Will Baker is Dead, Episode 5 - "Mere Acceptance"

The pain in his shoulder smoothed itself away as he started rotating the bones about within their shell.  The ache in his neck took a little longer, given the restraining nature of his soft, dead pillow.  His knees, the worst offenders, cracked with each bend, made worse by the pops in the big man’s hip as he had to raise his legs to bend them.  The cool night breeze, coupled with the tense air of the passing storm, made each joint rack as if it were mutilated by the slightest change in the weather.  Sleep had not come easy for the man ever since taking two shots in the line of duty, and it was just another day of duty for Officer Rodriguez.  At least he could take solace in knowing that it was the middle of summer.  Those winter winds really made it hard to get up in the morning, especially when the sun was still about two hours off. 

The clock showed 5am, so his alarm was still thirty minutes coming.  Even so, Joseph Rodriquez knew that sleep was done for him, as the constant aches in his body meant that the next thirty minutes had best be spent on stretches and a hot shower instead of the preferred relaxation of a dream-filled sleep.  That was the only comfort he had left: dreams.  The shooting wasn’t all that ruined him, though it helped.  Officer Rodriguez was getting older, and he was getting lonelier.  It took him much longer to get ready in the morning, and Joe never could sleep much, so he was running on fumes perpetually.  That kind of wear made a cop’s job hard to complete, but Rodriguez managed to get it done. 

Joe dragged over to the shower, tripping over last night’s pants as he went.  The hot water was a good start, bringing some ease to his pain.  He stood under the water for what was a short-lived eternity, massaging each limb and joint extensively before once again subjecting himself to the cruel cold that was a July morning in Horizon.  So it wasn’t a life threatening temperature, but to a man of Officer Rodriguez’s unfortunate state, anything of the sort brought pain enough to make him wish it were.  Before the shower water started to wear off, Officer Rodriguez, a 25 year veteran of local police, stepped over to the sink and poured himself a glass.  Looking at the cop on the other side, hating what had become of this lonely husk that was once a respectable police officer, he took out his last pill and popped the prescriptives that were written out for an older woman on the other side of town.  This was who Officer Rodriguez had become, and this was who Officer Rodriguez hated more than anything else.  And what he hated more was the sudden need to call that kid and put in a new order.  He pulled out his phone, haunted by the picture of him and his long gone wife, to send the dealer a text message: i’m out and need more. where and when?  call me. 

The worst parts of the morning routine were over, so the officer was able to sit and enjoy a cup of coffee over a morning paper that had just arrived while he was brewing up a new pot.  The pain in his body slowly leaked away with the aroma of Colombian beans and the feeling of pharmaceutical aid, almost keeping at bay the other pains he remembered with the scent of coffee and cream at his table.  An officer’s sunrise, that period of the day where he was awake but it was still rather dark out, always reminded Joe of the days when he and Mrs. Rodriguez would sit and enjoy coffee together before he would head off to the station and she would go back to bed, only staying up long enough to enjoy breakfast and the paper with her husband. 

It had been about three years since she had been in their home.  Mrs. Rodriguez was ever so proud of her husband, but ever the more fearful for him.  A policeman’s wife never really knows comfort, always wondering if she would get that call or not.  With him it was even worse.  He came home.  She had to look at him day in and day out, tending to his every need for the first year.  After he was able to do some things for himself, she split, unable to take the constant reminder of how easily she could lose him again, and unable to accept the fact that he would never be whole again.  Joe begged her to return, writing letters to her family and trying to get their help, but no one would tell him where she had gone.  No one would tell him where she ran off to, so he was left with nothing more than pictures and two scars that she once kissed and helped make better. 

The slow roasted morning brought Joe out of a fog, so he gathered up his things and went on in to the station.  He drove an unmarked car, these days, having been put on “special assignment” ever since returning to the field.  Special assignment most literally translated to easy duty, never forcing Officer Rodriguez to experience a situation where he would be shot, or asking him to endure too much physical exertion.  He was getting old, and he was getting slow.  A slow cop was only good to talk to school kids and check into minor crimes.  They promised him a full return soon, but soon never came.  So every day, Officer Joseph Rodriguez, hero of the county police stationed in Horizon, went in to the station in a non-descript suit with his unmarked car, lacking any real insignia to prove he was an officer.  The man just was, and that’s all they ever asked him to be.

He arrived early for roll call, still sipping coffee out of the County Police Dept. thermos he carried around, the silver kind with black lettering and detail, just one of the many perks of being a plainclothes officer with no power.  Sherriff Conway, a large man in many ways, one of them being his Sherriff typical curly moustache, walked in at precisely 6:50am, ten minutes before roll call was supposed to begin.  “Good morning, old buddy.  How are we doing this fine Summer morning?”

The fat man was cheery at this time of day, and that bothered Joe.  But, being that it was his boss, Joe couldn’t let it show.  “Doing fine, sir.  I can’t complain,” when in fact that’s all Joe wanted to do.  “What’s got you in such a good mood this morning?” 

“It was my wife and mine’s anniversary yesterday.  You know what I’m saying, ol’Joe?” 

“Yes, sir, I think I do.”  Joe put a soft grin out there, as required by the unwritten demands of superiority, but threatened by the utter disgust in his mind.  “I’m happy for you.” 

The two talked for a bit, most of the conversation coming from Sherriff Conway in his upbeat drawl, a drawl that slowed down a bit as the conversation wore on and the hour started to catch up to him.  Eventually the other officers had arrived for their shift and Sherriff Conway began the rundown. 

“Good morning, gentlemen.  I trust that everyone had a good weekend, but it’s back to work now,” one of the men grumbling about weekend duty and how his was just wonderful.  “Last night wasn’t too eventful, but let’s go down the list, see what happened here in our district.  Miss Emma, you’ve dealt with her before, Officer Callaway, called in another monster sighting on her property.  It turned out to be a deer…well, two deer making noises.”  A subdued chuckle from the gallery was cut short by Conway’s stare.  “We had a prowler call out in the 3000 block of the Horizon St. strip, but turned out to be the homeowner working in his garden at an ungodly hour.  Uhh…let’s see.  We had a few speeding tickets out on the highway, one DUI on Church St., and oh yeah.  Looks like there was a break-in over at the Minit Save on Horizon and Third Avenue.  No real surprises there, report came in an hour ago when the owner was opening shop.  Probably some missing cash, and a busted lock.  Nothing special.  Any volunteers want to start their day checking up on that situation?”  The silence of the crowd fell right in where expected for such a thankless and mundane assignment.  Joe thought he might as well volunteer for it, seeing as how it would inevitably fall on him anyway. 

“Sure, yeah.  I got that one.” 

“Thank you, Officer Rodriguez.  That oughta be a good warm-up for you.  As for the rest of you, you should have your assignments for the shift.  Check your areas, keep the routes clean, and keep your eyes open.  Serve and protect, boys.  Oh, and whoever has the block out by the old bridge, go check on Miss Emma.  Make sure she was able to get out of bed this morning after her traumatizing ordeal last night.”  And with one last laugh at poor old Miss Emma’s expense, the crew was off. 

It hadn’t been a particularly long roll-call that morning, with everyone arriving on time and very few issues to run through, so Officer Rodriguez had mounted up the car and left the station by 7:30am.  The sky was clear, but the roads had traces of fog, the Summer sun meeting the cool of the rains from the night before, leaving that eerie effect all about the place.  It was a light fog, the kind that you could easily miss without much trying, but it was certainly there.  The benefit to being Officer Rodriguez was that he could turn on his car radio and not have to worry too much.  Occasionally he would miss a call-out, but never anything he was wanted at, anyway.  This morning, fitting perfectly with the fog, he was listening to some of the softer Creedence on that Atlanta rock station.  Somehow, though he wasn’t sure how, he could tell that there was a bad moon rising. 

After the short drive through town, made longer by having to observe the speed limits in his on-duty car, Officer Rodriguez made it up to the Minit Save on the strip, Horizon St.  He was slated to open up at 8am, so Joe would have to look around fast before customers ruined the scene.  By sending him, the police department admitted that this incident wasn’t important enough to put a lot of resources in to, so odds were the owner wouldn’t be requested to keep the store closed for the morning. 

“Thank goodness you’re here, Joe.  Those kids broke into my store again.”

“What kids, Frank?” 

“You know.  Those new kids in town.  Those gang kids.  They broke into my store and they stole all the money in the register.”  He tried to avoid the more descriptive terms that would really get at his meaning, mostly due to the rules of what you could or couldn’t say in polite society.  Frank had run the Minit Save in town for as long as most anyone could remember, and he was about as ornery as he ever had been with the rash of “small crimes” in the area.  He was always reporting a vandalism that was more likely caused by raccoons than some other masked bandit, or a robbery when he misplaced a little cash.  And he always blamed it on the ubiquitous “new kids in town.”  The man has one run-in with some unruly teenagers back in the mid-80s, and its all American Graffiti from there.  At least that’s how he described it, his only knowledge of the movie coming from the word “graffiti” in the title. 

“Have you checked the tape yet, Frank?”

“No, just got in, myself.  Figured I should show up to open the store, right?  I’ll go do that right now.  Just let me go unlock the pumps, I don’t want to miss the morning rush, you know.”

“Oh, Frank.  Before you go check that tape, how much money did they steal from the register?”

“Let’s see, uh, there was a fill-up about 8:49, then uh, Miss Emma came in and bought some Michelobs from the back, and then, uh…”

            “Frank.  How much?”

“Oh, yes, uh, $17.89.”

“That all, Frank?”

“Oh yes, that’s all.  I put most of it in the safe last night, and with all they spilled out on the floor in a hurry to get away, that’s all I seem to be missing.” 

“I’ll see you later, Frank.  Just check the tape and tell me what you see.”  Joe had taken about all of it he could handle this morning, with the roll-call and the pain and aches he put up with just to do this job he used to love, and he didn’t have the mind to sit through another day like this, not right now. 

“But aren’t you gonna check the scene?  Make sure there’s nothing else missing, or no big clues?  I wouldn’t feel right opening the store without you here to check the place, or protect me in case they come back for revenge.  I hear that’s how those foreign gang kids operate.  I tell you, this town’d be better off if all that foreign trash would just leave us alone.  Can’t stand them running around like they belong here, trashing my store and scaring away my customers.”  Joe didn’t bother pointing out to the idiot his own last name, thinking it might be indicative of something beyond Horizon, no matter how many generations removed he was.  “Yep.  It’s all ‘cause of them that good folk like me and you can’t make it along here.”

Joe’s grandfather came to Horizon a good many years back and married a local woman, just one incident that helped push the town further and further, eventually coming to a head back in the mid-50s.  His father had also married a white woman from town a little later, but by then it wasn’t so bad.  People were really able to handle it pretty well by the time Joe came into the picture, and Horizon was growing ever more accepting, but there were always pockets.  There was always the occasional Frank or whoever that Joe had to deal with, never really taking the brunt of it seeing as he was big, a cop, and two generations removed.  But still, it was moments like this one that made him feel even more outside of things than usual. 

After considering the options, one being to drive around wasting his time and the other being to sit in the store and waste his time, Officer Rodriguez conceded.  He started by examining the door, making Frank promise to hold off opening up for another five minutes, then checking each corner of the store for “clues” and “evidence” in a case that would never get past the curb outside.  He swept around every corner of the store, looking for anything that was truly out of place and not just misplaced due to Frank’s horrible store-keeping habits.  All this time, for going on ten minutes now, people had been coming in and out of the store, buying their morning coffee or grabbing a newspaper.  Most folks in Horizon had to leave town for work, and as this store was one of the closest to the highway while still being in town, it was about the only time of the day where Frank paid the rent, so to speak. 

One of the folks that Officer Rodriguez saw come in was an old friend from the fire department, Rob Evans.  Rob had been a fireman for a few years now and had worked with Rob a little during his training, seeing as how Joe was just getting off of his rehab assignment.  Joe had also been there at the site of Mr. Evans’ accident, and had helped the pastor notify Rob of what had happened, so they went back a ways.  He’d known the kid growing up some, recognized that farmer’s brow and broad shouldered fireman even from back behind the store at the slushie counter.  Trying to stay professional, Officer Rodriguez didn’t bother to stop and talk to the guy while he was on duty, just opting for the manly head nod. 

Officer Rodriguez kept his back to the door and his eyes to the ground, examining every inch of the store with exceptional precision.  He heard the entrance chime go a few times, never bothering to check the personnel responsible for making the noise.  The slushie counter was clean, the chips aisle didn’t feature anything odd other than one bag of Doritos having been gnawed open by mice.  It wasn’t on the shelf anymore.  The cop checked each aisle closely, looking up eventually to see if Frank was back watching tape or making money.  On one of these routine glances, though, Joe saw his friend Rob having a quiet discourse with an obscured gentleman.  Officer Rodriguez, though he was somewhat out of practice, could still read the hint of fear in his friend’s eyes, something he didn’t expect to see from an amateur farmer standing a good six inches above his assailant. 

Since his friend’s safety meant more than recovering missing pocket change from Frank’s store, an amount that wouldn’t even secure a Constitutional “Jury of Peers” for Frank, Joe started to incidentally ease towards the door where the two men were jawing. 

“Hey, Rob.  How’re the crops looking?”

“Oh…hey there, Joe.  They’re doing well, mostly looking good this season.”  Just as Joe thought, his friend seemed out of sorts, almost caught off guard, something that wasn’t common for this champion of bravado. 

“What’re you boys talking about over here?”  And now he recognized the other man.  Rob’s companion finally turned to face the officer, revealing his face and name.  Before, all that Officer Rodriguez could see was the back of a young white man’s head, a little short of six feet and maybe 180 lbs, brown hair with a clearly professional cut.  The man’s suit, a light blue dress shirt with long sleeves and gold cufflinks, offset by the contrasting white collar, indicated an indoor job of some kind.  Though his constable’s instincts served him well, Officer Rodriguez could until now come up with nothing more than the description of thirty percent of the men in Horizon.  In case he needed to, Officer Joseph Rodriguez could never have picked the man out of a crowd before, but as soon as he turned to look at the cop, Joe recognized Will Baker instantly. 

Just like with Rob’s dad, Officer Rodriguez remembered Will most for the tragedies in his life.  He was one of the first officer’s on scene when Nikki Baker was killed by an alleged drunk driver while crossing the street after a big Horizon football win.  This was all well before Rodriguez’s own accident, back when he was still considered a prime cop and a worthwhile husband and father.  A happy time for him, really.  Though he’d never really had many dealings with the Baker family before, it was hard not to recognize them after the court ordeal that was Nikki’s case.  Will was much younger then, maybe six or seven years younger, but those eyes had not changed the least bit.  It was him, alright. 

“We’re just talking about that Braves game last night, Officer.  We were disagreeing on whether or not this is Chipper’s last season,” Will said, indicating Rob as he spoke.  “You a baseball fan, Officer…Rodriguez?”

“Oh, yeah.  Great game last night, finishing up that sweep of the Phils.  McCann launching one in the eighth to put us back up, that new kid, Heyward, coming in and knocking a few guys home.  It was a great game.” 

Rob took his turn, going back to the other topic.  “I don’t think Chipper’s done yet.  He’s still playing a really good game right now.  I think he’s poised to have a pretty good season, even if it is his last.  I’m thinking he’s gonna put in a pretty good game this afternoon, if you ask me.”

“See, I’m pretty sure he’s done.  You know him.  You never can tell when his last game will be.  I wouldn’t be too surprised if he didn’t even make the lineup today.  If he didn’t even play this afternoon,” Will clearly disagreeing.

“He’ll have a good game today, you just wait and see.”  The two men stared, giving something away to the cop, especially given how hard they weren’t trying to hide it. 

“Hey, guys.  Braves are off tonight.  It’s a travel day down south.  Marlins, coming up, I think.” 

Rob, embarrassed he’d slipped up so obviously.  “Oh, yeah.  Well, I never pay much attention to the schedule.  I figure I’ll wind up listening to it no matter what, why care who they’ve got coming up?” 

“Right.  Well, friends, I hate to cut the water cooler chat short, but the bank won’t open itself.  Have a good morning, officer.  Rob,” his tone changing ever so slightedly when dealing with Rob, “have a good day.” 

Will walked on out with his coffee in his left hand, sunglasses down and sleeves rustling as he moved, right hand down in the pants packet of the same side.   Both men watched this character saunter on out to his car, a two-year old Charger back from when they started making them again.  Banker, indeed. 

“What have you got yourself into now, Rob?”

“It’s nothing.  Just a friendly competition is all.  And it’s one I plan on winning.” 

“You be careful.  I can’t help you if you get into anything, Evans, and that guy’s trouble.  I can tell.  And if I’m not mistaken, I think he had a gun in his pocket.” 

“You think so?  A banker?”  Rob just looked off after the departing banker, now easing on to Horizon St. off towards the center of town, out where the grocery store and the bank and all were.  The fear in his eyes was gone, replaced now by the more common hint of a grin, that farmer’s optimism he held on to.  It could be described as wide-eyed, or gleaming, or wily.  Either way, Joe recognized those eyes, and he knew those eyes were looking at trouble. 

“You be careful, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Rob went on off, similarly with coffee in hand.  His old truck sat out in the parking lot, filled up for a market run.  Probably going to the big hardware store a couple towns over for his weekly supplies.  Joe knew how rigorously and strictly Rob ran that farm during the summer months, or at least when his shift allowed him to stick to routine, and Rob was on the second day off between shifts.  He had plenty of time to get his supplies, flirt with the cashier, and do whatever other things he might need to get done on Monday before going back to work the next morning at 8am. 

The store was clean, nothing yielded up to help the old policeman figure out what happened.  Frank had finally gone back to his security tapes when the morning customers filed out, and he finally called Officer Rodriguez to the backroom.  “Come look, Joe, come look!  I think I got’em!”  Sure enough, there were four teenagers walking around in front of the store, looking around for witnesses or cameras or cops.  The time stamp indicated 3:13am, and his years of police experience told Officer Rodriguez that nothing good was about to come of this.  In a flash, they were in the door. 

“Run it back.” 

“How far back?” 

“Just run it back…stop!” 

“What is it?  What do you see?” 

“Frank, do you see how fast those kids got in your door?”

“Yeah, fast.  They must have practice picking locks, right?”

“I can’t tell from this video.  But you know what I can tell?”

“What’s that?  Do you recognize them?  Do you think you could pick’em up this afternoon and get my money back?”

“No, that’s not it.  I can tell that you should probably learn to lock your doors at night, Frank.  All they had to do was pull on the door.  It wasn’t even locked.” 

Frank spent a good few minutes apologizing to Officer Rodriguez then sent him on his way.  The store owner declined to press formal charges out of embarrassment.  The scraggly old man couldn’t risk his pride by filling out a police form where he must admit leaving his store doors unlocked, much less for only a handful of missing money, much less admit falling prey to those thieving teenagers and their gang influences.  Feeling even more reassured at his uselessness on the job, Officer Rodriguez pulled on out of the Minit Save and back through town, watching the day to day activities of small town Georgia unfold as they had an infinite number of times before, and as they were in an infinite number of towns all over the country.  Nobody watched what happened in Horizon closer than the dedicated and self-loathing cop, but only because nobody really watched what happened in Horizon at all. 

He left the Minit Save feeling uneasy about what happened between Rob and that banker.  And his cop instincts were almost never wrong.  Officer Rodriguez just knew that something more was coming between the two men.  It was still early in the day, and the station didn’t have any more pressing issues for Joe to check out, so he thought a trip to the bank on a Monday morning was in order.  It was about 10am by the time he got to the bank, giving the early morning customers time to come through and time to spare before the lunchtime crowd would start showing up.  He sat in the car for a second, trying to see if he could gather what was going on just from a brief but candid observation, but nothing came.  “Dispatch, I’ve got a 10-25 on a Will Baker, works down at the bank.  Copy?” 

“Copy, Rodriguez.  I’ll get back to you when we get something.”  Officer Rodriguez figured it wouldn’t hurt to check the man’s possible criminal background, and so the real investigation began. 

The Monday morning bank had in fact settled down, 10:13 showing on the clock, conversely a tight 89˚ and rising already displayed on the thermometer.  The new bank had been open just a few years, now.  They had some troubles at first, being hit by a shrouded, serial robber just about two months after opening.  It was in fact this Horizon bank where police cornered and killed the mystery suspect, all this taking place during Officer Rodriguez’s “down-time,” so of course he didn’t get to participate in the action.  That was a violent stretch for Horizon, with Joe’s shooting and the bank robbery happening pretty close, but things calmed down soon after.  Since then, not much had really happened in the way of action in Horizon, and for once Officer Rodriguez really hoped the trend would continue at least a little longer.

The large glass doors swung open with ease, at first.  On the inside, though, he couldn’t get the second layer open.  No matter how hard he pushed, even checking to make sure they weren’t pull doors, the stubborn doors resisted Officer Rodriguez just a little longer.  The clerks and tellers, all noticing the frantic action at their front door, started looking a little panicked.  Of course, Officer Rodriguez finally remembered the new system they had installed after their first robbery, the highlight feature being a built-in metal detector that bolted the doors.  After flashing his badge, someone flipped a switch to let him in. 

At first, the banker he wanted wasn’t visible.  Rodriguez knew he was there, after all a car that nice didn’t go unnoticed in the parking lot no matter how full it was.  After a second or two of looking, Officer Rodriguez saw the man, Will, step out from one of the back offices.  Trying to act casual, as they say, he walked over to the counter and just waited for a reaction. 

“Good morning, and welcome.  How can I help you sir?” 

“I was wondering if you had a place where we could go and talk?” 

“You’re a little early today, aren’t you supposed to wait until…” finally noticing the badge plopped out in front of him, “Oh.  Of course sir, right back here.  Mrs. Williams, hold my calls.  I’ll be meeting with the officer indefinitely.”

Will Baker and Joe Rodriguez sat across from each other, a solid 18 inches of rich wood between them forming the banker’s desk.  All across the desk were pictures of the banker and a beautiful young woman.  She was about his age with long blonde hair and a smile fit for a goddess.  “Is this your wife?”

“Yes, sir.  She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” 

“I’ll say she is.”  And now Officer Rodriguez was starting to get the idea that she was part of the problem here.  Knowing Rob the way he did, it made plenty of sense.  There was another picture on the desk, he noticed, with Will Baker, an older couple he recognized to be Mr. and Mrs. Baker, and a lovely brunette once named Nikki Baker.  “You don’t remember me, do you, Will?”

“Excuse me?”

“From that night.  From the night your sister was hit by a…”

“By a drunk driver, no, I don’t remember you.  Did you make the notification?”

“I did.  But I was also the first officer on scene.  I sat with her while the EMTs arrived, not that it ended up mattering.”

“I wasn’t there, Officer.  I was still inside the stadium with,” he paused and waited a moment, “somebody.  She was crossing the street to meet me, though.  I’d told her not to be late so we could get home quick.”

“I don’t know you too well, and I don’t know if it’s too much of me to assume this, but you should know it wasn’t your fault.”

            “I know that, officer.  It was Ames’ fault.  He’s the one who hit my sister, and he was already drunk at 9:30pm on a Friday night.  Trust me, officer, I know who killed my sister, and it sure wasn’t me.  Might I ask what you’re doing here?”

While Will was talking, Officer Rodriguez took the liberty of examining his mail and the other contents of his desk.  “I see some of your mail is incorrectly addressed, unless of course you’re name is actually Bill Walker.” 

“What are you, the postal inspector?  Some of my clients have been getting the name wrong since I started here.  Heck, it goes back to elementary school.  People have always wanted to call me Bill Walker.  I can’t understand how it’s such a hard name to get right, but it was for them, and for some of them it still is.  And for you, I’m still trying to figure out why you’re here.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”  He could tell that Will grew real tired of the cop games, so he just came out with it.  “Look, Will, Rob’s a friend of mine.  He helped me out through some stuff a few years back.  And I owe him a great deal.  Now I won’t pretend that he’s perfect.  And I don’t know what he did to get you so upset, but I’m also not dumb enough to believe that little exchange was about baseball this morning.  I won’t tell you you’re wrong, and I won’t tell you he’s right.  But I will tell you this.  That man’s a friend of mine, and I’d stand by him until Judgment Day if I had to.”  Will looked back at the officer, and he was sure that the banker started understanding what was coming off without being said.  “Don’t start nothing with my buddy, you hear?” 

“You married, officer?”

“I was.”

“Did she die or leave?” Will asked in an astonishingly matter-of-fact tone.

“She left.”

“You mind if I ask why?” Will’s stark appeals continuing.

“Yes.  I do.  But she left because she couldn’t handle being with me anymore.”

“And how you feel without your wife, Officer Rodriguez?”

“I hate she’s gone,” and that was definitely a true statement.  “But I also hated that look she gave me when I just knew she was unhappy.  And I hated hearing her cry at night, trying to muffle it so I wouldn’t know just how miserable my uselessness was making her.  Does that answer your question?”

Getting a bit more than he’d wanted, and showing obvious defeat, “I guess it does.  Look, I don’t mean to cause problems, officer, but your buddy has been.  And he needs to stay out of where he isn’t wanted.  And I think he knows that.” 

“Let’s hope he does, Mr. Baker.”  Telling this conversation was nearing an abrupt end, Officer Rodriguez started to stand and leave.  “But I will tell you a couple things.  First, I can’t really tell anybody about our conversation or anything in here, since I’m very well not even supposed to be here, so you’re safe there.  Next, I have no problem planting evidence for justice to reach the right conclusion, so you’ll know my feelings if anything happens to Robby.  Lastly, Mr. Baker, I may just be one of the few people in this town who agrees with you about Ames.  That guy killed your sister and got off lucky when he should’ve been put away for at least ten years.  Don’t go burning all your bridges in this town.  Some people are better to you than you might think.”  Once more taking that upper hand that Will’s impertinence had given him, Officer Rodriguez just added a warning and hearty “Good day” before leaving the bank. 

He walked out the front doors and saw Horizon Groceries, and almost forgot about the utter need for that important appointment he had to make.  Pulling out his private phone, Officer Rodriguez sent another message to this kid he knew.  When can u meet?  There was something pitiful in his reliance on an immobile teenager.  One of the problems with being a cop, especially in an uptight community like Horizon, is you have to rely on unorthodox dealers when they come along.  Either way, it would probably have to wait.  It didn’t seem likely that this kid would even be up for a while. 

The rest of the morning’s work was less inspired.  He wanted to work on the Laurence disappearance, but Officer Rodriguez just drove around Horizon, even a ways out of town at times, checking on certain landmarks as a matter of habit.  He drove out to the bridge over County Line River.  He drove out to Horizon Baptist and then some of the stores, making sure everything was in order.  He even drove out by Miss Emma’s, just to see.  After a couple hours of this, without a single callout or reply from dispatch on that earlier request, he finally decided to take a short break.  “Dispatch, I’ve got a Signal 95 out by the High School.” 

“Go ahead, Rodriguez, take a lunch break.”

            “Thanks, dispatch.  Let me know if you need me.” 

Officer Rodriguez had already bought his lunch, knowing good and well that they weren’t gonna need him.  And this particular Signal 95 found him sitting out by the Horizon football stadium, at the same spot where Nikki Baker was struck and later died.  It had been a long time since Officer Rodriguez thought of that night, even with a constantly decorated cross on the curb. 

He thought back to that night, the late autumn sky already solidly dark, and that October air uniquely cold.  Horizon had just had a big game against one of those cross-county rivals, the Broncos, and most everybody was hanging around on-field to celebrate, or just around the stands, but a few of the young girls were walking back across to the other parking lot.  A young Nikki Baker had stopped to call back to one of her other friends, just long enough to get separated from her crowd walking on.  When she ran to catch up to them, it was right as a white Silverado jumped over the crosswalk hitting her with unyielding force. 

            Officer Rodriquez had been chatting it up with one of the guys directing traffic, just talking about the game and the solid season the boys had been having, when he heard a host of screams and shouts from up at the crosswalk on Horizon St.  The two men ran up to see, hoping for a fight.  It was much worse than that when they arrived.  Rodriguez had the other man call for an EMT while he held the girls hands, trying to keep her awake and breathing.  “Breathe, girl, stay with me.  What’s your name, girl?  What’s your name?”

“Her name’s Nikki.” 

“What’s your name, Nikki?”

She couldn’t answer, even being given the answer.  There was nothing new about the look in her eyes as he’d seen it before, except never before all in one face.  He could see the shock and fear in her eyes, just as clearly as the tired expression coming from her overtaxed face and the uncertain movements of her mouth trying to give up those important last words.  In his arms, and on his knees, Nikki Baker closed her eyes and stopped breathing right there.  His makeshift partner went to grab the drunk fool out of his truck, now lodged in a light-pole on the side of the road.  Officer Rodriguez traded glances from the girl to the truck, wondering what idiot could have done this, wincing to see Ames Laurence step out with some heavy assistance.  How that fool kid went on to marry the beauty queen Melissa was beyond him or anyone else.

There was no telling how long he’d been like this when a common noise brought the officer back to reality.  It was his phone going off, though, and not the police radio.  Behind Horizon Grocery in 15.  It was about time.  The pain in his legs had slowly come back throughout the day, keeping Joe confined to his car and out of the heat since the bank.  And thinking back to his days before the gunshots just made it worse, how no one remembered his actions even then, and how much less important he was now.  That power play with a banker earlier was just an old man’s attempts at feeling strong again, even though none of it mattered.  He wasn’t going to plant any evidence.  And what could he plant, and what crime did he have to blame the man for?  It was all talk, and it was all pain building up in his joints, and it was all about to go away again. 

The cop drove away, trying to forget her eyes, her ice-blue eyes looking back from beneath.  Come to think of it, she had Will’s eyes.  Maybe that’s what had made him uneasy instead of any “cop instinct.”  It was hard to tell these days, until Joe could get himself clear again. 

He pulled up behind the store.  Nobody would question a cop meeting up with someone behind a store like this.  They’d probably just think he was getting tips on gang activity or something stupid like that.  People may ignore Officer Rodriguez, but that also meant that nobody questioned him.  If there was a bright side to anything, that was it.  “What’ve you got?”

“I can only get you three weeks worth, Mr. Rodriguez.  You’ve got one a day here, okay?  I think Mamma V’s starting to figure out what’s going on.  And the pharmacy didn’t want to give me a refill today.  They said I was early and that they weren’t supposed to.  I almost had to cry just to make them give me the pills.”

“That would’ve been a good trick, kid.  How much you think these…what, 21 pills are worth?”

“$150.”

“Price is a bit steep, ain’t it, for such a small crop?”

“That’s all I need.  Please, sir?” 

“Fine, fine, take it.  Does this mean we’re done?”

“We have to be, officer.  I can’t keep doing this to her.  She knows, and I think it’s hurting her going without these pills I keep selling you, so yeah, we’re done.  You’ve gotta find somebody else.”  Jonah shook and stuttered as he talked to the police officer, and Joe could tell he was terrified.  It couldn’t be easy to tell off a cop who you also manage to sell illicit prescription drugs to.  “But…Thank you.” 

“Thank you?  For what?  Buying your gramma’s pills off you?”

“No.  You don’t remember it, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“You saved my parents a few years back.  There was a robbery and you showed up, got them out of there.  You were shot weren’t you?”

“Yeah, I took two.”

“Really?  Thank you.  I’ll never forget you, sir.”

“Alright, whatever, kid.  Here.  Take your money, go do something fun with it.”  He counted out the bills, then counted out the pills, and watched the boy run off to do something with all that money he’d got.  Joe didn’t much care what it was, so long as it wouldn’t get anybody any attention or trouble.  “And don’t spend it all in one place!” which he probably didn’t even hear Joe yell out. 

The effect of the first pill was almost instant, about like hearing Jonah remind him why he was a cop.  It wasn’t that the feeling hit him, so much as it was a feeling that eased off of him.  But as good as he felt in his knees or in his back, he felt that much worse in his chest, just knowing these pills made him a worse cop and a worse person, but he couldn’t take the pain.  He just couldn’t stand the pain anymore.  He sat in the front seat of his unmarked car, still behind the grocery store, and just let the day wash over him, the air leaving his lungs and then back in.  It was a good feeling, mostly.  And it was even a good day.

“Officer Rodriguez, this is dispatch.”

“Go for Rodriguez, dispatch,” he said, probably with more excitement than he should have.  It wasn’t often that he got called in for something by dispatch, and he just knew that maybe they were finally taking the training wheels off.

“Yeah, I’ve got something on that Signal 95 you put in earlier.”

“Go dispatch.”  He was a little disheartened by the revelation, but was glad to get some answers finally on what had been going on.

“Looks like he’s clean.  No record, no priors.  He’s clean.”

“Thank, dispatch.  Let me know if you get anything else.”

And still, Officer Rodriguez had nothing to go on.  He figured that Rob had tried pulling something with that man’s wife, but couldn’t prove it.  He knew that the two men had been fighting that morning at the Minit Save, but couldn’t do anything about it.  And most disturbing, he knew there was something wrong with that banker, but he couldn’t tell what it was.  So naturally, he did what any other cop with spare time would do.  Joe took his car out to the bank and waited on Bill Walker to leave…wait, Will Baker to leave.  If he couldn’t learn anything with the files, Officer Rodriguez would have to do it with his eyes. 

Officer Rodriguez hated stakeouts.  They were boring and uncomfortable, and more often than not a fruitless waste of time.  This one was nothing like that.  No more than thirty or forty minutes after he first parked out there, Will Baker walked out the front door in his suit and looking ready to head home.  It wasn’t quite time to leave work yet, even on banker’s hours, so something was up.  He tried to keep some distance, not wanting to give away that he was following the guy.  That would defeat the purpose, after all.  So he followed at a distance of maybe four or five car lengths, moving at slow in-town traffic speeds.  It was a normal enough drive, going past the intersection at Horizon Baptist.  What did seem odd was when he turned off of Horizon St. down towards the lesser roads, taking the long way to get anywhere, really.  It only made sense when he turned back towards Horizon St. about a half mile down.  He’d gone that way to avoid passing the school and the crosswalk where Nikki died.  He didn’t want to pass that old cross, and old Joe almost felt bad about suspecting him of anything. 

Up ahead, though, Officer Rodriguez saw something distressing, when he noticed Jonah standing on a bridge overlooking the river, and he had this box in his hands.  Officer Rodriguez had to choose between his chase and this kid, knowing he couldn’t well make both work.  He could see Jonah set the box down on the bridge, and it looked like he was trying to climb up on top of it.  No matter how much he wanted to follow the banker, Joe knew he had to make sure this kid lived through the day. 

But the decision became more difficult really quick.  As Rodriguez got ready to turn on his mounted lights, Will pulled over and jumped out of his car, running up to Jonah himself.  So now Joe could neither follow Will nor help Jonah, and he just kept driving.  He went moving on down the road, back towards the Minit Save and heart of town.  It just seemed like this day was meant to go against Office Rodriguez, and he couldn’t win.  There was no file, and he couldn’t follow the suspect.  Instead, he thought he might just try to keep Rob from doing something stupid.  If you can’t figure out what’s going on, you might as well try to keep it from happening. 

“Hello?”

“Rob, hey, it’s Joe.”

“Joe, hey, how are you?  You still on shift?”

“Yeah, I’m still on.  Hey, Rob, wh…why are you whispering?”

“Whispering?  No, I’m not.  It’s my throat, my throat hurts.”

“You’re a bad liar, Rob, what’s going on?”

“I’m trying to keep quiet, yeah, that’s all.” 

“But why?  Why are you trying to keep quiet?  You live alone on a farm, Rob.”  It was another one of those moments when those cop instincts stepped it up and told Joe what he needed to know.  “Who’s there with you?”

“Just some girl.  She needed a place to stay, she’s been having a real tough time and needed a friend.”  He heard a door close in the background, and with it, Rob’s voice got louder.  “I’m not doing anything wrong, I promise you.”

“God, Rob.  It’s Mrs. Baker, isn’t it?  You’re doing the banker’s wife.”

“No, no.  It’s…yeah, you’re right, it’s her.  But she doesn’t love him, Joe.  And we go back.  We’ve got a history.” 

“Just tell me you two ain’t got a future, Rob.  That guy’s dangerous, Rob, and that girl’s not any better.  Something’s gonna happen to you, boy, and I’m not gonna be able to help you.” 

“I know what I’m doing, okay?  Look, I’m gonna end it with her, but not yet.  I can’t, not now.”

All this time, Joe had kept driving and found Will’s house.  That gorgeous car was out in the driveway, but it was the only one.  He knew where her car was, and he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  “You send that girl home right now, you hear me, Rob?  You send that girl home to her husband right now, he’s here waiting on her.”

“You mean to tell me he’s home right now?”  The way Rob had said it, Joe knew what he’d done. 

“You don’t do it, Rob, I said send her home.  Don’t you dare go over there with her.” 

“I’ll call you later, Joe.  Have a good evening.”

In perfect futility, Joe tried to offer one last warning, but the phone had already died.  In all the frustration in him, Joe threw the phone and saw the clock.  “It is time for my shift to end.  I’m done with this job, I swear I am!”  The in-car thermometer read 101˚, and Joe felt each degree of that heat building up behind his head.  Between people inciting riots and going off into the mouth of their own lion, all freely chosen, there was nothing a good cop could do to protect the people around him.  A bad cop like Joe felt even more powerless.  It was just impossible.  He drove on back out of town, past the houses and occasional shops, back over the highway that divided Horizon from the country, and back towards the station.  It wasn’t made better when he saw Rob’s truck blow past, knowing good and well where he was going and who he was aimed to see.  It was impossible to protect these people when everything they do aims for destruction.  The cop himself even drove towards destruction, what with the buying pills from middle schoolers and all.  And if he couldn’t protect himself, how could he protect anyone else?

“Officer Rodriguez, this is dispatch.  Come in, Rodriguez.”

“Yes, what do you want?”  The long pause alerted Joe to his mistake. 

“Officer, we have a reported Signal 67 out at 3225 Horizon St., reported to be an older African-American woman on the sidewalk.  Her grandson called it in, says she fell over in the heat.  EMTs are 10-6 and might be a few minutes.  They’re not reporting any immediate health risks, but her and her grandson are both shaken up.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m 10-76.  Let me know if anything changes, dispatch.”

And of course, it would go on just a little longer.  He was in sight of the station, and now he was going right back where he came from.  Apparently one of Will’s neighbors had fallen out in the street and needed some assistance, and of course Joe was the only guy they could think of to bother with it.  Everybody else was busy being important.  So he headed on back.  This day was going to be one to forget for Officer Rodriguez, and it couldn’t be over soon enough. 

And if it weren’t enough that dispatch had called him back out, now Rob was ringing up his phone.  “What do you want, Evans?  I do not have time for you right now.”

“Joe!  He’s dead!  Somebody’s…he’s dead, Will’s dead.”

“What did you do?  What did you do, Rob?”

“What?  Me?  No, Joe, no…I…no.” 

“What happened, Robby?” 

“I just…the blood, man, he’s dead.”

“Okay, look.  Get home, wake that girl up, and get her over there.  She needs to be there as soon as we show up if possible.” 

“Right, yeah, right.  What else?”

“You’re gonna be there with her, and we’re gonna talk about this when I see you there.”

“You mean I have to go back?”  

“Yes.  You’re going back there with Mrs. Baker, and you’re gonna tell me what you did.  I’ve gotta go call this in.  Now just do it!”

About that time, as if the world were acting in unison now for the sake of Joe Rodriguez:  

“Officer Rodriguez, this is dispatch.  Are you still enroute to the Signal 67 out at 3225 Horizon?”

“Yes, dispatch I’m headed that way, but…”

“Cancel that last call, we’ve got a Code 2 situation about a Code 28 with a possible Signal 27 reported by the old lady in question.  She claims to have seen a young man running out of the house with blood on his hands.  All units are responding.”

            “Yeah, I know, dispatch, I know.  I was just about to call it in, myself.”  Realizing that every word he said further condemned his friend, Joe had to do it.  “I think…I think Will Baker is dead.”  

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So we're getting into the meat of the story, here, and I actually posted it (almost) on time!  In dealing with a police officer, I wanted to make his language somewhat authentic.  Now I know most of us don't have memorized the official codes and signals and "10-4"s, so if you have trouble with the codes and police talk I used, there's this great website called www.scangwinnett.com with a list of actual terms and signals used by police.  I used it as a reference to keep things sounding authentic, though I tried to provide good context to clear it up.  If you need a hand, feel free to check them out and see if it helps.  And again, I encourage everyone to let me know what they think either on here or on Facebook.  I'm also on Twitter.  And speaking of Facebook, don't forget to use your ultra-special, limited time engagement, :42: Facebook chat icons.  And when you're friends ask what it means, just tell them it means 42Cobras Publishing.  Thanks to all of my avid readers out there, and I look forward to hearing your comments, theories, and suggestions.  Until next week, enjoy!