Time Line Read online

  The concern here was you never know, do you . . . That it being the 4th of July, maybe the news outlets gave most of the reporters the night off and were limited to skeletal staffs?

  Taking it a step further--maybe a piece of news from the night of the 4th might not get picked up and sorted out and written up right away--and unthinkably now, Don’s thing might have still happened, but not appeared in the papers until July 6th.

  Pike cringed at the possibility--and it sure didn’t seem likely that as significant and tragic a story as a police officer being killed on the job wouldn’t make the next morning’s news.

  But you had to look, before you could completely relax. That was clear now.

  So this time he reversed it and started with the Yonkers Herald Statesman.

  And there it was. From July 6th . . . Front page.

  Slightly altered, but the same result.

  Right in your face.

  And Pike’s heart slowed.

  The headline read:

  Veteran Off-Duty Yonkers Police Officer Killed In Saw Mill Car Crash

  and the sub-heading read:

  Parkway closed for 3 hours, Alcohol believed to be a factor

  Pike turned off the computer and turned off the light and got in bed and covered his face.

  A range of emotions were swirling around, and he couldn’t help thinking about Heidi and the all-night drive and the Stephen King story.

  That guy had figured it out after all, hadn’t he.

  You don’t get away with trying to be a good guy and doing what you think is the right thing. Do you.

  Something else happens, and odds are you’re in worse shape then when you started, when you were stupid enough to try to be a hero.

  And now you’d opened up a whole nother can of worms, hadn’t you.

  Bringing alcohol into the equation--to allegedly put the guy at ease, so he’d call in sick. What a brilliant idea that was.

  Handing it to the poor guy on a silver platter, for Gosh sakes. Who it turns out just happens to be a recovering alcoholic.

  Maybe before you showed up the guy’d been sober for years. Probably had in fact, for as long as he’d been on the force. Then you pair him up with Mike, who was ready, willing and able to take Don with him back down the wrong path.

  Unreal . . .

  Pike knew the Saw Mill without looking it up, that was the Saw Mill River Parkway, at the bottom of the hill from Don’s neighborhood. Right across in fact from where Pike ducked into that utility building with the machinery.

  Pike knew the Saw Mill because when he’d mapped Don’s route from Gliver Street to the precinct--getting a handle on how long it took him to get to work--that’s how Don would drive it. The Saw Mill south a few miles to the Cross County Parkway, and whatever. . .

  Pike lied still for a good while. It was a chilly night but he opened the window, and the cold air felt good. He thought back to simpler times, like last summer when a bunch of kids headed to Tahoe spur of the moment, and someone knew a swimming hole up near the summit, by Sugar Bowl, and there was an old-fashioned rope swing that extended way out there, and they wore the thing out, and they stopped in Grass Valley on the way back . . . and that turned into an all-night party. And the next day they all went back to Beacon like nothing happened, the radar always up for the next mini-adventure.

  Simpler times indeed.

  But not right now. Pike needed to reach out to someone, and the best he could come up, really by default, was Mitch.

  Frankie was on the radar too, you could talk to the woman and she gave you her full attention and listened--but Mitch at this point, whether Pike admitted it or not, was like an uncle figure.

  And yeah, sure--something might get thrown out of whack by talking to Mitch right now--the interdimensional type stuff Pike had been worried about--but let’s face it, at this point how much more were you going to screw up?

  Mitch sounded irritated when he answered, which did happen occasionally but wasn’t real typical, and Pike said what’s wrong, and Mitch said he and Lucy had a bit of an argument tonight. That she’d cooked dinner for the two of them and tried a new recipe for a stew, and there wasn’t much flavor to it but Mitch kept insisting it was excellent, even helping himself to a big bowl of seconds--and she got miffed at him for pretending.

  “Oh,” Pike said, “So my deal--my news--you’re putting on the back burner then.”

  “Not at all son,” Mitch said, perking up considerably, and his voice getting louder on the phone, almost too loud.

  “Okay, cutting through the smokescreen,” Pike said, “I tried to alter Don Pascarella’s thing . . . I gave it my best shot.” Pike’s voice broke.

  “It’s okay Pike,” Mitch said.

  Pike was crying, he hadn’t intended to, but now here it came, and he knew it was what you were supposed to do, let it out, nothing wrong with that, you weren’t less of a man, and so forth . . . but it still was tough to be breaking down in front of someone. Mitch, though, he was with you, he understood, and Pike lifted his t-shirt and wiped his face and said thanks, and hopefully that part was over.

  “Let me look into it,” Mitch said. “But can you promise me something in the meantime?”

  “What?”

  “That you don’t think about it the rest of the night.”

  Pike was getting himself reasonably back under control now. “Not even for one second?” he said, and he and Mitch both laughed as much as you could under the circumstances, which was about a half-second’s worth.

  “You’ll be reachable?”Mitch said.

  And Mitch wasn’t spelling it out, but Pike knew what this meant.

  In case Mitch happens to find out that I made things worse than they already were.

  Pike knew he shouldn’t have screwed around with this--and he also knew now that Mike Keegan guy, wherever the heck he came from, was a real bad omen.

  Pike said yeah he’d be reachable . . . and that on the other business, the stew, he would have faked that it was good too.

  “Yeah well, women,” Mitch said, and they hung up.

  Chapter 25

  The phone rang slightly after midnight, and of course Pike was wide awake, but it wasn’t Mitch.

  “I’m not disturbing you or anything, am I?” Hannamaker said.

  “Affirmative,” Pike said.

  “I am then?” Jack said.

  “Shut up. What do you need.”

  “Well me and Heidi, we decided to cool the jets.”

  “Oh.”

  “Unh-huh . . . The thing of it is now, I’m putting her on a plane in the morning, back to Phoenix . . . You know, rather than re-drive it and all.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Yeah. So . . . why I’m calling you, I told her I’d pay for it. The flight. On account of us, like . . .”

  “Forcing her into it?” Pike said. “I thought she wanted to check out California, she was up for an adventure.”

  “And, that’s sort of still the case, she’s fine with sticking around.”

  “But you’re not.”

  “Not at all. I mean, nice girl--great girl at times--but dang, I can’t relate to her.”

  “Kind of tough,” Pike said.

  “And seeing as how, you know, we got school and all on Monday . . .”

  Pike said, “Why are you calling me, dude?”

  “Okay. I need some cash. To handle the rest of her flight.”

  “How much is it?”

  “$279. And that’s not bad at all, I checked around. John Wayne Airport in Orange County. You compare that to your LAX’s, Long Beach’s, we’re way under. The reason we got a good deal, it’s the early flight. 5:30 am.”

  “Ooh boy.” That sure didn’t sound like a particularly good deal, and Pike wondered if the 5:30 am angle was so Hannamaker could minimize any more time spent with Heidi . . . Whatever.

  “I know,” Jack said. “So listen, can you help me out with 2 hundred bucks?”

  “Dog, man,” Pike said, �
��what do think I am, here?”

  There was a pause and Jack said, “That’s what I figured. Don’t worry about it, I thought I’d just check. We’ll work it out.”

  That essentially wrapped up the conversation but right before Jack clicked off Pike heard himself, say, “Okay let me see what I can do,” and Jack came alive and started going on that you saved the day, you don’t know, and I won’t forget this.

  The truth was Pike didn’t know what he could do. He looked in his wallet. By staying on that train and avoiding a motel--and kind of dodging the conductor on the way back as well--he’d saved a few bucks. On the other hand the original $76 train from Lancaster and the reckless splurging in the dining car, and then the pizza and pasta, and of of course the fateful return for more . . . take-out this time, which included the unfortunate 6-pack . . . the instigator . . . that threw Don off the wagon, and was the beginning of the end for the poor guy.

  Bottom line, of the $200 Pike started off with he had a grand total of $48 and change--and of course there was the monster sum of $12 that he’d left in his cash machine account for just in case.

  So you needed $150, and it was 1 in the morning.

  A few thoughts swirled around, and they were all bad ideas. Finally he thought of something, trying to hock some baseball cards to the 7-11 guy. The 7-11 out by the fairgrounds was open round the clock and it was manned by an Indian family, very nice folks, and one relative or another was always working the register.

  So Pike grabbed his collection and drove out there. The reason it might work, is even though it was a typical convenience store, they had set aside a little area with a flat glass showcase where they sold cards and some sports collectibles. You rarely if ever saw anyone paying a lot of attention, but one of the owners one time told Pike it was a hobby and he enjoyed it.

  That guy wasn’t there tonight, and it was a younger guy working the register unfortunately, and he didn’t look Indian, and Pike figured that’s the end of that idea. He assumed they only had family members working the place, that that was key to their profit margin, but apparently not, this late . . . and you couldn’t blame them, the night shift was no doubt dicey.

  Pike asked the guy anyway, were they interested in buying some cards, and the guy politely said he didn’t know anything about that, and you’d have to speak to Mr. Kumar in the morning.

  That made sense and Pike thanked the guy and figured while he was here let me get something sweet after all, and he was studying the Hostess cup cakes and Twinkies section when a guy asked him what cards he was selling.

  Pike looked up and the guy had a uniform shirt on and it was the Coca Cola route guy, and his truck had been parked outside. Pike showed the guy what he had, said he didn’t know a lot about them but he was trying to raise $150 bucks.

  The guy knew his stuff, you could tell, and he went right to two of them, and then found 5 or 6 more, all from the 1970’s and 80’s, and asked Pike what he wanted for them.

  “You tell me, honestly,” Pike said, “I have no idea.”

  And it was apparent that the Coke guy was a fair man and he pulled out his phone and went onto some baseball collectibles valuation site, and it looked pretty dang legit, and the guy showed Pike where the cards were listed and the estimated values--and bottom line they agreed on 50 percent of that, which rounded off to a hundred bucks, and Pike said you sure don’t want any others, to get up to $150, and the guy said sorry but no, he was a Red Sox fan and he’s sticking with those.

  Just for the heck of it Pike said to the counter guy, “You got any suggestions how I can pick up a quick 50 dollars?”

  “Not sure,” the guy said, “you got anything in your pick-up?”

  Pike didn’t think so but he went out there and took a look--the glove compartment, under the seats, and finally behind he seats, where he found a few things he wouldn’t have remembered being there, and he brought them in.

  There was a Trucker’s Atlas, and for whatever reason the guy was interested in that, and there was one of those tools--kind of dangerous actually, you had to be careful--but where you can smash your window open if God forbid you plunged off bridge or something and the vehicle got submerged. There was a Carhart jacket, not bad shape, but always a little tight on Pike--and the guy said he’d be good for the $50 for those items, as long as Pike gave him a ride home--seeing as how some idiot sideswiped him and his car was in the shop.

  This was becoming the Twilight Zone and Pike was tempted to ask the guy how he planned to get home otherwise, before Pike happened to show up, but it wasn’t worth it . . . and Pike had to admit he was a bit like poor Don, in that when he started a job--no matter how stupid, even something involving Hannamaker--he didn’t feel right letting it go.

  So Pike asked the guy when did he need that ride, and the guy said at 4, when he got off, and Pike said fine, and you weren’t going to expect the guy to pay you until then . . . so Pike went back home, brutally tried to kill a couple hours since now he was ready to fall asleep, showed up back at the 7-11 and the guy was good to his word and forked over the $50.

  Pike drew the extra $12 out of his cash machine account, thereby draining it, and he used it to pay the 7-11 money transfer--something called Pay Near Me--and he texted Jack to pick up the $200 at a 7-11 down there, and good luck.

  Mitch of course calls in the middle of driving the counter guy home, and Pike ignored it, but after he dropped the guy he pulled into a parking lot and called him back.

  Chapter 26

  “All right, are you ready,” Mitch said.

  “That sounded like more of a statement than a question,” Pike said.

  “Okay then . . . The accident on the parkway, that occurred on Tuesday, July 5th. You were there--apparently-- on a Monday.”

  Pike was thinking, are you for real. Number 1, I know I was there, and Number 2 I know when I was there.

  Pike admitted he hadn’t clarified the Tuesday part, or if he had, he hadn’t dwelled on it. What difference did it make, if you turn someone back into an alcoholic and they wrap their car around a tree on a Monday or on a Tuesday.

  Mitch said, “What I’m getting to son, we’re good.”

  You wanted to blurt out a couple things--Don’t mess with me man, this isn’t the time--being the main one . . . but all Pike could come up with was, “Hmm.”

  There was a pause. “You’re not with me, I can tell,” Mitch said.

  Pike didn’t say anything, and Mitch said, “Go back and re-read the article. The one you pointed me to.”

  Pike told Mitch to hold on and dialed up the Yonkers Herald Statesman again, from July 6th.

  You had the same headline, and fine, Pike hadn’t read it all the way through, because why bother with the unnecessary details, the headline said all you need to know.

  He expanded the article this time.

  Veteran Off-Duty Yonkers Police Officer Killed In Saw Mill Car Crash

  by Robert Treadwell, for the Herald Statesman

  July 6, 2016--Yonkers PD mourned the tragic loss of an officer today, as investigators tried to piece together the circumstances surrounding a single-vehicle crash on the side of the Saw Mill River Parkway Tuesday.

  Veteran patrolman Randall S. Guerazzi, 38, was killed at approximately 1:15 in the afternoon when his southbound late model Ford Explorer struck an embankment approximately an eighth of a mile below the Wardell Avenue exit.

  Witnesses reported seeing the vehicle swerving before the crash. Investigators suspect alcohol was a factor. Toxicology tests are pending.

  Guerazzi was a Yonkers native and an avid outdoorsman. He graduated from Gorton High School in 2007. He joined the Yonkers Police Department in 2009. Guerazzi received multiple commendations, including in an off duty role in 2012 when he was credited with talking down a potential suicide jumper on the Tappan Zee Bridge.

  “Are you there?” Mitch said after a couple minutes. “Anybody home?”

  “I’m here,” Pike said finally. “But I’m not.”
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  “But you read it, right?”

  “I did, and I’m . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Mitch said.

  “Does this mean--I mean Jeeminy Freaking Christmas--I . . . somehow stopped Don . . . and killed another guy?”

  Mitch said, “You did good kid. You stopped Don . . . and Mr. Guerrazzi--sadly that happened anyway.”

  “You got to be kidding me,” Pike said. His mind was whirling, and he remembered again reading the online news before he travelled back there, and he was pretty positive he checked it as far forward as the 7th or 8th, and it was all Don, and the aftermath--no mention of this guy. You would have remembered something like that for sure.

  Mitch said, “I know what you’re thinking, and I was there too. But a little googling--and a search engine that rolls back websites, which was somewhat hit or miss, I’ll admit . . . Suffice it to say that Officer Guerazzi--pre your attempt--unfortunately perished, a different roadway but in similar fashion, a week later. On July 12th.”

  Pike felt himself tearing up all over again. “So what you’re telling me . . . I didn’t cause it then.” He knew now what Mitch was telling him, but it felt awful good to say it out loud.

  “You did not. The only side effect of your visit--so far as I can determine--is it pushed the officer’s tragedy forward slightly.”

  Pike said, “And Don . . . he still, you know, going to work like normal? . . . And all the rest of it?”

  “Everything seems fine,” Mitch said. “We’ll keep an eye out of course. We always do.”

  “Wow,” Pike said.

  “Get some sleep now,” Mitch said. “Some of the real stuff.”

  Chapter 27

  “If I told you only half of how weird it got with that chick, you wouldn’t believe me,” Jack said. “Everyone else has a nice simple Christmas break, and I get put on a roller coaster.”

  “It can work that way,” Pike said.

  They were in The Box, lounging around on Sunday afternoon, New Year’s Day actually, but that part was kind of dulled, with school unfortunately starting tomorrow--the silver lining being they were in the home stretch, you could see the finish line, and barring any outrageous unforeseen circumstance, they’d be graduating in June.