Precinct 11 - 01 - The Brotherhood (14 page)

“Believe me, I am aware. There is a villain in this story. We have an enemy. Some would say this enemy is fate. Destiny. Luck. Happenstance. Others would dare say the enemy is God himself. While no one holds him responsible for these awful deaths, some naturally question how he could have allowed them.

“Do you want the studied, prayer-filled, measured answer from the one who has been charged with trying to interpret God and his Word for you? Here it is: I don’t know. Anyone who tells you he knows why God allowed this is a liar. While we rest in what the apostle Paul calls ‘that blessed hope’ that we will see our loved ones again one day, and while we are instructed not to grieve as those who have no hope, that does not imply that we are not to grieve at all.

“I say grieve. Grieve with all that is in you. Embrace the grief. Ask your questions. I am confident we will not know or understand this whole story until we are in glory ourselves. But I can tell you this: Our enemy, our villain, is Satan, the devil, the prince of darkness.”

On the giant screens was projected John 10:10: “The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.”

“The thief is Satan. The one who has come that we might have life and may have it more abundantly is Jesus. You want to blame someone for this, blame the thief. Is your heart broken as mine is? Grieve with all your might.

“If there is any lesson for those of us who remain today, it is that we never know when our end might come. These precious ones were with us one moment and gone the next. Did they want to be used as examples, as visual aids to the brevity of life? Do their loved ones and their dearly beloved friends accept that they have become object lessons? Of course not.

“Our task has become clear. Live life to the fullest, to its most abundant. Grieve with vigor. And come alongside those who remain, loving them, supporting them, praying for them, being there for them. If you have questions, if you’re confused, if you hate this and don’t understand it and can’t comprehend it, imagine their turmoil.

“It falls to us now to be the body of Christ.”

Boone sat rigid through it all, fighting to maintain composure, desperate to corral his rage. He gripped Nikki’s Bible to keep from shuddering. If he could just bear up through the rest of the message and the one final solo, he could retreat to his rote response for anyone who said anything. And many would. He knew he had to sit there as people filed by the bier and paid their respects and expressed themselves.

Cheryl was waiting in the wings, and she stepped in behind Pastor Sosa as he finished. With a simple piano introduction, again she sweetly sang:

My Jesus, I love you, I know you are mine—

For you all the follies of sin I resign;

My gracious Redeemer, my Savior you are;

If ever I loved you, my Jesus, ’tis now.

In mansions of glory and endless delight,

I’ll ever adore you in heaven so bright;

I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow,

“If ever I loved you, my Jesus, ’tis now.”

Boone had been wrung out emotionally. All around him people wept openly. The organ and piano played as first the hundreds of uniformed police officers lined each side of the center aisle, heads bowed, gloved hands clasped behind their backs. More than a thousand people slowly passed by the caskets, some stopping, some touching them, some just brushing their fingers across the tops.

Everyone stopped to shake Boone’s hand or hug him or say something. Most just said they were sorry or that they were praying for him; some said something about Nikki or Josh. He couldn’t listen. He couldn’t smile. He just tried to endure, accepting their touches, their handshakes, their embraces. And he repeated over and over, “Thank you for coming.”

The procession to the cemetery, led by more than a hundred squad cars with lights flashing, seemed to take forever. To his credit, Pastor Sosa kept his gravesite remarks brief. To see his loved ones lowered into their graves was almost more than Boone could bear, and he nearly collapsed. At the perfect instant, Jack Keller grabbed one arm and held him up without making a show of it.

On the way back to the cars, the Chicago police officers stood at attention on either side of the cemetery road, and all in attendance strode between them.

The reception lasted two more hours, and by the time Boone had thanked the last person for coming, he wondered if Jack would have to carry him to the car. He couldn’t imagine needing wine that night. Maybe for the first time since the tragedy, he would be able to simply fall asleep.

Boone’s final task was thanking Francisco Sosa and saying good-bye to the extended families. The pastor pulled him off to the side. “I know you want me to leave you alone for a while, Boone, and I’m going to do that. But listen, you need to be in the Word. Just like with exercise, where anything is better than nothing, the same is true with the Bible. You don’t feel like reading or studying just yet, fine. But the Scripture will not return void. Every so often I’m going to just text you a reference. Look it up. Read it. That’s all I ask. Will you do that just for me?”

Boone nodded, wondering if he would follow through. Anything to keep Sosa off his back.

Parting from the family was the worst. His mother badgered him to let her stay around a few days, “so you’ll have someone to lean on.” He promised to keep in touch, but he knew she would do that work for him. He might leave Jack’s message on his phone for a while.

Finally back in the car with Jack, Boone had never felt so spent.

10

Processing

“I’ve got a
DATE TONIGHT
,” Jack said on the way to his apartment. “You gonna be all right?”

“Yeah. Might turn in early. Just want to get out of this suit. Hey, you bringing someone home? Because I can—”

“Nah, you’re fine. Just dinner and a movie. Now if
she
invites
me
home, I might be late.”

“I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“Believe me, I’d tell ya.”

Boone was hungry after having ignored the food at the reception. And he continued to feel that he should try sleeping without any help. He changed from his suit to shorts and a T-shirt and was hanging around the apartment snacking while Jack changed into a light sport coat and slacks.

“Call me if you need me,” Keller said on his way out. “This gal is an old friend and flexible.”

Boone was rummaging in the refrigerator when his phone rang. The readout said it was Steve McNickle. He hesitated, wondering if he should just check the message later. Ah, he’d better take it. What could it hurt?

“Boone, listen, Pam and I were wondering if you could meet us at the house and let us pick through there a bit.”

“Oh, I thought you had a flight out tonight.”

“No, tomorrow morning.”

Pick through Nikki’s stuf
f
? Anything but that.

“I’m shot, Steve. How about I choose a few things and send them to you?”

There was a long pause. “Uh, Pam really wanted to see the place. If you’re not up to it, maybe we could just drop by and pick up the keys?”

It was Boone’s turn to pause. He didn’t want them in there without him. “No, I’ll go. But I wouldn’t mind a ride. Would that be too much trouble?”

“We’re on our way.”

“One more thing, Steve: would it be all right if I picked your brain a little tonight? Legal stuff.”

In the car Pam was still teary from the day’s events. “I thought it was a lovely tribute,” she said. “Didn’t you, Boone?”

It had been one of the worst ordeals of his life. “Uh, it was nice that so many people came.”

“You have a lot of friends.”

“Well, Nikki did. Me, not so much.”

When they got to the house, the front light was on.

“Weren’t the utilities down for a while?” Pam said. “If everything else is working, you could move back in.”

“Not going to happen,” Boone said. “Would you be able to live here?”

“No, I guess I wouldn’t.”

“You don’t want to hear what I think,” Steve said. “I agree with Ambrose on this one.”

“I know you do,” Boone said. “You’re thinking primarily financially, right?”

Steve nodded. “Just makes sense.”

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

Once in the house it was clear this was harder than Pam thought it was going to be. Every picture, every toy, every piece of clothing seemed to remind her of Nikki and Josh, and she just stood caressing things or staring at them and weeping. Steve asked if she was going to be able to do this, and she assured him she would be all right.

Boone said, “If you want a few things, I’d appreciate your showing me first, just so I know where everything is.” In truth, the whole idea of her pawing through their things still irritated him, but Boone tried to put himself in Pam’s place.

“Thanks, Boone. And what if I choose something, you know, that you wanted?”

I’ll let you know—don’t worry.
“We’ll work it out, Pam.”

Boone and Steve retreated to the kitchen and sat at the table, Steve pulling a small notepad from his pocket.

“I’ve got a plan and a few ideas,” Boone said, “and I’m not looking for whether you think they make sense. I just want to know if they’re doable.”

“Shoot.”

“I know you and my dad think I should stay here because it makes the most sense from a money standpoint, but here’s what I want to do: either sell most everything left here or donate it to charity. I want to use the homeowners insurance to rebuild the garage and fix anything else that was affected by the fire. Then I want a Realtor to sell the place, and within reason I don’t want to have anything to do with it. I don’t want to be here for showings, sit in on negotiations, any of that. I just want it done.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “I’m following.”

“When the life insurance policies are paid, I don’t want to handle those checks either. Can I have them just direct-deposited, along with the proceeds from the sale of the house?”

“Sure, that can be done. You’re going to stay with Jack, what, indefinitely?”

“No, I want to find my own place, something very small, maybe two bedrooms at the most and not far from work.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m thinking I can find something that will cost not much more than half the mortgage payment here. I get almost two thousand a year for uniform allowance, and I have plenty of clothes. I’m a rut eater and like cheap food.”

Steve was scribbling and nodding.

“My plan is to live as simply and cheaply as possible, putting away every spare dollar.”

“That’s smart thinking, Boone. It really is. Now what can I do to help?”

“Just tell me who to talk to, to set this all up.”

“I’ll make a list of potential names. I realize it’s way too early to have any idea what the rest of your life will look like, but this makes a whole lot of sense. Just start stockpiling your income, and your options will widen for whatever comes along.”

Pam appeared in the doorway, eyes and nose red. Her arms were full. She set a couple of pictures on the table, along with three pieces of jewelry and a tiny pair of Josh’s shoes. One of the pictures was the one of Boone, Nikki, and Josh on the beach, Josh squinting under a floppy terry-cloth hat.

Pain stabbed Boone afresh and his voice grew thick. “If I could just get you to send me a copy of that one . . .”

“Of course. It’s so precious.”

Steve appeared overcome too. He cleared his throat and got back to business. “If you’ll just give me your banking information and get me all the other legal stuff, I can make this happen and you won’t have to worry about it.”

“I didn’t want you to go to a lot of trouble.”

“I’d really like to do this for you, Boone.”

While they were on their way out to the car, Mrs. Gustavson called out from next door. “Mr. Drake! I was wondering when you’d be back.”

“Just picking up a few things.” He introduced Nikki’s parents.

“Oh!” she said, approaching and embracing them both. “I loved her! The baby too! I wanted so much to go to the funeral but just didn’t think I would be up to it. I followed it on the news, and it was so big, I think I made the right decision. It certainly looked wonderful, though. It must have been very hard for you all. Well, of course it was. Now, Boone, I wish you’d drop in on me now and then. Don’t become a stranger now, and I mean it.”

“We’ll see,” he said. But the truth was he wouldn’t likely ever see Mrs. Gustavson again. Coming back tonight made one too many times. Being rid of this place and its horrible memories couldn’t happen too soon to suit him.

“We heard about everything you did that day, ma’am,” Pam said. “Thanks so much for trying.”

“It was horrible,” Mrs. Gustavson said, “though I don’t need to tell you that. I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I suppose that’s true of all of you, too.”