FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

~ Chapter 29 ~

I didn't have a car to take me to Chesim this time, but at least the day was hovering around a comfortable seventy degrees; actually a somewhat warm day after a cold spell. I chewed on a couple of mints and settled in for a walk. At least they helped me cool down when I breathed through my mouth.

Chesim was still air-conditioned and I still welcomed it with deep breaths and relief. I grabbed a coke from a vending machine in the lobby and made my way to the third floor.

"Hey there, sugar," Katy, the carmel-skinned secretary smiled. "You enjoying the day?"

I mulled it over, "Yeah, can't complain."

"Well that's good. So what can I do for you?"

"Is Mr. Wilkes available? I was wondering if I could talk to him - I called ahead."

"He should be, lemme check." Katy walked off.

I took the time to try to organize what I was going to say to Wilkes. I still wasn't sure how to approach the subject. Who should I believe about Becky's accident? Was Ursula telling the truth or was she looking for someone to blame? Is Mr. Hughes and his son actually that bad of people or was she deluded? Maybe Becky's accident actually was an accident, no matter who was driving. Maybe I was just being paranoid and self-centered to think that I was the target of the car crash. If Becky's life is getting better because the financial burden is lifted from my parents' shoulders, maybe I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth?

"He can see you," Katy came back and motioned for me to follow her. We walked to Wilkes' familiar cubicle. As before, she left us to our own devices.

"So what do I owe the surprise this time, young sir?" Wilkes swiveled in his chair to face me as I sat down, "Doing some more research for school?"

"Not exactly," I adjusted in my chair, "My sister was in a car accident and," I hesitated, trying to think of a more polite way of saying, "were you there?"

"A bunch of us," Wilkes indicated the office room, "were there. That intersection's notorious for car accidents, unfortunately. We've been trying to get the city to fix that."

"Well," I continued, "Mr. Hughes is insisting on paying for my sister's hospital stay and physical therapy until she's back on her feet. I'm not comfortable with that. What do you know about stuff like this?"

"Hmm," Wilkes wrinkled his forehead, "I see. What do you say we go some place a little less noisy, eh?" He smiled at me.

"No," I shook my head, "I'm not going anywhere this time. Right here's a good enough place for us to talk."

A uniformed officer walked past us and Wilkes was silent. After a few seconds Wilkes voice was low and eager, "Christ, kid. Just follow me, for your sister."

Lost of all retort I followed Wilkes. We walked out of the room of desks, papers, and phones and into a hallway of smaller, walled offices. He made his way into a small, windowed meeting room and shut the door behind me.

"Have a seat," he gestured to any of the chairs surrounding the table. He walked over to a water cooler and poured himself a drink into a paper cup. He leaned back against a window and sipped.

"What happened- " I began.

Wilkes cut me off with a look and cleared his throat. He crossed his arms but still held the paper cup by his lips. "Let me tell you a tall tale."

"Okay?" I shuffled in my chair uneasily.

"Once upon a time there was a policeman. A good policeman as all policemen are, in fact. He catches criminals, puts them in jail, and saves the livelihoods of innocent people. That's a policeman's job, after all. One day a father of a criminal who is up for parole comes to the officer and cries that he, the father, has been a terrible parent. That from the father's negligence, people got hurt. But the father would be there for his son from now on just as surely as the officer would be there for the officer's own children, right? The child should not be punished for the mistakes of the parent and he, the father, will see to it that his boy gets the best of help and will become a model citizen; a symbol of rehabilitation. Just please, let the boy out of a prison of the father's responsibility and into the assistance of a man who just wants to do right by his child."

The coke wasn't sitting well in my stomach.

A plain-clothed gentleman on the opposite side of the glass tapped the pane Wilkes was leaning against.

Wilkes turned and walked to the door. He opened it and greeted the man. A few words floated to me, "...Yeah, everything's fine." Wilkes said, "This kid's girlfriend took off with his bike, that's all.

The gentleman seemed satisfied and walked off. Wilkes closed the door and returned to his story.

"And for that attestation the officer was handsomely compensated. The officer wanted to refuse, but on a trip with his wife and their baby daughter, their baby became sick. She had caught an RSV infection and was pneumonic. The officer dipped into the funds provided for him by the prisoner's father to help his own baby daughter. He meant to pay it back but as time went on, he use the extra stipend to keep his child healthy."

This is not happening, I thought.

"The grateful father supplied the officer with a regular payment but the officer vowed never to use the money. The father refused to hear any protest and wouldn't accept a return of the money. One day the officer gets a call about an attack in a warehouse owned by the father. The officer arrives and there is the father and his son. 'No parent should be without their child,' the father said to the officer."

Wilkes refilled his paper cup, drank, refilled the paper cup again, and drank that refill. He exhaled and examined the paper cup. There was silence.

"But it's just a tale, right?" Wilkes looked at me "All policemen are inherently good and infallible, right? At the end of the stories the good guys always win and the bad guys are taken away to jail. The boy gets the girl, the hero saves the day, Happily Ever After and all that."`

"Behind every tale," I spoke up for the first time, "is the desire to understand reality; the truth within the fiction." A warm anger lit inside me, "What's the truth in your story? Were you there, at my sister's accident? Were you a first responder?" I stood up, "Did you see what my sister looked like when she was still trapped in her car? Was she crying? Did she yell for help?" I was bristling. "Did you see the driver of the van? What condition was he in? Who was arrested? Who collected what evidence, huh?" I was shaking, willing myself to not jump over the table or scream at him.

Officer Wilkes took my image in, "I don't answer to you."

"Then answer to my sister! Answer to Bo, the victim in that warehouse! Just... do something! I'm terrified not only of Mr. Hughes coming back for me for asking about what happened in the warehouse, but of what he's doing to my sister; to my parents. They're saying that they owe him for being such a nice guy to pay for Becky's bills. How could I tell them that I know he's responsible for her almost dying in the first place? That some other schmuck is taking the fall for his son. How many lives has he ruined so far? How many will he keep ruining? Are you saying that you can live with that? I'm doing everything I can to not have a breakdown or go crazy, watching over my shoulder all the time wondering if today's going to be the day that I get hit by a car - then what'll happen to my parents? Will Mr. Hughes send them a condolence card and a gift basket? I can't stand it!" My stomach surged and I swallowed desperately to keep its contents down. I breathed slow and deep.

"Wait, what am I doing?" I got up from my chair, "Why am I even talking to you? You probably took me outside so that I could be recognized. You probably told Hughes that I stopped by. Forget it. Just forget everything."

Wilkes moved in front of the door to block my exit, "I didn't tell Mr. Hughes anything." He stood there for a minute, eyeing me, before he spoke again, "The reason why we left the station is that the warehouse case, while still open and unsolved, we were instructed to pursue other cases. It became an unspoken rule that nobody was to talk about it anymore. I should have brought you to this room to begin with, I wasn't thinking." Wilkes paused to collect his thoughts, "I'll talk to Mr. Hughes about leaving you and your family alone. No promises, but I'll see what I can do." He moved from the doorway, crumpling up his paper cup and throwing it away.