“You’re saying I should fall in love.” A pair of amber eyes popped into his head, but he quickly dismissed the thought.
“Yes and no. The record’s clerk told me you’ve been spending a lot of time reviewing the bank hold up from two years ago. I’m real sorry about your sister.”
The lieutenant gave him an understanding smile. “You’re looking for answers. I know how much solving this case means to you.”
The seat he was sitting on became uncomfortably hot. “Well shit.”
“Yeah, shit. You weren’t the only one chasing that armored truck. From personal experience, you can’t let it run your life. Not knowing eats at your gut, guilt…it can make you crazy. The same type of situation consumed my life and I almost lost my wife.”
“Did you ever get any answers?”
“Yes, but it took thirty-four years. When I was sixteen I witnessed something that changed my life.”
“Thirty-four years! I don’t think I can wait that long!” He shoved up from the chair, avoided looking at his boss and started to pace. From deep inside he lashed out. “She was twenty five. Twenty-five-years old! She was innocent and her life was taken from her because of money-hungry animals. There were other people in the bank, but that cold-blooded gunman chose her.”
“You know why. Ashley triggered the alarm and managed to call 911.”
Dean could feel the tears filling his eyes and his lieutenant’s face blurred. His gut tightened. “Yeah, but she paid for being a hero with her life.”
Ryder got up and poured Dean a mug of coffee from the coffee maker he had on the credenza in his office. “Sit and drink some of this. It’s strong.”
“Thanks.” The black coffee was strong, just what he needed. He cradled the warm mug in his cold hands and rested his arms on his knees.
“Dean, I was there that day. We couldn’t enter the bank because one of the gunmen called headquarters and they patched it to me. If we tried to enter or approach the truck, they’d kill more people. They took off in the armored truck and shooting at it was useless because they’re bullet proof.”
“I received the hold up in progress at the bank and the sergeant assigned me to block the south end entrance to Main Street. I’d just taken position and they sped past me. I radioed I was in pursuit. They jumped on the GSP and I clocked them going ninety. The state police joined the pursuit and shot out the tires but that truck kept going on three flat tires. The robbers made it into Atlantic City and disappeared.”
“Even with the help of the FBI we never found out who committed the robbery or killed your sister or the guard. They wore masks and gloves. The money has never been found.”
Dean’s voice hitched from the lump in his throat and the pressure on his chest was heavy. “Here I was chasing down those bastards and didn’t even know my sister was dead. Lieutenant, you know what eats at me?”
He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and aimed it at his lieutenant. “Ashley called me, pleading with me to save her. She was crying. The bank was being held up. I didn’t listen to her message until I got back to the crime scene. I felt like ripping out my own heart! I wasn’t there to save my sister when she needed me. Do you know how that makes me feel? Maybe if I’d gotten there sooner I could’ve prevented her death.”
Dean blinked a few times to get rid of the watery haze over his eyes. “I listen to her message and I wasn’t there to save her.”
Lieutenant Wayne shook his head. “Dean, I’m not just giving you the standard ‘I know how you feel and understand.’ You have no idea how many times during the past thirty-four years I’ve asked myself that ‘what if’ question. As a cop we see the ugly side of life. Our personal lives take a back seat to the job, but it’s the personal side that helps us cope with the nightmares.”
“Lieutenant, I get that, but my nightmare is like the never ending story. Every time I listen to her message, it brings me back to that day. I wasn’t there to save her, but I’m going to get those sons of bitches if it’s the last thing I do.”
Dean drank more of his coffee and gave his boss a sheepish sneer. “So what happens now? Take me off the job due to emotional issues?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Hell no!”
“The department has a psychologist under contract if you’d like to talk to a professional. Tamie Elise Vance will keep everything confidential.” Ryder removed the pipe from his pocket and ran his finger over the smooth barrel. “Your decision.”
He straightened up and set the empty mug on the lieutenant’s desk. “I don’t want you to take me off the job. I’m so damn frustrated.”
“Give some thought to reaching out to Tamie Vance. Our discussion won’t be going on your record, but I don’t want you to table what we talked about. You’re a good cop and my door is always open to you.”
The weight from a ton of guilt lifted off his shoulders even though the cause still existed. He stood up and offered his hand. “Thanks for letting me vent. Thirty-four years? Jeeze, that’s a long time to wait. Did they go to jail?”
“Sure did and they’ll never see the light of day. You better get going. Don’t forget the fingerprint scanner.”
Dean cradled the device in his hand like a treasured gift. “I’ll return it this afternoon.” He headed for the door but stopped when Ryder called his name.”
“Dean, don’t forget my other bit of advice.”
He frowned and Lieutenant Wayne burst out laughing. “Find yourself a woman who will put a smile on your face, make you laugh.”
Amber eyes…
Exhaustion was catching up with him, but Dean waited in the coroner’s office for their follow up meeting. The room was small without any windows, but a hand painted mural on the wall depicted a beach scene on the Jersey shore in high summer. It was so real, one wanted to reach out and touch the rolling waves.
It wasn’t his first autopsy, but the first one without all the body parts. Stan had been thorough and treated the deceased with respect. Within five minutes of using the electronic finger print scan, they had a name. Santiago Hernandez. Last address, Trenton, New Jersey. He’d also been a guest of the New Jersey prison system.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to take a quick shower,” Stan said, hurrying into the office.
“Not a problem.” Dean determined Stan was in his early fifties. His widow’s peak of black hair was riddled with silver and was still damp. His black full-lip mustache and brows hadn’t been touched by the hands of time. He wore a running tank with the words breathe and blue scrub pants.
Dean learned that Stan had earned money as a body builder while going to college. He hadn’t neglected keeping in shape. He was happily married with two children in their first year of college.
“From the trauma to the torso, Santiago Hernandez most likely died from a gunshot to the head. That’s the part we don’t have. It usually takes about twelve hours, more or less, before a body is engulfed with flies. They’ve laid their eggs in his chest hairs. The hatched eggs and maggots have already started crawling under his skin. It’s my opinion they used a chain saw to decapitate the victim.”