This story is part of an ongoing series.
The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography.
Feedback and
constructive
criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.
This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racism, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.
There may or may not be discussion of political issues in my stories. If you are a Snowflake that feels you need to be protected from any mention of politics, then click the Back button now, and never attempt to read any of my stories ever again. You've been warned.
***
Part 8 - Reconciliation Denied
12:45pm, Friday, June 17th. Two TCPD vehicles, an SUV and a Police cruiser, were hurtling down the University-Midtown Highway to the retirement community of Valley Villages. I was driving the SUV, which also contained Lt. Commander Teresa Croyle and Lieutenant Jerome Davis. The Police cruiser leading the way was driven by TCPD Vice Lieutenant Micah Rudistan, with Admiral Leonard R. Cordell and Police Chief Sean Moynahan as passengers.
The Chief and Teresa had barged into a meeting of Precinct Captain Hewitt, Lieutenant Davis, and several Sergeants and plucked Davis out. As we got onto the Bypass south, blue lightbars blazing, Teresa told Jerome "All we know is that your father did not show up at lunch at his normal time, then he didn't answer texts and phone calls. So they went to his house and found him lying on the floor, unconscious. They called the ambulance and then someone called Chief Moynahan for us to notify you."
Jerome seemed to be in a state of shock as we drove down at 'Cindy Ross' rates of speed. We turned off onto the road to Valley Villages and headed straight to the hospital there, which had emergency care as well as long term care for residents, most of them veterans and families.
After we parked, Jerome rushed in, followed by the rest of us. He was already at the front desk asking about his father, and was directed to the waiting room of the section Jonathan would be in. We went there and I had Teresa keep Jerome in the waiting room while I went to the Nurses Station and asked about Jonathan. The look she gave me told me volumes, but all she said is that she would notify the doctor that Jerome was here, and he'd be with us in a moment.
Ten minutes later a wiry man of above average height (but not nearly as tall as me) with a receding hairline and a trimmed mustache, beard, and goatee.
"Jerome?" he said. Jerome nodded and stood up, and the doctor said "I'm Dr. Ahrens. The Sheriff Department found your father on the floor of his home. It looks like he had a stroke, then hit his head as he collapsed to the floor. He was taken into surgery to relieve pressure on his brain, and we'll evaluate further once he's out and stabilized. That's all I can tell you right now."
"Thanks, Doctor." Jerome said. He sat down and put his head in his hands.
"Would you like me to call Father Romano?" Teresa asked. "Or one of our other Chaplains?"
"My dad was never religious, and neither was I." said Jerome.
"I'll call Father Romano." Teresa said. "Even if you're not Catholic, he always seems to know what to say that will help."
As she was making the call, the local Sheriff, Art Dodge, came in. I remembered him from the Terhune murder at Valley Villages (
Author's note: 'Riverboat Gambler', Ch. 03; 'Schoolhouse Rock', Ch. 04.
)
"Glad to have you back down here, Commander." Sheriff Dodge said as he shook my hand. "I'm sorry about your father, Lieutenant." he said to Jerome as they shook hands.
"Do you know what happened to him?" Jerome asked.
Sheriff Dodge said "He didn't show up at lunch, so his regular lunch group texted him then called. They got no answer, so they called us to make a health and wellness check. We found him on the floor of his home. In fact, I'm hoping Commander Troy can go up and take a look around."
Chief Moynahan said "You Commanders go on ahead. We'll stay here with Jerome."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Teresa and I entered the home of Jonathan Davis. It was exactly as I remembered it; immaculately clean, everything in its place, the bed made, no dirty dishes to be seen. The only sign of activity was on the breakfast room table... and the blood spot on the floor.
"Lessee..." I said as I went to the table, seeing the chair that faced the front of the house pushed back, as if he'd been sitting in it. At the end of the table was a small pile of mail. In the middle of the table was an envelope and the card that had been extracted from it. On top of the card was the colorized photo of Jerome and his dad that I'd ignored regulations to create.
"Look, he was writing something." I said. Teresa came closer, and together we saw the writing. At first it was clear and well-written, but as it went along, the handwriting got worse and worse, like a child's writing, until it became unintelligible, then just stopped.
I read what I could, which said "
Dear son, I got your card. I remember when we took that photo. You were so proud of that sailor suit, and couldn't wait to take that picture with me. And I was proud... of you... when we posed for it... Why don't... you... come up... on July 4th...
"
"I can't read the rest, it got too messy." I said. "Jonathan was having his stroke even as he was writing that. Then it looks like he was trying to get up, maybe to get to his phone to call for help. But he fell down and... yes, look here, you can see that he hit the corner of the table. The corners are rounded off and not sharp, but that still would've been a bad blow on top of the stroke. He went down and hit his head again on the floor, and that's where that blood spot came from."
Teresa said "There's not a lot of blood, so he wasn't bleeding out. But he must've lay there what, a couple of hours?"
"At least." I said. Just then I heard the door open, and I turned to see Jerome Davis come in, followed by Chief Moynahan.
"I had to come see it." Jerome said, his voice quivering.
"He got your card." I said. "He was writing a letter to you." I had Jerome go to the table. As he read his father's last note, he began whimpering, then openly crying. Teresa went over and hugged him, holding him up until he regained control of himself.