1976a

In my writing class this semester, we were given an assignment to write a short-story. After a lot of fuss I wrote this. It wasn't my original story, it began as a side project during the summer and sat on my computer gathering electronic dust as a three page piece of garbage. Since then, it has grown into a 10 page monstrosity, though I'm not sure that it's any better (perhaps it needs to be burned rather than posted for humanity to see). But I give you "1976".

Irvin Sloane set down his mug, the bottom of which left a circular coffee stain on the police reports carelessly strewn on his desk. Seven months sabbatical leave wasn't enough, but was too long; the usual pace of the patrol room was pure ecstasy, although hardly the type of toil he was accustomed to. The detective stared through the blue haze of his computer screen, and remembered, almost nineteen months earlier, when he had a beat; a patrol car; a gun; and a partner. Nineteen months ago was before—before the tragic year of 1976, before the most heinous crimes small town of Cedar Hill had ever seen, before Irvin's gun, his badge, and identity were confiscated and placed in the top drawer of Chief of Police, Gene Emerson’s desk. He hadn’t been whole since that day.

Irvin had relived that day so many times, the time on the clock, the sounds of the booking officers; the sinking feeling his stomach had when they brought the scoundrel in. Everything, even the feeling of the cold steel in his hands, the click of the levers, and the powerful whirl of the chamber locking the bullet in place. “You--son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered as he thought of the smug grin on the murderer's face. A phone call shook him out of his day terror, but it would return.

Lane County was a small county, and Cedar Hill was merely a blur out a car window, where the population maxed out at 10,000 when you counted the people in the graveyard. Irvin grew up on the back roads of Cedar Hill, driving his four-by-four, fixing fences that needed mending, and dating the farm girls. He had been the Quarterback in high school, taking his team to two division victories, and riding the cheers of football scholarships all the way through college for a criminal justice degree. But after tearing his ACL in the final game of his senior year, he gave up hopes for a solid career in professional football, and traded his helmet and pads in for a gold star and a Glock.

It was a hot night in July; when Irvin knocked on the front door of the country home, the pounding everyone dreads echoed through the sleepy house; the heavyhearted knock of an unlucky newbie who must inform the next-of-kin.

At 24, Irvin was the newest, and youngest, detective to be added to the Lane County Police force. He had been the first to discover Alice Grey's wide-eyed body bound, bludgeoned. The police siren had scared the attacker, because she was still breathing when Irvin happened upon her. He rushed over to her, and took her in his arms; as she hemorrhaged into his jacket, she drew her last breath, “tell my parents it doesn't hurt,” where her last rasped words.

Irvine was adamant he was an expert at breaking bad news, so his superiors were not reluctant to let him deliver the news to the Grey residence. His Sergeant, Lloyd Allen, hesitantly drove him back to the precinct where Irvin changed his blood soaked clothes, he washed his face roughly, as though the soap and the rough scrubbing would somehow wash the scene out of his mind. But the tighter he shut his eyes, the more vivid the scene became, the stronger the blood smelled, he steadied himself with the sink.

Allen drove him to the house, and instructed Irvin on the best manner in which to present the tragic news, "keep a stony; yet, sympathetic expression, don't look down, don't cry, and whatever you do, don't go in their house, you'll never come out." Allen made Irvin repeat his speech three times before he could open the door, and wished him good luck giving him a sympathetic pat on the back.

Alice had been the picture perfect girl every little girl dreamed of becoming, with long brown hair, flawless, light skin, and a beaming smile. She was Homecoming Queen and Valedictorian for the class of 1969 and head cheerleader in her junior and senior years. And like all good high school romances, she and Irvin were an item during their moments of fame. She wore his Letterman jacket, and he kept a note tucked away in his wallet of “I love you” written in her hand writing, they were a perfect pair.

Irvin was alone, standing on the front porch of the Grey's white country home with black shutters, the home where Alice grew up. Somewhere in the distance, an old farm dog barked, and in the whistling of the wind through the trees he could hear the familiar sound of the porch swing creaking. He opened the screen door and knocked three times one the Oak front door, the distinct thump of Manny Grey marching down the stairs clamored from somewhere in the house. Irvin swallowed hard; if Irvin knew him half as well as he thought he did, Manny would have his rifle in one hand and a flashlight in the other.

Half naked, Manny approached the door in his usual manner, cocked gun, loud and cussing, "What the Hell! What in God's name do you want Vin? It's the middle of the damn night! Why the hell, can't this wait ‘til mornin'!?" Irvin had known Alice since they were small, she was a year younger then him, but always in the same grade. It had been seven years since he had taken Alice to the senior prom, tried to feel her up, and left with a boner and a fat lip; he wished that he had not signed up for this job, but he couldn't leave now.

"S-sir--Mr. Grey, Sir--," his voice wavered, after taking a deep breath he was able to carry on, "Mr. Grey, this can’t wait till morning,--It's Alice, sir. She was attacked this evening. There's no easy way for me to say this-- er-- she's dead." At this Mr. Grey lowered his gun, nodded his head in an understanding fashion, hugged Irvin and closed the door without so much as a word.

Irvin stood on the porch for a while, repeating his last words to himself, as though trying to make himself believe it. "She's dead...,” he muttered to himself, "and that yellow-bellied coward did it to her."

When Irvin had arrived at the scene, he saw Alice's attacker running up the alleyway. He had a distinct walk and was easily recognizable as the county reject. He came from the peaks above Cedar Hill; his father was an abusive drunk and his mother was the town whore, Jack Avery was the lowest of the low, everyone knew when he came to town there was going to be trouble. Although Jack was 2 years older than Irvin, he had been in the same grade and always labeled as the "bad egg," he was expelled every year. When he was in first grade it had been for cussing out the teacher, punching his classmates, and setting fire to the coatroom, but as he got older the offenses became more deliberate and more harmful: punching the principal, stabbing another student with a pencil, smuggling beer into the school and getting drunk behind the bleachers. The town's folk were always saying, "If Avery amounted to anything it would be a killer."

Irvin didn't go back to the station after leaving the Grey's farm, instead Allen drove him back to his squad car; Irvin took his scheduled break and drove around to clear his head. With the windows down to cure his nausea, he relived the day, when he finally turned off the engine of his standard issue Fastback police cruiser, he was at his and Alice's favorite rendezvous--the old towering oak tree at lover's lane. It was where he first got up the gumption to kiss her. They were tucked in the branches on a hot summer day, spying on Irvin’s older brother and his girlfriend skinny-dipping in the pond near the foot of the tree.

He remembered the smell of Alice’s white cotton dress was like a sunny day, how the taste of fresh strawberries hung on her lips and her Oak tree brown eyes warmed his stomach. That was how he wanted to remember Alice, not as he had seen he tonight, a bloody mess in the alley, Alice had always been the type of girl who befriended everyone, who never had any enemies, her popularity never went to her head. He took the tattered note out of his wallet “I love you.” he read. Irvin remained there until his dispatcher’s voice came over the radio, telling him he was needed at the station.

Lloyd Allen met him at the door of the station, “we have a witness,” he said “thought you would want to be here when we question ‘im.” Irvin nodded, and followed the Sergeant to the witness examination room. “Mr. Abbot, please tell us everything you know.” James Abbot was a man in his mid-50s with failing eyesight and a history of exaggerating, he was taking out the trash when he heard Alice scream for Help, but he was used to the neighborhood kids horsing around in his alley at night, so he didn’t think anything of it when he heard her cry for help.

“She only cried ‘HELP!’ for a minute before the boy with ‘er told ‘er to be quiet. I didn’t think anything of it, until I saw you folks down in the alley tonight, so I came down ‘ere to tell you all I know.” Mr. Abbot shook his head helplessly, regretting that he had not stopped for a moment to speak with Alice; normally he would have, but he’d just opened a can of Tuna and the cat was in the house.

“Is there anything else you can remember, Mr. Abbot? A vehicle? A voice?”

Mr. Abbot thought for a moment, “There was something, the man, the one who told her to be quiet, was tall and wearing dress shoes. He was a clean-cut, clean-shaven man, and he called her ‘Al,’ like he knowed her.”

“Did he look like this man?” the Sergeant set a photo in front of Mr. Abbot. A black and white photo taken of Jack Avery’s ruddy face and beady black eyes stared up off the semi-glossy surface. His broken nose sat crooked on his the tip pointing more to the right than it should have from one too many hits from his old man.

“No, that’s Jack Avery, I know who that is, I’ve never seen the man who yelled at Alice before.” Mr. Abbot stared at the picture for a moment and began, “He was a skinny man, without a beard. With dark hair, he had a “city” look about him—like he didn’t belong in that alley, as though he might’ve gotten dirty if he stayed there too long.”

When the sun came up, Irvin went to his apartment for some much needed rest, though he questioned how much rest he was really going to get. He had just told a family that he cared about that their only daughter was dead. He remembered the eerie way Mr. Gray had shut the door in his face without a comment, the way Alice had gasped her final breath in as though that would make it last longer. He thought how odd if felt to hold her lifeless body close to his.

As Irvin got ready for his night shift and wading through the thoughts about Alice and her murder, he heard a call over the scanner, “ALL UNITS TO THE SCENE, WHITE FEMALE, MID-TWENTIES, BROWN HAIR, BROWN EYES, HAS BEEN ABDUCTED. SHE HAS BEEN MISSING SINCE 6:30 THIS MORNING, SHE HAS BEEN REPORTEDLY SPOTTED AT THE CORNER OF 5^TH AND MAIN. SUSPECT IN ARMED AND DANGEROUS, PROCEED WITH CAUTION, CORNER OF 5^TH AND MAIN, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.”

Irvin ran out of his apartment, he was five blocks from 5^th and Main, he decided the skip the car, it would be easier to go on foot. His years of running in high school and college were paying off. When he arrived at the street corner, Sergeant Allen and the Chief Emerson were there. “Any sign of her?” Irvin asked, and prayed that they had found her. The girl’s description was exactly what Alice had looked like; he couldn’t bear the thought of having to tell another parent that their daughter was dead.

“No, no sign. We cannot be certain she was ever here, we can only go off the lead from an anonymous caller.” explained the Chief. They all understood how critical this was, if they didn’t find a lead on her soon, it would be nearly impossible to in the morning.

The girl’s name was Evelyn Cob, she’d recently moved west to Cedar Hill from Maine, bringing nothing of her past with her. She was an artist who was in search of a new life and a new muse, and thought that she found it in the hills above the little town. But now things were going wrong, not at all, as they seemed this morning when she left for her daily run past the small crisp houses with manicured lawns and up the curvy mountain road, things then had made sense.

The cars were dispatched to their usual rounds, in search of a clue and the person who called the tip in. When Irvin reported to the station, he was met by the Chief and a young man. The Young man’s name was Benjamin “Ben” Heller. Ben was in his late twenties. He had recently transferred to the Lane County police force, from a squad in New York, with 6 years of experience, he would serve as Irvine’s partner during the investigation of Alice’s murder. Their first mission as partners was to travel out to the Grey house to question Mr. and Mrs. Grey about Alice.

“Mr. Grey, we need know everything, if we are going to find the man who murdered Alice.” Ben began the questioning right off the cuff, as Mrs. Grey sobbed in the background while she poured the three men dark coffee. “Did Alice have friends?”

“She had friends, but not any that would do this to her, everyone loved Alice. Vin, you know how much people loved my little Allie.” the tall man broke down in a fit of wrenching sobs. “She was our only baby. We loved her so much, what are we going to do without her?”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Grey,” Irvin empathized, moving over to the couch and placing his hand on the big man’s shaking shoulder. “I know she was a wonderful woman, but someone didn’t feel the same way about Alice as everyone else did, and we have reason to believe she knew her killer.”

“KNEW HER KILLER?!” Mrs. Grey cried out, “Good Heavens.” she fell silent

“Mrs. Grey, did Alice have a boyfriend? Or anyone she was seeing recently?” Ben countered her. Mrs. Grey shook her head and turned white.

The questioning with the Grey’s had gone worse than expected. Irvin decided to make a trip up to the peaks to see Jack Avery. It was time he was brought in for questioning. He and Ben drove to the little cabin where Jack’s family lived. They were greeted by gunshots. After a couple of shots, they coaxed Mr. Avery to put the gun down. Jack came out the meet the officers. “What can I do fer ya?” he said with a mouth full of tobacco; “I asked what you were here fer.”

“We need to ask you some questions about last night, Jack.” Irvin took a step toward him. “I saw you leaving the body in the alley, what were you doing there?”

“I heard her scream, and when I snuck by the alley, I saw her on the ground, and remembered her from school. Then I saw the man stab her 3 times. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.” He pounded his fist into his hand. He began to shake, “I tried to help her, but there was blood everywhere. I tried to stop it, but the more I pushed, the more came out the other holes.”

“Why did you run when you saw me?” Irvin had a sharp tone in his voice.

“I know how you feel. I know how the town feels ‘bout me. I ain’t stupid, I know ya’ll think I’m a killa’ you think that’s all I’m about. Killin’, murderin’, but it ain’t. ‘Specially not Alice, she was one of the few people who were nice to me in school.

“Did you get a good look at the man who stabbed Alice, Jack? Try to remember. Anything.” Irvin needed something he could go off on.

“He had a tattoo of a green dragon on the inside of his left arm of an eagle on his forearm. I remember it, because it was odd to see a city man with a huge tattoo on his arm,” Jack was proud of himself for remembering, all the details.

With Jack’s answers, Irvin and Ben were back to square one, again. They went back to the station; Irvin had a message from Mrs. Grey on his voicemail. She sounded urgent; he returned her call at once. “Mrs. Grey, I just got you message,” he had an air of sympathy in his cool voice.

“Thank you for calling me back so soon, Irvin.” the tears caught in her throat, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything when you were here earlier.”

“You have something to tell me?”

“I was preoccupied when you were here, I couldn’t think about anything but my baby laying there, dying. “

“She didn’t die alone, Mrs. Grey.”

“Can you tell me about her?”

He closed his eyes, and shuttered. “I was there. She was alive when I found her, she was breathing,” he didn’t know how much further to go. But he needed to tell her, he needed to get it off his chest. “She was gasping for breath. I walked to her and took her up in my arms. She wasn’t alone, I was there. She told me to tell you that it didn’t hurt.” He knew that was a lie, he saw it in her eyes, but that is what she told him, so he had to tell her parents what she wanted them to know.

“Thank you, Vin.” She was relieved that her baby wasn’t alone, that had kept her awake all night. “She had a boyfriend. She met him in college; Grant Harris, that’s his name.” There was emptiness in her voice. As though she wasn’t telling him everything. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. He’s not answering when I call.”

“Mrs. Grey is there something else?”

“No, thank you for calling me, Irvin. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone.

1976b

It happened so suddenly, she was running down the path, breathing in the cool fall air, as the sun was beginning to dry the dew off the grass. By the time Evelyn heard to rev of the engine, it was too late; the truck had was beside her and there was a hand on her shoulder. She tried to fight the hand off, but it was too strong; she was quickly overpowered in no time. The man in the truck jumped out, tied her hands behind her back, and put a bag over her eyes. He picked her up and roughly placed her in the passenger seat.

It had been 3 days since Evelyn had disappeared, when they received a phone call. Irvin and Ben were no closer to finding her abductor then they were to solving Alice’s murder. “Is this Detective Sloane?” the voice was gruff and graveled on the other end, “I need to speak with Detective Sloane, NOW.” the voice continued before Irvin could answer.

“Yes, this is Detective Sloane,” when he answered his voice cracked slightly. “What can I do for you?”

There was a sinister quality in the voice on the other end of the phone, “I have some information about Evey; I know where she is.”

Irvin put the call on speakerphone as he motioned for Ben to come to his desk. “Go ahead, please, tell us what you know.”

There other end of the line was silent; “I’ll call you back.” The line went dead.

The phone rang almost immediately, “Hello?!” Irvin shouted.

“She’s at the end of Mountain Road,” the man at other end chuckled to himself. “You’d better hurry.” The line disconnected.

Irvin and Ben raced to their car, as they made their way up to the end of Mountain Road they radioed for EMS vehicles and back up. At the top of the mountain where the road ended, they saw a mound. Without cutting the car off, they jumped out and run to the body lying on the ground. She wasn’t moving, there was a lot of blood pooling on the pavement. He felt for her pulse, there wasn’t one; she was dead.

Irvin removed the bag and looked into her face; it was uncanny how much she resembled Alice. As the coroner came to collect the body, Irvin stood and walked away from the scene. wringing his hands, shaking his head. He began to sob, “I’m sorry, Allie. I’m so sorry.”

Ben realized that Irvin had mistaken Evelyn for Alice, “Vin, who are you talking to?”

Irvin looked at Evelyn’s body, he was ashamed, “I—I’m sorry. I haven’t been able to get the picture of Alice Grey out of my head.”

“Understandable, but you called her Allie. You knew her, didn’t you, Vin?” Ben knew the answer before he asked.

“—Yes.”

Neither man said anything while they processed the scene.

The town was awake. They had heard about the girl’s disappearance and that she had been found. Irvin and Ben returned to the station with what little evidence they had, and began writing their reports.

The Chief called Irvin into his office. “Son, I’ve noticed you look at bit piqued here lately, wanna talk about it?”

“Oh, you know, this is my first murder to work, and I’ve been a little nervous.”

“I’ve heard that you knew Alice.”

Irvin hesitated, “---Yes, sir. I knew her, we went to school together, I was a family friend.”

“I’m sorry son; I know this is hard for you. I’m going to have to ask you to step off the case. You’re too close to his to remain objective.”

“No. I need to find this man.”

“Then help us, take another route, so someone else can take this case.”

“Let me work on Evelyn’s case, then.”

“Can’t let you do that. Haven’t you realized they are the same cases? The women are similar, and the wounds are the same.” With that Irvin switched shifts with Detective Alex Henry, who became the lead detective on the case.

Irvin remembered his conversation with Mrs. Grey. He was troubled by her silence at the end, he felt as though there was something left unsaid. He needed to talk with her again. The next afternoon, before work, he drove out to the Grey’s farm. “Mrs. Grey, can I talk to you?”

“Sure, Vin.” She left her apron on the table and stepped outside with him. They had walked well away from the house before they began to speak.

“I’ve been thinking about our phone call. I think there is something you are not telling me, Mrs. Grey.”

“—There is.”

“I really need to know, Mrs. Grey, it might help the investigation.”

“It’s about Allie and Grant. Before Allie moved back home, she moved out of Grant’s apartment and broke off their 5 year relationship. Grant had been a wonderful young man when Allie first began seeing him. He had a great job that paid well, so he could take Allie out for large expensive dinners, and buy her nice gifts. After the third year, he bought her an apartment with a great view of Downtown Chicago, and soon after that they moved in together.”

“Sounds like a great guy. Why did she end the relationship?”

“Like I said he HAD been a wonderful man. Once Allie moved in with him, he slowly morphed into a terror.” She shook her head as she remembered the first family holiday after Alice and Grant began cohabitating. They had come home, and he hated the farm so much that he and Alice left abruptly one night to go into the city for a hotel. “Soon he limited when Alice could leave the apartment, and when she would violate the curfews, he would beat her; when she left, he threatened to kill her.”

“Have you heard from Grant?”

“No.”

“Do you have a picture or a description of Grant?” Mrs. Grey handed him the last picture Alice had sent home of her and Grant and headed back into the house.

Grant Harris was from out of town, he lived near the University Alice had received her Bachelor’s of Arts in Psychology from. He was a clean-cut man. He had been the class president at his college preparatory school. He was the kind of man that caught all the attention, a people pleaser. When he graduated from Harvard, he had immediately taken over his father’s architect firm, and was quickly climbing his way to the top of the lists of the Nation’s top designers. He was originally from a small town in the south, but he had outgrown the plowed fields and small town news. He distanced himself far from that in his swanky office with the leather couches. He was known to mistreat those who didn’t do as he said.

Five hours later, thanks to a mysterious tip off, a tall, slender man in his early thirties was brought into the precinct. He was dressed in business attire with a smug grin of his face. “You don’t have any charges you pigs; let me go.”

“Sir, we have witnesses putting you at the scene, and we have reason to believe that you threatened Alice’s life.”

“Why would I do that? I loved Alice.”

The Detectives laid photos of Alice in front of Grant “These were taken at the scene.” Grant began to cry.

“I didn’t do anything to her, I LOVED ALICE,” he sobbed through his tears, “I LOVED HER.”

“Sir, we need for you to tell us where you were doing on the night Alice died.”

“My company was hosting a dinner, I gave a speech at the dinner; people saw me, they can tell you I was there.” His alibi was confirmed, he had given the welcome speech at his company’s dinner. Grant was free to go.

The alibi and Grant’s attitude made Irvin suspicious, so he made another trip out to the Grey’s farm to speak with Alice’s mother again, “Did Alice say anything to you the night she died, Mrs. Grey?”

“Only that she was going out, she went out often,” he voice quivered a little. “She came back for you, you know, Vin.”

“What? For me?”

“She told me so, while we were having a cup of coffee the other morning on the back deck, looking at the mist on the hills, when she turned and asked me if you were still around. She missed you, and the longer she was with Grant the more sure she was that she’d let something go that was the best thing ever happened to her. She missed you, Vin.”

Vin scratched his receding hairline. “It’s been 7 years. 7 years, I missed her too.”

“She was always talking about you, ever since you two broke up your first semester of college, she loved you.”

Vin needed air. He excused himself.

Evelyn’s reports came back, she and Alice had the same murderer. Although they have been murdered in different places, they had the same traces and wounds on their bodies. However, the killer had not been as through with the clean up of Evelyn as he had been with Alice. By a thorough examination of the body, the detectives found a few fingerprints, which they were able to piece together. They matched the prints taken from Grant when he was brought in for questioning. Alibi or not, the detectives had substantial evidence, they could question Grant again and this time they could include questions about Evelyn.

Once again, Grant was brought in for questioning. “Who is this, Mr. Harris?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mr. Harris, we found your finger prints on Ms. Cob’s person, how did they get there?” Grant didn’t respond to the question.

“Mr. Harris, have you ever seen this woman before?” Detective Henry tossed the photos of a bloody woman onto the table in front of Grant.
“No.”

“Then tell us how your finger prints ended up on Ms. Cob’s face.” There was still no response from Grant.

“We’ve also tied Alice’s murder to Evelyn’s, they were killed with the same weapon.” As he placed Alice’s photos on the table, Grant began to shake.

“She was leaving me. She wasn’t going to come back. She was going to leave my home, my life—and—and come back here to this—to him. And I wasn’t going to let her.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Harris?”

“I wasn’t going to let her leave me, not like that. I didn’t want to be alone. I deserved her, I worked hard to get where I am, and no one walks out on me, NO ONE.” He pounded the table with his fists.

“What did you do?”

“She left two weeks ago; I didn’t know where she went. One night I came home and her bags were by the door. She thought about just walking out, without saying anything, but she knew I would find her and make her pay. So, she waited until I came home. “I’m leaving.” She says.” His voice became thin and tight. “No one’s ever said that to me. Then she left her key on the table and walked out the door.”

“Did you make her pay?”

“I gave her what she deserved for walking out on me.”

“What did you do?”

“I found her here, in town. She was waiting for him, I suppose. I followed her, and told her to get in the truck, she did. Then I drove her to the back alley. That was when that old man came. I thought I was going to have to hurt him too, but she was a good girl. When you told her to shut up, she shut up good. Never heard another peep out of her once I told her to be quiet.” He got up from the chair. He wasn’t crying anymore, his voice wasn’t cracking, he was solid.

“Then I hit her. She would never leave me again, no. I hit her until I was tired of hitting her, at some point she passed out, she was lying on the ground. So, I went to my truck and found my knife, and I fixed her. I fixed her—if I couldn’t have her, no one was going to.” He brought his hand down on the table 3 times. “She was not good to me then, so I left her and went back to the hotel.”

“Mr. Harris, you left her there to die.”

“Didn’t matter, she was leaving me anyway.”

“What about Evelyn Cob? Why did you killed her?”

“I saw her running the Mountain Road. She looked like Alice; when I saw her, I was so mad, that she was still alive. He couldn’t have her! NOT MY ALICE. So, I took her where she would be safe, she kept trying to leave me, I wasn’t going to let her leave me again. So this time I made it so she would never leave me—Never.” The Detectives took down his story and lead Grant in hand cuffs to booking.

Irvin was sitting at his desk working on a report for the traffic stops he had made the night before, when they brought Grant through the patrol room, with that smug look on his face. Grant looked at Irvin and chuckled. “You aren’t ever going to have her. She’s mine. And she was good.” Irvin watched as Detective Henry walked Grant to the front of the desk and sat him down so they could fill out the paper work for him to be placed in the holding cell for the night.

Irvin’s blood was pulsing, his heart was pounding; he stood up and walked the Detective Henry’s desk. “This him? You got him this time?” Henry nodded. “Good.”

“She came back here for you, you’re a kid. I’m glad I killed her so she wouldn’t have to look at your sorry ass.”

Before Irvin knew what had happened, Grant had stood up from the chair and threw his arms over Irvin’s head, and pulled the handcuffs tight against his throat. “You’re going to join her soon enough though. Come any closer and I’ll break his neck.”

Irvin felt Grant’s grip on his head tighten and knew that he was going to die soon, if someone didn’t do something. So, Irvin grabbed his gun from his holster and pulled the trigger. The gunshot was louder than he ever remembered it being when he shot at the targets in his firearms classes, and the kick was worse than it ever had been. Grant started to twist Irvin’s neck, as Irvin shot again. Grant lost his hold and sank to the floor, pulling Irvin down with him. The two men laid there, as Irvin struggled to get free of Grant’s arms and the other Detectives rushed over to help Irvin.

Irvin jumped out of his chair again as phone rang. There was still a mark Grant’s handcuffs had dug into his neck, “He-llo?” His voice held the marks of the pressure of the handcuffs still left on his throat.

“Irvin, I need to see you in my office.” Chief Emerson’s voice rang out from the receiver. Irvin walked into his office.

“Have a seat. It’s time I gave you these back.” he said pushing Irvin’s gun and badge across the desk.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” Irvin was glad he was back, too.