Sweet Dreams (10 page)

"Awww, thanks, man. You're a saint."

"Just do it, Mooch. I'll even get you a T-shirt from the FBI." Kirk laughed as Mooch started cursing. Kirk knew that Mooch hated nothing more than the Feds. He packed up his laptop and went out the back door. Getting into his car, he looked at the address that Mooch had given him. It would have to wait until morning; Kirk needed to get some sleep. With the day wearing on, he was getting hungry and irritable. This woman bothered him.
"Who is she?
What is going on with this whole case?" His leg pulsed where the gunshot wound was, it felt much better than yesterday, but was still pretty sore.

Looking at his cell phone, he saw he had two missed calls, both from his boss. This case might cost him his job, but it was too late now. He knew how it worked, come home with the win, and save his job. Come home with nothing and hello early retirement!

Chapter Six

THE THREE-STORY BRICK BUILDING HAD A FULL

basement and housed one of the many police stations throughout the city of New York. This one had a wide open parking lot with police cruisers littered in a few of the spaces, as well as what looked like a SWAT team truck, but painted white with a blue stripe down the side stating that it was NYPD. The sun was out with a slight breeze, and Mark could feel it flow across his face like a warm blanket. He breathed in deep, trying to prepare himself. The last thing he wanted to do was relive the day his family was taken from him, but there was not much luck in that this morning.

The Red brick and stone that covered the face of the building boasted an American flag that tossed in the morning breeze, promising a beautiful day. The double doors led to a front desk area where people hurried, in and out of doors. Mark dodged an officer taking a reluctant prisoner down to a holding cell in the basement. He then approached the front desk to get clearance and directions to Detective Owens' office.

"Hello. I am here to meet with Detective Owens. He's expecting me." A small, pretty blond receptionist looked up at him with bright sunny blue eyes. She shuffled some papers around on her desk and then smiled, lighting up her face.

"Yes. He's in the big conference room down the hall and to the left. It will be--Oh, never mind, I'll show you. I give terrible directions." She giggled and jumped out of her chair. Walking around her desk, she almost skipped down the hall. She was bubbly, and this made Mark wonder where she was from. New Yorkers are not known for being friendly and the NYPD are not ever accommodating or even helpful. Mark thought that she might be new or maybe had one to many gun shot wounds to the head making her a little loopy. She chatted as they walked past a big, open room that was filled with rows of desks. The place was busy, but then, it was a big city.

"Here you go, Mr.?"

"Appleton, Mark Appleton." Sticking out his hand to meet hers, she shook it with vigor and went off back to her desk, and Mark imagined that she would try to dance with a white bunny on the way just to make its day just a little brighter. The door to the room had a small window with foggy glass in it. Mark was surprised when he opened it. The place was packed to the point that he had to squeeze in the back, barely finding a chair. The mood was somber. People talked in hushed tones, whispering and looking around. Mark looked around, guessing there were about three hundred in the room.

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Clive Owens came in a side door on the right, near the front. He was slender and reminded Mark of Shaggy from the cartoon show Scooby Doo. He had wavy blond hair and a polo shirt that looked like it was blue at one time but had faded so much it looked almost white. He had a stack of papers in his hand and he came to a small table up front with a laptop and a projection screen behind him.

"Good morning, everyone," The crowd mouthed out a response just as a formality. "I'd been contacted by a few families of this tragic event, so I decided to call y'all for a meeting. Its better y'all hear it at one time and not from the news, I've never been good at this stuff, but here it is to you straight."

The screen came to life as he grabbed a remote that ran his laptop. "Now, I want to start by saying that I'm very sorry for your losses. There is nothing to prepare yourself for this kind of thing, and I'll tell you everything that I know up to this point. Afterwards, if any of you folks have questions, I'll try to answer them the best I can."

The slide showed a view of what was left of the store from the air. The crater looked like a bomb had been dropped and from the slides if you didn't know different you would have thought you were looking at a war zone picture instead of what used to be a popular shopping center. A gasp rippled through the room as everyone saw the devastation, and for some, it was the first time they had seen any pictures outside of what the local news stations were running.

"Now, what you folks are looking at is what used to be the Super Mart. We've had a group of experts working on this here, night and day since it happened on Saturday morning. We still don't know how many people were killed but so far we have recovered two hundred and thirteen bodies." The sound of soft sobs came from a few women sitting in the front row and Mark blinked back one himself. He had to keep it together and be strong for K and Sam.

Clive's slow drawl continued, "Here is what we know so far: this incident has been ruled out as a terrorist attack. We haven't found any traces of a bomb, or anything that would suggest foul play. The nearest we can tell is that an underground gas line ruptured, and then exploded." Whispers ran throughout the room. Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing.
This was a freak accident,
but the picture looked like
a bomb, and not that he was an expert but come on!
There had to be more to it then that. The tall detective went on.

"The gas line was part of a main feed that ran from a nearby apartment complex, and then tied in with the Super Mart before connecting with the city gas line, in the street. The line was just old, and the City was in the process of replacing it, but they just didn't get that far down the line yet. Are there any questions so far?"

An older man raised his hand from the front row. "How do you know that it wasn't a terrorist that did this? It sure looks like a bomb from that picture." His bushy white eyebrows lowered as he pointed at the screen behind Clive.

"Well, sir, we would have found traces of C-4, and parts of the bomb, and there would be traces of it everywhere. Everything in this darn accident that we've found is consistent with a gas-based substance." Clive picked through a thick stack of papers and pulled out a single sheet, he held it up, and started to read.

"Traces of natural gas and fossil fuel were found, and

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based on the saturation level in the boiler room, we have reason to believe that the gas leak started there, and the boiler ignited. The explosion then caused a chain reaction, setting off the entire underground gas line. If it weren't for the automatic shut off valves the explosion could have extended further down the line."

A few more questions were brought up, and then answered until the room grew quiet. The feeling of utter despair and grief filled the room. Everyone was thinking how pointless and unfair this was. They would have been happier if it was an act of terror, and then at least they could direct their anger and emotions at the killers. They could have some closure when they were brought to justice!

"
But this
," thought Mark. "Who could they blame? The city was trying to fix the problem. They just didn't make it in time." Mark stood up and followed the crowd as they started to file out of the room. He wanted to talk with detective Owens but everything had slipped his mind. He was in a trance thinking back to the day it all happened. It seemed like so long ago, almost as if it was in another lifetime.

"Mr. Appleton?" Detective Owens motioned for Mark to come over to the front of the room. He made his way up to where the detective was standing. The room was a medium sized conference room and they had pulled the big oak table out and set up folding metal chairs in order to fit everyone.

"Mark, I'm glad to finally meet you. I apologize for not telling you about this meeting. After we talked on the phone, I decided to get everyone who had a family member killed in the explosion together and fill everyone in on the investigation."

Shutting down his laptop, he walked toward his office. Mark followed. "I wanted to get a statement from you and go over what you saw that day. You were one of four people who survived the explosion." Setting all his stuff down on his paper filled desk, he pointed to a chair, and Mark took a seat. When he sat down his ribs came alive with a pain so intense Mark could not breathe. He took a shallow breath and sat back even though that hurt as well.

"Well, there isn't much to tell," Mark grunted through the cutting pain. "I had just dropped off...um--well, my wife and daughter..." His head dropped, as the vision of K and Sam walking into the store filled his mind.

"Take your time," Clive said. He leaned his elbows on his desk and looked intently at Mark with what seemed to Mark as real concern. This made Mark look twice, for this was yet another weird
non-cop
thing to do. First, the happy person calling herself a New York cop at the front desk and now the Texan who actually seemed to care!

Mark regained his composure, and then continued. "I had to go across the street to Office Depot, and just as I turned down the aisle, away from the Super Mart, the building exploded and flipped my car upside down! After I got my bearings, I ran toward the building, trying to find them. That's about it." His eyes looked sunken due to lack of sleep, and detective Owens wrote everything down as he spoke. "There was one thing unusual though, right before the explosion, I saw a young man running from the building just seconds before it happened. He looked scared as if he knew it was going to happen."

"Hmmm..." Clive looked curious. "Can you remember what he looked like?"

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"He had on a red ball cap, a blue jacket, and blue jeans. I think he had dark hair; it was sticking out from his ball cap on the sides. He looked to be in his early twenties, just a kid."

Clive looked interested as he wrote on his notepad, and scratched his head making his blond hair flop as if it was made of yarn. "Well, I'll have my folks look into it. His body would have been outside, and then we might be able to ID

him."

"So you really think it was just an accident? I mean it is sure hard to accept that your whole life was taken from you because of an old gas line." Mark didn't blink back his tears this time and something about letting them fall made him feel better.

Detective Owens leaned back in his chair making it squeal out in protest. "I will do everything in my power to find out for sure, but I'm afraid it looks that way," He paused and looked down at his long fingers and played with his fingernails. "I'm so very sorry Mark, if there is anything I can do..."

Mark shook his head and stood up. It was too much to process right now and he didn't think he wanted too. The detective stood and stuck out his hand and Mark shook it. "Thanks a bunch for coming in and I'll be keeping in touch with you about that guy you saw. If we find him, I may need you to come in to ID him." Mark nodded. "And if you remember anything else, I mean anything that you think might help, give me a call." Reaching into his pocket, Clive pulled out a business card. It had his cell number on it, as well as the office number.

"Thank you. I will," Mark said. "You let me know if any-thing turns up."

"I'll guarantee it."

Mark made his way out past the front desk, where the receptionist smiled and waved at him as he passed. This had turned out a lot different than Mark had thought it would. Now he had to try to figure out what he was going to do. He didn't feel like living anymore, not without K. A part of him wished he would have died in that explosion with K and Sam... poor little Samantha. The sun hit him in the face as he left the police station, and Mark looked at the people walking, living, yelling, and cursing! It was all life, even if it was terrible at times and K couldn't even get mad or cry anymore. She was dead and his innocent little girl who had never done anything to deserve this. Mark walked past the parking lot where his car sat and dodged a SUV on his way across the street. The white escalade honked and the driver waved franticly but Mark didn't pay attention to him, he didn't care.

He found a small park with a slide and a swing set where kids played and parents watched and looked at their watches. Sam would love this park; it had a big swing with a green rubber seat. A rut was under each swing where kids had dug it deep from stopping and dragging their feet as they flew by. He could see Sam laughing and calling out to him to push her higher and higher! Mark sat down on a faded wooden bench and cried. He cried and didn't care who saw him or what they thought. "Sam, my sweet, beautiful Sam."

________________________________________

A SLEEK BLACK LEXUS parked up from where Mark had

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crossed the street. The woman inside watched him as he settled into a park bench, and once he was engrossed in his own thoughts, she exited the Lexus and entered the crowd of people walking down the sidewalk. As she approached Mark's convertible, which was parked facing the street, she looked in her purse and pulled out a set of keys. She approached the driver's side of the silver BMW, and unlocked Mark's car with the push of a button. She tossed a sealed envelope, with the insignia
W.J.A.
stamped onto it and shut the door as she looked around. She paused and fumbled with her keys, pretending that she had forgotten something.

It was a nice day, and the strange woman wore a long black skirt that danced in the breeze. She turned and walked back to her waiting car, and stopped to take in the weeping man one more time. It was like a painting where the artist wanted to show the pain in contrast with joy as the kids just beyond played and laughed without a care in the world. Once inside, she waited in the shadows, with her dark deadly eyes fixed upon Mark. "Now, let's see what you're made of, Mark."