The Improbable Page 4

  6. Difficult Tasks

  Sweat continued to flow profusely down my face as I dragged in yet another ragged breath. I concentrated hard on the upper corner of the target located a few meters in front of me and mentally reminded myself that I needed to hit four consecutive shots in the upper corner. I took a deep breath once again before beginning my sprint toward the target. Mid-run, I reached for the gun on my waist belt while keeping my eyes on the target and let off four rounds at once. Drawing in heavy breaths, I took off my safety glasses to assess my shots. Just as I’d wanted, all four had hit in the upper corner. I nodded, proud of myself.

  I had locked myself in the shooting range in the basement of the police station, not wanting to be bothered by anyone while I perfected my run-and-shoot technique. I felt that I had something to prove; it was difficult knowing that I hadn’t put in the work or received the experience like my grandfathers before me had. If I let my father know what I thought about being handed the position he would surely go on a rant about how much of a ‘disgrace it would be to the family’ and tell me that I need to ‘take advantage of my chances because not everyone in life has the long end of the stick’. He never failed to use those lines when scolding me every time I displayed the least bit of disinterest in doing what he wanted me to do. As I walked back to the starting mark, the buzzer went off notifying me that I was no longer in the shooting range alone. I made my way over to the wall and pulled the dividers back out.

  “David O’Neil!” A southern drawl boomed throughout the range.

  I spun around to see a man older than me, about my height that I didn’t quite recognize walking toward me, however it was apparent he knew who I was. My eyebrows furrowed.

  He held out his hand as he closed the space between us. “Clayton Harris. My oh my look at you all grown up! Can’t believe you been here ‘n this is my first time seein’ ya.”

  I shook his hand firmly, still unsure of whom he was. “Have we met?”

  He let out another laugh. “Ha! Boy, everyone knows the Chief’s son is in town. Now everyone really knows you since you done grew up and especially after that stunt you pulled gettin’ arrested and what not!” Clayton burst into more laughter.

  I tensed; he was already slowly grating my nerves. I swallowed back all my curse words and insults and smiled tightly. “One hell of a night is all I have to say.” I said, loading my gun.

  “Alright, everybody gets stuck in a pickle here and there, understandable.” Clayton nodded and put on his own safety glasses. “Which training academy did you go to, boy?”

  I cringed at the belittling effect around the word ‘boy’. “Southern Illinois.”

  “Did everything just like your daddy, huh? Fancy. I was born down south in Texas and didn’t start trainin’ ‘til I got here.” He informed me as he loaded his gun. I didn’t remember asking.

  “What brought you up here?” I questioned, knowing he was just going to continue talking to me anyways.

  “Well when I was a teen, I had dropped out of school and traveled North up here to Chicago with my last few dollars. The training academy took me in and I began to make somethin’ of my life. I put my heart and soul into this job, because I had no other choice. But it was your old man that taught me the ropes once I got in here – like an older brother I never had!” He spoke in admiration. In the corner of my eye, I could see him eyeing me.

  I glanced over at him and smiled awkwardly, unsure of what else to do with him looking at me like that. “Yeah, Pop’s a great man.”

  “Then he was promoted to Chief and now all of a sudden I hear the ol’ man is retirin’.” He continued, shaking his head. “Such a shame, but ya know, it gave me hope.”

  I looked up at him and wondered how anyone could stand a conversation with him. He talked so much! “Huh.”

  “I thought, ‘maybe I’m finally gonna get what I came up here for’, hell, maybe I’ll be the next chief!” His tone was saturated with hope.

  “Never know,” I shrugged, not wanting to be the one to inform him of who’d actually be taking the position. I focused on the target in the distance and let off one round.

  “Alright! There you go, boy!” Clayton clapped.

  I chuckled; I didn’t care if they used it frequently in the south or not, I didn’t like it. “That’s a man’s shot right there.”

  Clayton’s eyes widened and he clapped, “Well, I’ll be! A man’s shot!”

  “Mr. Harris, Mr. O’Neil, Chief wants to see you both in his office, says it’s important.” The rookie who had arrested me poked his head in and informed us.

  I gave him a long, icy, over-the-shoulder glare before setting the gun down and removing the rest of the bullets. “Old folks first,” I held the door open for Clayton without cracking a smile. When he got closer to me, I raised my eyebrows, silently daring him to test me. It wasn’t that I wanted problems with him, I just wanted it to be clear that I wasn’t one to be ran over.

  “Well you’re alright son, you’re alright.” He chuckled and exited the shooting range with me following behind.

  When we arrived in my father’s office he was staring down into the street, frowning. “Close the door behind you.” He instructed without removing his gaze from the window.

  Clayton and I took seats in front of his desk. “What’s going on Po- I mean, Chief?” I corrected myself instantly.

  “There’s no hiding it anymore – the city is dying.” Warren announced, still looking out the window.

  Clayton shot me a confused look. “I’m not sure I follow ya here, Chief.” He admitted.

  Warren finally broke his gaze from the window and sat in front of us. He tossed a manila folder across the desk.

  Inside, the sights were not easy on my eyes; there were photographs of dead bodies, some who had been shot and others whose cause of death wasn’t clear. “Christ,” I spat after looking through them and pushed the folder away.

  Clayton bumped my shoulder. “Oh c’mon boy, don’t tell me a few dead bodies are gonna make ya woozy!”

  I nearly decked him right then and there, not in the mood to hear it, especially in front of my father.

  “I trust that they won’t,” Warren eyed me warningly.

  “Of course not,” I sat back and ran my hands through my hair. Honestly, the bodies were going to take some getting used to. “What happened to them?”

  My father separated the photos of bodies with gunshot wounds from the ones that didn’t. “Here you’ve got the dealers,” he put his hand on the pile with the wounds. “And here you’ve got the heavily addicted buyers,” he placed his hand on the opposite pile.

  My stomach was turning, seeing that some of the dead buyers were around my age.

  “What’re they dealin’ and buyin’ Chief?” Clayton asked in a much more serious tone.

  “Trioxytin, as they’ve been for the past thirteen years.” My father began. “Street name is ‘trio’, it’s a powerful drug and highly addictive. The longest a person has gone using it is about five years, however lately people have been getting so addicted they’ve been dropping like flies within two years of using it regularly, our doctors say.”

  “It’s lethal,” I mumbled in disbelief.

  “You’re damn right it’s lethal. It’s goddamn expensive, too.” Warren stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “One fella we locked up for using told us the rocks sell for at least hundred each.”

  “Ouuu-ee!” Clayton blurted. “That’s a hell of a lot of money right there, a rich man’s drug.”

  I looked at the photos of the bodies once more, puzzled. “If the buyers are overdosing, what’s happening to the dealers?”

  “Now you’re thinking, son.” Warren nodded at me in approval. “The dealers grew so addicted to their supply, they started using what they were meant to sell.”

  Clayton leaned forward. “And when you use your supply, you ain’t makin’ no money.”

  All the pieces came together in my head. “When you make no money, the supp
lier comes after you.”

  “Now we’re on the same page, boys!” My father exclaimed. “This supplier is killing my city and I’ll be damned if I let that happen while I’m chief.”

  “No sir, not on our watch.” Clayton chirped up.

  “That’s why I called you both here today on this fine afternoon.” Warren smiled. “I needed to know if you two would be willing to take on this case. I’d be honored to have my son work with one of my best officers.”

  “Count me in,” I slammed my hand on the desk. I was entirely determined to bust the case to show my father that I could do it.

  “Me too Chief.” Clayton nodded.

  My father clapped, impressed by our enthusiasm. “You’ll be undercover; you will be investigating who’s using this drug and where they’re getting it. You are to operate under different last names and different occupations with no ties to the station whatsoever, you understand me? We’re getting this drug off the street and taking that bastard of a supplier down.”

  “Yeah!” Clayton pumped his fist. “We’re gonna get this done, I’m ready to show you what I’ve got Chief!”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Warren nodded with a satisfied smile. “David?”

  I looked up from the nauseating photographs that had caught my attention again and nodded quickly. “I’m ready, sir.”

  “Alright, I have faith in you both.” Warren eyed us.

  Clayton rose and reached across the desk to shake my father’s hand. “We won’t let you down chief, thank you for this opportunity, sir.”

  I was following Clayton out of the office when my father called me back.

  “You listen to me,” he said in a serious, hushed tone. “I wanted to give you the opportunity to prove not only to me and the station that you have what it takes but also to yourself. I could see the uncertainty when you laid eyes on those bodies, don’t let it get to you because I know you’ve got what it takes. You crack this case and the position is as good as yours. You understand me?”

  “Yes sir,” I answered looking him dead in the eye.

  “That’s what I like to hear.” He reached over and shook my hand.

  I was in desperate need for some fresh air after seeing the bodies; I spun on my heel and headed out of his office. Was I really going to be able to handle this job or was I lying to myself? Judging by the way the photos of the slaughtered bodies affected me, I found myself second-guessing my decision to take the case. I ran my hands through my hair as I strode through the busy lobby. A nice, cool summer breeze grazed over my face when I exited out onto the sidewalk.

  “Aye, Chief! Get in!” I heard Timmy’s strong jersey accent yell from somewhere.

  I searched around and spotted my best friend across the street in his red convertible with Chris in tow. “What’s shakin’ fellas?” I greeted them, slapping both their hands and sliding in the passenger seat.

  “We’ve been waiting out here for you, brother. Haven’t seen you since the party!” Timmy exclaimed as he pulled off, entering the traffic.

  “Yeah, what ever happened to you? You just disappeared.” Chris asked.

  “Gahh,” I groaned, running my hands over my face. “It’s a fucking long story boys.”

  They both let out frustrated sighs. “Aw come on man, that was your first night back with us and we saw you for all of maybe 4 hours!” Chris cried.

  “You don’t even know these people, brother. What could you possibly have a story about?” Timmy wondered.

  “We’ve been buddies for years now and you can’t tell us?” Chris asked in disbelief.

  “You guys didn’t give me a chance,” I answered.

  “What happened, brother? Did you sneak away with a tramp, a queer, what?” Timmy questioned with his fast jersey accent.

  My eyes doubled in size and Chris burst out with laughter in the backseat. I couldn’t help but laugh as well. “Fuck you, brother.”

  Timmy chuckled. “It’s alright, this ain’t nothin’ we can’t discuss over a few drinks.”

  There in the heart of the city, we turned into a tree-lined drive that led us to the city club. Men in polo shirts and slacks were strolling up and down the fairways, in no rush to get to the next hole but enjoying the day’s weather. The rolling hills gave the illusion that we weren’t in the middle of the city at all. A wooden sign with green lettering welcomed us to Chicago’s Prestigious City Club. We pulled into a circular driveway in front of a massive clubhouse. Timmy tossed the keys to the valet. Once inside, the three of us headed straight to the bar to order our drinks before taking our seats at a table. It took them no more than a few seconds to start hounding me with questions.

  “So what really happened?” Chris wondered.

  “Did you sleep with her?” Timmy asked me with devious eyes.

  “How come you didn’t come back?” Chris asked.

  “What was the tramp’s name?” Timmy squinted at me.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

  Timmy appeared as if he’d been let down big time.

  “I saved her.” I said. Both Chris and Timmy’s interest began to show on their faces.

  Timmy put his hands up. “Hold the fucking phone, you are the one who rescued Eva-Marie?”

  I nodded and sipped my drink.

  “Well goddamn it would you look at that, our chief’s a hero!” Chris hollered.

  “They arrested me the next morning.” I tensed, reliving the day I was outrageously disrespected and treated like a criminal.

  “I’m not surprised. Eva’s dad has his eye on her at all times like a hawk in the sky. It’s no wonder he had you arrested.” Timmy chuckled.

  “How do you know that?” I wondered.

  “She’s Kathryn’s best friend.” Timmy shrugged.

  “What’d the keeper have to say about you getting’ arrested?” Chris asked about my father.

  I rolled my eyes, taking some more of my scotch. “Wasn’t happy.”

  “You still got a shot as chief?” Timmy inquired.

  “Of course,” I nodded. “I feel like such an asshole, taking the spot from people who’ve been there for so long, but what else is new.” I snorted, the word ‘asshole’ probably came up most of the time when people described me.

  Timmy nodded. “But you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do, brother.”

  I shrugged, “Anyways, it’s a guaranteed spot if I crack the case Pop just handed me.”

  “Uh-oh, our brother is doin’ big things!” Timmy clapped his hands excitedly.

  I chuckled at him and shook my head.

  “What do you have to do?” Chris asked.

  “Trying to take down Chicago’s Trioxytin producer,” I shrugged. “I’ll be undercover so from now on I’m not David O’Neil…I’m David Finley. And I’m not a cop and my father isn’t the chief.” It was imperative that I let them know in case anyone asked them about me.

  “So what do you do…?” Chris eyed me.

  “Can we tell whoever asks that you’re a male prostitute?” Timmy asked, looking at me expectantly.

  It went silent as Chris and I stared him down with questioning looks followed by our laughter. It was a great feeling taking a break away from the seriousness of the station. “Just say I’m a law student,” I shrugged.

  “David Finley, attorney at law!” Chris said in a voice that made me sound like a superhero.

  “He said law student you goof,” Timmy shook his head.

  “It’s the same thing you idiot.” Chris argued.

  “Do you not hear yourself?” Timmy looked at Chris and rolled his eyes.

  While they bickered back and forth, a couple eating on the porch outside caught my eye. How long had they been out there? The female was partially facing me; I could only see her lower profile with her sun hat covering the rest. At least seven shopping bags surrounded her feet and a black man who I had recognized from the party sat across from her – Ray. Instantly, I knew it was Eva-Marie. I wanted to see her; I
actually felt…bad for being so rude to her.

  After she had blown up on me in the elevator, I was mad at myself for being such a big prick to gorgeous woman. She had looked stressed as it was and it was clear that I had only made it worse that day. Everything she had said to me made sense, she’d set me straight like no one ever had. It was…a bit of a turn on. Something inside of me that I couldn’t quite put my finger on just desperately wanted apologize to her. I had no plan of action and I didn’t even think she’d listen to me after the way I acted towards her.

  Without thinking about it for too much longer, I rose from my seat and made my way outside. My palms broke out in a cold sweat and I had no clue what I was going to say. Not even a hint at what I was going to say. It felt like my throat had gone dry but at that point it was do or die since I was already standing at their table, behind Ray.

  “Eva?” I wasn’t sure if I had meant to say her name as a question or statement. I wanted to go back inside. What was I doing? Usually I had no soft spot for anyone in my heart.

  She slowly set down her iced tea. The brim of her sun hat covered one eye but her dark eye was still as intense as if both were uncovered. My God, those eyes! Her brown skin looked radiant against the navy blue and floral print of her thin, short-sleeved dress. Not a curl was out of place and her lips were colored perfectly red once again. She was every bit as stunning as I remembered.

  “Yes, that’s me.” She said. Eva lifted her head and her dark eyes focused on me. She raised her eyebrows, probably wondering what I could possibly have to say to her.

  The man she was with rose from his seat and turned to see me. “That’s Eva-Marie to you, do you know her?”

  “I’m David. David Finley.” I answered and offered him my hand to shake.