Douglas Dorow - The Ninth District

At home now, Jack looked at his watch and swore. It was too late to call the kids and wish them a good night. He tried to remember when he’d talked to them last. The days were a blur for him too. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and a bag of pretzels off the counter and sat on the couch in front of the television, using the remote to flip through the stations to catch up with what was happening in the rest of the world. The Twins beat Detroit six to three, rain was in the forecast…again, no tornados had been spotted today, fireworks displays were planned around the metro area whether it rained or not, and there wasn’t any mention of a bank robbery or a homicide. The Governor and the bank robbery/murder were already old news unless something new happened that the public needed to know. Jack thought he better talk about public relations with Junior tomorrow.

The funeral today had been tough. He missed his kids as they spent the night with Julie at her parents’ house, but he couldn’t imagine what he would do if they were killed. Mr. Humphrey was going to have a tough summer ahead of him. It would be a while before the memory of the small casket didn’t stir up strong emotions in Jack’s soul.

Jack tipped back the beer and drained it. A small belch escaped his lips. The news ended and went to the introduction to the Late Show with David Letterman. Jack couldn’t decide if he wanted another beer or bed until he heard who was going to be a guest tonight. Salma Hayek was on to promote her new movie so Jack got up at the commercial to get himself another beer from the fridge.

After popping off the bottle cap from a Bass Ale, Jack picked up the phone and debated whether or not to call Julie and talk about the Fourth of July. He put the phone to his ear and heard the multiple beeps indicating he had a message. He punched in the code in the handset of the cordless phone as he walked back to settle down in front of the television again. Jack smiled at the message on the phone and followed that up with an excited exclamation of a whispered “all right”. Julie had decided that the four of them should get together for the Fourth of July celebration on Nicollet Island, keeping the family tradition alive. He replayed the message three times before saving it to make sure he heard it right and also just to listen to his wife’s voice. The second message was from Patty. She said she had some information for him on the Governor case and wanted to talk with him tonight.

Jack dialed Patty’s number. It was ten-forty. It might be late, but she wanted to talk with him tonight. He leaned back in his chair, listening to the phone ringing and waited for her to answer.

She answered on the second ring. “Jack.”

“Hey, uh, yeah. How did you know it was me? I’m the only one calling you this late?” he asked.

“Caller ID, Jack.”

Jack closed his eyes and rested his head back against the throw pillow. The beer was overcoming the effects of the day and he was suddenly very tired. “Right. You have some information for me?”

“I do, but I don’t want to share it over the phone.”

“It’s been a long day, Patty. You’ll have to tell me over the phone or share it with me tomorrow. I need to go to sleep.”

“Tomorrow’s fine. If you’re running in the morning, I can be outside your house before the sun comes up. We’ll get out while it’s not too hot and I can share the information with you.”

She wasn’t going to give up. Jack thought about the first call on his voicemail from Julie, and inhaled and exhaled through his nose. He told himself Patty’s call meant nothing. She had some information she wanted to share and if it took a run with her to get her to share it, he would do it.

“Jack, you still there?” Patty asked.

Jack opened his eyes. “Yeah. If you’re up for six miles, be outside my house at five thirty and I’ll show you some nice paths along the river.”

Jack slowly opened his eyes. Empty beer bottles stood in a row on the coffee table in front of him. The pillow was wet against his face where he had drooled. He flipped the pillow over and closed his eyes, but his bladder coaxed him back from entering his dream. On his way to the bathroom, he squinted at the microwave in the kitchen and saw the blue numbers showing 5:12.

On his way back from the bathroom, he grabbed his running clothes. He sat in his living room, laced up his shoes, and thought about the call from Julie the night before. She wanted to get back together, at least for a day. It was a start. The four of them together for the day at Nicollet Island celebrating the Fourth of July, Jack was excited about it. He glanced at the phone in its cradle and thought about the message, tempted to listen to it again. Maybe it was more than a start.

In the kitchen, Jack drank a large glass of water. The thermometer on the counter said it was already seventy degrees outside. Jack pinched the small roll on his stomach and decided to wear a tank top since he’d be running with Patty, if she showed up.

Jack pulled the front door shut behind him and positioned himself on the steps facing the house. His toes were perched on the edge of the concrete steps as he lowered himself to stretch out his calf muscles. He felt the calves of his legs slowly burn as the muscles lengthened like rubber bands.

“So you decided to show up,” Jack said to Patty’s reflection in the window as she walked up the front walk behind him.

“I didn’t think you’d be up this early. Seems like you’ve had some late nights lately with this investigation.” Patty stopped on the sidewalk and bent over into her own stretch, knees locked, her forehead pressed against them as she grabbed her ankles.

“Show off,” Jack said.

“Yoga, you should try it.” Patty put her hands out in front of her on the sidewalk and posed in an inverted vee.

Jack took the opportunity to check out Patty’s back, butt, and legs. Her black hair was tied back in a ponytail. The white top showed off her brown skin and the muscles of her back, shoulders, and arms. Her legs were well proportioned from her taut hamstrings down to her defined calves.

Then he bent over to reach towards his toes, his fingers reaching his shins. “Whatever. You ready to run? I usually go down by the river, through the trees. Kind of gets you out of the city.”

Patty rolled her head from her left shoulder, to her chest, and to her right shoulder. Then she windmilled her arms in large circles. “Lead the way, Miller.”

By the time Jack reached West River Road, the sweat started to trickle from the pores of his head and his chest. Patty ran to his side or slightly behind him. “How’s this pace?”

“Six miles?” Patty asked. “This will work.”

Jack looked over at Patty. She was running easily alongside him, breathing without a struggle. “Am I the only one that sweats?”

“I don’t sweat, I glisten.”

“Well, you’re not glistening yet.”

Patty laughed.

The birds were flitting about singing their morning songs as the sky to the east warmed to an orange glow. Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand and jogged automatically onto a path that led down into the woods, deeper into the Mississippi River gorge. A sign at the head of the path said “Winchell Trail.”

“This way,” Jack said and motioned down the hill through the trees.

Jack had explored the trail with his son, Willy, before. Its history was that it was an old Indian trail used to move up and down the bank of the river. Willy imagined the past as he walked down the trail with his dad and they found routes down to the river. The well-worn path through the brush and trees at spots had been paved or had chain link fences erected to keep people from falling down the steep slope.