Edward's Dilemma (16 page)

ROBERT MATSON was curious.  He and Fred Sterling had watched Ben park his truck, and less than a minute later raise a pair of binoculars to his eyes.  From what they could see, this newcomer to the game didn’t look like a typical pothead.  This guy was clean cut, well-dressed, and driving a fairly nice vehicle.  “Who do you think this clown is?” he’d said to Fred.  “Why do you suppose he’s spying on Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Fred had replied.  A perplexed expression crossed over his face.   “It is a bit strange, though.”

The two police detectives continued to watch both Jason and the newcomer.  At about 6:45 PM, the guy in the truck – the newcomer – started his vehicle, backed out of his parking spot, and raced out onto the street.  By now, Fred had already written down his license plate number with the intention of running it through the Stuart County database when he got back to the office.  A minute later, Jason also packed up his bag, hopped on his little bicycle, and furiously pedaled away in the same direction that the truck had gone.

Robert and Fred sat in their car for a while longer, and discussed what they’d just witnessed.  They decided right away not to even bother following after either the truck or Jason.  The owner of truck, they surmised, would be easy to identify since they had the license plate number.  As for Jason, they had seen him at this same intersection before, and they knew he’d be back.  And besides, they already knew where he lived – and what he did for a living.

Public Library, Stuart Co.

29 September, 6:51 PM

BEN ARRIVED at the library with only minutes to spare before it closed down for the evening.  Hurriedly, he ran up to the building and pushed his way into the pleasantly air conditioned interior through a heavy glass door.  He wasn’t looking forward to explaining to Megan why he was so late, but he was nonetheless excited to tell her about the person he’d been watching.  Ben was also curious to find out if Megan had managed to dig up any information about Jason and his cohorts.

As he passed by the front desk, he said “hello” to the librarian – who didn’t look too pleased about his late arrival – and then headed towards the back of the library.  After a quick search amongst the rows of bookcases, Ben discovered Megan sitting at a table looking over a stack of printouts that she’d
gotten from the micro-fiche machine.  When he arrived, she looked up with a smirk, and jokingly growled at him while looking at her watch.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry,” Ben responded.  “I know I’m late.  But I think you’ll be interested to know why.”

“Don’t worry about it.  Come over here and sit down.  There’s something I want to show you!” Megan replied in an excited manner.  As if to move Ben along, she patted the empty chair which was next to her – and taking the hint, he obediently sat down.  Hardly waiting for him to get comfortable, Megan immediately launched-off into a discussion about what she’d discovered and why she was so excited.

“For the last hour, I’ve been looking at micro-fiche film on that blasted machine over there.” She motioned with a jerk of her thumb to indicate which machine she was talking about.  “Mostly, I’ve been examining the archives of the Turnbuckle News Tribune looking for vehicle thefts and such.  Pretty boring stuff – especially for someone like you – but do you
wanna know what I found out?  Huh, tough guy? Do ya wanna know?”  She playfully poked Ben in the ribs as she goaded him for an answer.

“No, smarty-pants, I want to sit here all night and wait for you to tell me,” Ben sarcastically replied.  “Of course I do!  Lay it on me!”

“Well, about forty or fifty minutes ago, I discovered the “Police Blotter” section of the newspaper.  I never knew such a thing existed.  Did you?”

Ben arched his eyebrows, and stared blankly at Megan.

She smiled, and continued to speak:  “Maybe if we read the paper more often, instead of watching so much TV, we would have known about it.  Anyway, there was a blurb in the paper from two days ago about a vehicle that had been stolen the night before.  And guess what?  It described a vehicle that perfectly matched the description of the car you saw out at Jason’s.”

“That’s pretty awesome,” Ben replied.  “I wonder...”  But before he could say anything else, Megan interrupted him with even more information.

“And that got me thinking.  You see, not only does the “Police Blotter” section describe the crimes that have been committed each week, but it also gives a list of all the people who’ve been convicted of crimes.  And guess what?!  Every time Jason has been in jail, convicted of a crime – and I looked back five years – the number of vehicle thefts in Stuart County has decreased dramatically.  And guess what else?  Jason has been regularly selling vehicle parts – tires, rims, whatever – in the classified section of the paper!  The guy’s a thief – a rotten, low-down, good-for-noth’n thief!” she said with a loud voice.

Just then, the Librarian appeared from behind a bookcase with a menacing look on her face.  She’d been searching for Ben and Megan – to tell them to leave – and now she’d finally found them.  With a brief warning, she sternly reminded the pair that the library was closed.  And unless they wanted to spend the night with a book for a pillow, and a newspaper for a blanket, they had best leave – now!

Ben and Megan received the message loud and clear, and immediately packed-up their stuff to leave.  As they were going, Megan tried to tell Ben a little more about what was on her mind, but Ben told her to wait.  He suggested that they go out to dinner, make a quick stop at the grocery store for some milk and a few other things, and then go back to his apartment.  Anything else she wanted to say about what she’d discovered could be said in the truck, or at the restaurant.

They headed outside into the warm air.  It was 7:10 PM.  In the parking lot, fairly close to where Ben had earlier parked his truck, the tire of a little bicycle protruded out from behind a bush.  Unfortunately, in their hurry to leave, neither Ben nor Megan
had managed to spot the anomaly.

Stuart Co. Jail, Tank 3North B

29 September, 7:22 PM

EDWARD PEERED out the window of his cell, and steeled his nerves. 
The Devil is coming,
he thought,
and I must prepare myself to meet him.
  He was scared, and his hands trembled, but he was resolved to earn a little respect.  A few feet away from his door, the med nurse rapped her knuckles two or three times against the door of his “neighbor’s” cell.  Edward grimaced at the noise, and quietly mumbled, “Next, it’s my turn.”  He returned to his bed, sat down, and patiently waited.

About ten seconds later, the face o
f a CO appeared in the window – and then came the dreaded rapping noise on Edward’s door.  Defiantly, Edward got up from his bed and walked the few steps to the door.  As he did, he forcefully yelled out in an authoritative voice, “Go away!  I don’t want your crazy pills!  I didn’t ask for them, and I ain’t tak’n them.”

There was silence.

Edward exulted in his small victory, and smiled in response.  But then, all of a sudden, the little trap-door beneath the window swung downward and a talking mouth appeared in the opening.  The mouth moved up and down, and the wagging tongue appeared to be hissing at him.  Droplets of saliva flew out from between the garish teeth as the mouth spewed its venom.  “Edward, I would advise you to take your pills.  It will be a lot easier for you that way.  If you should decide not to take them, I have a court order to give you an injection – whether you like it or not.  Do you understand what I’m saying, Edward?”

Edward was furious, and fought back against the mouth.  “GO AWAY!  I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAY TO ME, I’M NOT TAKING YOUR F***’n pills!  DO YOU HEAR ME?”  The mouth recoiled and went away, and again there was silence.  A few seconds later, without any warning, the little door slammed shut.

“Slam.”

An hour later, Satan’s demons appeared in front of Edward’s door.   Through the window he’d seen them gathering.  They were big – and menacing.  And Edward was scared.

WHILE SHE waited outside Edward’s cell alongside four COs, Nurse Tricia Oakley was also afraid.  She remembered the day when Edward had booked into the jail, and she was saddened by his steady descent into despair and hopelessness.  Like so many others she’d seen, Edward was a nice guy at first – but then something had gone horribly wrong with him. 
What is wrong with this place?
she thought. 
Does this place turn good people into bad people?  I hate this!  I’d give anything to be some place else right now.

As she
immersed herself in thought, a sergeant walked up to Edward’s door and opened the trap-door.  Briefly, he spoke with Edward and asked him if he’d like to change his mind and take his pills.  When Edward again said, “No,” the sergeant immediately placed the nozzle of a large canister of pepper spray through the opening, and let loose a steady stream of spray directly onto Edward’s head.

Tricia watched as Edward recoiled from the blast of pepper spray.  His head was completely covered in brownish ooze, and he seemed to bow his head as more and more spray accumulated on his face.  She was amazed that someone could be so fixated on earning “respect” that he’d be willing to subject himself to this – madness.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the caustic effects of the pepper spray, as it wafted out from within Edward’s cell.  At first she experienced nothing more than a tickle in her throat and lungs.  But soon the tickle grew into a major irritation, and she began to choke and gag and cough.  Meanwhile, her eyes filled with tears and her nose began to run uncontrollably.  Just then, when the situation appeared to be spiraling out of control, the sergeant fired a Taser through Edward’s now-open doorway, and Edward fell to the ground in a heap.

Tricia’s lungs were on fire by now, and her mind raced. 
This is horrible,
she thought.
  How am I going to do this?  How am I supposed to give him an injection when I can’t even see straight?
 
When is this going to end?

Once again, however, her thoughts were cut short by the unfolding events.  In a blur, all the officers charged forward into Edward’s cell.  The leading officer in the group slammed into Edward with a huge
plexiglass shield, stunning Edward and causing him to grunt for air as his right shoulder hit hard against the floor.  Behind this officer, the others piled on top of the shield; their combined weight effectively immobilized Edward’s body, and pinned his arms and legs to the floor.  Now it was Tricia’s turn to do her job.

Desperately, with fumbling fingers, she tried to get past the big shield and find a place on Edward’s left buttock where she could administer the injection.  But she was having difficulties, and her thoughts were screaming at her: 
Just do it!  Move the pants to the side and stick him!  How am I supposed to do this with all these officers piled on top of him?  Geez, I hope I don’t accidentally poke one of them after I’ve given the injection.  Hurry up!  Hurry up!  Do it!

Blindly, almost, Tricia reached out with the syringe and jabbed the needle into Edward’s buttock.  He groaned a little, but she didn’t really care where she had just given the injection; she just wanted to get it done.  Immediat
ely afterwards, she quickly got up onto her feet and headed for the door.  Her lungs ached from the pepper spray, and she was tormented by the ferocity of what she’d just done.  But she had performed her job, and that was enough.

EDWARD LAY on the floor gasping for air.  Fairly qui
ckly, however, the officers got up from the shield, making it easier for him to breathe.  He felt violated, but he knew that he’d have to live with his feelings. 
What can I do?
he thought. 
They’ve got the law on their side.  And who am I?  I’m just a little peon – a little, insignificant peon.  Stink’n pigs!  I’ll show them – even if it kills me.

Larry’s Supermarket, Stuart Co.

29 September, 9:30 PM

BEN MADE a right turn off of Cherry Street., and into the parking lot.  As he did, he immediately noticed that three of the towering light poles on the perimeter of the lot were barely working.  The remaining poles, it seemed, were insufficient in number to effectively illuminate the lot.  All around, dark trees with long spindly branches created a barrier, of sorts, from the rest of the world.

After driving around a bit in the lot, Ben decided to park as close as he could to the tiny supermarket.  Slowly, he pulled his truck into the parking spot, yanked upward on the parking brake, and shortly thereafter switched-off the ignition.  He was leery, and a little worried.  Megan had said th
at she didn’t want to go inside because she was feeling full from her dinner.  She had also convinced Ben that there was no harm in waiting outside for him, if only he’d lock the doors before he left.  But Ben wasn’t so sure; he never did think it was wise for Megan to stay behind in the truck while he went into a store or a gas station, and at night he was especially concerned.  Still, he complied with her wishes; and as he walked away in the direction of the supermarket, she remained behind listening to the radio.

In the distance, at the far end of the parking lot, Ben saw a flicker of light.  It came from within an old beater car, and appeared to be the light from a cigarette.  He couldn’t see much else, so he continued to walk.

A small warning-signal blinked in his mind.

Once inside, Ben wandered
up and down the aisles while casually tossing grocery items into his cart.  In the Produce section, he ran over a piece of trash – causing a wheel to drag, and the cart to continually veer-off to the right.  Ben was irritated and only moments away from swearing, when suddenly he heard something disturbing.  He wasn’t positive, but it sounded like a far-off scream!  He looked around and noticed an old man in the dairy section, and up front at the check-out counter there was a single clerk.

A shiver ran up his spine, and a sense of foreboding crept over him.  Without hesitation, Ben left the cart in the middle of the aisle and ran toward the front of the store.  Near the check-out counter, the clerk looked at him rather oddly, and appeared to be on the verge of asking Ben what he was doing.  But such an inquiry would have been pointless; Ben wasn’t about to slow down as he made a beeline for the exit.

Out in the parking lot, Ben picked up his pace and sprinted the fifty or so feet to his truck.  Along the way, as he got closer, he strained to see into the interior.  He was hoping he’d spot Megan’s smiling face, or hear the familiar sound of music playing on the radio.  So far, however, he wasn’t able to see or hear anything; it was too dark, and there were too many reflections on the closed window.  He began to panic. 
Where is she?
he thought. 
Maybe she’s scrunched down in the seat.  Maybe she’s in the store – somewhere.
  Finally, with only a few more strides, he reached the truck and looked inside the cabin.  And that’s when it hit him like a ton of bricks:
SHE’S GONE!

His thoughts raced. 
Should I call 911?  Or should I wait?  Oh, God, I hope she wasn’t kidnapped – or hurt.  Geez, Ben, why did you leave her alone?  Stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid!  The window isn’t broken, so maybe she went into the store.  Or maybe she’s just getting a breath of fresh air, and she’s sitting on the curb somewhere.  I should probably call 911.  But if I call 911, and she’s in the store, they’ll be ticked-off at me – plus, they’ll think I’m an idiot.  Where’s that car I saw earlier? I wonder if anyone else saw that car...

In time, Ben collected his wits and began a precursory investigation.  Although he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that Megan had been abducted, he was very suspicious.  He decided to go back into the supermarket and ask the clerk whether he’d seen anybody enter or leave through the front door.  After that, if necessary, he’d call 911.

Fifteen minutes later, Ben called the police.

County/City Building, Stuart Co.

29 September, 10:09 PM

IT WAS a late night for Robert Matson, and he was exhausted.  Although he was happy to be back in his office, after having sat in the car for close to two hours, he would have been happier if he was at home reading a book or walking his dog.  He decided to take a little break from his work, and make a quick stop at the kitchenette. 
Maybe a cup of coffee will perk me up,
he thought.

While he waited for his coffee to brew, he called Fred and asked for an update on the “plate-check” he was running.  His partner responded with some very interesting news:  The truck they had seen during the stakeout belonged to a young man named Ben Tyler.  This name had seemed very familiar to Fred, so he had done some additional checking.  Astonishingly, he had discovered that the owner of the truck was the brother of Josh Tyler; the defendant in the case they were now investigating.  When Robert heard this, he was also stunned; suddenly, a whole new world of intrigue and subterfuge had opened-up.

Robert poured a cup of coffee, and quickly returned to his office.  After sitting down behind his desk, he scrounged around in the top drawer for the dossier containing Josh Tyler’s background information.  Once he’d found it, he flipped through the pages until he came to the section about family, friends, and acquaintances.  His eyes zeroed-in on the page.  Although there wasn’t a photograph of Ben, there was a brief description of where he lived, and what he did for a living.

The ph
one rang and Robert picked-up on the second ring.  He expected it to be Fred, but this time there was a police desk-sergeant on the other end of the line.  The reason the sergeant had called was because the 911 operations center, located down the hallway from the police station, had just called him about a missing person.  The name of this person was Megan Sunday, but that wasn’t the reason the sergeant had called.  Instead, he had called because he was a family friend of the Tyler family, and he was aware of the criminal investigation into Josh’s role in the slaying of Joey Jones.  He also knew that Josh had a brother whose name was Ben.  And now – surprise, surprise – Ben Tyler had just called 911 to report a missing person.

For the second time that night, Robert was stunned. 
What is going on?
he thought. 
This case keeps getting more and more complicated by the minute.  I’d better give Fred a call – ASAP. 

SR 55, Stuart Co.

29 September, 10:36 PM

MEGAN ROLLED back and forth inside the cavernous trunk of an old car.  Whenever the car hit a bump or a pothole, she bounced up in the air, sometimes hitting her head or legs against the unforgiving metal lid.  She was covered with a scratchy blanket that smelled like a wet dog, and over her head there was a thick sack – which also reeked.   Her mouthed was taped shut with duct tape, and her hands and legs were tightly bound; presumably with more tape.  No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to cry out for help or free herself from her restraints.

She was terrified.