Wrong Town: A Mark Landry Novel (13 page)

Thirty-seven

Luci arrived at the station two hours before her shift. She fumbled through the dirty dishes in the break room sink and gave her favorite Red Sox mug a quick rinse.

Good enough.

She settled into her seat with a mug full of piping hot black coffee. Then she pulled up all the information on what the chief was now calling “the graffiti issue” and went to work looking for missed clues. Her cell phone vibrated and she reached down to punt the call to voicemail. But when she saw Mark’s name on the screen, she changed her mind and answered the phone.

“Yes, Mr. Landry?”

“Yeah, my cat is stuck in a tree. Can you send someone to help me get him down?”

“Sir, I think you meant to call the fire department,” Luci said, slightly more annoyed than amused.

“Oh, I see. Sorry. My mistake. How are you anyway, Luci? Haven’t heard from you. Do you always take guys out, then not speak to them for a week?”

“I’m good. Busy. Working. And I didn’t take you out—I gave you a ride. What have you been up to?”

“Nothing really. Just doing a laundry list of things to get the house ready to sell. Trying to relax a bit too. What about you?”

“Did you say you’re selling the house? I guess that means you’re not sticking around very long, then.”

“How do you know? Maybe I’m thinking about buying a different place in town. Maybe something a little bigger and more modern with room to grow. Who knows?”

Luci shook her head and bit her bottom lip.

Don’t take the bait, Luci.

“Sounds like you have a lot to think about, so I won’t keep you,” she said flatly.

“Graffiti?”

“What?”

“Graffiti. Are you working on the graffiti stuff?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. But I can’t seem to get any breaks no matter how many times I look at it.”

“Then stop looking at it.”

“Yeah, that’s great advice, Mark. Seriously, can we talk later?”

“I am serious. Stop looking at it. Instead, look at the dates and times it happens and see what else was going on those days. Maybe those dates are significant in other ways. Anniversaries, full moon, whatever. What other calls or incidents happened on those shifts? Who was on duty? Who was off duty? Stop focusing on the graffiti so much and the rest of the picture may come into focus. Just a tip.”

“That’s actually not an awful idea.”

“I’m full of ‘not awful’ ideas. If you hung out with me more, you’d know that.”

No, no, no. Not the “poor me” approach, Mark. Don’t go there.

Luci sipped her coffee and said nothing.

“You’re busy. I’ll let you go. Just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll give you a call when things slow down a little.”

“Please do. Don’t be a stranger.”

Luci ended the call without saying goodbye and stared blankly at her monitors.

Okay, Mark. Let’s try it your way.

Thirty-eight

Officer John McDonough was foot-patrolling the shops on Main Street, but his mind was still back at the house with Linda.

“Okay, right now! Right now! Feel that?” exclaimed Linda excitedly.

John lay next to her on the bed in full uniform, one hand flat against her womb.

“Nope. Nothing.”

“You gotta be kidding! You’re joking, right? You didn’t feel that?”

He moved his hand around her belly, stopping every few inches and waiting patiently.

“Nothing. You sure it’s not just gas?” he asked.

She poked him in the chest several times with a firm index finger, hard enough to hear her nails tap against his body armor.

“No, sir. That’s our son. And it’s getting pretty cramped in there. Just a few more weeks and he’ll be in our arms. That means you’ll be able to carry him around for a change. Are you excited to be a daddy?”

“Of course I am. Now don’t say anything—just be quiet for a minute,” said McDonough in a low voice, turning his head to rest his ear on Linda’s belly button.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about bills, healthcare, sleep interruptions, and all the future stress fatherhood would inevitably bring, stress he was not sure he could handle. They waited for more movement, but nothing happened.

Why doesn’t he respond to me? Why does he seem to stop moving entirely whenever I’m around? Is it bad timing or is it me?

“Hi, John,” said a shopkeeper, looking up from his broom.

“Hey, Mike. How’s business?”

“No complaints. When’s that baby coming?”

“Due date is July 4th, but we’ll see. He may get out early for good behavior, and Linda’s dying to get it over with so that would be fine with her.”

“Great. And what about you—you ready?”

Yeah. I’m ready. Why does everyone ask me if I’m ready?

McDonough stopped strolling and froze for a few seconds.

Just keep walking, John. Just keep walking. It’s not a big deal. He didn’t mean anything by it.

Turning slowly, he stared at the shopkeeper out of the corner of his eye.

Let it go, John. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Just keep moving down the street and get some lunch.

With both hands resting on his duty belt, he took several small steps until his face was just inches from the other man’s.

“Of course I’m ready, Mike. Don’t I look ready? Is there something about me that makes you think I’m not ready?” he asked in a low, serious tone.

“Heck, no! Nobody’s every truly ready for their first kid. Honestly, I think it took Wanda and me four kids before we knew what we were doing. You’ll do just fine. Besides, I imagine you could handle pretty much anything. That’s one of the many reasons we like having you around.”

McDonough stared blankly into Mike’s eyes. Finally he broke into a smile, trying to mask his confused rage.

“Yeah, well, the truth is I’m scared to death but don’t tell anyone.”

He winked, patted Mike on the shoulder, and continued on his way.

Calm down, John. Breathe and walk. Breathe and walk.

When he heard the gunshot he instinctively ducked into a doorway and knelt low, his body pressed firmly against the bricks of the building. Drawing his pistol, he coached himself to take deep breaths and scanned the area to determine the direction of fire.

He watched in amazement as the townspeople continued about their business without so much as looking up from their chores.

Didn’t they hear that?

Ghassan stared sheepishly at McDonough from across the street, wiping his hands on his apron. He waved with one hand and called out,
“Sorry! I forgot how much noise this metal door makes when it slams.”

False alarm. Stand down. No fire. Get it together and keep moving up the street.

McDonough holstered his gun, waved back, and walked away briskly, hoping that no one had noticed his odd behavior.

Ghassan crossed the street and approached the shopkeeper.

“Does he seem okay to you?”

“Who? John? Yeah, he’s fine. First-time dads are always tense. He’s used to being in full control. Little does he know it, but his life is about to change forever.”

Ghassan watched McDonough disappear down a side street as he wiped his sweaty forehead with both hands and dried them on the front of his apron.

Yes, big changes are coming.

Thirty-nine

“What? Didn’t I already hear from you today?” asked Luci, answering her phone on the second ring.

“How about dinner?”

“I’m off at six but usually too beat to go anywhere. Thanks anyway.”

“No problem. How about I bring takeout to your place? We could have Thai or Indian. What are you in the mood for?”

Parked in her cruiser at the main gate of the high school’s student parking lot, Luci glanced at her watch.

Two minutes to dismissal.

“I suppose that would be okay. I don’t feel like cooking anyway.”

“Great. Any requests? Or should I just surprise you?”

Students began trickling out the doors of the building.

“Surprise me but make it healthy—vegetarian. I’m beat and just want to eat and go to bed,” she answered, watching students pile into their cars through her rear-view mirror.

“See you at seven?”

“Make it 7:30,” she said, tossing her cell phone on the passenger seat and exiting the cruiser.

Within seconds after she opened the gates, the first line of cars was pouring out to the main road. Many students waved as they passed Luci, others simply nodded, and a few ignored her completely. When a red Honda Civic with heavily tinted windows arrived at the gate, she held up a hand and stepped in front of the car. After she knocked twice on the driver’s window, it opened slowly and a male much too old to be a student smiled at her.

“What’s up? It ain’t my tints, right? They’re legal and I got the papers to prove it.”

“I’m sure you do. But your inspection sticker expired a week ago.”

He squinted at his front windshield.

“Aw, shit. I didn’t even notice. I’ll go get that done right now.”

“Please do. This is your verbal warning. Next time I have to ticket you,” she said, scanning the rest of the car’s occupants before continuing. “Are you a student here?”

“Nah, I’m just picking up my cousin and her friends. That’s all.”

“That’s fine. In the future, remember that this lot is for students only. Pickups are supposed to use the circle at the main entrance, okay?”

“Whatever,
Mami
,” he said somewhat dismissively as he turned up the radio.

“What did you just say to me?”

Luci banged her hand on the top of the Civic three times to get the driver’s attention.

“Turn that shit down, now. Get out of the car and show me your license, registration, and proof of insurance.”

“Come on, I was just leaving!”

“Not another word. Get out of the car and show me your documents. If I have to ask again, your day will get a lot worse. Do it now.”

Luci scrutinized his papers while she redirected the current of cars going past. Curious passengers pressed their faces against windows as traffic squeezed to one lane before trickling out the exit.

“So that’s how you act when an officer is trying to cut you some slack? ‘Whatever,
Mami
?’ How about I just give you the ticket or tow your car. Would you prefer that? How far would I have to dig to find some more shit?” She squinted at his license. “Mr. Ortiz? Any warrants? Any driving restrictions? See how much fun this game is? And all because you had to run your mouth instead of just shutting the hell up and taking a simple warning.”

The driver’s gaze oscillated between Luci and smirking looks back at his passengers.

“Hey, look at me. Look at me and take a break from trying to impress little girls. You want to disrespect me in front of everyone? Fine, I can embarrass you too. How about I search your entire car? Think I’d find anything interesting? And, no, I don’t need a warrant. What about the ashtray in your car? I wonder if I’d find anything interesting in there. You’re on school property too. That basically doubles penalties for anything and everything I find. All because you had to be a tough guy. Should I keep going or are you getting this now?”

He held up both hands with palms facing Luci.

“I get it. I get it. I didn’t mean nothing by it—it was just a joke. All good.”

“All good? No,
I’ll
tell
you
when it’s all good. And right now it ain’t all good.”

He took the rest of his chewing out with his head bowed and tail tucked firmly between his legs.

“Now you’re going to get back into the car. Put on your seat belt. And apologize to me in front of everyone. Do it now. Don’t say another word to me unless you want to continue this discussion from a jail cell.”

The car grew quiet as he opened the door and buckled himself into the seat.

“Officer, I apologize for disrespecting you.”

Luci stared at him and pointed toward the exit.

“Go.”

Never underestimate the power of a little public shaming.

As the Civic turned the corner and accelerated, one of the back-seat passengers turned around and stared out the back window. Luci had not wanted to draw unwanted attention to her by acknowledging her during her interaction with the driver.

You won’t go very far hanging out with assholes like that, Julia.

             
She closed the cruiser door and reached for her cell phone to text Mark.

              MESSAGE: Nothing vegetarian. I want steak tips.

Forty

It took more than an hour and every ounce of patience Kenny Harrington could muster to get his father dressed and ready for his daily walk around the yard. The old man resisted, slapped his son repeatedly, and screamed out for help. His specific words were indecipherable but the message was clear: he was deathly afraid and confused, and he wanted to be left alone.

“I’ll let you sit here for a few minutes before we go outside, Father. I’ll be in the next room.”

Kenny sat down, rested his head on his computer table, and burst into tears. When he raised his head, he stared at the framed newspaper clipping on top of the dresser—his favorite picture of Mrs. Harrington. She wore red, white, and blue ribbons in her hair and held a small American flag in her hand.

I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Mother. I promised you I’d take care of him but sometimes it’s too much. What happened? Where did he go? I look into his eyes and see nothing. He’s dissolving. Doctors say this could go on for years, but how long can I go on?

Kenny ignored the flashing computer screens, folded his arms on the table, and rested his head on his forearms as three straight nights with little sleep finally caught up with him. He was awakened by the soft hum of the encrypted servers as they automatically rebooted and started their hourly diagnostics.

Kenny wiped the puddle of tears from the table and blew his nose. When he reentered the family room, Mr. Harrington was gone.