30 years of guilt and regret can
burn a man's soul, even if the guilt is not rightfully his. Mike Logan
knew that from personal experience. He wasn't at fault.
The fault was Krolinsky's. But the guilt was
there, all the same, gnawing away.
"This is fu**ing unbelievable", Mike
muttered under his breath. Crouched by the door of same decrepit
room in the same motel, he was clutching the trigger
of the service revolver that betrayed him, all those
years ago. His ghosts were fast catching up with him.
As piped in Christmas music blared
from the next room, Detective Mike Logan skulked to the room.
His heart beat faster as he neared it. Beads of seat
popped up on his face despite the draft from the
cracks in the hallway. Mike's service revolver felt heavy
under his worn leather jacket. Thoughts and
questions crowded his mind.
Can I do it? Is it all worth this?
He swallowed the lump in the his throat as he clutched the doorknob.
Taking his service revolver in his hand as he slowly
turned the door knob, Mike was unsure of what
would greet him on the other side of the door. Memories
of his painful past had come back to hunt him
with a vengeance. Memories he thought he had buried deep
within his soul.
Mike opened the door quickly but quietly,
looked and listened for several seconds, then entered the
room. The only illumination came from a television set
which was mounted on a pedestal in the far
corner to the left. Stock market quotations flashed across
the screen as a canned-music version of
"Silent Night" screeched from the tinny speaker.
On the right he saw a double bed with
the covers pulled up over a man-sized object. He readied his gun and stalked
closer.
It was as if he was watching himself
in his own surreal dream. Mike tried to see whether or not he was
looking at a dead body or a hunter waiting for the right
time to strike. As he slowly approached the bed,
his gun squarely aimed at its occupant he called out,
"Police, get up as slowly as you can. Keep your
hands where I can see them. You make one wrong move,
buddy, I shoot."
One thousand one, one thousand two....
Mike silently counted the seconds as he waited for the
response.
"This is it," he said to himself.....reaching
out with one hand he slowly pulls the covers off and reveal...
...sheets and blankets which had been bundled into
a man-shaped form. Someone had eaten pizza in
bed as there were crusts and crumbs everywhere. Beside
the bed was a half-full coffee cup, which
was still warm. Two feet away from the bed, on the right,
was a sliding door which was closed. No
light was visible from behind, but Logan thought he heard
a sound like a stifled sneeze.
Feeling an unseen presence was not
something new to Logan but the hairs on the back of his neck stood at end
just the same. Padding quietly on the carpet, Logan thanked God that the
retro shag carpet was giving him the element of surprise. Grabbing the
door, he yanked it open emitting a scream from its occupant. Staring open
mouthed, Logan's heart quieted down as he gazed upon a young girl crouched
on the floor.
The girl would not speak to anyone.
Completely ignoring the LT. who was right beside her, she
continued to clutch the blanket that Mike wrapped her
in when he found her crouching in that motel
closet.
"She can't be more than 18, Lennie"
Logan muttered as he and Briscoe watched her from the one-way
mirror. "Can't get her to say a damn word. No ID, no
wallet, no bag anywhere in the room. A regular
Jane Doe."
"Yeah, except this Jane Doe is still
alive", Lennie quips. " uh...Mike...you doin ok?..you know, being
back there and..."
"God, Lennie, I barely remember my
date's name last night let alone something that happened when I
was a kid!" Logan responded a bit hastily. Which meant
he was lying through his teeth.
After a giving Logan a thoughtful
look, Briscoe let it drop and began talking about the young blonde girl
in the room who looked as if she bore the weight of the
world.
"You know Mike, she looks like she
has been on her own for awhile. Probably surviving the best way
she knew how? I wonder if we will get anything back on
her prints we sent off. Hopefully a name, it
would be helpful."
Getting no response Lennie looked
over at his partner, Mike looked like he was a million miles away. He just
stared through the one way mirror with an empty look on his face. Lennie
realized he was probably talking to himself.
"Mike. Hey Mike, you okay pal." Mike
shook his head at the sound of Lennie's voice.
"What Lennie? Did you say something
to me?"
Watching the strange girl shake and
bob back and forth, Logan concentrated on her appearance, half
listening to Briscoe. Her string hair hung like limp
spaghetti glued to her head. the dirt and grime of the
city's great unwash covered the girl like a blanket against
the cold.
Briscoe followed Logan's gaze and
it began to dawn on him slowly what fascinated his partner. the girl's
eyes were lifeless as if her soul had vacated her body.
As her head made quick jerky movements, she
uttered grunts and groans in a possible attempt to communicate
with the outside world. Briscoe kneeled
down to the girl and tried to met her eyes.
All Lennie could see was fear in her
eyes. The grunts and groans she made was almost rhythmic to the
ears. As filthy as she was, he reached out with his hands
and placed them on either side of her face.
He wanted her attention; He wanted to communicate with
her.
She stopped her movements long enough
to look deep into his eyes. It was then he realized she was
probable deaf and couldn't talk.
"Hey LT", Lennie called out, "We need
someone in here to do sign language." Capturing her gaze, he
tried again to ask her name using hand gestures.
"What we need is to get this girl
out of our precinct." Van Buren answered. "Sorry, Lennie but I see no
crime here. Call the mental health department and have
her case reassigned. There is nothing that we
can do for this young lady."
"Hold on, LT." Logan interjected as
he walked in the room carrying a folder of information." Latent
prints are in. The girl's name is Christine O'Connor.
Parents reported her missing 5 years ago. They
made no mention of a disability and get this...she was
last seen leaving a Guns and Roses concert."
To add to Briscoe and Van Buren's
puzzlement Logan added," CSU also found blood in our lady's
soiled dress. The thing is... it isn't hers....."
"...and that coffee in the motel room,
it was laced with alcohol. Rum, they say," Logan continued. "Yet
they didn't find any in that room, or in Christine's
blood."
"Did CSU find any blood in that room?"
Van Buren said.
"No mention."
"Have CSU check everything in that
room again, and have another go at those people in the motel. Then
recanvass the area."
"First we grab coffee," Lennie said.
"Then we go."
All three went to the coffee machine.
They found Tony Profaci pouring himself a cup while chewing a
honey-glazed doughnut.
"Grab Profaci while you're at it,"
Van Buren said.
"Yeah," muttered Briscoe. "Grab a
gut."
The deaf girl sat at Logan's desk
awaiting H.R.S. She found his chair to be quite comnfortable as she
swung herself round and round and round till she got
dizzy. Grunting happily, she grabbed handfuls of
paper and started throwing them around her. Transfixed
on the flying paper, she grabbed at them as if
they were snowflakes floating from heaven.
Snatching Profaci, Logan lead the
way to the front door when laughter caught his attention. Officers
and detectives were pointing at the strange girl.
Seeing the mess at his desk, Logan
groaned. "Be with you guys. I'll be outside in a few." Profaci and
Briscoe grinned at the sight of Logan's desk.
What a mess! His temper flashed over
him as he bent over snatching the fallen folders and paper. As
Logan picked up the mess, she delighted in spilling more.
Feeling warm all over as his anger ignited a
boiling rage, he roughly threw his jacket on the desk.
He didn't have time for this! She ought to be
helping him- not wasting his time!
"Stop!" He shook a fistful papers
at her. "Don't do that!" Her grinned faded and her eyes rounded at his
anger. She looked confused to him. His anger ebbing, Logan pulled her chair
closer to him.
"Look, don't do this.." He demonstrated
by dropping papers on the floor. She grinned and dropped more papers. Logan
slapped his forehead in frustration. She timidly reached for his hand and
made the
motion for him to drop more papers.
He shrugged his shoulders and picked
up a newspaper lying on Briscoe's desk and threw it to teh floor.
The deaf girl laughed. Logan studied her face and let
some more slide from his fingers. She laughed
again. To Logan's ears, this was a magical sound, like
church bells rining on Christmas.
"Hey Mikey, we're waiting!" Profaci
made off with another doughnut before ducking his head back
outside. Logan waved his hand to Profaci.
"Later, I'll catch you guy's later."
Profaci just looked at at Mike, laughed and shook his head on the way out
of the office.
Mike tilted his head and looked squarely
into the girls eyes. She then looked at him and stopped her
laughing. She tilted her head to match his.
A huge smile crossed his face. She
returned his smile. Mike finally knew it, she wasn't deaf, she was
mentally handicapped. She was demonstrating some of the
same actions as his retarted niece did.
His shift was finally over. Human Services picked up
the O'Connor kid an hour ago. Briscoe and
Profaci was still out and would probably won't be back
in the station till tomorrow. Logan couldn't wait
to leave the precinct. He wanted to get away as fast
as possible. Get away from the images of the
motel room that was strewn all over his desk. Get away
from the memories it invoked. But as he
stepped out of the precinct and into the crisp New York
night, Logan knew there was no escaping the
ghosts the lay waiting for him as soon as he gets home.
As if in a last ditch effort to run
away from it, Logan decided against the drive home,turned towards the park
and started walking.
He arrived at Marcus Garvey Park a
few minutes later. As he approached the rec center, the air took
on a smoky, familiar chemical tang. He went around
the corner and startled the crack smoker.
"Mister Whiteside. You just violated
parole." Logan shook his head. He looked at Elmo Whiteside's
gaunt, shivering form and wondered when the man had last
eaten a decent meal. Sending him back to
prison would almost be a kindness. But with his record,
he wouldn't get out for years. Besides, Logan
had another idea.
Back at the Two-Seven, Elmo devoured
a ham sandwich like a wolf as Mike placed two pictures of
Christine O'Connor on the table. The more recent one
was less than two hours old. The other, which
showed a much prettier face, had been taken almost six
years ago.
"Finally nailed the Cabbage Patch
Kid, uh?"
Logan felt a boiling surge of anger
at the smartass tone, but he didn't let it show. He said, "Elmo, I want
you to tell me all you know about her."
"She quite the tart ain't she.Bet
she been acting like a retard." Mike let the remark roll off his back.
"
"Okay Elmo,give it to me straight."
"Well she is not stupid. She has much
more on the ball than one would think at first sight. I'll bet she has
even tricked you guy's eh."
"Enough of this crap Elmo. I want
to know about her."
"Okay Detective. I'll give you the
scoup, but first what are you going to give me."
"How about I don't tell your parole officer about your
little midnight run? I bet your boyfriends up at
Attica miss you already.",Logan snarled.
Elmo recognized that stone cold expression in Det. Logan's
face. "Time to back off and tell the man
what he wants," he said to himself.
"I've seen her a couple of times around the park. Always
with the same guy, Charlie or Chuck,I think.
Seems like a nice guy, they never bothered nobody. She
always acted retarded."
"What makes you think she is acting?", asked Logan.
"I saw her once making a phone call talkin straight and
everything."Elmo answered. Before he
continued, he took a swig of his soda then said," She
was angry at whoever she was talkin to. Hell, she
kept yelling. Then she saw me. All of a sudden she put
the phone down, and walked towards me.
Detective, that look on her face scared the beejezus
out of me. I took off. I've avoided her since."
Mike's mind was full of questions. Why would a kid pretend
to be retarded? Who was she talking to
and what is she trying to hide? This Charlie character
must have the answers.
"You know where I can find this Charlie?", Mike asked.
"Dunnow. Nobody I know have seen him in two weeks." Elmo
fidgeted in his chair. "Can I go now,
Detective?"
"I want you to talk to a sketch artist first and give
me a desciption."
It's 2a.m. Logan knows he has to go home sometime.
The apartment was dark and cold. Not bothering to turn
on the lights, Logan moved through the small
rooms with the ease of a man who had been there thousands
of times. He'd rented the little
one-bedroom walk-up when he was a rookie and had never
seen any reason to rent a bigger place. The
rent was decent and it served his needs: a place to shower
and sleep.
It wasn't like he needed a home, he thought bitterly.
It wasn't like he'd ever had a real home.
Dropping his coat and suit jacket on the couch, he loosened
his tie on his way to the kitchen, shoulders
slumping with a soul-deep weariness. He went directly
to the small cabinet by the refrigerator and
pulled out the unopened bottle of whiskey. He knew exactly
how long it had been there; he'd received it
as a gift from his father when he'd graduated from the
academy. Mike had never touched it, although
he wasn't sure of the reason why.
Tonight he needed it, needed it badly.
Hands shaking, he broke the seal on the bottle and tilted
it to his lips, feeling the liquor burn its way
down his throat and into his empty stomach. Eyes watering,
his head swam a little with the combination
of the alcohol and the memories.
That room.
Leaning his head against the cool enamel of the refrigerator,
Mike closed his eyes as the despair and
guilt rolled through him once more.
The image's that were going through Mike's head was like
an on going movie. It didn't seem to matter
what he did, he couldn't erase his own guilt.
He knew deep inside it was the fault of Krolinsky's.
Having this man resurface in his life and of all
times now. A small piece of Mike knew he shouldn't feel
guilty, but he had always felt in some way he
was to blame.
But this place, the motel and room where they found the
girl was now haunting him. It was the same
place he had once visited with Krolinsky.
It was so many years ago he knew he had no right to still
remember, but the guilt kept it fresh in his
mind. He was on the doorstep of puberty
and his own sexual discovery when that man turned it all ugly.
Bill Marino, one of his buds from the neighbourhood,
came to him one afternoon after choir practice.
"Watcha doing tomorrow afternoon? I got
a couple a tickets for the game tomorrow that Father Joe
said he wanted to use to bring ya." Mike
looked at him, wary of spending that kind of time with
Krolinski. He always got this strange vibe
from him. Bill continues, "You aren't gonna say no, are ya
Mike? Seven bucks a ticket. Father Joe ain't
gonna be happy. He asked for you, man. He said
something to me about some secret you've
been keeping, something about throwing Jimmy's
schoolbooks into the baptismal pool. If
your ma finds out..." Feeling the sudden stabs of fear, Logan
quickly spouted, "Okay, I'll go, Billy."
Where the hell is Billy? Mike stood at the
corner of the Church craning his neck in his effort to spot his
tardy friend. Though impatient by nature,
Mike especially hates being made to wait. It made him feel
self conscious for some reason.
"Why hello there, Mikey. I'm glad you decided
to come with us!", a cheerful, booming voice called out.
Startled by it, he turned around and looked
at the speaker. It was Father Krolinsky.
"Hello, Father. Ma said since you were going
to the game, it was okay for me to go... you know it being
a school night and all." Mike noticed that
without his vestments or priest's clothing, Father Krolinsky
looked very much like everyone else. He
looked like a stranger, except for the warm smile and
gleaming eyes the priest had everytime he
spoke with the kids in the parish. "Billy is taking forever to
get here, we're going to miss the opening
pitch!"
"Oh! Which reminds me", the priest chuckled
softly, "Billy helped me around the Church today. I'm
afraid he didn't notice the time and since
I forgot the tickets in my room, he went to go get them,
shower and dress at the same time. I guess
he is almost done by now, I told him I'll meet you instead
and pick him up as soon as you arrive. Are
you ready?"
Mike was hesitant. Something in what the
priest said didn't make sense. Something was making him
feel threatened.
"What the hell are you thinking, mikey?",
he berated himself. "This is Father Krolinsky you're having
nasty thoughts about. He married your Ma
and Da, for Christ's sake, he gave you your first
communion, heck, he always had dinner with
your family every Mother's Day. Shut up and walk!"
Mike nodded yes.
"Alright then," Krolinsky pointed towards
the direction of the motel, "It's about 4 blocks from here. It
won't take long, I promise."
Mike and Father Joe walked together
along the dimly lit street. Mike barely answered the questions
Father Joe had been asking him about his
day. He was more concerned about where they were going.
"Father Joe. Where are you taking me?" Mike
inquired because Mike's Dad warned him never to go to
this area of town
"It's okay Mikey, everything will be fine.
After all you are with me and you do trust me don't you."
Although fear was started to invate his
body he had no reason not to trust Father Joe. For his parents
idolized the man.
"Yes Father Joe. I trust you. He replied
with a shake in his voice.
The time pasted quickly as they walked the
four blocks to the motel. Stopping in front of it Father Joe
turned and looked at Mike.
"Come on son, lets go inside."
Mike remembered the black velvet pictures
of cute animal characters. And the green bedspread. And
Joe's voice taking on a strange tone as
he showed "priest's iron."
Afterward, Joe persuaded Mike to swallow
two bitter aspirin tablets "like a man." And he gave Mike a
box of tampons. "If you need more, don't
hesitate to come and see me. I'll always be around for you,
my dear Mikey."
*****************************
Go
to Part 2