How far would she go for the dead?

IN THE NAME OF LOVE

by Joe Reister © 2024

“You can do this.”  The tall strait-laced woman heard her sister’s voice say, tracing the numbers on her detective’s badge for the third time in the last sixty seconds, and wiped away a tear as a familiar homeless man in an unbuttoned winter coat approached her.  “You have to do this.”

The homeless man gave her a nod without really looking at her.

“Daniel.”  She nodded back with half a smile and pulled out a $10 bill.  “You all right there?”

“Thanks.”  He grunted, taking the money without looking at her, and gave her another nod.  “You’re one of the good ones, Officer Nunn.”

“We all do what we can, Daniel.”  She tried and failed to get him to look at her, waving him on, and took in the rest of the street.  “Buy a sandwich with your beer and get to St. Mary’s, okay?”  She turned back to him with his open coat.  “And you know, it’s supposed to drop below freezing, tonight.”

“Right.”  Daniel nodded yet again, pulling his coat closed without buttoning it, and shuffled away.  “And I’ll say a prayer for you too.”

“I could use one,” she said in a whispered, taking in a deep breath and waved him on again.  “Thanks.”

“I’ll try to remember.”  He pocketed the $10 and kept going without looking back.

She didn’t either, pulling out her phone and looking at an old text and photo.

       November 1, 2013

       VICKY

Joan:  You’re the law and I’m halfway to the order.  Or vice versa J.  Can’t wait to join you.  Love, Vicky. 

She looked at the photo on the phone of the tall happy young woman with the curly black hair who looked so much like her and frowned at the balding athletic man in sunglasses with a tight smile and his arm all the way around her.  She stared at it until she heard footsteps and pocketed the phone to see same man walking down the street and pulled out her pistol, keeping it hidden as she crossed. 

“Joan.”  The man stutter stopped, noticing her standing against the wall of a building half hidden and under an awning, and gave her a look.  “I didn’t know you had moved to my neighborhood.”

“Don’t worry, Michael.”  She half laughed, walking right up to him, and shook her head.  “I haven’t.”

“Of course not.”  He put on a smile, waving the idea away, and took in what he could see of the curves under her long coat.  “You haven’t changed a bit since….”

“I had a few questions about Vicky.”  She held up her free hand very close to his face.

“Right.”  He frowned at her closeness, shaking his head, and began walking again.  “I don’t have anything left to say, Joan.”  He sighed.  “I already told the detectives and your mother’s private investigator everything I know.”

“You were the last person known to see alive, Michael.”  She followed, matching his pace, and got even closer.  “The last…”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”  He stopped, turning to look her in the eye, and pointed in the opposite direction from they were walking.  “So, why don’t you go home and…”

“We’ve run out of leads.”  She stepped forward and cut him off.  “And…”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”  He half shrugged, touching the few hairs left on his head, and noticed that they were the only people on the street.  “But Vic left my apartment very happy and healthy two and a half weeks ago, and where she went from there is anybody’s guess.”

“That’s not good enough.”  She looked him right in the eye. “Not even…”

“I don’t care, Joan.”  He rolled his eyes, half laughing, and looked for anybody else on the street.  “And neither does any…”

“Homicide and the district attorney do, and...”

“That doesn’t matter.”  He shrugged, keeping his eyes on hers, and laughed a little more.  “They can think whatever they want because I didn’t…”

“I know things weren’t good between you two.”  She inched closer.

“And whose fault was that?” he said with half a grin, still looking at her, and threw up a hand.  “You broke up with…”

“Don’t start.”  She raised her finger into his face.

“We’re a little past that.”  He leaned back, now searching the buildings around them for someone, and shook his head.  “I don’t know what happened, okay?”  He threw up both hands.  “I expected to see Vic that night, but she just disappeared.”  He gave her an exaggerated nod and shrugged.  “You know people don’t want to be found sometimes.”

“Not my sister.”  She wagged the finger in his face.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.”  He looked past her, shrugging again, and took in a breath.

“You slept with her for three months and you don’t report her missing, Michael.”  She leaned forward, seeing the sweat on his forehead, and frowned.  “What did…?”

“That doesn’t mean I wasn’t concerned, Joan.”  He stepped back, holding up a hand between them, and looked again for anybody else on the street.

“My family needs to know what happened.”  She followed him, keeping close, and stayed in his personal space.

“Maybe she didn’t want them to know.”  He stopped backing up, keeping the hand between them, and looked her in the eye again.  “She certainly wasn’t the little girl your family thought she was.”

“I don’t think so.”  She looked past him, taking half a step back, and shook her head.  “I think that…”

“She was into some weird stuff, okay?”  He nodded big, pulling out his phone, and then shook his head.  “It would be better for you and your family to just move on.”  He half frowned.  “Trust me.”

“That’s not going to happen, Michael.”  She closed the distance between them again, knocking aside his hand in between them, and boxed him in.

He started dialing.  “I’ll have your badge if...”

She pistol-whipped him, knocking him to the ground, and then kneed him in the face.

He stayed down, coughing, but kept dialing his phone.  “I’ve already been through this with the detectives…”

She kicked him hard in the stomach, almost flipping him over and stomped on his phone as it hit the ground, crushing it. 

He groaned, reaching for his stomach, and tried to get up.  “You can’t…”

“No.”  She kicked him two more times, hearing him grunt and drove him forward into an alley just a few feet away.  “You’re not going to hide behind the law anymore, Michael.”

He reached for her leg, trying to steady himself, and she broke his nose.

“What happened to Vicky?”  She stood over him, her face a straight line, and hit him again.

“You.”  He reached for his face as blood dripped from his nose and mouth.  “You’re done being a cop.”  He coughed.  “You’re…”

She kicked him again, knocking him over again, and leveled her pistol at him.

He lay on the ground, curled halfway into a ball, but looked up at her with narrowing eyes.  “That gun’s the only reason I haven’t kicked your ass.”

“Where is she?”  She pointed the pistol into his face.

He looked past it and right at her.  “I don’t know.”

She pulled the trigger.

He screamed, flopping over, and grabbed his arm.  “You God damn cun…”

“You’re going to tell me what happened, Michael.”  She kicked him against a garbage can, watching him bleed, and stuck the gun into his face again. “Right now.”  She nodded as her face tightened into nothing but straight lines.  “And...”

“No.”  He held his hands up between them, failing to get away from her, and gasped for air.  “You can’t…” 

“The cops won’t be here for at least two minutes.”  She crouched down, learning in closer and pushed the pistol into his cheek.  “Even if someone calls in that shot.”

“I don’t know what happened to her.”  He screamed himself hoarse.  “I swear.”

“Yes, you do.”  She nodded, waiting for him to look at her, and put the pistol against his forehead.  “I know you do.”

“Please.”  He shook his head, crying, and peed himself.  “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”  

“Shut up.”  She ignored the mess and cocked the gun.  “You…”

“I swear.”  He went even paler, blubbering, and failed to keep his hands up between them.  “I swear I didn’t kill her, Joan.  I swear.”

She looked into his wide open eyes looking past her, seeing the terror written all over his face and body, and hesitated.

“Kill him.”  She heard her sister’s voice say.  “Kill him right now.  Right now.”

Joan blinked at the shadow of the man in front of her.

“Please don’t.” He got his hand up between them again, bleeding all over himself, and began to shake and tremble in front of her.  “I didn’t…”

“Kill him.” her sister’s voice said again.  “Kill him now, throw the gun down the sewer and walk away like you were never here.”

“No.” she said in a whisper and blinked again.  “No, I can…”

“He deserves it,” her sister’s voice said.  “You know he does, Joan.”

“I know.”  She kneeled down in front of him, nearly slumping over herself, but kept the tip of the pistol resting on the bridge of his nose.  “But Vick…”

“Please.”  He started bawling.  “My mother…”

“He’s never going to jail, Joan.  You know that.  He’s too good a lawyer, and he destroyed any evidence that I was even there.”

Her eyes teared up.

“Do you know that he beat me up after you told me about you two,” her sister’s voice said.  “And that he killed me when I said it was over.”

She stared at him, noticing the smashed in nose and blood seeping out of his battered face, and began to cry.

“This is the only way he’ll pay for what he did, Joan,” her sister’s voice said.  “You know that better than anyone.  You’ve seen how the system works.”

Her finger tightened on the trigger as tears streamed down his face and he began to stink of pee and shit.

“Where is Vicky, Michael?”  She shook her head, almost straightening up, and leaned in even closer to him.  “What happened to her?”

He closed his eyes and moaned.  “She wanted to go away, figure some things out.”  He looked at her again, his face a mask of pain and terror, and half shrugged.  “I gave her some money, Joan.”

She wiped away his tears, staring at him, and then wiped her own.

“I am so sorry.”  He sobbed more, looking back, and nodded to her.  “I thought she’d be back by now.  I swear…”

“He’s lying,” her sister’s voice said.  “I would never just disappear: not in a million years and you know that.”

“You’re right.”  She nodded to the voice, pulling away from him, and noticed the blood on her hand and coat.  “You were never…”

“I always made curfew, never missed Mass and I didn’t even drink coffee until I was twenty-one.”

“I know,” she said, wiping the tears off her own face, and stood up.  “I remember.”

“What?” Michael whispered, his face starting to straighten out, and looked up at her.  “Who are you talking to?”

“I know you killed my sister, Michael.”  She looked down at him, her eyes narrowing right on his again, and pointed the pistol back at his face.  “Then you got rid of her body somehow and all of the evide…”

“No.”  He yelled out as his face sank again and he shook his head again and again.  “No, I swear…”

“The body, the weapon, everything.”  She nodded, straightening up again, and straightened out her aim.  “Everything.”

They heard a siren. 

“I didn’t kill Vicky, Joan.”  He shook his head, glancing in the direction of the rest of the world, and failed to get up off the ground.  “No matter what you think.”

Another tear ran down her cheek as a second siren wailed, closer than the first.

“I didn’t do it.”  He shouted, trying and failing to get up again, and swallowed big.  “I couldn’t...”

“Yes, he could and he almost did it to you too,” her sister’s voice said.  “He told me.”

“I know.”  Joan nodded, looking him in the eye again, and pulled the trigger.  “I know.”

He collapsed in a heap of broken flesh. 

And she just stared at his body.

“Thank you, Joanie,” her sister’s voice said.  “Thank you so much.”

“Thank you.”  She breathed, swallowing hard, and shook her head at herself when she caught Daniel standing right behind her.  “I’m sorry.”

She watched him stare at her and Michael’s dead body, then he looked around them hoping to see anybody else, and she raised her pistol again.

Daniel shook his head, raising his hands, but didn’t move.

“No, Joanie,” her sister’s voice said.  “Don’t do that.  Just drop the gun and get out of here.  There’s still time.  Just go.”

She heard a police cruiser turn down the street on its way to the ally where she stood and watched Daniel step back as she leveled the pistol again. 

“No, no,” her sister’s voice said.  “No.  Don’t…”

She pulled the trigger, her pistol and badge clattering to the pavement as she hit the ground, and never heard her sister or anyone else’s voice ever again.