Only The Willing: A Stan Brookshire Novel, #6

Prologue

His anger boiled just below the surface.

Every time it burned stronger than the time before. Each time he had to rein it in just a little harder. He was going to have to stop coming to this side of town if this was the way things were going to be for him.

It hadn’t always been this bad, it had started as a mild irritation. Like a buzzing mosquito that you couldn’t swat away no matter how hard you tried to get it. Then the mosquito became unavoidable and it had started biting at his soul.

The anger and the rage soon followed. He had learned over the years to control it, but it always stayed there just below the surface threatening to come forward and take over.

Some days he pitied himself. He thought of himself as a reasonable sort of guy who worked hard, and took care of business. He didn’t want to be seen as a Dr. Jekyll / Mr. Hyde sort of person, with two different people living inside his head. He wanted to be the nice kind person he tried so hard to be.

But the anger lived there just below the surface. There was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do, to make a difference in stopping the flow of rage that coursed through his body when he was down in this part of town.

He didn’t even know why he bothered coming down here, knowing how it affected his mind as it did. But there was a certain comfort in being on this side of the tracks. It was his home for the first decade of his life. Before his mother died. They had lived just a few blocks away from the coffee shop where he was currently sitting.

He had spent his first few years of life living in blissful ignorance. He hadn’t known what the world around him was really like. Some days, he wished he could go back there. To a time when the people around him, the men that his mother brought home, were all his friends and he didn’t know who they really were. How he wished he could go back to when he and his mother were happy together.

Instead, he was here sitting in the same coffee shop night after night, looking around at the people coming and going. As the nights passed, the anger got more and more intense. He usually made it out of the coffee shop before it got too bad for him to handle. 

There had only been a few times over the years that he had not made it out in time and the anger had taken over. He had been lucky those times. No one had caught on and he had escaped without being caught.

A woman walked into the coffee shop and as the anger boiled again in his stomach, he prayed that he was going to be able to make it out of the coffee shop tonight without it taking over.

Chapter 1

Leelee had just finished what she considered her shift. It had been a good night as far as she was concerned. She had not spent too much time out in the cold night air, which for people in her profession was a good thing indeed.

She stood there, shivering in the night air, waiting for the bus. It wasn’t the cold tonight that was getting to her. Tonight it was the thought that she was never going to be able to get out of her situation. She hated the life that she led. It was nothing like what she had envisioned for herself. When she had started out in the world, she had seen herself going to college and becoming someone worthwhile. Someone who would make a difference in the world.

No different than anyone else my age, she thought, tucking a lock of her curly red hair behind her ear and looking down the street for the bus.

When the hell is this bus going to get here? she grumbled, glancing back towards the warm coffee shop behind her before looking back down the street again. She hoped this was not going to be one of those nights where the drivers had come and left early, rendering her stuck out here another half an hour.

After a couple of minutes of waiting, she came to the conclusion that that was precisely what had happened. Rather than waiting alone outside at the bus stop, she decided that she was going to head into the coffee shop and get herself a coffee and stand there and warm herself up a bit before heading back out to wait for the bus. She figured she had enough time and it would do her some good to get out of the damp cold for a few minutes.

Ordering her coffee, she noticed a man sitting in the corner of the coffee shop. It wasn’t that there was anything special about him that made him stand out, but there was something that drew her to him. It could have been that he just seemed lonely like her. Either way, after she got her coffee, she decided to go and sit down near him and maybe try to strike up a conversation with him.

Cold night out, she observed, shrugging out of her jacket and settling down at the table next to the man.

The man didn’t say anything; just nodded without looking up.

Maybe he had a rough night and is just trying to take it easy before heading home, she thought, as she sipped her coffee.

She knew all about bad nights. She’d had more than her fair share over the years. The worst one for her, by far, had been the one where the realization had dawned on her that this was it for her. This was going to be her life whether she liked it or not.

She had cried that night, cried her eyes out until almost dawn when she had cried herself into the sleep of the brokenhearted. Since that night, she had fought hard to change her circumstances, but the dream of a better life seemed to dance away from her grasp like a leaf drifting on the autumn wind. She kept reminding herself that her mother would have wanted better for her if she had been alive, but after her death to cancer many years ago, Leelee had been lost without a soul in the world who had understood her and she had found her comfort for the first few years in the arms of strange men.

With a quick glance at her watch a few minutes later, she realized she had best get back to her bus stop before she missed it again and ended up having to wait yet another half an hour for the next one.

Definitely not something I want to be doing at three o’clock in the morning, she thought as she put her coat back on and grabbed her bag and coffee cup.

At the bus stop, she resumed her position standing there, looking for the bus. She saw a bus coming in the distance and her spirits began to rise, but as it got closer, she realized that it was out of service and her heart sank. She felt her shoulders slump.

I hate when that happens.

She jumped at the voice that almost seemed like it was inches from her ear. Whirling around, she stood almost face to face with the man that she had been sitting beside her in the coffee shop.

Hi! she greeted him, trying to cover the discomfort she felt. That was one thing working at night left her with: the uneasy feeling that someone was always watching her. It was just a hazard of the job because someone generally was watching her, but for the most part, it was completely harmless. There had been a few times for her where it wasn’t but she had dealt with those episodes in her life when she had ended up being less than safe.

Hi, I just saw you standing out here and was just coming to see that you were alright, he explained, smiling shyly.

I’m alright, just had a long night and am tired and ready to go home, she whined, smiling. Turned out this guy wasn’t too bad, after all. Not many people would have bothered chasing after her to see that she was alright.

Oh, okay then, never mind, he resigned, turning away down the road. She could see the bus coming.

She instantly felt bad for some reason; maybe she could miss this bus and see what this guy wanted. She reached a hand out and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket gently.

Never mind what? Is there something that I can do for you? she persisted, as she heard the bus pulling up to the stop behind her.

Oh it’s nothing, really. I just have never done this sort of thing before and oh! your bus is here. Don’t worry about it. You go catch your bus, he advised her, smiling shyly.

No, really, if there is something you want or something you need, then I think I could miss this bus and catch the next one. She mentally cursed herself, she was going to ruin her beauty sleep tonight, but for some reason she felt like she had to be there for this man. She wasn’t even sure why just that she felt like this man needed her company more than the others she had seen that night. Which was odd because usually she never felt like anyone needed her. Not since her mother died all those years ago.

Well, if you’re sure? I don’t want to trouble you and I can see that you are tired. And I-

No, really, it’s okay. All I really want to do is get out of the cold for now, wherever that is; as long as its warm is alright with me. She put her best smile forward. She had known a few men over the years whose first time went over easier if she smiled sweetly and coyly. For some reason, it comforted the men and made them feel like they were making an acceptable decision, despite what the rest of society would say about it.

Well... if you’re sure?  he checked again, stuffing his hands into his pockets and scuffing his toe on the ground.

Yes! I’m sure it’s alright.  Besides, I have sort of missed my bus now anyway and I don’t feel like going back into the coffee shop and sitting there alone for the next half an hour. So let’s do something!

I’ve never done this sort of thing before, he expressed, still not looking up to make eye contact with her.

She put her hand gently on his shoulder, and as he looked up she empathized, It’s okay, I understand, but it will be alright, you don’t have to worry about a thing. I even have a room that we can use. I have everything sorted out. There is nothing you have to take care of, we can just go and have some fun and that’s all that we need to worry about. Alright?

She smiled at him and he smiled back. She took his arm and he led her over to his car.

Detective Stan Brookshire sighed and got out of the car. It was your typical Monday morning as far as he was concerned. Seven o’clock in the morning came way too early for him and the night before didn’t last nearly long enough.

Another long night for ya there, Stan ole boy, his partner Detective Jane Trinity recognized, giving him a good-natured punch in the shoulder.

Ow! What in the hell was that for this time? Stan demanded, trying to keep the grin off his face, as he pretended to try and soothe his sore arm by rubbing it.

I don’t know. Just felt like beating you up again.  She laughed as she dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket and turned to head towards the front of a crumbly looking motel on the outskirts of Lake City.

So what the hell are we doing here again? Wasn’t this supposed to be a drug overdose or something? Stan asked, syncing his step with Jane’s as they crossed the parking lot to where the patrol cars waited in the early morning light with their lights flashing.

I’m not sure but the responding officer said that there was something that he thought that we should see. I wish that he had been a bit more specific, but anyway, I guess being here now, we will see for ourselves what he thought was so important that it needed a homicide detective.

Yeah, you are just pissed off that you had to screw up your routine for something other than sleep. Admit it, you just cannot stand the fact that you didn’t get to go to the coffee shop by the station for your usual breakfast sandwich beforehand.

You know, there could be some truth to that statement. However, I did manage to find a coffee shop that was able to provide me with what I needed. So I think I will survive the day without going to see Lisa, Jane relented, laughing and holding up a paper cup bearing the name and logo of another one of the city’s many coffee shops.

Whatever you want to tell yourself there, Jane; I’ll go with that. Really though, I know the truth of it all. Stan laughed as they entered the circle of cars.

Seriously! The only thing that sucks is that I don’t know what the hell is going on. When I get to a crime scene, I like to at the very least, know what in the hell the situation is and where we stand on it.

I know, I am just playing. You know that. But I have to agree with you there, Partner. I hate walking in to anything blind, Stan admitted, walking up to the nearest patrol officer. What do we have here Officer—

Blake Staggeron, Sir. The young man standing before Stan could not have looked more like a kid to him. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five or thirty years old. But the kid looked about as white as a ghost.

So, what is it that we have here, Son? Stan queried, getting his notepad out to sort through what information the young officer was about to give him. Were you the first officer on the scene?

Yes, I was, sir. I just couldn’t stay in that room any longer. I know that you are supposed to always remain at the scene until at least the techs arrive and maybe even until the coroner arrives, but Sir, I just couldn’t stay in the room anymore. I tried really I did try to— he stammered.

It’s alright, Officer Staggeron, honestly we understand; it takes years and years of toughening up to be able to handle some of the crime scenes we walk into. Honestly, it would not be the first time that I have walked into a crime scene and wanted to chuck my cookies. I have just gotten better at holding it back over the years. Honestly, Kid, you don’t have to worry about us thinking less of you, even if you did go out back and hurl your breakfast, Stan replied.

Detective Brookshire is right; there isn’t any wrong way to deal with these things. The worst thing you can do is bottle it up and try and pretend that it didn’t happen. That won’t help anyone.

I knew when I joined the force that there would be a chance that I would see things that I wouldn’t want to see and that would stay with me for the rest of my life but this was something more than that, he shared, looking down, clearly ashamed of himself and his perceived lack of manliness.

No problem, we will come back later when you have had a chance to process what you need to and we will get our statement from you then. Alright? When I get back, remind me and I’ll get you the number of a great person to talk to about these things. She truly is the best.

The young man nodded and Stan patted him on his shoulder as he walked away towards the door to a room that was currently closed and being guarded by a stern-looking man in a flack jacket over his uniform.

What’s the deal here? Stan asked as he approached. Poor kid out there can’t even talk about it yet. I’m going to have to try and get his statement later, if I can get anything intelligible out of him at all. He seems pretty spooked.

Yes, Sir. I don’t blame him, and I haven’t even really been in the room myself, but the way things smell when the techs open the door to go in and out, I don’t think I would want to go in there.

What do you know about the whole situation? Jane asked.

Stan and Jane had learned over the years that it was best to just not involve themselves emotionally with the cases that they handled; if they did, they got sucked in. Being the people that they were, they had a hard time pulling themselves back out again. It not only ended up hurting their focus on the cases, but it also meant that things got rocky at home.

Jane couldn’t bring it home at all; she was the one with kids and a family. Even though, from time to time, cases followed her home. She was lucky though; her husband Kevin was an amazingly supportive person and was able to pick up the slack with her kids and help to ease the pain and stress of