Authors: Fha User
thoughts that she didn't hear what he said. Luckily, his appealing mouth
twisted into a warm smile that set her stomach fluttering and repeated his
question.
“Ma’am, I need to know who did this to you.”
She noticed he had very kind eyes and Casey immediately felt like she could
trust him. That one question started the tidal wave of tears she’d been
holding back and it brought out all the bad feelings and regrets she had about
her past relationships. And so, she told this man, this officer, this stranger
everything. She told him who’d beaten her up and all the things that had led
up to it. It felt good to tell someone, to finally let it all out. When she
finished her story, he smiled at her and briefly covered her hand with his. He
hadn’t judged her and, in that moment, she felt like she’d found a friend.
Standing under the water, she shut her eyes against the memories and
immediately felt ashamed. Craig was everything she had ever wanted in a
man. He was wonderful and kind and, lately, it seemed all she ever did was
hurt him. He knew how to make her laugh and he definitely knew how to
make her burn. Above all, he made her feel whole and hadn’t cared about
her past and or what other people might think. She wanted nothing more
than to feel like he did, but she couldn’t. They needed more time, she
reasoned. Their relationship was too new and she wanted to savor these
wonderful feelings just a bit longer, before they had to end. The fear of his
family rejecting her and the very real fear that she might lose him if he had to
choose between his family and her, terrified Casey. What if he had to chose,
what would he do? What would she do? She couldn’t bear to think about it.
The water grew hotter, steaming up the mirror and tiles. As it cascaded
over her skin, she thought about losing him. She knew if she turned him
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down again, it would only hurt him. Although his request seemed so simple,
it really wasn’t. But Casey knew she couldn’t put him off forever.
Eventually she would have to deal with all of this. Whatever the outcome,
she feared it would not be in her favor. The salt of her tears mixed with the
warm spray beating down on her as she laid her head against the shower wall
and cried.
In the bedroom, Craig lay staring at the ceiling. Although she’d refused
him every other time in the past, her response today angered him. At first he
didn’t mind keeping their relationship a secret. He respected how she felt
and realized she was afraid his family would think she wasn’t good enough
for him. In all honesty, he thought, she was probably right about how they
would react. But dammit, he was a grown man. He didn’t have to answer to
anyone about anything. What he did and whom he did it with was none of
anyone’s business. He cared about Casey, and he was certain she cared
about him too. He had no idea how or when it happened—because he
certainly didn’t go looking for it—but somehow loving her had snuck up on
him.
He had to admit that he like to at least tell his mother. He was sure she
would be cool with this. Since his father’s death, Craig and his mother had
grown very close. Comfortable around one another, he and his mom talked
openly about everything and it just didn’t feel right not telling her about
Casey. Subsequently, he talked to his mom a lot less these days for fear that
he would let something slip. Folding his arms behind his head, he continued
staring at the ceiling, feeling the anger that rose in him moments ago slowly
drain away. She just needed more time, he reasoned, and eventually she
would come around. Deciding not to push the matter further, Craig heaved a
sigh of resignation and got out of bed.
The shower was running so she didn’t hear him enter the bathroom. As
soon as he opened the door he heard Casey crying. He swore viciously. She
cried at the drop of a hat lately, but this time she was crying for a reason, and
the reason was him. Feeling like crap, he slowly pulled back the shower
curtain and joined her under the warm spray of water. Pulling her close, he
wrapped his arms tight around her and captured her lips in a tender kiss.
After a time, Craig got out and dried himself off. Padding barefoot into her
small kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and surveyed its contents. He had
all the ingredients to make omelets, except eggs and milk. She was washing
her hair when he re-opened the bathroom door, so he raised his voice a little
so she could hear him over the running water.
“Babe, you’re all out of milk and eggs. I’m going out to get some
provisions. Be back in a flash.” She muffled something he couldn’t hear
over the noise of the shower.
9
Walking to the corner grocery, Craig made a mental list of a few more
things he thought Casey might need. He would have liked to spend the
entire day with her, but he’d promised his mom he’d stop by this morning
and he had plans to hang out with the guys this afternoon. Oh, well, he
thought, after breakfast he’d better get moving.
There were three or four more customers in the market when he walked in.
Craig picked up eggs, milk and juice and then wandered toward the back of
the store to grab some bacon. He couldn’t remember if she liked turkey
bacon or beef. As he pondered what type of bacon to buy, he felt something
hard jab him in the side. When he tried to look behind him to see who the
fuck had rolled up on him like this, Craig felt the barrel of a gun poke him
hard in the ribs. As he glanced down, there was no mistaking the gun was
real. His mind raced trying to figure a way out of this.
“Hey man, you don’t want to do this. Take my money or whatever you
want and leave,” he said, as the items in his hands fell to the floor.
“Shut the fuck up, yah’ hear. Just shut the fuck up.”
“Hey man, I don’t know you, but listen you don’t want to do this,”
Craig’s voice trailed off as his mind searched for some way to reason with
this asshole.
“I know who you are, you bastard.”
In the store a small crowd had gathered and some of the patrons turned a
curious gaze on the men at the back of the store. The barrel of the weapon
poking him was jammed harder into his side. Somehow he had angered this
man and Craig wasn’t exactly sure why.
“Listen,” he started again, but was instantly cut off.
“Shut up you bastard. I know you been bangin’ her. She thought she could
get rid of me, well she ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy.”
“Listen, you don’t know what you’re doing here, I’m a cop,” Craig said,
trying desperately to reign in his own mounting anger and fear.
“Yeah, I know who you are. I’m gonna’ fix it so both of you won’t be
doing nobody anymore, let alone each other.”
Sweat accumulated on his upper lip and under his armpits, as Craig
realized this was probably the asshole that beat Casey up several months ago.
The police investigation at the time hadn’t found a trace of the guy.
Eventually, Craig had chalked the whole thing up to a punk boyfriend who
beat up his girl when he was drunk, then split town when he finally sobered
up. His mind turned the situation over and over frantically. How long had
this scumbag been watching them? Using all the force within him to wrestle
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this piece of shit to the floor, Craig twisted slightly and grabbed for the gun.
Both he and the gunman rolled around on the floor several times, each with
their hands locked around the gun before Craig was able to land a left hook
to the side of his face. Craig felt he was going to gain the advantage when
the gunman tried to crawl away. He grabbed his ankle, pulling him back.
With a powerful lunge, Craig landed on top of the gunman, at the precise
moment an elderly woman came down the aisle. The woman screamed
when she saw the two men fighting on the floor. Suddenly, the gun went off.
11
TWO
For Clayton Marshall, life couldn’t get any sweeter. He had the day off, it
was payday and he couldn’t wait to pick up his brand new Ford F150. It
was an awesome piece of machinery, boasting power windows, locks, doors,
seats, a moon roof and a state-of-the art Bose sound system. Outside, it was
the ultimate man’s truck with 16 liters of powerful V8 under her hood,
aluminum rims and enough chrome to choke a horse. Yeah, it was quite a
beauty and he couldn’t wait to pick her up. All he needed now was his
paycheck.
He opened the door to his old Buick and a blast of sweltering heat hit him
square in the face—
reality check
. Oh well, he thought, this would be his last
day driving in this old bucket of bolts, with its rusted paint job and busted air
conditioning. Fortunately there was nothing wrong with the radio. Turning
it on, he slid behind the wheel. Beyonce blasted through the speakers,
singing about being a “Survivor.” Making his way to the station, Clay put
the car in gear and shook his head to the music, keeping time with the beat.
Traffic on Route 110 was light at this time of morning and he made it to the
station in less than ten minutes. Pulling into the rear parking lot of the
Amityville Police Station, Clay backed his old clunker in between two black
and white squad cars.
Cutting the engine, Clay donned a pair of dark, regulation issue sunglasses
and got out of the car, whistling. God, it really was a perfect day, the sun sat
high in a cloudless blue sky and its intensity at this hour of the morning was
indicative of how the temperature would probably soar by noontime. He and
the guys had made plans to meet at Amity Beach this afternoon. Smaller
and less crowded than Jones Beach, Amity Beach was the perfect place for
an outing. Craig was picking up the beer, Joe was bringing his Jet ski and
Jake had the use of his parent’s speed boat for the day. Everyone else had
been assigned to bring something, so they would have plenty of hot dogs,
soda, chips and beer.
Using his access card, Clay entered through the rear door of the station.
Still whistling, he ambled over to the mail slots and noticed Stokes and
Piterrelli standing over a desk watching something on the monitor. Whatever
they were staring at must be pretty serious, he thought, because they didn’t
look up when he came in.
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“What’s up guys?” he asked of no one in particular as he surveyed the
squad room.
Both officers looked up from what they were doing, but did not reply.
Stopping at the mail area, he poked his hand into his slot and came up with a
white envelope. Sliding his index finger into the folds, he ripped an envelope
open and announced. “Finally…payday couldn’t get here fast enough!”
Reading his check and scanning the inserts that came along with it, Clay
swung around and rested a lean hip against a nearby desk. “That’s it guys, its
official now. In the next half hour I’ll be picking up my new ride and
sending my old bucket of bolts to its final resting place,” he said.
“Gentlemen, get ready to stand in line to say your final goodbyes.”
Suddenly, it struck him that neither Stokes nor Piterrelli had moved, or said
a word since he came in. Two more uniformed officers came out of the
break room at that moment. They too had nothing to say.
“Newt, Captain Jackson,” Clay’s greeting died on his lips. Both of them
looked as solemn as Stokes and Piterrelli. Warily, he looked around the
squad room. Recognizing the silence and the somberness of the room all too
well, he thought this can’t be good.
“Hey guys, com’on what’s the deal?”
His Captain, Mike Jackson, grudgingly spoke up. “It’s bad news Clay. An
officer went down; it just came in on the wire.”
Clayton’s stomach suddenly lurched up then dropped down in fear.
“Who?” The grave silence that followed his question seemed to last a
hundred seconds. “Who?” Clay repeated, his fear mounting, as the seconds
ticked by.
In an almost inaudible voice, Jackson replied quietly, “Craig.”
“Craig?” Clayton’s features twisted in pain and disbelief. No, they
couldn’t be talking about his roommate, his partner, his best friend, he
thought. “That can’t be. Somebody’s made a terrible mistake.”
Approaching him, Captain Jackson placed an understanding hand on his