C Weaver - Silent River

After parking the car, he walked down the sidewalk and turned the corner to see her waiting for him. She stood talking to his partner, Matt, in front of the restaurant. Something wasn’t right, he quickened his steps. From a passing car, the sound of a machine gun split the air. Officers and pedestrians fell to the ground. Blood spattered the sidewalk. The restaurant window cracked, glass fell to the street; the shards piercing anyone nearby.

Robert ducked behind parked cars, his piece in his hand when the vehicle passed him. He shot rapidly into the window. He never knew if he hit anyone. They were probably floating from cinder blocks at the bottom of the Columbia River. When he reached Becca and Matt, they were both dead, along with his son she held in her arms.

He had howled into the air. The feeling of helplessness against something as formidable as the mob overwhelmed him. Now here he was again, facing the unknown specter. Somehow, he would make it through. He would hold on to his integrity and find the Stevens’ killer, even if it cost his life. Who cared about him anyway? The vision of his parents and brother crying over his grave came to him. A picture of Barbara crying on Lorene’s shoulder didn’t make the thought any easier.

“What did the chief want?” Jake asked. He and Robert were sitting in Jake’s basement away from the radar ears of Jake’s wife.

“He’s been ordered to take me off the case.” Robert leaned back in the old overstuffed chair.

“Come on. You’re kidding me?”

“Nope, but I talked him out of it.” He took another pull on the bottle in his hand.

“How did you do that? Once the old guy makes up his mind, it ain’t easy for him to change.”

“You’re right. I had him officially take you off the case.”

Jake flew off his chair. “What the—? You did what? What gave you the right?!”

Robert didn’t smile, but he held up his hand to stop the next tirade. “Look, he wanted me off because he ‘heard’ I’d been warned. Now that’s telling. How would he have heard if he wasn’t in the mob loop?” He raised his eyebrows at Jake, who stood a foot from him. His flannel shirt hung out over the top of his jeans, and he wore thick, knitted socks his wife made on her first attempt at knitting. Robert waved him back to his seat. Jake slowly responded but kept his eye on his friend.

“I explained I was on to something I couldn’t reveal. Chief didn’t want to know what it was. He said the less he knew about what I was doing, the better. But to remember he’d warned me. I had him officially take you off the case until we get this solved.”

Jake growled, “What are you talking about? Aren’t we partners?”

“Not on this case. This action is also a safeguard for you and Lorene.” He eyed Jake’s building anger

“Robert, don’t give me that bologna. We’ve been together too long. You’re trying to protect me. I don’t need it.” Jake rose from his chair and stood in a pugilist stance, minus the fist cocked ready.

“That’s true, I am.” Robert shrugged, relaxed in the chair. “ We’ve talked about this before. I don’t want the responsibility of you, Lorene, or the baby’s death on my hands. I’m going to do a little sleuthing on my own, but from now on, you are officially off the case. That doesn’t mean you aren’t going to be in on what I am doing. I need to know I can count on you when I need you. I don’t want you in the limelight, fodder for the newspapers. I don’t what them to be able to use you and your family to get to me.”

Jake looked at his partner. There was a determination in his eyes to do this thing. It didn’t bode well to argue. “I’ve got your back, partner.” They raised their beer bottles and touched them together in a salute.

“Jake, you have a call from the station,” Lorene called down from upstairs. The men took the steps two at a time. Robert stood by Jake as he picked up the receiver lying on the desk and listened to the person on the other end. Jake responded and set the receiver back in its cradle.

“They’ve found a body of a young girl below the dam. They’re taking her to a funeral home close by.”

“I’ll call the Bormans and have them meet us there. You might want to change your socks and tuck in your shirt.” Robert headed for his car with a grin on his face. He heard Lorene tell Jake to watch his mouth around the baby.

The sound of Robert and Jake’s footsteps echoed in the silent halls of the funeral home. A couple of police officers stood by a doorway. They nodded as Robert and Jake stopped for a moment. A light spilled onto the floor from the room, illuminating the dimly lit hallway.

Robert hated this place. The memories of that night; seeing his wife, son, and partner laid out on the steel tables. Their bodies riddled with bullet holes and blood-stained clothes. There’d been so much anger built up inside of him, and he wanted to kill someone. He had no idea who had ordered it, who wanted him so badly they thought that by killing his family and partner he would come to their way of thinking.

It wasn’t until much later that he discovered his partner, Matt, had been the target. Matt had left him a notebook of material he kept hidden. In it, Matt recorded all his dealings with the mob; who called, when, the money exchanged, who got it, where it went, and who in the department was still on the take. When a young reporter knocked on his door a few months later and told Robert what he was about to unleash, Robert handed him the book and made the reporter promise his name or connection would never be revealed.

As Robert watched his fellow officers march off to court a little feeling of justification surfaced. He couldn’t feel too bad for them. They still had their families.

He hated the morgue.

“Are you coming in or are you just going to stand in the hall? I don’t think you can identify anyone from out there,” a voice called from somewhere inside the room.

Jake stepped around his partner and went inside. “The Bormans are here. They pulled in just as we passed the lobby. Do you want to wait for them or go in now?” he asked, giving Robert time to gather his wits.

“Now is better.” Robert stepped into the bright lights of the sterile, white tile, and green linoleum floor of the room. They moved to the table in the middle of the room. The coroner removed the sheet on the first table.

The girl laid out on the table had long hair bunched at the back of her head as if held by a band. She wore a jacket, zipped up, and pedal pushers. “I’d say she’s been in the water for a long time, but her body’s been protected inside something.”

“Protected?” Robert stood a good three feet from the metal table.

“Protected from marine life. She’s bloated, even though I have released the internal gas, her body’s still stretched from it. The cold water is also a preserving factor. My guess is she has been immersed for,” the coroner paused, “maybe a few months.”

“How about a little over five months?” Robert walked to the head of the table. The girl’s head was bloated, but the eyes and most of one side of the face showed signs of damage. Not bad, but the features and outer skin were missing in a couple of spots. Robert pointed to the face. “What do you think caused this?” Robert pointed to the open skin.

The coroner shrugged, “Small fish or the current could have caused her to meet up with a tree, and that scraped the flesh off.”

“Could she have been in a car and possibly been tossed around?” Robert asked continuing to walk around the table.

The coroner thought for a moment, then nodded, “Yes, it’s possible. That would be a good guess, as the cold water would have kept her in a preserved condition and away from marine life.”