Deception (2 page)

Eight weeks earlier.

It’s
a summer afternoon and I’m in the public library in town looking through the shelves for a good read. I settle on a crime thriller from a debut author. As usual, I open the book and start scanning the first chapter.

“Excuse me,” says a soft woman’s voice from behind me. I turn slightly and look over my shoulder.

“Hi, can I help you?” I say.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but…”

I don’t hear a word she says after that. Standing before me is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her face is long and proportionate, her eyes soft and welcoming, and her features are seemingly perfectly symmetrical. She licks her lips without realizing it and I can’t help but stare. Her brunette hair is pulled to one side, and she twirls it as she speaks.

“Hello?” she says.

“What?” I say, jumbled.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you know where the non-fiction section is.”

“What did I say?”

“Nothing.”

I take a moment to gather myself before responding. Her beauty has me rattled. “I’m sorry. Yeah, the non-fiction is right over there.” I point to the sign hanging from the ceiling across the library.

She blushes. “I know…I’m sorry, I don’t usually do this.”

I didn’t realize how tense she was until now. She’s no better at this than I am. “Do what?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing.”

She lets out a long sigh and some tension within her is released. “I just really wanted to talk to you. I saw the sign.” She seems relieved for saying so, and it flatters me. Women are sometimes hesitant to approach men, and women like her especially don’t approach men like me.

“You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yeah, I see you here all the time, and I just really wanted to talk to you.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you here before. I think I would have noticed someone like you.”

“Well, not all the time, just sometimes. Okay, not sometimes, just today.” She throws her face into her hands and shakes her head in embarrassment. After holding the position for a moment, she slides her hands up over her face and whips her hair back. “Can we start over?”

“Hi,” I say, smiling, restarting the whole thing.

“Hi, I saw you over here and I just wanted to come and say hello.” She extends her hand to me and smiles. I take it.

“Well, hello then. My name is George.”

“Does George have a last name?”

“Sanders, George Sanders.”

“Hi, George Sanders. My name is Alicia Diaz. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

---

Meeting new people has
always been a bit awkward for me. The truth is, I lack confidence, especially around women. I never know precisely what to say or do, so I generally avoid it. Although the awkward beginning, conversation comes very easily between Alicia and me. It feels natural, almost like it was meant to be. We spend most of the afternoon in the library, talking and laughing, and more than likely disturbing a few folks. The afternoon quickly turns into the evening, and we move the conversation to a coffee shop across the street.

“What brings you to Kansas anyway? That’s a long way from Southern California,” I say.

“I came to visit my cousin for the weekend. I don’t get to see her much,” Alicia says.

“You came all this way to see your cousin? She must be pretty special.”

“She is.”

“Well I’m glad you did. Or I never would have met you.”

“Me too.” She blushes.

Admittedly, I’m impressed with my charisma today. It’s almost like I know what I’m doing. I glance at the clock hanging over the counter. “This place is going to be closing in a few minutes, are you just about ready to go?”

Alicia finishes the last bite of her light pastry and stands up without speaking, then we leave. The evening is brisk and the moon is almost full. It smells as if it might rain. I lead Alicia to my car, and she slides in the passenger’s side.

“So what do we do now?” I ask. “Should I take you back to your cousin’s?”

“No, she’s working.”

“Working? You came all this way to see her, and she’s working?”

“She’s a doctor. She was on call.”

“Oh, that makes sense I guess. What do you want to do then?”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. Home I guess. Do you want to come over for a while?”

She nods her head and leans back in her seat, lying against the headrest. She turns to face me and shrugs. “Okay.”

---

The ride home is
short. We sit in the quiet mostly while Alicia takes in the views of a new place. Plus, I have run out of things to talk about. Again, that whole social awkwardness thing. I pull into the driveway and stop the car. She looks at the house with approval as we step out.

“Nice house. Cute,” she says.

“Thanks. It’s just me, so it works.” It’s nothing big, a raised ranch with about an acre of land. I bought it a few years ago shortly after I got my first job after college. “Come on inside, I’ll show you around.”

I give Alicia the grand tour. We walk into the living room as we enter, there are two bedrooms and one bathroom down the hall to the left, and an eat-in kitchen is to the right with stairs leading to the lower level. The kitchen opens up and conjoins with the living room to give an open concept feel. It makes the place feel bigger than it actually is.

“This is a nice place George, I like it.”

“Thanks.”

She folds her arms and goes on another mini tour, nodding her head to show her approval. I stand awkwardly, not sure what to do next.

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” she asks. “I’ll just be a minute.”

I nod. She finds the bathroom in the hallway and closes the door without looking at me. At the end of the hall is my room, so I go there to put my keys and wallet on the nightstand. I pull my belt through the loops and remove my shirt, tossing it in the laundry basket.

“George?” Alicia’s voice comes from the doorway behind me, and I jump.

I turn to look at her. “You scared me.”

She stands in the doorway with her arms above her head, her entire body leaning on the doorframe. Her clothes are gone, except for her underwear, pink and laced. Her smooth, cocoa skin shines in the light. The push-up shoves her perfectly shaped breasts into the air, and although I try not to, I can’t help but stare. I eye her from head to toe and can already feel the blood rushing to my unit.

“Hi, George.”

“Hey.” My mouth is suddenly dry and the word sticks to the roof of it.

She turns her back to me, but keeps her head turned around and her eyes locked on mine. She reaches behind her and unclips her bra. She turns back to face me, cupping herself to avoid exposure. She takes a few steps toward me and drops one hand, then the second. She lets the brassiere fall to the floor, just in front of my feet.

“Kiss me,” she whispers between her moist lips.

I look at her straight-faced and can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s been a while, so I hope I don’t disappoint. Without further hesitation, I pull her toward me and do what I’m told before she changes her mind.

---
 

Later that night, as
her naked body rubs against mine under the sheets, I lean on my side to face her. I prop my head up on my hand as my elbow digs into the mattress. I gaze at her, and she looks back at me.

“What are you thinking?” she asks softly.

“I want to know more about you. Tell me something most people don’t know,” I say.

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What are your dreams? What do you hope to accomplish in your life?”

She looks to the ceiling and thinks for a moment, then back at me. “I don’t know, George. I’ve never really thought about it.” I make a face, and she senses my dissatisfaction, so she continues, “To be free I guess.”

Her response is strange, and I look at her awkwardly. She almost looks regretful for saying that. “What do you mean? You are free.”

She brushes it off. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just wanted to give you an answer.”

I nod my head in understanding, although I don’t really follow what she’s trying to say, if anything at all.

“What about you?” she says, quickly moving on. “What’s your happily ever after?”

I have never heard anyone say it this way before and it takes me a little off guard. I think I’m starting to really like this girl. “Just to live a simple life, you know? I want to move to Michigan and buy a boat and fish in the Great Lakes. Lake Erie. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.”

Alicia ponders this for a moment. “What’s stopping you?”

“Obligations. Work, a mortgage. Life gets in the way sometimes. Maybe someday.”

She accepts the answer and moves closer to me. I can feel her smooth legs spoon into mine. She grabs my arm and wraps it around her body, then closes her eyes. I look down at her and take in the moment. Things like this don’t happen to me very often, so I refuse to let it go to waste. I’m going to enjoy this. I met this girl not even twelve hours ago, yet I feel like I’ve known her my whole life. I don’t believe in love at first sight, but if there is such a thing, this might be it.

“Who are you, Alicia Diaz,” I whisper in her ear as I lean toward her, “and where have you been all my life?”

Seven weeks earlier.

It’s
9:00 A.M. and I’ve already been at the station for an hour. My uniform is wrinkled but clean, and I wait impatiently for the Sheriff to arrive. He’s only been on the job for a few months since he took over for my father. He’s an outsider, a rookie who moved his family into the city from a small town just across the Missouri line. There was a silent uproar in the station when they hired from the outside, but there was no one internally that was ready for the job. I certainly wasn’t an option.

After my father died, I became a changed man. I used to be a police officer because I loved it and because I really felt as if I was doing positive things for the community. Or maybe it was because I had no other options. Since then, it has become personal. There is a local gang in Topeka that is well-known in the law enforcement community and extremely violent, and they’ve been ruling this city for years. They’re known as the Zved’s. My father had made it his personal mission to take them down and spent the last five years of his life in trying to do so. He picked many of them off one by one, but they were always able to replace one with the next, each one more elusive than the one before. There was one guy in particular, the mastermind of the whole operation, who always got away. He’s the one who took out my father.

It was a cold night last December when it all went down. My father got a lead on the whereabouts of Adrian. Adrian Stephenson, I’ll never forget his name for as long as I live. He’s known as Snake on the streets, a nickname that developed over time as he avoided jail and got away with a string of contract hits. Slithered away I guess the nickname stemmed from, which is creative I suppose, but I’ll never forget his real name: Adrian.

My father went by himself to the call. As the Sheriff, it was unusual that he went out on a call at all, never mind by himself. He felt something was going to happen that night, I suppose, and he was right. From what was gathered from the coroner’s report and the crime scene, it was assumed to be one big setup. Adrian and his guys were tired of being tracked by the Sheriff, my father, so they called in a bogus tip and ambushed him. According to an anonymous witness after the fact, it was Adrian’s right-hand man who pulled the trigger and not Adrian himself, but Adrian gave the order and stood there and watched while it happened.

My father died from multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and head. The medical examiner thinks he was dead before he even hit the ground. Since then, my father’s mission has become my mission. This is no longer about justice for the city of Topeka, this is about personal revenge for me and my father.

---
 

I didn’t see the
Sheriff come in, but he’s in his office now, so I head in that direction.

“Hey, Jack,” I say as I knock on his door.

He looks up from his breakfast sandwich and invites me in. Jack Hearns is in his forties and still has a full head of thick black hair. He’s tall and thick, and his chest hair routinely bursts out from the top of his uniform. Pictures of his wife and two daughters cover the walls in his office. I can tell from how happy his girls look in all of their pictures that he’s a good father. He’s a good Sheriff too, firm but reasonable, and he’s always willing to listen to what you have to say. He reminds me a lot of my own father.

Except for when it comes to one particular subject.

“Come on in, Bill. Take a seat,” Jack says.

I sit in one of the two chairs that are across from his desk.

“How are you doing this morning?”

“I got a tip, Jack. Another one is going down this weekend.”

Mid bite, Jack drops his sandwich on the napkin on his desk and snaps his eyes at me. He has a look of uneasiness on his face. “Bill, we can’t keep doing this.”

“I know, I know, but I think this one is for real. Just hear me out. I received a tip from a legit source late last night, someone from the inside.”

Jack shakes his head. “Listen, I know you really want this, but you can’t force it. I’m sorry about your dad, but-”

“Please don’t talk about my dad, you didn’t know him.”

Jack raises his hands as if to calm me. “You’re right, I didn’t know him. But I knew of him. And I know that he wanted these guys to go down too, just like you do.”

“Jack-”

“Let me finish. But you’ve come to me with five different supposed legitimate tips this month alone and nothing has happened yet.”

“What about that double murder on Cranston Street last week? They could have had something to do with it.”

“A, we’re still investigating, so we don’t even know if it was a homicide at all yet. B, it appears as if there was a sexual assault involved too, which really doesn’t fit the profile of the Zved’s.”

I sigh and lean back in my chair.

Jack continues, “Bill, I’ve been thinking. Maybe you should take some time off, give you a few weeks to clear your head.”

“No, I need to work, I need to keep myself occupied.”

“It’s not a request. Take three weeks, with pay, and get out of Topeka for a while. You didn’t spend much time grieving.  That’s not normal.”

“But this is my life, Jack.”

“And it’ll be here when you return.”

I stand up from the chair and start toward the door, not wanting to argue with the man.

“Don’t worry Bill, I’ll tell everyone around the office that you’re on vacation. See you back here in three weeks.”

I nod and leave his office without saying anything. I can feel his eyes follow me as I gather a few personal items from my cubicle and head toward the front door of the station. I stop and glance at the framed headshot of my father that still hangs on the wall near reception before leaving, as I always do. A small granite plaque hangs below it. It reads:

In Loving M
e
mory of Sheriff William H. Lewis Sr. He gave 25 years to the city of Topeka and lost his life fighting for what he believed in. He will be missed by all in our hearts and in our memories, always.