what happened.

Jean started to call the police.

“Mom! No!”

“What do you mean, no. That man has Seth.”

“He knows dad from somewhere. He said he would call dad at five. He said if we call the police, he will hurt Seth. Maybe even kill him. Please, no cops!”

Jean redialed and got Frank’s answering machine.

“Frank, call me as soon as possible. You need to come home right away. It’s an emergency.”

Lisa was crying. Jean was nervous. They held each other until the phone rang three minutes later. Jean answered.

“Frank!”

“Jean, what’s going on? What emergency?”

She told him what she knew and explained everything Lisa had told her.

“I’m on my way home, and Lisa’s right, at least for now. No police.

“I’ll tell you what I know after I get home.”

Lazy Rest Inn – 11:01 a.m.

He could hear him clearly and really thought his idea was the other side of idiotic; but it could also prove dangerous for him as well.

Freddy wouldn’t be able to move into the house until this afternoon, and the furniture wouldn’t be delivered until Monday. He wasn’t about to sleep on the floor. Freddy suspected the police would be snooping around here before too long, and he couldn’t have that.

No, he couldn’t have that.

In his head, Freddy decided the Black man had one day to get whatever it was he wanted. After that, it would be his turn.

1:45 p.m.

Baker pulled up in front of Mayor Jean Marsh’s house. With all the running around and shopping, working and so forth; she completely forgot to give Jean her Christmas gift. A ceramic pitcher.

When she pressed the button buzzer by the front door, Frank Marsh yanked the door open.

“What the hell are you doing here!” He turned back and looked at Jean. “I told you, no cops, didn’t I?”

“Frank,” Baker commanded, “settle down. First, no one called me to come here. I stopped by with Jean’s Christmas present.

“But why no cops as you put it? What is going on, Frank?”

Frank sighed heavily and relented, asking her to step inside. He then explained everything to her.

“When he first called me, he asked for twenty thousand, or he would tell everyone about my past. I laughed at that. Anyone that’s anyone in this town already knows. Jean’s been my rock since the day I met her, and I told him as much. Then he starts getting angry with me, saying I’d be sorry.”

“Can you remember exactly what he said?”

“Close as I can remember, he said he would have something for my ass, and that I would pay big time.”

Baker wrote all the information down between the three of them, including a description Lisa gave, under Reid Thurston’s name.

“Frank, I’ll have a tracer put on your phone. The crew will be here as quickly as possible to set things up. When he calls you tonight, go along with whatever he says. We should be able to pick up his location easily enough. You just need to keep him on the line at least two minutes. Once he tells you where to drop the money, we’ll have plains clothes police in the immediate area.

“I doubt he’ll risk hurting your grandson. This whole thing seems to me to be put together quickly, so my guess is that he just wants the money and be gone as fast as possible.

“Depending on where he is, and what he’ll do after the call will tell us how soon we can end this nightmare.

“I’m going back to the Twenty-Second to pull his record, then to the courthouse to get a wiretap for your phone and a warrant for his arrest. Hopefully, he’ll give up without a fight.”

“And what if he doesn’t? asked Jean.

“Jean, we box him in. Once we do, he has no chance of escape. Thurston will have no choice but to give up.”

“Pardon me, Lieutenant, but you don’t know Reid like I do. Put him in a corner with nowhere to go and he’s like a caged animal chomping at the bit to get free and be damned what damage he does. He has no qualms about killing someone. I’ve seen him shank one man and choke another one over a ten-dollar bet. The man has no conscience.”

“Frank, we’ll get your grandson back unharmed. I promise you that.”

Leaving their house and in her red Hummer, she pulled out her cell phone and called Ed.

“Hi, Ed. Do me a favor. Pull up everything you can find on a Reid Thurston. He’s done time, last location, Atlanta FBOP. He’s involved in a child abduction. Frank and Jean Marsh’s grandson, Seth.

“I’m on my way to the courthouse to get a court order for a wiretap and a warrant to arrest Thurston. On my way, I’ll call the phone company to set up the trace relay switch. I should be back in my office within thirty.

“Yeah, I know. Try to get some plain suits on standby once we find out where the drop is supposed to be made. I’m thinking Prescott, Andrews, Roberts,’ and McNeil. If we can pinpoint his location fast enough, we give him no time to make a run for it.

“See you soon. I love you, too.”

5:00 p.m.

The phone rang once. Frank picked it up and said hello.

“Frankie, my man. Don’t say a fuckin’ word. Just listen.

“I want fifty g’s in small bills by this time tomorrow. If you don’t have it, I know people who’ll buy your kid. That means you never see him again. Can you dig it.”

“I get it. Tomorrow, same time, fifty thousand. Is he all right?”

“Good as ever, Frankie. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him, at least until tomorrow. No money, then all bets are off.”

“Wait! Where do I meet you to make the exchange?”

“You’ll know next time I call.”

Reid hung up his phone. Satisfied no cops were around, he drove away from the front of Frank’s house.

As he was a block away, Reid saw several police cars heading toward him. He pulled over on the street as they passed him. A sheen of sweat broke over his face. What he didn’t see was the cars surrounding the front of Frank’s house. If he had been one minute slower, he would be on his way to jail.

“That mutha-fucka had his phone tapped! Sonuvabitch!”

He redialed Frank’s phone.

“Hello.” This time it was Jean on the phone.

“Listen, bitch. You tell him I know. I saw the cops. You tell him it’s a hundred big ones, or I bust a cap in that kid’s head and leave him on your front doorstep.” He hung up.

Muttering in silence the whole way back to the motel, he knew he would have to get a different motel room, and quick.

5:20 p.m.

After getting the warrant from Judge Blaine, none too happy to be disturbed at home, but he still signed off for the paperwork. Baker and Ed poured over Thurston’s priors.

“Damn thing reads like a fiction novel,” mused Ed.

“Bad fiction at that.”

Baker had all the information printed on Thurston, but it was almost hard to believe that when he was seven years old, he set another boy in school on fire by squeezing a can of lighter fluid on his back and face. Two years’ probation, and counseling. Three arrests by the time he was thirteen for two assaults: one with his hands, the other one with a pipe. The third; theft where he got three years in juvie. Out at sixteen, and back in at seventeen for one count of car theft and assault. Plea bargained on the assault. Four years in a state reformatory. No military. They didn’t want him with his background. Then he made the big time: Federal prison. He was arrested for possession of fifty-kilos of marijuana, and four ounces of smack in the trunk of his car. He was sentenced to thirty years, but when the new crack laws went into effect, it was reduced to ten. He already put in twenty-two, so they cut him loose with five years of supervised release.

“Looks like he’s supervising himself these days.”

“I made calls to Atlanta and found out he was supposed to be going to Ohio and checking in with the Feds in Dayton. I called them, and they hadn’t heard from him, and already have him listed in violation of his probation. A U. S. Marshall, Abrams, said he would be coming to Montie to pick him up once we have him in custody,” Ed said.

Baker’s cell rang.

“Baker.”

“This is Officer Randell, Lieutenant. We just missed Thurston. Seems he made a call to the Marsh’s, right outside of their house. We missed him by a minute or two.”

She shut her cell off.

“Thurston’s a ballsy bastard, Ed. He called them in front of their house, then left.”

6:29 p.m.

Reid parked the car in front of his room, stepped out into a windy and now dark evening, unlocked the motel door, and stopped short of entering.

Instead of seeing the boy tied to the bed, there was a very ugly man sitting in a chair staring at him.

Reid suddenly didn’t feel so good.

“Who the fuck is you? How did you get in here? What did you do with the kid?”

“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know why you would have a little white boy in your room, but I do know this much; whatever you may have had in that dimwitted head, ends right here, right now.”

“I don’t think so. That kid’s my ticket out of the country, and if you don’t give him back to me in the next minute, I’m gonna put a cap in your head so mutha-fuckin’ big, a truck can drive through it. Make you even uglier than you already are.”

The man in the chair remained calm.

“On the contrary; but this is what you will do. You will pack what belongings you have and leave, or you will die where you stand.”

“Big talk, player. But I hold the cards.”

Reid pulled out his Walther P-327 and started to aim it at the ugly man."

"Can't say I didn't give you a chance.""

It took only one second of reaction time, and two seconds total before Reid Thurston’s eyes were transfixed in shocked surprise as his hand released the gun to hit the floor, and as his body rocked backward and he too, also hit the floor.

In that brief period, Freddy had stood, and released his Bowie knife dangling by his side that Reid didn’t see until it was too late. With a single fluid and well-practiced motion, he hurled the blade where it sank almost seven of its twelve-inch blade into Reid’s brain.

“I really don’t understand people like you. But I haven’t the time to sit around and figure it out either.

“Whoever you were, forgive me,” as he stepped over Reid’s body. “I’m sure you won’t care what happens next.”

He pulled the knife free, then sliced Reid’s throat and performed his classic signature move of the X; from left shoulder to right hip, and right shoulder to left hip. With that out of the way, he left a note for Baker.

Showering and changing clothes in Reid’s room, he returned to his own and stared at the little boy.

“Would you like to go home to mommy and daddy?”

Seth’s eyes filled with tears, his body shaking terribly. He nodded his head.

“I can’t hear a nod, boy. Do you want to go home or not.”

“Ye, ye … yes, sir.”

“Much better. I promise someone will be here to pick you up soon.”

Freddy picked up the motel room phone and dialed 911.

“911. What is your emergency, please?”

“I don’t have one, but a little boy out at the Lazy Rest Inn, does. You will find him in Room 10. Oh, and in Room 12, you will find the reason the boy is in Room 10.

“Tell Baker I did her another favor.”

He put his phone away, thinking for all the messes he’s cleaned up, the state should be paying him Baker’s wages. He laughed at the thought as he drove away.

“Sir? Sir?” The 911 operator redialed the number and dispatched a car to the motel. The phone was answered at the front desk clerk.

“Lazy Rest Inn.”

“Sir, this is a 911 operator responding to an emergency call from one of your rooms, either number ten or twelve.”

“Yeah, both are occupied. What about it?”

“We have reason to believe a child may be in one of those rooms.”

“Hardly. Two single guys. One white, the other, black. Neither one checked in with a kid.”

“Connect me to each room, sir.”

“Whatever.”

He patched her into both rooms and each landline rang and rang. No one answered.

Seth heard the phone, but he was still too scared to answer.

Freddy left right after the 911 call. His car was already packed before Reid showed up and had made plans to pick up the keys tomorrow from the realtor.

For the next several days, along with his new face, that of Craig Murray, would be the one everyone would see.

As he drove to the Ramada Inn and checked in for the night. With the keys tomorrow, he would begin preparing his new home for guests who would arrive per his (demand) request.

7:27 p.m.

An ambulance, five police cars, all from the Stanhouse PD, filled the nearly empty parking lot of the Lazy Rest Inn.

Baker had been called in to the scene as well and for good reason. There was also a purple Beemer parked nearby Room 10 as well.

In less than twelve hours, Seth was returned back to his mother and grandparents; shaken, but unharmed.

Baker had asked Seth if he could describe the man who was in Room 10, and all Seth could repeat was, “Scary man! Scary man!”

With the dead body in Room 12, Baker knew who the man was, especially after reading the note he left behind.

Sweet Janis,

Here lies another terrible person put to rest. I always seem to find the bad people in life that need no judge and jury. I am just destined to be both. Just as I am destined to remove you from this world. You and that ass-wipe you married, along with your precious-legged freak for a son. Are you counting down the days? Two more left before this year becomes the past, and somewhere in the thirty-one to follow; one of them will be your … oh, silly me, MY lucky day. It will be your last day to smell the roses. HAHAHA! Will people go to Benny’s Pub and drink a toast to your death? You can bet your ass they will! And until the final moment we meet, Happy Last Year.

With my undying hate,

Freddy

Like I really needed to be reminded.

Like any of us do.

And so, the night ended.

Reports would be filled out and filed. Follow-ups on Reid Thurston for any relatives. It wouldn’t take long to fill in the gaps.

Stanhouse police found three bags of meth-tabs and five ounces of hash in Thurston’s car, and a dime bag of marijuana in his motel room. In an overnight bag, they found a small can labeled ‘Sucrets,’ filled with coke.

They found no living relatives that would take his body off their hands. Seems he burned all those bridges long ago. Come Sunday afternoon, very little fanfare after the autopsy, Reid Thurston would be buried with funds supplied by the Johnson County Municipal Trust Fund. No headstone, no marker. Just in a box and in the ground. Three witnesses. The Sheriff, a minister from Stanhouse, and U.S. Marshall, Abrams.

Off to the side, two guys with shovels, waited for them to leave so they could cover the box.

Reid Thurston’s case, like his casket, was closed and forgotten.

The Squad Room – 8:22 a.m.

Friday – December 30th

“These are composite sketches of our boy, Freddy, according to what the motel clerk at the Lazy Rest Inn could give us. But I wouldn’t be surprised if little Seth Marsh’s description is more accurate when he said, scary man.”

“There is one thing in this guy’s favor,” said Rick Lowery. “At least he goes after some of the same kind of bad guys we do.”

“True, Rick,” replied Baker. “But he doesn’t do it with the backing of the judicial system or the Constitution, or, with a shield on his shirt. He’s a killer, plain and simple. And he plans to target innocent people before too long. People that are doing their job.

“If any of you entertain the idea that Freddy is a good-bad boy, forget it. Keep in mind, he is also responsible for several police officers losing their lives.

“He’s smart, always aware of his surroundings, always manages to stay a few steps ahead of us. The only real photograph we have of him, dates back to when he was a teenager we found in his brother’s personal effects. All we know there is that they were supposed to be identical twins, but years can change a person.

“Make no mistake about Freddy. If you get in the way of his plans, he will do his damndest to take you out.

“Be aware of what goes on out there more than ever before. Any questions? If not; get out there and stay safe and keep our streets safe.”

“I have a question,” said Roberts.

“What is it, J.W.?”

“If we, or any of us come across this character, do we have the authority to terminate without prejudice?”

“You weren’t here when Freddy started his killing spree. He went abroad and assassinated a few other men as well. He’s a trained professional. For those of you who also weren’t here, when the issue was ordered; terminate only if he will not surrender peacefully.”

“Good enough for me.” J.W. stood up and headed out the door with McNeil. Baker went to her office and sat down behind her desk.

Where are you, Baker thought.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

She looked up at Ed.

“You need more pennies. I wish to heaven, Freddy would make his move now, so I could pump a few rounds into him.”

“You and me both, but we both know we are living his nightmare on his terms, not ours.”

“I know, that’s what worries me. No matter what happens, I have to protect Stevie at all costs; even if it means my death.”

“No, Jan. Make that, our deaths.”

The Baker-Manning Home

111 Homestead Lane – 8:45 p.m.

Baker and Ed pulled up in her red Hummer in time to see Ellie’s parents, Barry, and Joline Whitmore, in their driveway, helping to load two small bags belonging to Stevie, into their trunk.

“Just so you’ll know, we’ll be back around nine, Monday night. Since Tuesday’s, a school day and all that. We’ll call when we get there and call just before we leave to come back. Otherwise, we’ll have a wonderful time, and take plenty of pictures to email you.”

Baker hugged Stevie.

“Be safe, but have tons of fun, bub.”

“I will, mom. I love you.”

“Love you, Stevie.”

Watching them drive away, a tear fluttered down her left cheek.

Turning, both her and Ed walked inside their home, each with an arm wrapped around the other’s waist.

The last weekend of the year has begun.

Hampton Real Estate – 10:30 a.m.

“Thank you very much, Miss Hampton, for speeding this up for me. Sorry about not coming in yesterday, but I had an unexpected matter to take care of. I really have wanted to move into that house the moment I first saw it. Were it not for other business matters requiring my attention, I would have been settled in by now.”

“Quite understandable, Mr. Murray, and please, call me, Marie.”

“Then Marie, call me, Craig.”

After having paid a full year on the house, well in advance of what Marie Hampton was expecting, her commission would be $8,800. She would call him anything he wanted after this deal.

And he is an attractive man.

“Craig, at least after all this, allow me to buy you lunch,” she asked with a dazzling sparkle of a smile.

“Any other time I would accept the offer, but I have other commitments today, and I already called the mover’s as I was coming here. I have a great deal to do. Perhaps another time.”

“I look forward to it, Craig.”

Craig Murray picked up a small 3x5 manila envelope that held the keys to the house, stood up, shook Marie’s hand, and walked out of her office.

Marie would always wonder why he wore leather gloves the whole time he was in her office. She would also wonder why he never called her as well.

But we know she will live longer if she doesn’t ask and leave him alone.

The Rest of Montie’s Weekend

Most, if not everyone, was grateful that no more snow fell, and there wasn’t any forecasted any time soon. The temperature’s climbed above forty but dipped below freezing at night.

Those that drank; would purchase their alcohol and drove directly home with every intention to celebrate bringing in the new year with either a few beers, champagne, or perhaps rum and eggnog. All the supermarket shelves were empty where the eggnog used to be. The people would be sitting on their couches or in a recliner, watching the big ball make its move in Times Square.

The few bars that would be open normally, would close at nine, New Year’s Eve. Anyone who appeared too drunk to drive, the bars would call a cab. The cab company would drive them home for free, and the city reimbursed the cabs.

It was part of a plan put together a month ago by Mayor Jean Marsh and voted unanimously by City Council members. “Stay Alive – Don’t Drive” plan.

Police were to stop motorists if they were weaving on the roads and take their keys and drive them home as well.

In her pitch to the City Council, Jean Marsh said, “I’d much rather have an empty jail, and people home and alive the next day with their family, than waiting for an autopsy at the city morgue.”

If anyone refused a cab ride, and wanted to drive themselves, they would be faced with a traffic fine up to $10,000 and their license revoked for life. “Call it incentive,” she said. That too, was added to the plan.

Jean Marsh and other council members, and the Twenty-Second, felt satisfied this would cut down on accidents and deaths this time of year to near zero.

They were right.

New Year’s Eve would find everyone celebrating the birth of another year. One of hope, faith, love, and continued friendships; hopefully better economic times. Hoping more troops would return home to their families from the war overseas, and that this country would have a turn-around on jobs, gas and food prices, and anything else that is important to every person in America.

Soon to be a new year, and an election year. Many hoped (and many feared), it would be four more years of “Obamaism.” When it came to politics, there are no clear winners when it came to the voters.

Baker and Ed wished for a long future of happiness together, regardless of what they both knew what was ahead of them.

Captain Raymond Todd and his wife, Elaine, wished for more closeness, and added comfort in their year ahead and the years to follow.

Satchell wished the transition in his new position would go smoothly, and that he always made the right decisions by his position, and for those who serve alongside him, never under him.

Individual units that patrolled the area when midnight struck, each partner either said Happy New Year, or just high-fived each other.

There was another couple who sat next to one another on a small couch, both drinking a beer as they watched the year change numbers.

When the madness on television started, what with the constant and continued screaming of joy, the blaring music of rock bands performing; they turned toward each other to clink bottles and make a toast, when their eyes locked onto each other.

In that single moment, “maybe” just became “a possibility.”

New year. New start.

Two-hundred miles away, upstate, two other couples hugged and kissed as well.

Stevie and Ellie, however, kissed a little longer.

And then came Sunday, as in daylight.

A quiet day for some. Others were in their own house of God to give thanks.

By noon, many TV sets would be turned to ABC, CBS, or ESPN to watch the AFC and NFC games. Denver and the Steelers, followed by the Giants and Packers. The late games would be the Saints and 49’s, followed by New England and Baltimore.

In two weeks, four of these teams would play for the AFC and NFC Championship game for the right to go to the Super Bowl in February.

And come Monday night, there will be a lot of buzz over the BCS game between Boise State and the Texas Longhorns. What a match-up that will be.

But Sundays are, has, and always will be a day given over to God and sports.

Hell of a combo, huh?