The First Line 2018 - part 3

Fall:

The window was open just enough to let in the cool night air. I was sitting at the desk in the spare bedroom. There was a typewriter in front of me and a large cup of cinnamon tea beside it.

      I looked out the window. The ground was covered in orange as the leaves were falling from the trees. For the last week or so I did my best in trying to put off having to go out to rake the leaves. I figured that if I waited long enough perhaps Mr. Grayson next door would come over with his big, loud leaf blower. Although he is the sort of man who annoys about what the neighbor's garden looks like, I couldn't really see that happening.

      "I'll do it tomorrow. I'm busy here." I smiled and took a sip of the tea.

      I looked at the blank paper in the typewriter for a minute. Then, I started writing.

      "I have taken it upon myself to correct the wrongs of the court system. In my first years on the force I quickly realized that there are a lot of faults in how things are being dealt with. Guilty men and women are being let go without so much as a fine. Something had to be done."

      I took my fingers off the typewriter and read what I had written.

      I had been overjoyed when I found the typewriter in a vintage shop on the way home from a road trip about fourteen years ago. I always wanted one and this one was perfect. Mostly it just stood on the desk making me feel guilty for not typing on it, but on occasions such as this, it was put to hard work.

      Ever since I had started I had written down the facts. What they had done to deserve it, what the courts didn't do and finally how I made it all right. I put the papers in a binder labeled "Correcting the wrong".

      In the beginning I sometimes asked myself if I was doing the right thing, but it was always as though something spoke to me and reassured me. I knew I was doing good. Someone had to do it. That's just the way it was.

      Take my first victim for example. Clyde, something, was on trial for raping a twelve-year-old girl. His friend was even filming it. And still the court let the bastard go. Lack of evidence. He destroyed her life, so I destroyed his. Easy.

      But I knew I wouldn't be able to go on forever. Soon somebody would be on my tracks. I was pretty sure I had been able to keep Rowan off my scent. But he's clever, eventually he'll figure it all out. And when he does I will have to kill him. I don't want to kill Rowan. I love him.

      So I've decided to get out. My latest mission turned out to be more worth-while than just the satisfaction of putting a true asshole to the eternal rest. It turned out the guy had a whole bag of money hidden in the attic. I had always wanted that to happen, which is why I always searched the houses when the deed was done, but never in my life thought it actually would. I figured nobody knew the money was up there, so I took it. Three million two hundred thousand dollars. I couldn't believe it when I had counted it. The asshole gave me a way out. It always makes me laugh thinking about it.

      Being on the force has more advantages than being able to get rid of evidence and throwing out clues to have them looking in the wrong direction. It was pretty easy to check if the money was part of any investigation, no serial numbers provided was found in the data base. I wondered, where he had got that money. I wasn't going to find out, they'd probably want it back. I'm not completely stupid after all.

      So the letter in front of me was the start of the end of one era and beginning of the next. I just had a few more things to get done.

      I had a guy, Mike, who was going to set me up with a new life, a new passport and birth certificate. He, of course, would no longer be when it was all done. The plan was to burn down the whole house, just in case. I had no idea what was in there. I couldn't risk anything, not now that I had gotten this far. It was a pity, he was a pretty nice guy. I had had many good times with him in the sack. But, it couldn't be helped.

      Also, the witness of Mr. Leo Cain's shooting had to go, too. I hadn't quite figured that one out yet. She was still put away in that high security facility. There was no way I could do anything there. Believe me, I have tried. I can't get in without Rowan and even if I could, those retched guards wouldn't leave us alone. Plus of course, it would be impossible to bring in a knife or gun. In all my years I had never seen a place like that. Although it made my task so much more difficult, it gave a sense of satisfaction, perhaps they were on the right path to doing right. If they would stick to locking up the right people, of course.

      I changed tactics a while back and since then I had been working hard at trying to convince Rowan to let her go, that she would be safe. I mean, nobody had tried to visit her, nobody knew where she was. I was pretty good at making arguments on the spot, but so far he hadn't budged.

      A thought had crossed my mind. If I were to replace Rowan at work, I would be in charge and then I'd be the one calling the shots, and I could get Ms. Williams out and deal with her. But for that to happen, Rowan would have to get really sick, retire or... die. I couldn't bear the thought of him being gone. I just couldn't.

      "So, where was I..." I read the lines on the paper again, and kept writing.

      Two hours later, when the tea had gone cold in the cup, the sun had set and the rain was pouring down, I wrote my name at the bottom of the page.

      "Sincerely, Alisha Brown"

      I pulled the paper from the typewriter and put it in the bottom of the pile on the desk, took the white linen gloves off my hands and put them on top of the pile. When I started writing down my deeds I wore gloves, in case someone ever found the binder I would always be able to talk my way out of it since my fingerprints weren't on it or the pieces of paper inside.

      Before I leave I will make sure all traces of me and my fingerprints are gone from all systems. I know people everywhere and anything can be done. Especially with a lot of money in a bag. And if that doesn't work there are always other ways.

      I yawned.

      Now, what would I do about Ms. Cenessa Williams?

Looking back - 1998

When college was over and done with I was finally free. Although, Leo was no longer mine. That kept me up crying at night. Had done since that awful day.

      I moved back to live with my parents in Baltimore, and tried my best to forget about Leo and worked my - excuse my language - ass off the summer of 1998. Waiting tables, doing dishes, washing sheets, making beds, cleaning hotel rooms, I did all the jobs I could get my hands on. I sometimes worked eighteen hours straight, and drank liters of coffee to stay awake.

      I had never really thought much about what I wanted out of life, what I wanted to be when I grew up. My father was a cop, but I always tried my best to do everything he didn't want me to do. Except for choosing my own college, I succeeded most of the time. So cop was never an option for me.

      But then came the worst day of my life.

      On September 29^th, two days after my 22^nd birthday, my parents were driving home from work. The road turned, a truck driver asleep at the wheel didn't and my parents' car smashed straight into the truck. They died long before help arrived. I later found out the truck driver had been drinking.

      So that was that.

      But instead of mourning, instead of burying myself in my own despair, I decided to do what it took to walk my father's footsteps. I would make him proud.

      I would become a cop.

      I would put people that drove around killing others behind bars. Murderers. Rapists. All of them, behind bars.

      I breezed through The Maryland State Police Training Academy in Sykesville and I did my field training in Annapolis. I stayed on there for six years working myself up the ranks as best as I could.

      Sometimes I would find myself thinking of him, for no reason. I would see him on the street. On the bus. In the grocery store. But it was never him.

      My best friend. My lover. My Leo. What was he doing? Was he missing me?

      One day I put his name through the search engine at work and there he was. Still in Providence. I memorized the address and asked my boss for a couple of days off.

      I drove to his house. It was enormous. I sat in my car looking out for hours.

      He came home, driving a silver BMW. He got out of the car and glanced around. For a second I thought he saw me. He went inside. I stayed out there for another hour.

      At the moment I decided to go another car arrived. A woman got out. He met her at the door. They kissed. I decided to stay a while longer.

      An hour and a half later the woman left.

      Half an hour later another car drove up.

      I didn't want to see anymore. I drove back to my hotel and drowned my sorrows in a bottle of ridiculously expensive champagne.

      The next day I drove back home.

To be continued...