Richard Hale - Frozen Past

“Lay back, Luke. Lay back. Everything will be ok. Calm down.”

Her voice was irritating to him. He didn’t want to calm down. He wanted to know where Ellie was.

He stopped struggling and sat back in his bed and closed his eyes. The spinning seemed to slow. He kept his eyes closed but spoke. “Deana. Tell me where Ellie is.”

Nothing happened for a minute and he thought Deana left, but then he heard her sigh.

“They don’t know.”

“They?”

“The police. They haven’t found her and they haven’t heard from her father.”

“Her father? What does he have to do with anything and where is she?”

“Her father took her. They thought he was dead, but he’s not. He broke into the house and knocked you and Mom out, shot Dad, and left with Ellie. He’s the killer, Luke. I’m sorry, but the pool dummy killer took Ellie and it’s her dad.”

Jaxon was on his eighth shot of Crown and feeling no pain. At least he kept telling himself that. He was probably in the most pain he’d been in since his son was killed. He was done. It didn’t mattered one way or the other. The killer had beaten him again and made it look easy.

Jaxon had turned his badge and gun in the night everything went bad and had been locked in his apartment for the past two days. He hadn’t been able to save the girl and the bastard had won. The phone was unplugged and his cell turned off. Someone had banged on the door once, but had left after he would not answer. He had been too drunk to remember who it was.

After the frantic drive to the Harrison home, Victoria working the phones trying desperately to get someone, anyone to the house, they had arrived to find the officers from the Pemberton home at the scene, trying to get things under control. Three of the Harrison children were hysterical in the yard as they watched their father bleed from a wound in his chest. The ambulance arrived shortly after, and got Luke and his mother and father loaded up and stabilized. Ellie was nowhere to be found.

The two officers who had been rendered unconscious by Worthington, described the man as ‘big.’ They remembered little else. One said he had horrible dreams of a big purple unicorn trying to suffocate him.

The neighbors had seen very little. One man had witnessed a green Ford Fusion leaving the area after what sounded like a gunshot, but the man had only seen one person in the car. He didn’t get the license plate.

Mrs. Pemberton and her son had shown up, hearing the commotion in the neighborhood and noticing their protectors missing. She had been frantic at the disappearance of her daughter and when she saw Jaxon, lashed out at him, screaming he was a murderer.

“You killed my baby!” she screamed, slapping at his chest as another officer held her back. “You killed my baby! You promised! You promised to keep her safe! You promised!”

By then the news crews had arrived and the whole scene went out live to all the local networks. Jaxon slumped under the weight of her accusations. What could he say? She was right. Victoria stood silently next to him, tears rolling down her cheeks. She had been as devastated as he.

Later, driving to the station, Victoria said two words.

“I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond. Arriving at the station, he left her sitting in the car and walked up to the chief’s office. He looked the man in the eye and said, “I’m done.” Placing his shield and gun on his desk, he turned and walked out, leaving the chief’s protestations fading behind him. When he got to his car, Victoria was gone. He drove home and got drunk.

Now, as he sat in his chair, the Crown Royal doing its job, he couldn’t get the sound of Worthington’s voice out of his head. ‘ That’s what I told Michael, but you never came.’

A pounding sound slowly brought him out of his stupor. Then a familiar voice followed the hammering. For a moment he mistook it for his dead partner Sally, but then he realized it was Victoria. He didn’t want to talk to her, so he poured another shot and slammed it down. The pounding went on for a bit longer and then it stopped. At least she had gotten the point.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, a vision of Michael and Victoria swam up from the depths. They had been at Bethany Beach in Delaware. Michael was seven. Jaxon had rented some fishing poles for the day and was showing his son how to use them. The boy couldn’t cast the big rigs on his own so Jaxon would wade into the surf, cast as far as he could, and then walk it back to the beach for Michael to hold. He had gotten a bite on the first cast. They laughed and howled as they reeled the fish in, but when he could see the fishing line drop off into the surf, Michael thought he had lost the fish. He looked so disappointed. Jaxon told him he’d catch another.

When Jaxon walked up to look at the leader and hook, he had been pleasantly surprised. He called Michael over and showed him the flat fish lying hidden in the surf. It was a flounder and Michael had jumped with joy. The fish had almost fooled them. Victoria had been so excited for Michael and she took a ton of pictures with him proudly holding up his catch. That had been a good day.

Somebody was shaking him. He slowly came back to reality and opened his eyes to find Victoria standing over him.

“How did you get in?” he slurred.

“I got the Super to open it,” she said.

He nodded.

“I left Holt,” she said matter-of-factly and sat on the couch across from him.

He didn’t know how to take this. He couldn’t seem to make himself care one way or another. He was beyond numb and his aptitude for compassionate thought had left him hours ago. It still surprised him though.

“Why would you do that?”

She just stared at him, a look of such sorrow on her face a little twinge of compassion crept its way back into his mind. Just a sliver, but it was there.

“Don’t do this,” she said.

He waved a hand at her and then tried to stand up. He didn’t make it. Falling back into his chair, he kicked the bottle of Crown over and it spilled out onto the carpet. He tried to reach for it but couldn’t get to it. She didn’t move.

“Stop it,” she said, but he continued to reach for the bottle. He felt like an infant trying to crawl across the floor for the first time.

She finally got up and grabbed the bottle from the floor. He smiled and reached his hand up for it. She turned and walked out of the room and when she returned she was holding a soda.

“Drink this,” she said. “You need the caffeine.”

“I want my Crown.” he complained, but took the can of soda anyway. “You don’t know everything,” he said.

“I know you’re going to drink yourself to death unless you get a grip on this.”

He tried to focus on her face, but she kept swimming in and out of his line of site. “I think I’m gonna blow.”

“Good,” she said. “That will help.”

He must have looked green because she got up quickly and returned with a trash can. She made it just in time. When he was done, he could think a little clearer.

“Better?” she said.

He sipped the soda, but said, “No. I don’t want to feel better. I don’t want to feel anything at all.”

“The girl is still alive.”

He stopped mid-sip and tried to absorb what she had just said. “Come again.”

“Eliana Pemberton is still alive. He sent us a message a little while ago. Actually, he sent it to the whole country.”

He was processing information a little slow still and he didn’t quite grasp what she told him. “Ellie?”

She nodded, smiling now. She leaned closer to him and grabbed his hand. “She’s still alive. You need to get your shit together if we’re going to help her.”