“Didn’t think it was going to end like this, huh?” Poole said and smiled. His blond hair had begun to gray at the temples. His wire-rimmed glasses sat on the edge of his pointy nose, and he looked as if his weight had dipped under two hundred pounds.

“So this is the end?” Carter asked. “The end of my suspension?”

“You killed a man.”

Carter could feel the anger building, but he refused to let Poole upset him. Any good investigator knows to keep the suspect off balance, but Poole had already tipped his hand.

“What happened to Newsome was an accident.”

“Well, if it were only that easy,” Poole said and laughed. “Wouldn’t it be funny to reinstate you and then arrest you for capital murder?”

“You know I didn’t kill Bentley.”

“I know that? Are you sure? Because I’m not.”

“Okay, Jay, then arrest me.”

“First of all, you will address me as either Lieutenant or Detective Poole. You know, this doesn’t have to be this way. Everyone knows how the Bentley case got to you. It got to all of us. You wanted justice. Then after what happened to Detective Newsome—”

“You want to arrest me for that, Jay?”

“The investigation is still ongoing. Listen, what I’m saying is, we all hurt when Bentley got off. We’ve already ruled out all the family members of his victims. With all that pressure, who else would have a better motive?”

“You couldn’t pin what happened to Newsome on me, so you come up with this?”

He tilted his head and asked, “Where were you yesterday at about eleven o’clock?”

There was something about a way Poole asked the question, an uncertainty.

“You don’t know?” Williams asked and shook his head. “For as long as you’ve been a detective, you know you shouldn’t ask a question like that without already knowing the answer.”

“Williams, I’m not one of your students.”

“I’d fail you if you were.”

“This is not a joke, and neither are my investigative skills—”

“I was at the college, grading papers for my criminology classes. My teaching assistant and I were there from eight until eleven in the morning. After that I went to church, followed by a late lunch with my family. You could have checked that out. Jay, why are you wasting my time?”

First Poole’s ears, and then his entire face flushed red. The door to the lieutenant’s office opened and a bold, raspy voice said, “I’ll take it from here, Slick.”

Carter knew in an instant to whom the voice belonged. Deputy Chief Harris had an annoying habit of calling everyone “Slick.” Though only a few years older than Carter, he carried himself like an old school cop and made no excuses for it. Many people said he resembled a young Bill Clinton, and was so smooth he could swim without getting wet. Poole stood, closed the file, and left the room without making eye contact with Carter. Deputy Chief Harris took the seat and asked, “How are you, Detective Williams?”

“Detective?” he asked. “That would imply I was a cop again. I thought Shelton was trying to lock me up.”

“Well, that’s my fault.”

“You?” Carter asked, surprised. Harris served as second-in-command for Police Chief James Pierre. The chief, a womanizing figurehead, had stopped being a lawman a long time ago and left most of the heavy lifting to Harris.

“I told her to ask you to come in so we could talk about the Bentley case. She got the wrong idea, called in Poole and ran with it.”

“You want my help?”

“Take a look at the crime scene pictures and tell me what you think. Do it for me, Slick.” He handed Carter the case file, and Carter opened the folder and removed the preliminary report. He turned it over and placed it on the table.

“You don’t want to look at the report?”

“No,” he answered and began flipping through the crime scene photos. The first shot showed Dwayne Bentley lying face down on his bathroom floor with his shorts and underwear around his ankles. The toilet appeared to have backed up, and waste covered all the surrounding floor. Other than a bowling-ball-size indention on the wall behind the toilet, there were no other signs of a struggle. The final picture displayed a close-up of an inflamed patch of skin on the victim’s right buttock. Carter took another look at all of the pictures before closing the file and sliding in back to Harris. “The crime scene was staged. Bentley was murdered.”

“How can you be so sure?” Harris started. “It looks like he was taking a dump and a snake came up through the sewer pipe and bit him.”

“Then where’s the snake?” Carter asked. “If the toilet had backed up, it couldn’t have gotten out the way it came, and there are no tracks, slither marks, or whatever snakes leave behind.”

“See. That’s what I’m talking about. This is why we need you. Everyone missed that until Taylor examined his body. Do you want to guess how we finally figured it out?”

Carter took another look at the pictures. “Was the floor under the body wet?”

“Nope.”

“If the floor under his body was dry, then he was on the ground before the toilet backed up. I can’t tell you how someone did it, but he was murdered. You already knew that. Steve, why am I here?”

“If you want it, I am here to give you your job back.” Carter froze when he mentioned job.

The job.

His job.

Some people are thrust into their profession. Through necessity, most people are forced into jobs they can’t stand. Carter counted himself as one of the few fortunate people who truly enjoyed his work. No matter what cops say, they all strive to make it to homicide. Solving a homicide was like trying to thread a needle while blindfolded. Carter considered it God’s work, and he was quite good at it. Some say the best.

Harris continued, “Listen to me. You know Bentley’s history backwards and forwards. Who would do a better job working this case?”

“I don’t know. Bentley was one of my first cases. I’ve always regretted the fact that he got off. What makes you think I’m the one to catch his killer?”

“Because I know you’ll do the right thing. You’ll work this case like your life depends on it.”

Deep down inside, Carter knew his words were true. That was part of the problem. As much as he longed to return to the job he loved, he loved his family more. The past six month have been the best his marriage had seen since he had become a detective. If he accepted the assignment, he knew it would lead him back down a dark path where he may never return. He looked at the file in front of the Chief.

“Come on, Slick. This is your chance to make it right. You catch his killer and close this case forever.”

It wouldn’t have matter what Harris had said, Carter already had his mind made up.

“When do I start?”

Harris smiled, shook Carter’s hand, and said, “First thing in the morning. Good luck.”

“I’ll need it. I still have to tell my wife.”

Kisa was going to throw a fit of epic proportions. They had finally settled back into the comfortable place where marriages are supposed to be. They both had set schedules, weekly dates and trust. The more Carter thought, the more he wondered, Can you truly have trust if you don’t have forgiveness? That was the fear and dread that rang in his mind. He had to do this. From the moment the Lieutenant told him of Bentley’s death, he hadn’t thought of anything else.

It had already begun.

A fresh homicide was intoxicating to the point where if Carter wasn’t careful, he would be completely consumed by every aspect of the case.  To make the transition back to the force, he knew he had to find the proper balance. A uniform dropped Carter back at his house to pick up his car, and he made it to the campus with ten minutes to spare before his class started. As he lectured on the principles of investigation during his eleven o’clock class, he found himself smiling for no reason. His hands tingled, and he felt excited for the first time in months. After his one o’clock Intro to Criminal Justice class, he spoke to the head of the criminal justice department and advised him of his return to the department. He thanked Carter, and said the detective would be welcomed back as a guest lecturer anytime. He arrived home for the day at half past five. As happy as he felt about being back on the force, he struggled with how he would tell his wife he was going back to the job that had almost cost them their marriage.

Carter entered the dark house and walked over to the refrigerator, but he didn’t have an appetite. He could hear a faint murmuring coming from down the hallway. He followed the sound toward his bedroom, stopping at his son’s room to peek inside. Power Rangers hummed in the background while the boy sat on his bed playing with action figures.

“Daddy!” he shouted and ran toward his father. Carter scooped him up and held him tight. As good as the morning was, getting a hug from his son was by far the best part of his day. “I got an A on my spelling test. Don’t forget we have to finish my project. We had tater tots for lunch. I like tater tots, but I told Mom so she wouldn’t make them again tonight. Is there a game on tonight? Can we watch it?”

“Slow down, big guy. We’re going to have dinner, watch the game, and I’ll read you a story before bed. Deal?”

“Can I tell you about the pocket rocket? Peyton got one for his birthday. Maybe I can get one for Christmas? And—”

“Before bed, I promise you can tell me everything. I’m going to go get cleaned up now, okay?”

The boy smiled and hugged his father again. Carter moved down the hall and saw a small crack at the bedroom door. Before he could go inside, Kisa, his wife, met him at the door.

“I thought I heard you,” she said as she walked past. “The Kellers will be here at six.”

“I forgot they were coming. I guess it’s too late to cancel?”

“This little weekly get-together was your idea, remember?” She kissed him on the cheek. “They’ll be here in less than an hour, so you might want to clean up a bit.”

Carter sighed. “Yeah, that sounds good. How was your day?”

“Fine,” she answered and disappeared around the corner.

He walked into the bedroom, took off his coat, and tossed it on the bed. He had started to remove his shirt when the phone sitting on the bed caught his attention. He picked it up and it was still warm. It didn’t take an ace detective to figure it was warm from being against Kisa’s face. The call display showed the last call lasted over an hour and had just ended.

Could it be starting again? 

She admitted to two affairs in their fifteen years of marriage. He suspected at least one more, but those suspicions had led him to a dark place from which he hadn’t yet returned, and which could have cost him his job as well as his family. Before he could hit redial, he heard her coming back down the hall. He put the phone back in its place and continued to undress. She walked in, sipping from a mug.

“Green tea. Want some?”

“No, thanks.” He walked to her and put his arms around her. He loved having her in his arms. A natural beauty, Kisa had straight black hair that hung a shade past her shoulders. Her body, which had a permanent tan stemming from her African-American father and Hawaiian mother, stayed shapely and toned. She had dimples deep enough to swim in and golden brown eyes so beautiful only God could have created them. He kissed her long and deep, like he did when they first married.

“What was that for?” she asked as she pulled away.

“Just because.”

She looked at Carter with distrust and returned to the kitchen. He took a quick shower and tried to wash away his feelings of doubt and insecurity before dressing in the blue oxford and khaki pants she had laid out for him. In the kitchen he found his childhood friend, Richard, standing behind Kisa as she stirred her latest masterpiece.

“Get your own wife,” Carter joked.

“I got one. She’s in there watching the game with Shawn.” He laughed. “I was trying to get a taste of that spaghetti.”

“I keep telling him you didn’t marry me for my cooking,” Kisa said. Richard slapped Carter on the shoulder and said, “You’re a lucky man.”

Richard’s wife, Ricki, yelled from the living room, “The Saints just scored again. Are we ready to eat?”

Richard leaned in and said, “I swear if she doesn’t stop eating so much, she’s gonna to be as big as a Buick.”

Kisa swatted at both of them and said, “Let’s eat.”

After dinner, the men went out to the front porch to enjoy the cool autumn air. Sitting in the antique maple rockers passed down from Carter’s grandfather to his father and then to him, they saw a night that could have been something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. He should be been thinking about anything other than Dwayne Bentley. Richard rocked back in his chair and said, “I’m going to be making some major moves soon. I need someone I can trust. Have you thought any more about coming to work for me? I could use a man like you to head my criminal investigative unit.” Though you would never guess it by looking at him, Richard Keller was a multimillionaire. After graduating with degrees in electrical engineering and computer science in the late 1980s, he’d spent part of the inheritance he received when his parents died to purchase a few hundred acres of swampland around Martin Lake in Lafayette. There, he created his state-of-the-art private training facility to provide support for military and law enforcement organizations. “You can name your own price.”

Carter took a deep breath and said, “I start back with the department tomorrow.”

“Wow.” Richard paused, seeming to absorb the news. “That’s great. What does the little woman think?”

“We haven’t discussed it yet.”

“Well, anyway, I bet it’ll be good being back at work, huh?”

“Honestly?” Carter asked.

“No, pee on my head and tell me it’s rain! Of course, honestly.”

“I feel guilty.”

“Guilty because of what happened to your partner? That was an accident.”

“No, that one is still hanging over my head,” Carter answered.

“Then what is it?”

“They want me to work the Dwayne Bentley case. He was murdered yesterday.”

Richard took a sip from his wineglass. “Dwayne Bentley. I almost forgot about him. You should give a medal to whoever killed him. Anyone who hurts a kid should be put under the jail.”

“You remember what that case did to me?”

“Yeah. Are you sure about this?” he asked.

“No, but I know I have to do it. I have to catch his killer.”

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it. Bentley is probably getting a pitchfork shoved up his rearend about now.” He raised his glass. “Let him burn in hell, I say.”

Carter smiled and wished he could have dismissed it as easily as his friend. No one had ever told him being a cop would be easy, and cases like Bentley’s served to remind him of that fact. As good a friend as Richard was, he wasn’t a cop, and he would never understand the emotions involved. “Dwayne Bentley, the one who got away,” Richard continued. “I’ll tell you one thing—you can’t outrun the devil. He got what was coming to him. You know, it was like there was something personal with you and him. What was it?”

Before Carter could respond, Ricki walked out onto the porch. “The babysitter called. Henry won’t stop crying. We need to go,” she said with a stone face and no emotion. She walked to the car without saying goodbye.

“What’s wrong with her?” Carter whispered.

“That crazy cow thinks I’m cheating on her.” Richard headed toward the car. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

After they drove away, Carter headed back inside and joined Shawn in the living room. They watched the Saints destroy the 49ers, and then Carter put his son, who had been dozing since the beginning of the third quarter, in the bed. The boy refused to budge until the game ended. When Carter entered the bedroom, Kisa closed her book and turned over, facing away from him.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said as he changed into the pajamas she had laid out for him.

“Me, too.”

“You feel like talking?”

“About what?”

“Well, my suspension is over, and they want me back.” She didn’t say anything. “Look, I know you don’t want me to be a cop anymore.”

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He got into bed. “Talk to me.”

“Things have been going well. Why do you have to go back?”

“It’s my job. I’m a detective.”

“You’ve also been a teacher. Hasn’t that been your job, too? You’re just being selfish.”

“I’m being selfish?” he asked, incredulous. “They need me.”

“Shawn and I need you. Do you remember how they treated you after Ray died? Why would you want to go back to that?”

“Honey, why are we fighting?”

“We’re not fighting. Goodnight!”

She had her reasons for not wanting him to go back, and Carter had the same concerns.  As much as he loved her, she could be a real piece of work when she didn’t get her way. He couldn’t blame her. With all that had happened in the past few months, maybe she was right.

Coming Soon
April 3, 2013