Protector - Laurel Dewey [46]
On her way home, Jane finished the sixth bottle of Corona. It was pitch dark by the time she pulled up in front of her house. She had driven slowly on the way home due to the buzz she felt from the beer. Jane grabbed the box of guns and the toolbox and got out of the car, stumbling up the curb toward the house.
The sound of a car door opening and closing, along with footsteps approaching her, caught Jane off guard. She dropped the toolbox and box of guns and spun around. “Goddamnit, Chris!” she yelled. “I’m not in the fuckin’ mood!”
Sergeant Weyler emerged out of the shadows. Jane took a step back and tripped over a sprinkler head on her lawn. She tried to stay upright but gravity pulled her down to the grass.
“Well, Detective,” Weyler said matter-of-factly. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Chapter 9
Jane tried to get up from the lawn where she fell, but her head spun like a top.
Sergeant Weyler peered down at Jane’s flaccid body. “Detective Perry, exactly how much have you had to drink tonight?”
Jane looked up at Weyler. She could feel her blood pressure rising and knew that her ability to censor her mouth would be difficult. “Gee, Dad, I’m not sure! Why don’t you look inside the car and count the goddamn bottles for yourself!”
“My God, Jane! How in the hell can you drive in this condition?”
“Oh, fuck, boss. You should give me an award. Most people in my condition would have taken out at least five cars on the way here.”
“Get up!”
“No, I think I’ll just sleep here tonight.” Jane rested her head on the moist grass.
“Give me your hand!” Weyler commanded, holding out his hand. “Get up!”
Jane reluctantly held out her hand to Weyler, who quickly pulled her to her feet. “What in the hell are you doing here?” Jane said, irritated.
“I’m worried about you.” Weyler steadied Jane’s shoulder with his hand. Jane let out a loud cackle. “I’m standing here looking at somebody who is drowning and hasn’t got the sense to cry out for help!”
“Oh, Christ—”
Weyler grabbed Jane’s shoulders. “Is this the way you want it to end?” Weyler’s voice was stern and abrupt.
“My career or my life?” Jane yelled in a slurred tongue.
“Both!”
“Well, let’s see. My career is pretty much fucked. As for my life, well, I died a long time ago. It’s just that nobody noticed.” She felt herself slipping into herself. “At least I think I died . . .” Jane’s voice trailed off. “I have to keep checking, you see?” Jane looked Weyler in the eye. “Sometimes, boss, we have to keep hurting ourselves just to make sure we’re still alive.”
“You’re very much alive, Jane and you still have a lot to offer.”
Jane pulled away from Weyler’s grasp and stumbled backward. “Look at me! I’m a fucking drunk! I’m nothing! And I don’t care! You know what would make me happy? To wake up truly dead! I want the pieces that are left of me to finally die!” Jane slumped down on her front step. “I’m gonna regret this conversation in the morning, but it’s the God’s truth. Everything I touch ends up destroyed. All the blood . . . and the bodies. We’re supposed to act like we don’t care. Like they’re all just collateral damage. But we’re kidding ourselves.” Jane looked off to the side. “Then again, there’s always going to be that one son-of-a-bitch who really doesn’t feel anything. You know, boss, there’s a thin line between the mind of a cop and the mind of a criminal. Do you have any idea how often they are one in the same? And how they can hide it so well?”
Weyler stared at Jane. “So? . . . How is your father?”
Jane turned to Weyler in shock. “What?”
Weyler moved closer to Jane. “I have no idea what happened to you. But I have met your father on brief occasions. Just because the rest of the crew puts him up on a pedestal doesn’t mean that I do. I didn’t get to the position I’m in because I kissed someone’s ass. I got here because I know things about people. Just like you do. I can look into someone’s eyes and paint a portrait of who they really are. When I looked into your father’s eyes, it was a very dark portrait. I cannot imagine what you