Rene Gutteridge - Listen

Jenna stared for a moment, every feature on her face frozen. Kay started to say something else, but the next thing she knew, Jenna grabbed her around the neck and cried. Hard. Almost wailing.

Kay gripped her as tightly as she could, held her, wishing she could swaddle her and rock her and sing to her like she used to. Instead, she stroked the back of her head over and over, rocking her body back and forth just a little. Jenna laid her head on Kay’s shoulder and didn’t budge.

Frank spotted him immediately and trekked through the middle of the park until he reached the bench that his friend sat on. Damien didn’t even look over as Frank plopped himself down, his belt and all its contents rattling against the cold wood.

“Hey,” Damien said. He looked like he was staring at clouds.

“Hey.”

Damien sighed and finally glanced at him. “Busy morning?”

“We caught the suspects in the kidnapping.”

“I figured,” Damien said, holding his phone up and inspecting it. “Edgar has now texted me eight times and called five. Breaking news.”

“Ah. Probably got tipped off from the department. Nobody can keep their mouth shut around there.” Frank adjusted his belt to sit more comfortably around his waist. “Two high school girls did it.” He faced Damien, who continued to stare upward. “Did you hear me?”

Damien nodded as if it were too much effort to speak.

Frank studied his friend for a moment. Damien looked forlorn, withdrawn, way too interested in the clouds.

A moment of silence passed; then Damien said, “I think I’m having…” His voice trailed off as if he couldn’t find the right words.

“Leg cramps?”

“No.”

“A gallbladder attack?”

“Huh-uh.”

“A nervous breakdown?”

“That’s it.”

Frank grabbed Damien’s shoulder. “Did you buy some expensive item you can’t afford?”

“No.”

“Are you cheating on Kay?”

“Of course not.”

“Have you been thinking about how to fake your own death?”

“No,” Damien said.

Frank smiled. “Then you’re fine.”

“I’m not fine. I can’t get off this bench. I can’t get myself to go back to work.”

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t know. This town, what’s happening. I’m a second-generation Marlo citizen. I always relished the quietness of this town. But it wasn’t quiet, was it? It was just hidden.”

Frank sat. Listening. That’s all he could do.

Damien turned to him, his gaze hard and unmoving. “It’s not you, is it?”

“What?”

“You’re not the one listening to everyone’s conversations, are you?”

Did Frank hear that right? “Me? Why would you think it’s me?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Of course it’s not me!” Frank stood, backing away from the bench. “How could you even think that?”

Damien shook his head, motioned for Frank to sit back down, which he did. “Sorry. Of course it’s not you. See what’s happening to me?”

“We’re all stressed. It’s normal. And people handle stress differently.” Not usually by accusing their friends, but he should let this pass. Obviously Damien wasn’t in his right mind.

“You seem on edge lately. Just kind of acting weird.” Damien stared at the clouds again.

Frank swallowed back a few words that wanted to escape… a confession he had told only one other soul.

But then Damien said, “The thing is, everyone’s acting weird. You should see Edgar. With every bad piece of news, he’s popping champagne corks. Kay’s becoming ultraobsessed with every piece of clothing our daughter wears. My coworkers make paranoia look like a new trend. It’s getting ridiculous.”

“This kind of thing, what’s happening here, it’s what gets me up in the morning. It’s my job. I fight crime.”

“I’m in the news business. It should be what gets me up in the morning too.” Damien gazed at the open expanse of the park. “Marlo Park. Lame name. We should’ve come up with something different.” He faced Frank. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.”

“What?”

“It’s not just about the incident last night. There are other things on my mind.” Damien pressed his lips together as if he were holding in a mouthful of words. “If Hunter comes and talks to you, that’s cool, okay? I think he’s into some things-some things he shouldn’t be into, some things he can’t talk to me about. You’re like an uncle to the kids, and that’s good. I wish Hunter could talk to me, but if he can’t, I want him to talk to you. I didn’t want you to feel weird about it.” His phone vibrated and lit up. He read the screen, then stood. “Got to go to work.”

“What’d the message say?”

Damien turned his phone for Frank to read. Get here or you’re fired. Then he walked to his car.

Frank sat there for a moment, contemplating, when he noticed a man standing by a distant tree, seemingly watching him. He thought the man would eventually look away. Instead, he began walking toward Frank.

When he was a few yards away, Frank recognized him as Gabriella’s father, Reverend Caldwell.

Frank rose as he approached. “What are you doing out here?”

“Praying.”

“You have a lot to be thankful for.”

“And a lot to be worried about. Bad things are happening in this town, Officer Merret. You see, don’t you?”

“Yes. Of course. And let me assure you that we’re doing everything-”

“Nothing can stop it.”

“Stop it?”

“In one breath it praises our Lord God Almighty. In another it curses the very thing made in His image.”

Frank nodded, feeling the reality of Caldwell’s heavy, somber words. The two men stood for a moment. Then Frank patted him on the back. There was nothing more to say. They understood each other and understood far more than that.

“Merret! Wake up!”

Frank wiggled awake with a startle.

“You were asleep,” Grayson said, leaning against the doorway. “I know it’s been a rough twenty-four hours.”

“Sorry,” Frank said, rubbing his eyes and then adjusting the paperwork on his desk. He must’ve dozed off while filling out the police report. One side of his face felt wet.

“How’s it coming?” Grayson asked.

“Good. We’ll have plenty for the DA.”

Grayson stepped farther into the room, shutting the door. “Gavin came to talk to me this morning. Requested to be assigned to a different training officer.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Said you talk down to him, won’t answer his questions, and dump him off somewhere for an hour while you disappear.”

“I get it. It’s okay-”

Grayson smiled. “Are you kidding me? The kid needs to suck it up. I told him if he can handle you, the criminals won’t be a problem.”

Frank laughed. Finally they were on the same page.

“But,” Grayson said, “I do want you to follow up on an idea Gavin had. About the cell phone being used as a spy device.”

Frank sighed. “Okay. Sure. I’ll go this afternoon.”

“Finish that up and take a couple hours to rest first, all right? We’ve got to stay on top of this Web site deal. We’ve had double the number of calls this morning. People are losing their minds.”

Frank nodded. Yeah, he kind of predicted that. Grayson left, and Frank started back on the paperwork but couldn’t continue. He threw down the pen. Trying to concentrate was useless. Maybe he needed more coffee.

No.

It wasn’t coffee.

Frank sighed heavily, twirling his pen through his fingers. The sounds of the police station echoed down the hall.

What nobody knew was that Frank already suspected someone of the Web site fiasco and was pretty close to proving it.