Death By Stupidity

CHAPTER ONE

With the inability to read into their future, even a mere four or five hours, and with three years of planning, fate brought these three construction workers from Chicago, IL to this place, on this night. It was their D-Day. The Day of the Abduction. What a book title Jack thought as he drove the threesome’s four-door F-150 pickup into the Atwood parking lot off Hwy 9, in Norman, Oklahoma. It was eight fifteen P.M.

Jack pulled into their usual surveillance space facing the highway where they had been watching the routine of Kyle Keersh for the last six months. It was a half-hour earlier than Kyle was expected, because they didn’t want to chance missing him pass by. It was a great spot to see his 1970 GTO Judge just after he would turn off I-35 coming home from his courier job in Oklahoma City. Clyde as always sat in the shotgun seat to Jack’s right, and Carlos sat in the middle of the back seat. But tonight was different than all the previous nights. They were done with the surveillance; this was their final night of sitting in that parking lot. The life of Kyle Keersh was about to take a dramatic turn, as was theirs—again.

The first year of planning took place in Chicago, at the apartment they shared. It was a hard year because they each had two jobs, the earnings from the second job was for bank rolling this operation. The second year was to be the year of action; that is, moving down from Chicago and then quickly executing their plan so they could move to Mexico. There was not supposed to be a third year; that was one more year than they intended. However, even though they had made some good decisions along the way, especially those in the yearlong planning stage, there was a major fuck up in their second year. Jack and the guys couldn’t allow themselves to think of that right now. As far as they were concerned, this was their last chance to get it right and they needed to stay focused.

Throughout his life, Jack had read a lot and remembered what he read. His partners used him like their walking, talking reference book. If he didn’t know the answer to their question, they expected him to find out. It was logical, therefore, that he was relegated to the position of leader of the gang, so to speak, and the success or failure of their mission lay squarely on his shoulders. Success in this instance meant accomplishing a kidnapping. Jack was sure Kyle wouldn’t consider his capture a success. Nevertheless, positive vs. negative is all a matter of perspective. If you grew up like the three of them, you’d consider a successful kidnapping of Kyle Keersh a great feat. The trio saw this as the seed that would grow into their tree of their success. That’s how Jack was justifying his actions tonight as well as those of his only two friends in the whole, wide world, Clyde and Carlos.

Clyde’s left leg began bouncing up and down with the rhythm of a jackhammer. How long’s it been, Jack? He wasn’t a patient guy. He was a muscled up, borderline sociopath, whose only friends, to Jack’s knowledge, were him and Carlos.

About ten minutes. Jack said as he noted it was eight twenty-five. This question followed one earlier that was nearly word-for-word the same, except that the previous answer included the word five whereas this one included ten.

Is that all? Damn. Just sitting here quiet like this is driving me nuts. He looked over his shoulder to Carlos. "Hey, Carlos. How about a game of My Car, Your Car?"

Yeah, Clyde, that would be good. I’m getting nervous back here, too. Carlos was the opposite of Clyde. He was a good-natured and considerate young man. He would go out of his way to not hurt anyone by words or actions. His only friends, to Jack’s knowledge were him and Clyde. This hair brained scheme originated with Jack. Clyde jumped on it faster than a toad’s tongue on a June bug, but Carlos was there with them because he wanted to be with his friends, as sad as that was. He also wanted to help his family move out of the Cabrini Green housing project, a dangerous Chicago area where its residents were subjugated daily to abuse, theft, assaults and death.

The game Clyde and Carlos played would designate a passing car to one of the guys as it went by, and they could get some laughs at their random losers as they waited. The one car that was always Clyde’s was the one Kyle drove. It didn’t matter whose turn it was, Kyle’s 1970 GTO Judge was always Clyde’s. That car was why they chose Kyle to kidnap. Just like that fateful time a year ago, when the shiny new Jeep, with all the best features available, sealed Greg’s fate. Clyde got that Jeep—and still had it.

You want to play, too, Jack?

Not right now, Carlos. I got some thinking to do. Jack smiled into the rear view mirror at Carlos. Chances were very good this evening’s game could involve hundreds of cars, since they were getting an early start, and it could stretch well passed the average time.

As with previous nights, they had their favorite snacks available. These ordinarily comprised of cokes, sandwiches and chips, as well as some simple deserts. Regular food like sandwiches wasn’t necessary since they had usually eaten the all-you-can-eat lunch buffet at the Golden Corral and stuffed themselves full. The surveillance of Kyle had actually been kind of pleasant—snacking, watching people and cars and playing their childish game. Tonight, however, didn’t include eating as many snacks because they were so nervous. Jack settled back into his thoughts, tuning out the game and the crunching of chips.

***

What was I thinking with this hair-brained plan, and why have I let it get this far? It’s like I’ve lost complete control over my free will. Shit.

Jack’s main issue while growing-up was having a drunk for a father and a mother who felt she had to leave, when he was seven years old. She told him she couldn’t take his dad’s beatings and verbal abuse any longer. Jack understood. Even at his young age, he hadn’t blamed or resented her for leaving. She told him to keep to himself as much as possible and he’d do fine.

He had done as she advised. As a result, he may have had a low-class piece-of-shit life that was miserable, but he still managed to achieve an overall A average in high school and become a voracious reader. That was a gift his piece-of-crap father didn’t intentionally give him, but was a great benefit to him.

His reading kept him in his room and out of his father’s view and it served as a virtual best friend to him. Actual people stayed clear of him due to his quiet ways. Of course, his father’s reputation as a mean drunk and civil-disturbance-kind-of-guy didn’t help him either.

When Jack graduated high school, he did so with a good foundation in math and architecture, though the latter was self-taught. He used this knowledge to get a job at a construction site right out of high school. He couldn’t afford college right away, but hoped starting a job like that, he could save and go later. For all the good it did him, that was still a dream he had at twenty-two—but, yet, here he sat.

***

There he goes, said Clyde. The fucker’s running really late to pick up his girl, but he’s finally getting his ass there. Clyde’s eyes were wide and his head was moving from Jack, back to the highway, back to Jack, like a guy on crack cocaine. Go, Jack. Go!

"I got it, Clyde. We know where he’s going. We need to stay calm and cool or we could mess up everything. Deep breaths, guys. As Sherlock Holmes would say, the game is afoot."

Checking his watch Jack saw the time was close to nine-fifteen and this would make his arrival near to nine-thirty to pick up his girlfriend, Amy, from the University of Oklahoma library. Kyle’s normal routine was to be on the campus of OU between eight forty-five and nine fifteen. Could this complicate things?

As Jack turned the wheel to follow Kyle down Hwy 9, to his surprise, he noticed his hands had gotten clammy as he was tightly gripping the wheel. He saw that Clyde was now seated forward, eyes glued to the taillights of the GTO. Then from the back seat, Jack heard a ripping sound as Carlos tore a strip of duct tape off the roll they had brought for this night.

Again looking over his shoulder, Clyde said, Good job getting that ready, Carlos. As Clyde continued in his adopted big-brother role he added, You remember how we’re going to do this, right? You gotta go in fast and cover his mouth before he yells. You’re the most important one here. We can’t have people looking at us.

I know, Clyde. We practiced hard. I know just what I have to do. I won’t let you down. I’ll put this on Kyle’s mouth just like you showed me. I won’t mess up.

You better not. We need you, dude. He gave him a wink.

Jack saw the wink and heard the encouraging tone in Clyde’s voice. It made him secretly smile, barely allowing the corners of his mouth to move knowing Clyde would not appreciate any attention given to his big-brother approach to Carlos. Inwardly, Jack couldn’t help but think of Clyde and Carlos as the perfect human yin yang puzzle. Clyde’s approach to life was an in your face, billy-bad-ass way, whereas Carlos’ was kind and thoughtful.

***

Jack often thought that the three of them could have been from the Island of Misfit Toys in the Disney Christmas animated movie called Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. He actually bought the CD and enjoyed watching it repeatedly. While seeing the individual characters and listening to their stories, he could easily find a piece of himself, Clyde and Carlos in each of them, and it varied according to what was going on in their lives at the time. It was his go-to-thing-to-do when he got depressed. And, almost without fail, he found himself joined by his buddies. Clyde would deride the fact that they were watching it, but he would never leave. Discussions often followed including memories of their earlier times in Chicago. They had a particular shared memory that was a favorite to them all involving the actual day their friendship began.

Jack had always both taken his breaks and eaten alone on the construction site, not having a lot in common with the other guys. He had a favorite tree he sat under. He often read, but sometimes watched his co-workers. Clyde was one of the more interesting studies in character. Like Jack, he was totally standoffish on the job. He didn’t relate to anyone but the boss, Mr. Meyers, or so it seemed. The only time he ever spoke to any of the other workers was when they screwed up on the job, and all the guys seemed to try real hard not to do that anywhere near where Clyde was working—including Jack. However, Jack noticed this never seemed to apply to Carlos, who because he suffered from brain damage after being shot in his head at sixteen, messed up all the time. He watched as Clyde would just explain to him what he actually needed Carlos to do, and Carlos would try again. However, one of the more pesistent bullies on the site didn’t seem to pick up on Clyde’s attitude toward Carlos, until Clyde brought it to his attention in no uncertain terms.

Clyde had apparently been watching Carlos for a while, doing what he could, and apologizing when he was wrong. But several guys, lead by one in particular, enjoyed making fun of him, calling him names and never letting him join with the group for lunch. After several months of watching this, Clyde had all of it he could take and, without warning, came at that leader as he was picking on Carlos. He nailed him with an uppercut that knocked the guy on his butt and unconscious. Then he glared into the eyes of all the guys’ friends to see if any of them had anything to say. They each stepped back as they held up their hands in surrender. Point made. Clyde walked away and straight to the trailer where the boss was having his lunch.

Jack was waiting outside the trailer, when he emerged from it. He had used that opportunity to commend Clyde for his actions. He told Clyde he’d wanted to do that for ages, but didn’t trust he was physically capable. Following his compliment, he asked Clyde if he was still going to be working at the site. When Clyde said the boss wanted to keep him on, he asked Clyde to join him under his favorite shade tree. When he agreed, together they went over to Carlos and invited him, too. After that, the three misfits were inseparable.

***

Jack followed Kyle as he turned onto Flood St. The university was getting close. I have to ask, Jack said as he was feeling both reticent and guilty, do you really want to do this? It’s not too late to change our minds. We could just pack up our stuff and move on. No one’s put it together that we had anything to do with Greg’s disappearance last year.

Move on to where and with what? Clyde spoke angrily. We spent all our savings, dude, hiding out after that shit with Greg. What are we supposed to do? Go back to Chicago and ask Mr. Meyers for our jobs back?

Jack saw the sneer on his face and figured this was not an option as Clyde saw it, and his impression was validated when Clyde said, Hell no. I won’t go back! Just pull this damn truck over and, if Carlos agrees, you two can get out. I can do this on my own!

Carlos? Jack asked.

I want to be with you, both of you. Clyde, we need to stick together. That’s what we always said. He sniffed. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to go with if we separate. He sniffed again.

Okay, Carlos. Okay. We’ll stay together. The three amigos, right? Jack smiled at Carlos in the rear view mirror. But make no mistake, we will do this as planned. No more mistakes. No harm will come to Kyle Keersh. Is that understood? This last comment he made while looking straight at Clyde with direct eye contact.

Yes, sir. Drive on, sir. Whatever you say, sir. Clyde glared back at Jack.

Jack knew Clyde still didn’t feel it was his fault that Greg had died. He could see the resentment in Clyde’s face for bringing it up again.

All right, then, everyone, Jack said. Deep breaths. Let’s all get calm and focused. We need to concentrate on each of our jobs so nothing goes wrong.

As Jack turned the wheel to follow Kyle onto Elm Street, he glanced in the rear view mirror. He saw Carlos perform the sign of the cross as his lips silently moved. Jack was sure he was praying no one would get hurt. That was just the kind of guy Carlos was. Being shot in his head may have made him easily confused, but it didn’t take away his compassion for his fellow human beings.

They watched as Kyle easily found an end spot in the nearly empty parking garage across from the library. Jack pulled in slowly behind him and idled, as the GTO was backed into the space. It looked normal for them to sit there since Kyle needed the room to maneuver. After getting parked, he got out of his car and took a moment to check his watch and lock his door. While he did this, Jack pulled up at an angle that both blocked Kyle’s ability to run or to use his car to get away. The slant of the truck also blocked anyone’s view from the street, even though with the lateness of the night, there was zero traffic so far.

Clyde and Carlos jumped out, leaving the doors open, like they planned. Kyle glanced up at the sound of the doors and saw Carlos running toward him. As he looked in shock and confusion, Clyde came around the opposite way and grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his side. Carlos simultaneously pressed the tape over Kyle’s mouth, which effectively muffled his startled shouts.

Even though Kyle struggled as hard as he could, he was no match for Clyde, who half carried and half dragged him over to the truck and threw him head first onto the back seat. Kyle’s head hit against the opposite door, causing him to go into a semi-conscience state making it easy for Clyde to follow in and zip-tie his hands behind his back. At the same time, Carlos stood outside the cab and zip-tied his feet. Clyde then sat him up, buckled him in and put a hood over his head. With Kyle completely disabled Carlos got in the back with Kyle, and Clyde jumped in the front seat. As the last door slammed, Jack pulled away with a normal speed.

Jack had not seen a soul as he both used his mirrors and physically turned in all directions. The whole thing only took about a minute. Checking his watch, it was nine-forty. Driving through the garage and out the exit on the opposite side, they saw two girls approach the GTO. One was Amy.

Man, that was close. We’re so lucky that went as planned. Jack glanced back at Carlos and gave him a thumbs up.

From his side Clyde yelled, Hurry up, Jack! Adrenaline coursed through his veins.

Jack took the same route back to Hwy 9. It was longer for them, but there were fewer homes and businesses. Once on the highway, the speed limit was fifty miles per hour while in town, and a few traffic lights. After that, their drive was at sixty mph until 120th St., and then it turned to sixty-five, and that was the three speeds Jack drove even though Clyde whined the whole way.

Could you go any slower, Jack? You know we can go at least five miles an hour over. We’ve done it the whole time we’ve lived here.

I’m driving the speed limit, Clyde. No way I’m giving any cops a reason to pull us over. Just help Carlos watch the kid and I’ll get us there.

Kyle began yelling through his taped mouth. He kicked his bound feet on the back of Jack’s seat two or three times. Clyde reached back and slammed a fist on his thigh as hard as he could. Kyle cried out in pain. That better be the last time you do that, fool! I ain’t puttin’ up with that shit. We worked too damned hard to buy this truck and you ain’t gonna to sit back there and mess it up. We ain’t hurt you bad, but that could change if you don’t sit back there with no more yelling and kicking. I mean it, man. You don’t want me comin’ back there. Sit the fuck still and keep quiet. Kyle did as he was warned.

Jack drove carefully to Newalla, about eighteen miles east down Highway 9. This was where they had been living for the past two years. Jack found the property for sale on the Internet while working nights in a library in Chicago. He did this to earn extra money. Clyde worked at a car wash where he first saw the truck they were in, and Carlos at a Goodwill where they got all their clothes and household stuff. This extra money was banked in a special account just for this project. They also shared a low-rent apartment near their job site to save even more money and used the city bus as their transportation to any place too far to walk. They only ate out on Sunday at a Golden Corral as their one extravagance, just had basic cable on their twelve-inch TV with a built-in CD player purchased for $10 at Goodwill. Jack would check out movies from the library for them to watch.

Using the work computer Jack found the property for sale. That following Sunday at the library, he, Clyde and Carlos used Google Earth to see it. All three thought it was great. They called the guy from a pay phone and made an appointment to meet with him. They took a Friday and Monday off from their jobs and drove to Oklahoma to look at the single-wide furnished trailer-house on twenty acres with a storage shed in the back. They bought it the same day and paid the guy cash as was prearranged to leave no money trail. The guy signed the deed over to them on the spot. They got exactly what they wanted. A secluded place in Oklahoma and half way to Mexico. That was to their advantage for the future plans.

***

When they got to their house trailer at about ten o’clock, they deposited Kyle in the shed they had already prepared. Undoing his ties and removing the hood Jack said, You’ll be fine out here. You have everything you need. You got food, drink, port-a-potty with extra waste bags, a trash can to put your shit in and we even got you some Hot Rod magazines to help you kill the time. We do not intend to hurt you in any way. You’re in the middle of twenty acres; yell if you like, but it will do you no good. We won’t be far away and someone will check on you from time to time.

Kyle yelled multiple questions trying to figure out where he was and what they were going to do to him. They all went unanswered as the three began the to leave. Just as Jack starts to close the door, he hears a buzzing sound coming out of Kyle’s pocket. Hey, guys! Wait up. Kyle’s got a cell phone. As Jack is approaching, Kyle’s already standing and digging into his pocket as fast as he can.

But blowing passed Jack, knocking him over in the effort, Clyde hits Kyle with a full body tackle and pins him to the floor with his foot. As he continued to stand over Kyle, Clyde yells, Jack, get the phone.

Recovering from his fall, Jack crawls a few feet and reaches in Kyle’s pocket and retrieves the phone. Got it. If you’re ready, I’ll go on out.

Clyde sneers back, This light-weight ain’t no problem, because you’re not going to try anything. Right? Getting no response and adding pressure to Kyle’s chest he adds, Right, Kyle? A head nod is all Clyde got. Just so we understand each other, we still don’t plan on you getting hurt, but if you try to run, games on, dude. Again a head nod from Kyle. Clyde applied even more weight on Kyle’s chest as he pivoted toward the door. Kyle winced and cried out in pain.

Clyde, that’s it. Lets’ so go, said Jack. He held the door while he waited for Clyde to walk out. That was uncalled for, Clyde.

Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit, he said as he walked ahead to the trailer to start relaxing.

***

After each grabbed a beer and sat in the living room, Jack and Carlos exchanged looks as they heard Kyle’s screams from the shed. Clyde seemed to have no problem ignoring the screaming, as his eyes stayed focused on their fifty-five inch television, an extravagance they felt they deserved since it was their total resource of entertainment.

After he took a couple of long draws on his beer, Clyde was the first to speak. It was clear he hadn’t been watching TV after all.

Fuckin’ A! We got it done! We are on our way to our new life. Shit! I can’t believe it, man! Looking at Jack, his eyes were wide, his voice was loud, and his muscles were tensed with excitement.

Jack cautioned, Yeah, well, you should know it’s the first step, Clyde. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve been here before. It’s the second step that we’ve had trouble getting to. We didn’t get there with Greg.

Quit being such a dick! Let’s just have this one night for crying out loud.

Undaunted Jack continued, We’ve still got to get to south Texas, get the bank robbed and make it across the border. We hardly have anything to celebrate yet.

Having sucked the remainder out of his can, Clyde got up for another beer, belching loudly while giving Jack the finger. Returning with beer for everyone, he looked intently at Jack. That car, man, I’ve got to have that car.

Jack laid his head on the back on the couch. Forget about it, Clyde. It’s a totally sweet ride, but no way are we going back for that car.

Look, here, Jack. Clyde dangled the keys to the GTO he’d gotten out of Kyle’s hand. Just get me close; I’ll do the rest. I gotta have that car, man!

It’s fucked up, Clyde. You can’t get out of town in a car like that. By this time, every cop in Norman will be looking for that kid. They’ll know that’s his car.

You got it right, Jack. They’ll be looking for the kid, the car’s just going to be sitting there.

I’m scared, Clyde, Carlos said. If we go back, they’ll catch us. I don’t want to go jail, Clyde. We already messed up once. I just want to get this finished. My family needs me to send some money.

Clyde said as nicely as he could to his friend, You ain’t gonna be anywhere near that car, Carlos. Jack is just going to drop me off near the car and then we’ll return to the trailer separately.

Clyde looked back at Jack. I’ll just hang out in a safe place in Norman until I see the coast is clear before I drive back here.

Jack’s voice took a stronger tone as he leaned forward to make his point. You’ll be endangering the whole operation, Clyde. Just like you did when you left Greg alone to die. You didn’t intend anything bad to happen back then, just like you don’t intend anything bad to happen now. He slammed back into his couch cushion, shaking his head side-to-side.

As Clyde looked at Jack, he could see the knitted brows, the thin lip line and heard the change of tone. However, Clyde being Clyde, just pushed forward with his argument. I’ll take all neighborhood roads, man. I’ll come out on 84th to get to Highway 9. Like you said, they’ll be all over Norman looking for Kyle. They won’t be watching the car. It’s a ‘70 GTO Judge, man! We’ll just park it out here in the shed, throw a cover over it, and I’ll come back for it when the search cools down in six or seven months. You guys won’t even be around then. It’ll all be on me.

Jack is smart enough to know this is a stupid idea. Give it up, Clyde. It won’t come out good. You can get a car in Mexico.

Not one like that, man. That bitch is special!

No! You’re not costing us another year of planning for one car! We’ve been through too much, Clyde. You’ve already got Greg’s Jeep out there. We still can’t drive it and it’s been over a year!

Why not? As you say, it has been over a year! It’s not numero uno on their radar anymore. Clyde quickly stood up and moved toward Jack. He pointed his finger within inches of Jack’s face. If you’re not going to help me, I’m taking that Jeep and you know you can’t stop me, Jack. I can take both you and Carlos with one arm tied behind my back. If I have to go on my own, and leave you guys out here, I’ll do it! I’m going after that car.

Jack knew the argument was over. There was no changing Clyde’s mind. If Clyde wanted to take his chances on that car, it was all on him. Jack rose and stood face-to-face with him and yelled, Swear! If you get followed, you don’t lead them here! Swear it, Clyde!

You know I won’t! Shit, man, we’re family. I’d never do that to y’all. Besides, it ain’t gonna happen. I got it all figured out. I don’t want to get caught either. But I gotta hurry, Jack, Clyde persisted. The longer we discuss this, the less likely I’ll get that car.

So, if I keep trying to talk you out of it, you’ll give it up? he said with a slight smile, in an attempt to de-escalate the situation.

In your dreams, man. Clyde snarled as he grabbed the keys to the Jeep, where they hung on a hook by the door.

Jack glared at Clyde. Do this if you have to, but so help me God, you will regret it if you get caught and lead them back here. I will make a deal for Carlos and me. I’ll tell them about Greg. You understand that, Clyde? If that damn car means you take that kind of chance, I want you to know straight up what it will mean to all of us, and you especially, if you lead them back here!

Clyde smiled. Chill out, Jack. It’s all-good, man. There’s not goin’ to be a problem.

***

Clyde chose to play it smart. Jack’s words of caution had kept replaying in his head as he drove the long seventeen miles down Highway 9 to Norman. He took a circuitous route to the parking garage; going passed it by a block, and looking around at the area as he drove. Not seeing any cops, he doubled back to Boyd and the parking garage on Elm. He parked the Jeep next to the GTO. It was ten thirty-five.

CHAPTER TWO

It was ten-thirty P.M. and Lieutenant Ray Grabor should have been at home. His shift ended at six p.m., but home was the place where his wife and child were brutally murdered. He blamed himself for their deaths. He had been closing in on a serial killer known as the Teddy Bear Killer. This guy would leave a bear with a message pinned to his victim’s chest reading, Now I lay me down to sleep. The killer had warned Grabor to back off, but he didn’t. It was his job to catch this guy and he was hell-bent on getting him. He never imagined the ultimate price he would pay for his persistence. Now, he felt he would abandon his wife and child if he moved.

Nowadays, Grabor’s life and family were the police force. He woke up only to go to work; he went to bed only to be ready for work. More than the unusual, working past his shift time, and often off-the-clock, was more his norm. If he weren’t working on a crime scene, people would find him in the office. He was always the last to leave and the first to arrive, overlapping with the night crew so he could catch up on any action he missed while he was asleep. This was his pattern, and he felt comfortable in it. There was no warning on this quiet evening about how drastically his patterns, and his life, were about to change—again.

Lieutenant Grabor’s office was located in the Norman, Oklahoma Police Department where he had worked for the last twenty years. Since making detective ten years earlier, he’s had a corner cubicle as his official work space, with a window looking out at the parking lot. He liked it. Even though it measured only four-by-eight feet, it had everything he needed. He had his common office supplies, but also there was his computer with a thirty-two inch monitor, wireless keyboard and mouse. At his advanced age of forty-two, his eyes required the bigger screen. The department didn’t empathize, so he bought the monitor himself. Other things he liked about his office were its location by the break room, for his lunch and snacks, and by the locker room, where he kept a change of clothes. If he had a cot, he’d be fixed to stay twenty-four-seven. He’d considered adding this feature several times.

Grabor’s desk chair squealed as he swung it around to look at the monitor. The chair was an old wooden artifact as often times seen in film noir classic movies. He’d found it in the deep recesses of the police department’s storeroom. It demanded recognition with a voice of its own, protesting with an irritating squeal each time it was used to twist from side-to-side, which without fail irritated his fellow office workers. Sometimes he would have fun repeating this action over and over just to exacerbate that irritation. He’d found more than one can of WD-40 on his desk. No one actually had the guts to use it. Do and die. He smiled.

It was a slow night in the station, as was typical for most Sundays and Mondays. It seemed those were the unofficial weekends for criminals. Even though all the patrol units were out, no calls of remarkable incidences like killings or shootings were coming through. The small contingency of detectives assigned the night shift were mostly taking care of the paperwork that had piled up.

Grabor yawned and checked his watch. According to the Indigo Timex his son had given him on his last Father’s Day, it was ten forty-three. He started gathering his lunch bag and