Book 3 - Part 6: Facing Evil - Chapter Three
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.”