Rene Gutteridge - Listen

Damien held up a hand before anyone else wanted to give an opinion. “Folks, listen. I’m here to talk about what happened tonight. What’s going on over there?”

A bald, overweight man with motorcycle pants on said, “All we heard was that the husband nearly beat his wife to death.”

“They just brought her out on a stretcher. She looked half-dead,” the elderly woman said.

Damien quickly took notes. The recorder would’ve been better, but people were talking. Now. It would take him several minutes to figure out how Jenna got to the right menu to bring up the recorder on the phone.

“I always thought that man had a mean streak in him,” a woman wearing a dirty apron said.

Another woman scoffed. “Whatever, Ginger. I’ve seen you over there flirting.”

“What are you talking about?” Ginger said, her eyes white-hot.

“You and Sara are always talking about him.”

“Shut up, Pam. No we’re not.”

“Really? Because the Web site says differently.”

Ginger suddenly lunged at Pam, who gasped and stumbled back into the crowd.

Damien stepped out of the way and observed the two women shouting obscenities at each other while others kept them from swinging punches. He carefully wrote down what he’d heard, but there was such a ruckus he wasn’t sure he was going to get any more quotes.

He glanced across the street and noticed Frank talking to a man. They wrapped up their conversation, and Frank headed to his truck. Damien decided he’d better get there too before a full-blown riot took place over who flirted with the man who beat his wife.

“Dad?”

Damien turned as he heard a young voice, much like his daughter’s. A teenage girl shoved her way through the crowd.

The man Damien saw Frank talking to rushed over to her. “Come on, Gabriella. Let’s get you inside. You don’t need to see this.”

“Dad, what’s going on?”

Their conversation faded into the crowd noise as they tried to make their way to the house.

“You’re a jerk!” someone yelled.

Damien and Frank both turned around.

A man, presumably Tim Shaw, was being led away in handcuffs. His head hung low, and he never looked up, not even once he was in the cruiser.

Damien scribbled more notes. Behind him, he heard a man say, “Come on. Let’s go home. I want to see this Web site they’re talking about.” The crowd began to disperse.

Frank unlocked his truck and climbed in.

“What a night,” Damien said, joining him.

Frank started the engine.

“Heard he beat his wife half to death.”

Frank backed up, swerving around cars and people, into a driveway so he could turn around. “You better get your facts straight. He threw a remote control and it hit her.”

Damien smiled. “Can I quote you on that?”

Frank didn’t laugh. He just drove.

“So you believe him?” Damien asked.

“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what he told me.” Frank turned left on Arberry Street.

“Where are we going? My house is that way.”

But Frank didn’t answer.

“Frank!”

Lineup was about to start when Frank’s name was hollered through the headquarters.

It cut Gavin off as he bemoaned missing some real police action last night. “You should’ve called me! I would’ve wanted to be there. I-”

“Frank! Now!”

Frank looked at the kid, who was shaking his head like he’d just heard the news of a relative’s death. “We were off duty. I went in as a favor to the captain.”

“Frank!”

“Looks like he appreciates it,” Gavin said in a flat tone.

Frank sighed and lumbered down the hallway to Captain Grayson’s office. The door was wide open, so he walked in. “Angela?”

She stood straight, just to the left of the captain’s desk, her arms crossed tightly in front of her slender body. The light pink jacket and skirt, matched perfectly to her lipstick, were not doing much to make her scowl look any softer. Her glare hit Frank like sunlight beaming off a mirror. He knew he was in trouble but with whom? Her or the captain?

“Frank, sit down,” Grayson said.

“You stay right there!” Angela barked, pointing her finger at him.

The captain skittishly ducked.

Frank froze, unsure what to do. He tried a small smile. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried.”

“Worried? How can you be worried?”

Frank glanced at Grayson to get a read on him. Yep, he was fuming. “It’s not like you to not be at home. Then work. And then last night, not at home. Again. And-”

“You came by my house last night?”

“I was with Damien,” Frank said with a shrug. “I just thought I’d check on you, and when you weren’t there, I, um…”

She grabbed a piece of paper out of her purse and waved it in the air. “A missing person report? Really? Really?” She crumpled it up and threw it at him. It hit his chest and dropped to the floor, where he was looking anyway. “Do you know how humiliated I am? I’m at work, a professional place of business, when two cops show up this morning and start asking me all these questions.”

Frank tried to keep it in but couldn’t. “Where were you?”

Angela gasped. “You’re an idiot! I can’t believe you would even stand there and ask that!” She yanked her purse off the chair and swung it over her shoulder. “You have to stop this. Do you understand me? I am a grown woman. We are not married anymore. You have no business being in my business. You need to move on. Why do you even care whether I’m at work or home or elsewhere?”

Frank glanced at the captain, then back at Angela. “Because I still care about you. That’s why. Some weird things are happening in town, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She stepped closer to him, her brow so furrowed that the skin between her eyes turned purple. Her finger jabbed his chest. “Leave me alone or I’m going to file a restraining order on you.”

“Please don’t do this. I, um, overreacted-”

“You’ve crossed the line. You always cross the line. Heard you gave MaLue a ticket. When are you going to get over that? Get a life. Please. Get a life.” Angela brushed past him and out the hallway. Her stilettos clicked and clacked until he heard the back door open and close.

Grayson said, “Close the door.”

Frank closed it and decided to sit down. “Well, I’m glad she’s okay.”

Grayson’s expression didn’t change. “Captain Stephens sent out his guys on this. Gave it preferential treatment because you’re one of our own. Said you sounded frantic when you were filling out the form at the station last night.”

“I couldn’t find her.”

“Yeah, but don’t you think this is a little extreme?” Grayson asked. “We all know the divorce was hard on you. I realize it’s been difficult to let her go, but-”

“It’s not about that,” Frank snapped. He drew in a quick breath. “It’s not about the divorce.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“I just… I overreacted. That’s all. I mean, we’ve got dead cats hanging in trees and deacons abusing their wives. Stuff like this doesn’t happen in Marlo.”

“If she were to press criminal charges against you, you’d lose your job. You understand that, don’t you?”

Frank leaned forward, trying to relieve the strain on his chest caused by all the emotion that wanted to bubble up and out. None of this would be happening if she hadn’t insisted on a divorce five years ago. He could protect her.

There was nothing for Frank to say. He froze in his own humiliation. It was one thing for the captain to come down on him, but another for Angela to. He saw the hate in her eyes. It was the same look she’d had for him that morning at breakfast when she announced she wanted a divorce.