Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“Tell him to schedule a meeting with me. I’m busy.”
“I scheduled a meeting with you three months ago,” Jack hollered, drawing closer to Mickey. “Your receptionist said you had to reschedule me, reason unknown. I tried again last month. Same thing. Come out here.”
He shoved Mickey out of the way. The idiot toppled over on the floor, causing a burst of laughter once again as he cursed and tried to stand back up, his feet sliding around like he was James Brown until finally he was steady.
“All right now, Jack, that’s enough.” Officer Brimey approached. “You can’t assault an officer, regardless of how long we all have known you. Don’t touch him again or we’ll have to arrest you.”
“I barely touched Officer Shitty McMickey Mouse here. It’s not my fault he’s made of cotton candy, clitorises, and pink feathers.”
“Very funny, Currant!” Mickey yelled. “You making a scene isn’t going to—”
“I want it to go on record, right here, right now, that Jack Currant came down to the Fairbanks police department about an unsolved murder that was botched and mishandled from day one, and no attention to my concerns involving an investigation have been offered, and no attempts to find Chad’s killer have been made.”
“Jack, we all feel for you, but Chad isn’t the only person to lose his life, okay?!” Officer Brimey chimed in again. “Do you know how many missing person cases and homicides we’re investigating right now? We’ve got—”
“All I see are your bulletins about shoplifters who ran off with cheap wine, diapers, and bags of oranges from Walmart! You don’t post about real news because then you’d be posting all day! You’re doing silly fundraisers that involve jumping in ice cold water and gossiping all day and night about the people who you are supposed to protect and serve, while the civilians call you all the time for help, but you act too tired and lazy to be bothered with their little domestic violence situation that leads to some lady having permanent paralysis, or a grandfather lying in the middle of the floor havin’ a heart attack, then dies because you didn’t want to stop watching the game just yet.
“I want it on record, just like I said, that I came down here for a third time,” he held up three fingers, “within the last few months, with no meeting granted. Half of you in here I attended West Valley High with, and since the death of my boy, you can barely look me in the eye. SOMEBODY KNOWS SOMETHIN’, DAMN IT!”
His face burned as he yelled, his eyes landing on faces he’d known since he was a child, and it sickened him. Some of the officers looked at him with what he was certain was mock pity, while others only stared down at their shiny black shoes.
Suddenly, Sweeney’s door opened and he appeared, so stoic in his uniform.
“Jack, I’d like to talk to you, but I don’t have much more information about Chad.” The man’s eyes looked sincere, but his mouth twisted, betraying displeasure. “And we’ve been slammed with car accidents, and—”
Jack walked up to him and they stood face-to-face. Sweeney was almost as tall, bald with steely blue eyes.
“You can only hold off a mad dog for so long, Sweeney. I came down here to meet with you, man to man. There’s no way you don’t have more leads by now. Something you could tell me—show me—to let me know that your men here were actively combing through the information given. I set up an award that’s still active for anyone with any information, and you said yourself, months ago, people had been calling and emailing you about things they’d heard. You were supposed to follow up on these leads, no matter how silly they sounded, but you chose not to.”
“That’s not true, Jack. We looked into all of them, and they rendered nothing. It’s not you against the world. You’re angry at the wrong people, and you’re making this into something personal. I, as much as you, would like Chad’s murder solved. Our sons grew up together, for God’s sake. Tim, Brian, John, and Chad played football together. We take Chad’s murder very seriously, and we’ve—”
“No… no.” He shook his head. “You don’t take my son’s homicide seriously at all. And that’s because you don’t give a damn… and you and I both know it.”
A resolute silence fell upon the room.
“Because if you took his murder investigation seriously, Sweeney, your department here,” he waved his finger about in the direction of the other cops in the room, “wouldn’t have helped remove my flyers, saying they were litter. Rubbish. MY SON WASN’T TRASH!”
He yelled so loud, Sweeney closed his eyes, and his jaw tightened. A couple of flyers attached to a pinboard waved about, as if a breeze had come through.