Readjustment (Restitution #2)

9

Adam Dawson

With lights and sirens on, cars ahead of us parted like the Red Sea. The headlights illuminated the occasional streak of a flurry falling to the concrete below. Business owners in the downtown area stayed open late for the holidays, but the sidewalks were eerily empty tonight.

As Caleb took one of the turnarounds on the divided highway, I received a text from Josh

Emergency vacay approved. See you tomorrow evening.

As if my day wasn’t bad enough.

I tossed the phone on the dash and wiped my hands on my thighs.

“Everything alright?”

“Josh will be here tomorrow night.”

“Oh.” I thought he’d say more, but he was unpredictable today.

And I knew part of it was because of me.

When we got to Jordan’s street, swirling lights of first responders ping-ponged off the surrounding houses. A deputy in a heavy brown coat and knit cap embroidered with yellow lettering and the department shield, waved us over to a vacant spot on the curb. Neighbors stood on their porches, craning their necks to see. Others stood with their cellphones in picture windows.

Officers Kershaw and Barrett were rolling out crime scene tape between the mailbox and a pine tree at the corner of the home. Jordan sat in the back of an ambulance; a Mylar blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and a blue icepack pressed to his left temple.

“Was he home or did he walk in on them?” Caleb wondered aloud.

Officer Soren approached us, strands of her hair peeking out from under her winter cap.

“You the responding officer?” I asked.

“Yep.” She pulled a small notepad from the pocket of her coat and flipped it open. “We got the call at 3:54. Officer Randall and I arrived at 4:02. Kershaw and Barrett arrived a few minutes later. Hawes called us from a neighbor’s house. When I arrived he was disoriented, so I called for a bus and applied first aid, while the others secured the scene and blocked the street.”

“Good job,” Caleb said.

“The house was clear when we got here.” She adjusted her beanie and motioned back towards the house. “It’s a wreck in there.”

“Let’s talk to Hawes first.” I stepped away as Caleb thanked Officer Soren then followed me.

The diesel exhaust and antiseptic smell of the ambulance stung my nostrils. An EMT checked our badges and reported that Jordan had taken blows to the head and ribs. She recommended he be admitted for observation.

“I’m not going to the hospital.” Jordan pulled the blanket harder around himself. His long locks of bronze hair were pulled up in a messy bun, and in the glow of the light from the back of the ambulance, I could see a knot forming above his left eyebrow as he sent us a silent plea. “She can’t make me, right?”

The EMT rolled her eyes and peeled away.

Caleb leaned against the door of the vehicle. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh,” Hawes gave a shaky laugh, “I’m fucking scared shitless, honestly.”

“Do you mind if we record this conversation?” Caleb took out his phone. “It’s hard to write out here.”

“Sure,” Hawes said.

I waited for Caleb to get the recording app running and began. “Walk us through what you saw this evening.”

Hawes crisscrossed his legs up and pulled the blanket tighter, like a small, frightened child. “I got home from the store around 3:30. There was a white truck parked down the street—”

“Make and model?” I cut in.

“Uh, I think a Ram,” Jordan said. “Maybe mid 2010s model.”

“Was anyone in it?” I asked.

“I didn’t really look.” Jordan shrugged, and the blanket shifted. “There were traffic cones stacked in the back, so I figured it was a utility company or something.”

“Okay,” Caleb said, “what about when you went inside? What door did you use?”

“I went in the front door. Then a guy grabbed me and put a gun to my head. He said if I made a sound, he’d shoot.”

“How tall was he?” I asked.

“Real tall.” He stuck one hand out of the cover and raised it above his head. “Like six-five. He had on a ski mask, a black jacket and black gloves. I think he was skinny, but I’m not sure.”

“Was there anyone else?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah,” Jordan nodded, “two of them. The guy with the gun told them to check the rooms while he kept an eye on me.”

“What’d they look like?” I asked.

“They wore the same clothes. One was shorter and thicker. They kept asking if I knew where ‘the stuff’ was, then they tore up Key’s room.”

“Let’s slow down a minute,” Caleb said. “Any clue what they were referring to?”

“No.” Hawes’s honey eyes glistened with tears. “I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about, and the tall guy got pissed and hit me in the head. Then he punched me in the stomach and ribs.” His shoulders shook, breaths coming fast and shallow. “I thought they’d kill me.” The last sentence came out as a sob. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Caleb pulled a small pack of tissues from his coat pocket and handed it to Jordan. “Take your time.”

After he blew his nose, I said, “You really should consider getting checked out at the hospital.”

Jordan shook his head, making it harder to keep the tissues in place. After a few more moments, he calmed down a little. He closed his eyes and puffed out a slow breath. “Okay. I’m good.”

“What happened after you got hit? I asked.

“The other guys came back out with this box, and they left.”

Caleb tilted his head forward and his voice ticked up in volume. “Can you describe it?”

“Uh, it wasn’t very big.” Jordan stopped to wipe snot away. “It was Black. Slim. Made of metal, I think. I didn’t see it for long.”

Another EMT with a Mizzou ribbon tied around her ponytail came over for a quick check on Jordan. She recommended again that he should allow them to transport him for observation, to which he again vehemently disagreed.

“If you won’t go to the hospital, is there a relative you can stay with?” I asked.

“My uncle is on the way. I’ll stay with him.”

“Good.” I handed him another card out of habit. “If you think of anything else, please call us. No matter the hour.”

After snagging booties and gloves from the car, Caleb and I entered the home. The couch cushions had been tossed to the ground. A table lamp was tipped, its glass shell and bulb broken. Xbox controllers dangled from the open drawers of the entertainment center, and the TV lay face-down on the carpet. Shards of what was left of the screen crunched under my feet.

“They even took the covers off the vents.” Caleb squatted down and directed his flashlight into the open crevice of the return intake. “Pretty desperate.”

In the hall, I split off into Keola’s room while Caleb continued into Jordan’s. Holes were smashed in the drywall, outlet covers torn away, and the pillows and mattress were slashed open. They’d shattered a photo frame that looked like Fatu’s wedding. It included Keola and the happy couple holding champagne flutes. I held it in the hand where the cut in my knuckles was scabbed over, the one I’d put through my own wedding picture.

Before my mind could get distracted, I set the frame down and moved on to the closet. All the clothing had been torn off the racks, and umpteen pairs of shoes littered the floor. Aside from the shelf that’d been smashed into jagged pieces, nothing stood out any more than it had earlier, so I walked to the bathroom. The damage wasn’t as severe, but still notable. A black-and-white shower curtain and a silver rod were laying in the tub. The medicine cabinet was intact, and a box of band aids and over-the-counter medicines were undisturbed. I swept my flashlight around the space, squatted down to check under the vanity, and found the back panel had been cut out; likely for plumbing repair. I was about to give up when I spotted a discrepancy in the drywall. It was just low enough that cleaners would keep it hidden unless you were really looking for it. The paint was peeled, and there was a crack in the drywall around a hole just big enough to get a finger in. I squatted down, put my pinky in the opening, and pulled on it. A piece around five square inches came loose like it’d been a patch.

“Hey Caleb!” I called. “Come here.”

Caleb came in and peered over my shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Run your fingers along it.” I shuffled to the side and my knees popped.

He leaned in, careful not to hit his head and inspected the space with his flashlight. “Perfect size for hiding something. Probably the box.”

“It’s probably why the damage isn’t as bad here.” I stood up slowly as he carefully crawled backwards. “They found what they wanted.”

“There wasn’t anything interesting in Jordan’s room.” He held out a hand as an offer to let me leave the bathroom first. “Forensics will be here for hours.”

We walked back to the living room where a CSU team was setting up their equipment. Their jumpsuits ruffled with every step, and only one of them stopped spreading fingerprint dust long enough to acknowledge us with a nod.

“Wanna split up and talk to neighbors?” I stepped over the shredded remains of a throw pillow on the way to the front door.

“Yeah.” Caleb stopped on the porch to pull off his nitrile gloves and shoved them in his coat pocket. “Hopefully Mr. Newson has some more footage for us.”

“Fuck.” My stomach roiled at the thought. “If you deal with him, I’ll buy you Bertha’s every day for a week.”

Caleb’s shoulder lifted slightly. “Throw in coffee tomorrow and you’ve got a deal.”

I flagged down Soren and asked if she’d join us interviewing. Kershaw, who was technically her superior, pinned us with a glare. I didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with him, so I ordered him to secure the door and walked away before he could balk at the request.

Soren and I headed across the street while Caleb paid Mr. Newson a visit, and Barrett started on Jordans’ side of the street. I took the four houses to the left, but only three opened their doors. Mr. Lawrey didn’t see anything, but tried to sell me an E-bike that apparently rides on snow. Mrs. Cleveland saw what Ms. Ennis had seen from the house before. A white truck from what she assumed was the cable company. I circled back and met Soren who rubbed her hands together to warm them. Her neighbors didn’t have much to offer either.

“I got their contact info though,” she said. “Do you want them now or…”

“Back at the station is fine,” I said. “Go back to the scene and warm up.”

Light flurries were falling again but my cheeks were so cold it was hard to tell if they were hitting me at all. Caleb was there, hands on his hips, speaking with Jordan and Branson. Judging by the way Chief was rubbing his jaw, whatever was transpiring wasn’t good news.

“I’m really sorry.” Jordan stood with his hands in his pockets, head hung so low I could see the part in his hair.

I shouldered into the circle. “Sorry for what?”

Jordan looked up at me, eyes wide.

“Tell him,” Caleb urged.

“The drugs—they…” Jordan’s Adam’s apple bobbed hard, “they weren’t Keola’s. They were mine.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea how much time we wasted because of that?”

“I was scared you’d tell my parents.”

“What’ll they say when we arrest you?” My anger cut through me like a knife and my hands balled into fists. “You realize you hindered a murder investigation, right?”

Branson reached out and placed a firm hand on my chest. “You guys head home for the night. I’ll make sure he understands what he did.”

“But what about forensic—” Caleb began.

Branson cut him off. “If they find anything, I’ll call. You’re on the tail end of three twelves. Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Yes, sir.” Caleb tugged my coat before I had a chance to argue and guided me towards the Charger.

The pressure cooker in my skull had almost depleted when I noticed Myers had paused halfway into getting into his cruiser.

“Hey, Straus,” Myers shouted, contempt dripping with every word. “Try not to hit any churches on the way home, will ya?”

If Caleb hadn’t had such a firm grip on the back of my coat, I’d have ripped Myers in half. The look Chief Branson gave the deputy helped. But only a little.

“Prick.” I slammed the door behind me and snatched my safety belt. “Bet it took him all fucking day to come up with that.”

“Yeah.” Caleb’s hands were on the wheel, and he stared straight ahead.

“You alright?” I reached out to touch him, then thought better of it. “Branson should have that fucker licking boots if—”

“I’m fine.” His throat muscles visibly jerked.

“You don’t look fine.”

“We missed our shot.” There was a deadness to his tone. “They found something we didn’t, and Jordan got hurt.”

Three months ago, I’d have told him this wasn’t a time to wallow, but I knew how Caleb ticked now.

“There was no reason to search the bathroom before. We found drugs hidden in his room, and we followed that lead. That’s our job.”

“Yeah, I know.” His face was unreadable. “And it fizzled out.”

“All isn’t lost, Caleb.” I turned to face him and waited until he met my eyes. “Another scene means more forensics, and a better chance of finding who’s behind this. Right?”

“True.” His lips formed a weak smile, then drooped again. “Sorry. It’s been a bad day.”

Caleb started the car, reached for the gear, then stopped. “You, uh,” he cleared his throat and some of the timidness in his voice faded. “Do you want to come over tonight? Maybe order some Bertha’s?”

I wanted to shake him. To ask where the guy that’d snapped at Kershaw had gone. Or the one insisting on some “space,” but Caleb offered something I wanted, and even though I knew I should go home and mentally prepare to battle with Josh, I couldn’t turn it away.

“Yeah.” I said. “I’d like that.”