Red River Falls Stories By soldierboy50401

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"What do you mean, deal with it?"

"You've been through a lot, Patrick. Tristan and Miriam? The murders? Trooper Rockney? You killing that driver and Brian and Billy killing the other one? And now the possibility this other kid might have it out for you? Yes, Patrick. You need to figure out a way to deal with all of this. I'm giving you the weekend to think it over."
"What do you mean, giving me the weekend to think it over?"
"Bridget asked me for a weekend together at my parents. I'm going to explain to her how much you love her and that you would do whatever it takes to protect her. Same with the boys. I'm not leaving forever. I'm just giving you a weekend to think about things and have some space to do that."
"You think running away for the weekend is what I need? Look, sweetheart, I'm willing to talk. I'll do whatever it takes, I swear!"
"I already promised her, Patrick. Go horseback riding with Blackjack. Spend some time with your friends. Do whatever it takes. And when I get home Sunday night, we'll talk some more. But you are going to deal with this, Patrick! We can't go forward if you don't!"
I couldn't handle hearing any more. All I could do was just sit there at the table, hands over my mouth and trying to keep myself from imploding. Barely three weeks in and my marriage was already falling apart.
Shannon simply stood, tears in her eyes, and picked up her overnight bag. She walked over to me, knelt down and kissed me on the cheek. "I love you. Come back to us, Patrick," she whispered. And then she left.
It felt like a bomb had exploded in my own home and I suddenly felt more alone than I ever had at any point in my life. What the hell was I thinking by not telling her about the Hammadi kid? What did I think I was protecting them from? I was so blinded in my anger over Tristan and Miriam that I had been determined to bring whomever or whatever to justice. But I had to realize that I didn't have the power in this situation. Until I knew the who, the what, the when, the where and the why, I was simply flying blind. And instead of protecting my family, I had actually put them in danger. Grave danger. I knew if anything happened to any of them that I'd never be able to forgive myself...or even live with myself.
*****
Trying to sleep in a big, empty farmhouse by yourself can be intimidating. Knowing that my entire family was angry with me did nothing more than make me feel completely isolated. Knowing it was my fault made me feel like a steaming pile of cow shit.
I lay in my bed and reached over to the empty spot where Shannon should have been laying and ran my hand over the smooth, cool covers. God, how my heart ached right now as I missed her! How could I have been so stupid, callous, cruel and ignorant? My marriage had gotten off to an incredibly bad start and I resolved at that moment to do whatever was necessary to fix it and to correct our course.
The pain and misery I was feeling threatened to consume me. It was almost too much to take and, if I thought there was a chance Shannon and the kids wouldn't come back to me, I'm not sure I could have stopped myself from taking a bite off the end of a shotgun right then and there.
But just as I was feeling sorry for myself, something caught my attention. I sat straight up in bed and tried to hone my hearing to pick it up again. There! There it was again! Blackjack! Even though he was a gelding he was out in his pasture whinnying and knickering like a stallion who just stumbled upon a herd of virgin mares. Was it coyotes? Foxes? Raccoons? I had no idea but something definitely had him spooked.
I walked across the hall to Nick's room to give me a good look out into the front lawn, driveway and the horse pasture. The only light came from the light on the utility pole in the driveway. My eyes strained in the darkness to try and make out whatever it was that had gotten Blackjack's dander up so bad. I was about to go back to my room and get my slippers to go outside and check it out first hand. But just then, something to the right and close to the road caught my attention.
Movement! Sure as shit! Someone was out there! I sprinted back to my room, trying to make as little noise as possible. Thankfully, all the lights in the house were out and I was meticulous about making sure all of the doors were locked and deadbolted shut, along with all the window latches. Everything was alarmed, which sent a signal straight to Brink's Home Security. All I had to do was push a button on one of the two control pads to send a silent alarm to the dispatch center and I knew that every deputy on duty in the county would come screaming out to the farm.
I reached under the bed and grabbed the small gun safe and quickly punched in the combination, barely able to remember it because of my panic and excitement. But I got it open, grabbed my backup Beretta 9mm and quickly slapped in a magazine while tucking two extra mags in the pocket of the sweat shorts I was wearing. The Beretta was an old firearm that I kept upstairs for the simple fact I owned it. And, while not my first choice of a weapon, it was fairly reliable and shot well. It was the first firearm I owned when I got hired by Red River PD years ago. Back then, we got an advance from the payroll department and had to buy our own service firearms.
I quietly crept down the stairs and could see out the front window from both the dining room and the living room. I paused on the steps and scanned through both before seeing a shadow figure over by the fence line of the horse pasture. Clearly, whoever it was tried desperately to stay in the shadows and away from the glow of the yard light. Sure enough, the shadow was trying to make its way toward the house without being seen. I ducked back through the kitchen and into the mudroom. I looked out the windows and scanned as much of the back yard as I possibly could.
I slowly opened and held onto it as it closed to make as little noise as possible. I crouch-walked along the back side of the house, bringing the weapon in front of me tactically but keeping my finger off the trigger. I peered around the corner to the south side, which is where the trespasser initially appeared to be headed.
Damn! Nothing there. I continued to silently creep along until I got to the southeast corner. Again, I could see nothing along the fence line where the horses were. I peered around the corner just in time to see the shadow disappear around the northeast corner. Shit! I did an about-face and crept quickly towards the rear of the house again.
I continued walking straight into the back yard, keeping my weapon pointed toward the north of the property, just in case whoever it was decided to make a bum rush towards me. I circled towards the north again in a wide arc, keeping in the shadows as I was dressed in a white t-shirt and gray shorts. As I got far enough north to see past the northwest corner of the house, I could see the bastard peering into the windows of the detached garage, probably trying to determine if anyone was home or not. I could see both of his hands as he looked in the garage and could tell he didn't have a weapon.
"FREEZE, ASSHOLE!" I yelled.
The person stopped, briefly glanced at me and broke into a dead spring down the driveway and towards Rattlesnake Road. Jesus, the little bastard was fast! He had some type of balaclava or scarf around his face and I couldn't get a look. I gave chase the best I could, knowing full well that I couldn't legally shoot his ass while he ran. And, despite my best effort, I wasn't gonna win the chase. All I could hope for was to at least get a closer look at the runner and whatever getaway car I knew had to be out there.
But try as I might, the runner was too fast and got to the car well ahead of me. I couldn't get a definitive look at the vehicle as it roared to life and kicked up a shit load of gravel as it took off down the road and headed towards Highway 120.
"FUCK!" I yelled into the darkness, as I finally made it to the road. By that time, the car was all the way back to Highway 120. As I watched the car turn onto the highway, another set of headlights and blue and red flashing strobes turned onto Rattlesnake Road and sped towards my direction. The distinctive Ford Taurus Interceptor screeched to a halt and 17-23, Deputy Reggie Cobb jumped out of the vehicle. I ran up to him.
"Did you see him?" I demanded.
"See who, Sheriff?"
"The driver! Did you get a look at the driver? Can you tell me what kind of car it was?"
"Uh, no, Sheriff. I didn't. I was hell bent on getting here to see you! Dispatch radioed me and said there was an alarm at your place. I hauled ass to get here as fast as I could, Pat!"
I turned away and bent over, trying to catch my breath.
"No, no, no, Reggie. It's not your fault," I said. "You did alright. I just had some intruder sneaking around my place."
"I take it you didn't get a look at him either, Sheriff," Reggie said.
"No, no I didn't. Use your phone, Reggie, and have dispatch call Lieutenant Hayes and have him come out here and see if he can find any hints of tire tracks. Maybe we can get lucky yet."
"Sure thing, Pat," Reggie said, hustling back to his cruiser.
It was an hour before Chris got out there and Reggie stayed with me the entire time, despite the fact that I carried a loaded 9mm. But with all the gravel the sedan kicked up, along with all the dry and dusty conditions lately, there was little he could do other than take pictures. Chris was very quiet and contrite, probably knowing that Shannon had left for the weekend and knowing that Tonya had spilled the beans about the Hammadi kid.
Before he left, I gave Chris a pat on the back and said, "Thanks for coming over, Chris. Give Tonya a hug for me, will ya?"
Chris just smiled and said, "Sure thing, Pat."
As soon as I got back in the house, I made a quick call to Jack Sullivan, my father-in-law and demanded that he not let Shannon and Bridget out of their sight until I said otherwise. Apparently, he, Shannon and Suzanne were all still awake and Shannon demanded to know what was wrong. What the hell, I figured. She was already pissed at me for withholding information. What was a little more gonna hurt? But I made Jack Sullivan swear on the lives of his wife, daughter and grandchildren that he wouldn't let Shannon and Bridget leave until further notice.
And if there is one thing I ever needed to know about Jack Sullivan, he was a man of his word. He swore to me he wouldn't let them out of his sight and would personally drop Shannon off at work and Bridget off at college and pick both of them up at the end of the day, depending on how long they needed to stay there.
*****
I knew I wouldn't get anywhere over the weekend, but the minute I got into the office on Monday morning, I decided to raise holy hell with the FBI. It took constant calling and recalling before I got through to Special Agent Bryce Cooper who finally acquiesced and said that he would make a trip to Red River Falls and finally look into everything that had been going on. He even offered to bring along a digital electronics expert to look into the phone situation and try and figure out, once and for all, who the hell was behind all of this.
After I hung up with Special Agent ass clown, I collapsed back in my chair. Before I could even take a deep breath and relax a little bit, Karen Landingham buzzed in and said I had a phone call. I debated on whether to take the call but finally decided to do so and punched the speaker button.
"This is Sheriff Quinn. How can I help you?"
"Sheriff? This is Melissa Roberts," the voice replied, obviously heavy with emotion and tears. My heart sank as I knew immediately what the phone call was about.
"Melissa, it's nice to hear from you. But I'm gonna guess by the tone of your voice this isn't going to be a happy phone call," I said, sympathetically.
"No, Sheriff," she said, her voice breaking. "Mom passed away this morning around 7:30."
"Aw, Melissa," I said, with a lump in my own throat. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Was she at home?"
"No, she wasn't. She's been in hospice for the last ten days," she explained.
"Really? God, I didn't even know. I'm so sorry for that."
"Don't be, Sheriff. Mom specifically said she didn't want you to know as you had just gotten married. She wanted you and your wife to enjoy being newlyweds and not be sad over her. She was so thrilled to be at your wedding with Dad and talked about it over and over." I couldn't even look at the phone as she said that. If she only knew...
"Even then, she was thinking of others," I said in wonderment.
"That's what she did, Sheriff. She always put everybody else ahead of herself," she said, openly sobbing. Wow. Again, if only she knew. How I despised Bud Roberts! At least Margolene was finally free of him.
"Will you please let me know when the arrangements are finalized?"
"They pretty much are, Sheriff. The visitation will be Thursday night from 4 pm to 7 pm and the funeral will be Friday morning at 10:30 at St. Thomas Episcopal Church."
"I'll definitely let the department know that. And I'll have Lieutenant Amy Van Deekum get in touch with the funeral home. She is in charge of our Honor Guard team. We'd like to have them stand guard at your mother's side as a sign of our unwavering respect for your mother."
"Oh, Sheriff," Melissa said, breaking down completely. "That means so much to us! Thank you!"
"It's our pleasure, Melissa. And, please. You're a part of our family at MCSD. Please call me Patrick from now on. And tell your sister and brothers the same thing."
"Thank you, Patrick. I hope to see you soon."
"You will. Give my best to your family," I said, purposefully not mentioning Bud.
"I will. Goodbye, Patrick."
"Goodbye, hun."
I clicked the disconnect button and just stared at the phone. I knew Shannon was at work since Jack had texted me shortly after dropping her and Bridget off this morning. I punched in the number to her office and she picked up on the second ring.
"Critical Care. Shannon Sullivan speaking," she answered. I was shocked and felt like somebody had hit me in the stomach. When we got engaged, she made a big production of the fact that she intended to go traditional, as she put it, and proudly take my last name as her own.
"Shannon Sullivan, huh?" I said, sarcastically. "I guess I have the wrong number. I was looking for Shannon Quinn."
She gasped. "Patrick? I...I'm...I meant...just...I don't know...force of habit, I guess."
"Force of habit," I said. "Right."
"Patrick, don't be like that. We've only been-"
"Margolene Roberts died this morning," I interrupted. "I know you didn't know her as well as I did but I could tell the two of you liked each other and I thought you would want to know."
"Oh, Patrick, I'm so sorry."
"Why are you sorry for me?"
"I know how much you liked and admired her, Patrick."
"Yes," I said, reflectively. "I did like her. And she deserved better than what she had. Anyway, I wanted to let you know. Visitation is Thursday night and the funeral is Friday morning at 10:30."
"Thank you for calling me, Patrick. What time are you going on Thursday night?"
"I don't know for sure."
"Call me, please? I'd like to be there."
"You don't need my permission to go, Shannon."
"That's not what I meant, Patrick, and you know it! Why are you being this way? What is happening to us, Patrick?"
"I don't know. Anyway, Miss Sullivan, I need to get back to work."
"Dammit, Patrick! That's not funny!"
"I know it's not, Shannon. And if you could feel the lump in my throat right now, you'd know that first hand."
"I said I was sorry!"
"No, you said it was force of habit."
"Patrick - "
"I gotta go, Shannon. I'll talk to you soon."
*****
I had to go outside to cool off and decided to take a drive to clear my head. The truth is, I probably knew deep down inside that Shannon's answering the phone was probably just a slip of the tongue. But there was a rage that had been building inside of me for a long time and I didn't realize it at the time. Every new incident, crisis, slight, insult or trauma was building on top of each other. Combine that with the fact that we still hadn't found whoever it was that was calling and texting me and who had most likely paid a late-night visit to my house.
The only good thing was that Shannon began trying to reach out to me via text message.
I'M SORRY. IT WAS AN HONEST MISTAKE, I SWEAR! PLEASE DON'T SHUT ME OUT. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!
Later on in the day.
PLEASE, PATRICK! I JUST WANTED YOU TO KNOW HOW YOU WERE SLIPPING AWAY FROM US! I DIDN'T MEAN THIS TO BE A SEPARATION! PLEASE LET US COME HOME!
I couldn't ignore that one and knew that I needed to respond.
THE SITUATION IS MORE DANGEROUS THAN I THOUGHT. NEED YOU AND BRIDGET TO STAY AT YOUR PARENTS. THE BOYS WILL BE STAYING WITH CLARISSA.
She obviously didn't believe me.
PLEASE, PATRICK! I LOVE YOU! I DON'T WANT TO BE AWAY FROM YOU ANY MORE! WE NEED TO FIX THIS AND GET OUR MARRIAGE BACK ON THE RIGHT FOOT!
I had to tell her.
WE WILL, I PROMISE. BUT IT ISN'T SAFE. THERE WAS AN INTRUDER AT THE HOUSE THE NIGHT YOU LEFT. I CHASED HIM OFF BUT COULDN'T CATCH HIM. I HAVE ALL MY DEPUTIES AND ALL RED RIVER PD LOOKING FOR HIM. YOU ARE ALL SAFER THE FURTHER AWAY FROM ME YOU ARE.
She replied,
OH, MY GOD! PLEASE TELL ME YOU ARE BEING SAFE! AT LEAST LET ME GO TO MARGOLENE'S VISITATION AND FUNERAL WITH YOU! I NEED TO SEE YOU! I NEED TO SEE MY HUSBAND!
It pained me to read her response. I missed her so much but I couldn't seem to shake the anger.
WE'LL SEE. I'LL TALK TO YOU SOON.
She replied,
I LOVE YOU, PATRICK! PLEASE BE SAFE!
SIGNED, MRS. SEAN PATRICK QUINN!!
She was definitely trying to get her point across. I smiled at the last text and wondered how long it would be before I got a chance to see my beautiful wife again. And I also wondered whether I could put the brakes on whatever was causing me to keeping shooting holes in my marriage.
*****
The break came the next day when I got a call from the Red River PD. I jumped in my truck and sped towards the PD headquarters, which was located in an aging and crumbling building that was actually a nearly 100-year old former National Guard armory. The joint municipal and county referendum that had recently been passed would help alleviate that. In addition to a new sheriff's office and 80-bed state-of-the-art county jail, the massive public project would also incorporate numerous other city, county and civic organizations. Among them would be a new National Guard armory, new security officer headquarters, a new fire station, a beautiful new YMCA and a host of other city and county offices.
Additionally, the development and redevelopment projects surrounding the new multi-purpose facility would also amount to over $30 million in construction projects.
I walked into the cramped and aging building and was escorted directly to Chief Roy Banks's office and was met by him and his captain, Pete Sturgeon.
"Pat, thanks for coming down," Chief Banks said, offering his hand.
"Thanks for calling," I said, shaking it. "What's going on that's so important you didn't want to discuss it over the phone?"
"Pat, Captain Sturgeon has some information that he thought you might find useful."
"Okay," I said. "I'm all ears."
"Pat, one of my officers, Sergeant Tyson Peterson has taken a particular interest in your situation and he's made some interesting observations. Tyson's been keeping a particularly close watch on the Hammadi's house. Somebody has been coming and going from the residence and usually late at night."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"How late?"

"Usually not until after midnight at the earliest and then not leaving again until midnight the following night. Tyson steaked out the residence on his own time for the better part of two days."
"Geez. I'll bet his wife loved that," I said, acerbically.
"Uh, yeah, well, uh, Sergeant Peterson and his wife recently got a divorce."
"Oh, shit," I said, feeling like an ass. "I didn't know."
"No way you could know," Pete said. "Typical story, wife found a boyfriend while Ty was at work."
"Lot of that goin' around," I said, dryly.
"Yeah, there is," he said a bit melancholy. "Anyway," Pete continued, "we've had surveillance on the residence all day and we believe that someone is at the residence at this time."
"No kidding! What's your plan?"
"Well, that's why we wanted you here. We have a signed search warrant that we intend to execute tonight."
"We have our MRAP and wanted to know if we could borrow yours, as well, Pat," banks added.
"Sure, absolutely," I assured them. "Have you paged the Special Operations Group yet?"
"They should all be getting the page now," Sturgeon said.
"Outstanding. I really appreciate you guys letting me know," I said.
"Like I said, Pat. We want to do whatever we can to help your department. I was very sincere about that," Banks said.
"I know, and I appreciate that immensely."
*****
Throughout the day discreet phone calls had been placed to every neighboring home on Fairway Drive to ensure they were empty by the time the operation went into effect. Continuous surveillance had been in place to monitor if anybody entered or exited the residence.
Two ten-man assault teams had been put into place to get ready for a breach. The entire event, when given the "GO", would start with a fake breach attempt. One or both MRAPs, which stood for Mine-Resistant-Ambush-Protected vehicle, would go screaming down the street with lights, sirens and piercing noise from a psy-ops device that produce sounds of such volume and intensity it was absolutely painful to listen to for a long period of time. During this distraction, members of the assault team would use high speed drills to bore holes for the introduction of coaxial cables with tiny cameras on the end to gain sight and sound from inside the residence.
Unlike previous breaches, a cell phone would also be thrown inside the residence where it was known that a person holed up inside would see it and be able to answer it and make direct contact with law enforcement.
By 11 pm, the search warrants were signed and all assets were in place for a full-scale breach if necessary.
Chief Banks, Captain Sturgeon and I were in a mobile commander center located one block east and a block south of the Hammadi residence. Everything was set to go when disaster showed up out of nowhere.
"Quinn! I need you and your people to stand down immediately!"
I looked to my left and saw none other than Special Agent Bryce Cooper and three of his agents approach the command center.
"What's going on, sheriff?" Chief Banks asked.
"FBI, that's what," I said with venom.
"What the hell do they want?" Sturgeon asked.
"Agent Cooper. To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Cut the crap, Quinn. I need all of you to stand down and back away from the residence."
"What the hell for?" I asked.
"You are not authorized to go after the Hammadi kid while he is directly or indirectly involved as a potential suspect in a terror investigation," Cooper answered.
"What terror investigation?"
"If that Hammadi kid is inside that residence, Sheriff, then he is either directly or indirectly involved in my investigation against the Minuteman Militia."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you fucking serious?"
"Serious as a heart attack, Quinn. I still say that kid in there isn't a threat to you, Sheriff."
"All I know is that I have received a rash of anonymous phone calls and text messages and I've had somebody prowling around my property. I'm gonna at least get this last Hammadi kid and get to the fucking bottom of it."
"Quinn, I've already got a judge working on a cease-and-desist order as we speak. All of you need to pack your shit and go home," Cooper warned.
Banks, Sturgeon and I all looked at each other.
"Sooooooo," I started, "do you happen to have that search warrant with you right now?"
Cooper removed his sunglasses, even though it was now autumn and nighttime.
"No, Quinn, I don't happen to have it right in my hands. But it will literally be here before the ink can dry."
"So, what you're saying is that we have some time to execute our warrant before you get yours?"
"That's not what I'm saying at all, Quinn! So help me God, I will fucking BURY you if you execute that warrant and that Hammadi kid gets killed! I will make you take a bath in that kid's blood, Quinn!"
Chief Banks and I looked at one another.
"It's your call, Sheriff. If you want us to go in there and get 'em, just say the word!"
I looked at Cooper, then back at Banks and Sturgeon. "I'm getting sick of this shit. It all ends tonight!"
"You heard, him," Banks ordered. "Get back in your places and get ready for a breach."
"Jesus Christ! You hometown hillbillies are making a big fucking mistake! Quinn, you need to seriously listen to me on this!"
"Why the fuck should I listen to you, Cooper? I've been giving you information and asking for your help for the last three fucking weeks! And what did I get? Nothing but the run-around and a bunch of bullshit! We're gonna breach that goddamned house and we're gonna end this shit tonight!"
Pete Sturgeon radioed out to the team members. "Everyone, listen up! We go for A/V breach in one minute!"
A/V breach stood for Audio/Visual breach and was our signal for introducing the cameras and phone into the residence while distracting the occupant.
All Cooper and his fellow FBI agents could do was just stand there and watch. Since we were not on Federal ground, they needed to get permission to overrule us and take tactical or administrative command over the situation.
Exactly on cue, the two big MRAPs - a gift from Uncle Sam for the cool price of $1.00 each - came roaring down the street, drove up onto the Hammadi's lawn and unleashed a fury of massively loud sounds, sirens and bright lights. In under 90 seconds the basement, first floor and upstairs had been wired for sound and video. Additionally, a front door window was breached and a simple cell phone was thrown inside the residence that started ringing immediately.
Cooper just shook his head. "You better pray to Christ Almighty, Quinn, that this thing goes off without a hitch," he seethed.
"These men and women are professionals. It will."
The MRAPs and breach team members quickly retreated back to their original positions.
Sure enough, someone inside the residence answered the security officer phone that was thrown inside.
"Hello?" someone said, sheepishly.
"This is Captain Pete Sturgeon from the Red River Falls security officer Department. Who am I speaking with?"
"Who I am is unimportant right now. What do you want?"
"We need everyone inside that residence to slowly exit the building with your hands up. We have two canine units on site. If we have to, we will breach the house along with the dogs. The dogs WILL bite you and potentially seriously injure you if you resist. Do you understand me?"
"There is no one else in the house besides me. I will come out now. Please don't shoot me!"
"You have my word that you won't be harmed. Everyone inside that house needs to exit the front door, turn around and slowly walk backwards towards the street. Someone will guide you, just follow the sound of their voice. Do you understand me?"
"Yes. As I said, I am not a threat so please do not harm me."
"You won't be harmed, sir. Just do as I say."
"Okay, I am coming out now."
I looked through a pair of binoculars towards the house. Sure enough, the front door opened and the subject walked out, hands and arms outstretched. He took a couple of steps and then turned around and walked backwards before he was taken into custody by one of the SOG team members. The subject was then thoroughly frisked and searched before being brought back to the command center.
I was just about to start chewing some serious ass on that individual but, just as he arrived at the commander center, I was startled to see who it really was.
"Mr. Pradesh?" I said, shocked.
"Hello again, Sheriff," he replied.
"Jesus, Quinn," Agent Cooper said. "You know this guy?"
"Mr. Pradesh is a college professor up in Fargo. He stopped by my office last week and we had fairly enlightening talk," I explained to Cooper. I turned toward Pradesh. "What exactly are you doing at the Hammadi residence this evening, Mr. Pradesh?"
"The same as you, I would presume, Sheriff."
"And that is?"
He took a deep breath. "I was looking for and waiting for Jaffar Hammadi."
"So you knew that he was back in Red River Falls?"
"I knew that he was back in the area, yes. But I had no idea what he was doing here or where he was staying. His father gave me a key to the residence to watch over it until they return."
"IF they return," Agent Cooper interjected.
"Yes, of course," Pradesh said with disdain. "It is rumored that the FBI now wants the entire family placed on the no-fly list."
"It ain't a fucking rumor. And that's the least of their problems," Cooper said. "If this Jaffar kid really blew off checking in at the airport in Atlanta and snuck his way back here, he's gonna be in a world of shit, especially if he really did harass and threaten the sheriff."
"Oh, NOW you're on my side???" I said, incredulously.
"Watch it, Quinn," Cooper warned.
"Please, gentlemen," Pradesh begged. "I really do not believe that Jaffar truly meant to harm the sheriff or anyone else. He is simply an angry young man whose entire world has been ripped apart by events he had no control over. He was well-liked in his college, an exceptional student and a gifted athlete who loved American sports. Please do not hold him accountable for the actions of his older brothers! I beg of you!"
"So, let me ask you this," I said. "If Jaffar isn't here, do you have any idea where he might be staying? We've already checked numerous times with kids he used to be friends with and none of them have seen him."
Pradesh was quiet for a few moments. "I would rather not say."
"Hey, you don't have a fuckin' choice!" Cooper bellowed. "If you don't start cooperating right-this-fucking-minute, I swear to God I will charge you as an accessory for any and all crimes we end up charging the Hammadi kid with! Do I make myself clear?"
Pradesh took on a defiant pose. "Your threats do not scare me, Mister FBI man!" he spat. "Do what you must but I will not betray him for the likes of you!"
While Pradesh and Cooper stood there arguing, I thought back to what he had said a little while ago. Suddenly, it dawned on me. I knew exactly where Jaffar was hiding.
"He's at the ---c Center on north Madison!" The look on Pradesh's face gave him away, despite his insistence otherwise. "You yourself said that the Hammadis gave you a key to their residence. It is also understood that the Hammadis are the only ones who contributed any significant funds for your ---c Center. That building was acquired by you less than a day after the murders and BEFORE the Hammadis left for Dubai. You live in Fargo, so it would only make sense to have at least someone in the immediate area have access to the center."
"What's the address of that ---c Center again, Sheriff?" Chief Banks asked.
"It's at 818 and 1/2 North Madison, just a block due east from where Tristan Embegwe lived. Chances are, if he's anywhere right now, it's probably there."
Pradesh said nothing, his mouth slowly open as he wondered if he had said anything to give away Jaffar's location.
"Sheriff, let's get everyone gathered up," Banks suggested, "and we'll regroup near Grant Elementary college. Then we can figure out how we want to take this kid down."
"What about this Pradesh guy?" Sturgeon asked.
"Just throw him in the back of one of your squad cars and take him with us," I suggested. Banks and Sturgeon nodded their agreement.
"Sheriff and Chief," Agent Cooper interrupted, "this is still an active crime scene and I forbid you all to leave just yet."
"Well, smartass," Chief Banks continued, "they just delivered your warrants a little bit ago. You can have this crime scene all to yourself. We're gonna head to the north side of town and catch that little punk kid. If you wanna try and work your magic with a judge to help get an additional warrant, be my guest. But this shit is gonna end and it is gonna end now!"
The beauty was, there wasn't jack SHIT that Cooper and his band of ass kissers could do about it besides just stand there and watch us all drive away. After all, we weren't on Federal land. He was still cussing a blue streak as we rounded the corner and drove out of sight.
******
Chief Banks and Pete Sturgeon staged all of the vehicles at Grant Elementary college, which was two blocks south and two blocks east of the ---c Center. Two strike teams of ten men each mounted up in the MRAPs and were delivered in place. Phone calls were made to every residence on the same block as the ---c Center warning citizens that a security officer action was in progress, to stay in their homes and seek shelter in their basements, if possible. Of course, few people did, choosing instead to just turn off their lights and peer out their windows to get a few of the action.
Given the fact that we weren't able to evacuate the neighbors meant that a breach was the most likely option. It was unlikely that Jaffar would be expecting a surprise breach. Simple surveillance determined that all of the windows were covered up. Only the faintest of light could be seen in a corner of one of the windows. A member of the SOG team, Trooper Lyle McKinley, crept up to the house side of the building and adjoining ---c Center. External surveillance revealed no presence of external security cameras, which I thought was odd. But the property was only recently acquired by Pradesh and probably just hadn't gotten around to being put in yet.
Although Trooper McKinley couldn't identify him, he was able to ascertain that there was, indeed, someone inside the building. A search warrant from Judge Chester Prohaski was hastily obtained and driven like a bat out of Hades to the parking lot of Grant Elementary. With paperwork in hand, it was time to go.
Both MRAPs began screaming down opposite ends of the street, or at least as fast as a 20-ton vehicle can go. They both stopped directly in front of the entrance to the ---c Center with a blinding display of red, white and blue flashing strobes and began blaring 160 decibels of sirens and the most obnoxious and ear-splitting psy-ops noise you ever heard!
One SOG team member used a meter puller borrowed from the Red River Falls Fire Department and yanked the electric meter off the outside of the building, immediately killing the power, and lights, to the building. Two cone-shaped charges detonated with a reverse-concussion and blew out the doors to the back of the building. The remaining members of the SOG team stormed the building. As they neared the main room of the ---c Center, the two point men for each team tossed a flash-bang grenade with a two-second delay into the room. The resulting bangs and concussions disoriented and temporarily knocked out the hearing of the suspect in the main room.
"security officer DEPARTMENT! GET ON THE GROUND, NOW, NOW, NOW!!"
One of the lead team members grabbed the suspect and pinned him on the floor with his knee to the back of the suspect's neck while the second team member quickly cuffed the subject, gave him a quick pat-down and determined that he was unarmed.
"CLEAR FRONT!"
"CLEAR BACK!"
One-by-one the rest of the team members began clearing each room in the building containing the ---c Center as well as each room of the house it was attached to.
"Command, strike team! Building is clear! One subject in custody!"
"Strike team, command. Good copy," Sturgeon answered. "Commence secondary search of the premises."
"Strike team copies. Commencing secondary search. We're exiting the building now with the subject."
About five minutes later, the two officers from the SOG team arrived at the hasty command center with none other than Jaffar Hammadi. He had a bewildered look on his face and his nose was bleeding, most likely from the concussion of a close-proximity blast from the flash-bang. As soon as Jaffar saw me, however, the look of fear and bewilderment was replaced by a look of hate and loathing.
"Well, well, well," Chief Banks said. "You must be Jaffar Hammadi. We've been looking for you, young man."
Hammadi said nothing, just standing there glaring at me. He was barely five-and-a-half feet tall. At 17 years of age, he was still more boy than man. But he apparently learned how to hate and be angry like a man.
"Just so you know, we also have Salah Udi Pradesh in custody. He's currently being held in that squad car right over there," I said pointing at the RRFPD squad car.
"Fuck you, Sheriff! Mister Pradesh had nothing to do with this! This was all me! I planned this!"
"Planned what?" I asked.
Hammadi was quiet for a moment and then said, "Let's just say you're lucky you found me when you did, Sheriff."
"Command from strike team," the radio crackled.
"Strike team, command. Go ahead with your traffic," Sturgeon answered.
"Command, you better get down here. We're evacuating the building. Request you contact BCI and have the explosives team en route immediately."
"Strike team, good copy. We'll begin neighborhood evacuation."
"Pat? Do you wanna come check this out, too?" Sturgeon asked.
"Yeah, I might as well."
Jaffar Hammadi was comprehensively searched, had leg shackles added in addition to his handcuffs, and was placed in the back seat of a Red River Falls PD cruiser, where he continued to glare and visually hate me as we walked the two blocks to the scene. Once we got there, one of the SOG team members handed me a stack of photos. As I leafed through them, I could feel my face go pale and my stomach go cold as I saw the numerous pictures of me, Shannon, our kids and even my ex-wife Clarissa. All of our faces had red circles drawn around them in marker with a center dot, indicating we were all targets.
The SOG team leader was a Red River Falls security officer Officer named Lieutenant Kenny Ferguson.
"Gentlemen," he started, "the reason we evacuated the premises was because we found eight completely full propane tanks along with detonators in various stages of completion. Additionally, we found five 20-pound bags of gunpowder and forty pre-cut and threaded pipe sections that could only be uncompleted pipe bombs. In addition, there were plans for homemade bombs scattered all over the room that he obviously downloaded off the internet. But they are all workable plans."
"Any firearms?" Chief Banks asked.
"None that we could see so far but we haven't looked that close. As soon as we found the explosives we made the call to pull out."
"Good job, Lieutenant," Sturgeon reassured him.
"Oh, and we also found this," Ferguson said, tossing me an object. It was a Motorola compact satellite phone. Well, I'll be damned, I thought. No wonder we couldn't get a fix on the phone and break the number.
"With all due respect, gentlemen," I added, still admiring the sat phone, "we're going to need to call Agent Cooper. Whether we want to make a big production of this or not, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives are going to need to be called as well as the FBI Counter-Terrorism Task Force. Red River Falls is about to get famous again."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

All three of the men nodded their agreement and knew I was right. But before the Hammadi kid disappeared I wanted to have a word with him. Pete Sturgeon escorted me back to the command center where Jaffar Hammadi sat in the back of the cruiser. Since he was cuffed and shackled, I wasn't worried about him trying to get the jump on me. I opened the door and leaned in to talk to him.

"You know, I would have thought your family suffered enough," I said, as calmly as I could. "What did you think you were going to try to prove by killing me and my family?"
"I never planned to kill you, Sheriff. Just your family."
"Really? And what did my family do to deserve that?"
"What did my family do, Sheriff? My brothers? My sister? My family are the ones who have lost, Sheriff! You have lost nothing!"
"That's not true. Tristan and Miriam were friends of mine."
"HER NAME...WAS NOT...MIRIAM!!" he screamed.
"She had it legally changed. That was how I knew her."
"HER NAME WAS NAZEEM! THAT WAS HOW MY FAMILY KNEW HER!!"
"I can understand your anger towards Tristan. Why me and my family?"
"Because you allowed it, Sheriff!"
"Tristan and Mir-...I mean...Nazeem were free to do as they wished."
"Nazeem should have known her responsibility to her family and her faith! You allowed this to happen, Sheriff, by accepting them and by not stopping them!"
"Doesn't it mean anything to you that Tristan loved your sister?"
"No! Her responsibility was to her family! Not Tristan!"
I decided to just stop. I was going to get absolutely nowhere with him. All I could do was just thank God that he hadn't been able to get anywhere near Shannon, Bridget or my boys. And even though Clarissa was my ex and we weren't exactly on the best of terms, I whispered a silent prayer that he hadn't gotten near her, either.
I asked myself for the umpteenth what the hell I had been thinking when I decided not to tell Shannon about the phone calls and texts. On the other hand, how in the hell could I have really protected her? The more I wrestled with the whole situation, the more helpless I felt that I had any real chance to stop it. In the end, the raid on the Hammadi's house and the ---c Center felt like nothing more than pure, dumb luck.
But what the hell? Even a busted clock is right twice a day, right?
*****
I holed up in the office the next day and told Karen Landingham to hold all of my calls. The phone lines had absolutely been blowing up and I took only the calls I had to. The best thing would be to hold a press conference and I would have to figure out a time to do it as well as figure out what information we felt comfortable enough to release. I felt shitty but I even avoided several calls from Shannon; instead, opting to send her a text to let her know I was okay and that I was insanely busy and would call if and when I could get a free minute.
Truthfully, there wasn't much for me to do. Both Salah Udi Pradesh and Jaffar Hammadi were in custody. While Jaffar was facing nothing short of a laundry list of potential charges, everyone was flummoxed when it came to trying to figure out what the hell to do with Pradesh. According to him, he had just been looking for Jaffar to try and talk him out of doing something stupid. Why he hadn't been able to find him at the ---c Center was simply a matter of his word against the evidence. Surely he would have looked for him at the center but, if he had, how could have missed all of the explosives.
According to Special Agent Cooper, Pradesh would most likely have his work visa and permanent resident alien status revoked. He would, in a real way, be declared persona non grata and be quietly placed on the no-fly list after being given a one-way trip back to Pakistan. Oddly, I actually felt kind of sorry for Pradesh. Truthfully, as I saw it, he didn't really seem to have done anything wrong, save for failing to tell us that Jaffar was back in town. But, at that time, Jaffar didn't have any warrants out for him and Pradesh had no way of knowing how much trouble Jaffar was getting himself into.
I waited until 4:30 that afternoon before attempting to quietly duck out of the courthouse building. I had again, against protocol, parked my personal vehicle in the building's antiquated Sally Port to keep eyes off of me. I drove the short distance to Bachmann-Overgaard Funeral Home for Margolene Roberts's wake. I signed the guest book and followed the long line to her casket.
Having seen pictures of Margolene in her younger years, she had been an absolute stunner. Even though she was 20 to 30 years older during most of the time I had known her and 40 to 50 pounds heavier, I had always thought she was a beautiful and remarkable woman. She lay there in the casket with a serene look on her face, her head still wrapped in an ornate scarf to mask the signs that the cancer and chemo had placed on her. Margolene's face almost wore a look of forgiveness for every injury and injustice Bud Roberts had ever done to her. Or maybe it was a look of relief that her time with him had finally come to an end and she could be free to look for and spend time with an eternal soulmate of her own in Heaven or the cosmos or wherever what's left of us resides when our time on earth comes to an end.
I just sort of mingled with some of the members of my department in a side room off the main chapel where Margolene's remains were and away from Bud's family. I just didn't have the confidence I could compose myself in front of Bud, especially when I wasn't sure where I stood with Shannon right now.
I never heard her come up behind me but somehow began to sense her presence. I was just about to turn around and look for her when her hand suddenly and silently slid into my own. When I finally saw her, my heart very nearly shot out of my chest. She wore a very simple and understated black dress that could have been just as appropriate at a 5-star restaurant as it was at a funeral.
"Hey," she cooed.
"Hey, yourself."
She let go of my hand and we just fell into one another for the first hug we had shared in almost a week. Her skin felt so good and every last inch of her smelled amazing and I realized how much I had missed her. My eyes were suddenly opened and I knew I had to get my shit together or I was in serious danger of losing this amazing woman forever. I had known from the start that I was in over my head and she was way out of my league from the first moment we got together.
We said very little to each other the rest of the time we were there but just having her hold my hand gave me the courage to converse with Bud Roberts and his family. We ended up visiting with all of Bud's kids for almost an hour. Bud held his place in the receiving line, greeting a steady stream of mourners and doing his very best to look and play the part of the grieving husband. It made me sick but I had to remind myself that his kids and grandchildren still loved him. And, most probably, Margolene did, too, right up until the day she died.
Shannon and I finally made our way out of the funeral home.
"So, where are you parked?" I asked.
"Nowhere," she replied. "Dad dropped me off."
"Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"Yes. I need you to take me home. With you. Where I belong. All my stuff is in your truck."
We said little walking the block-and-a-half to my truck. I unlocked her door and helped her inside. I made my way around to the driver's side and started the truck. I sat there with my hands on the wheel and suddenly couldn't even move. I was literally paralyzed as a wave of emotion washed over me and I was on the verge of absolutely losing it. Shannon sensed it, too, and just reached over and took my right hand in hers. I grasped her hand with mine and clutched it, holding it to my lips. As I did, the floodgates opened and months and years of pent up emotion began pouring out of me as I wept in a way I hadn't since I was a child.
"I'm so sorry," I sobbed. "I'm so fucking sorry."
Shannon pulled her hand back and climbed over to just grab me and hold me close to her. I had tried to be the hero for so long and tried to push away my breaking point until I no longer knew where it was and couldn't ask for help - even when I needed it most.
We must have sat there for twenty minutes, with me just sobbing and Shannon comforting me. I didn't even care and neither did she. All I knew was that she was there again when I needed her most. When I finally composed myself I was absolutely physically and emotionally drained. Without a word we silently switched places and Shannon, who actually disliked driving my truck, drove us back out to the farm. Bridget was still at Jack and Suzanne's and the boys were still with Clarissa.
I'd like to be able to say that we engaged in some maddening, passionate, animalistic makeup sex. But we didn't. She simply helped me out of my clothes and into bed and joined me. I was so mentally and physically exhausted that I fell asleep in her arms and neither of us budged for the rest of the night. It was a watershed moment in our relationship as I knew that I could be vulnerable in her presence and know that, when I was weak, Shannon could be strong enough for the both of us. And she knew that I could be that for her. It was a shitty way for me to have to find out - not letting her in on the knowledge that our family was in danger. But I also knew it was a mistake I would never make again.
*****
Shannon took the day off work the next day to be with me for Margolene's funeral. The Episcopal parish in Red River Falls had a fairly sizeable congregation and was quite full with mourners. Lieutenant Amy Van Deekum's honor guard looked stoic, smart and extremely professional as they provided final watch over Margolene. Not all departments did that for family members but we do.
I felt it happening again, even though I wasn't sure why. The rapid heart rate, my breathing picked up and I started sweating profusely. Shannon sensed it and squeezed my hand harder and leaned in to nuzzle my cheek and give me a few soft kisses on my cheek and whispered in my ear that it was okay. Just her presence, her touch and her scent was thebangutic and I felt myself gradually calming down. I didn't let go of her hand the rest of the service.
Like the rest, we followed the cortege to the cemetery and found a place to park. Two of my deputies had provided escort while the Red River Falls PD provided traffic control. We followed the pallbearers to the open grave and stood hand-in-hand for the graveside service. It lasted for about 15 minutes and we watched as Bud and his family exchanged numerous hugs and handshakes with everyone who attended. I had always been friendly with Bud's children and I wanted to let them know how much I loved and admired their mother, which they appreciated.
We had finally decided to start heading back to my truck when I heard someone call out to me.
"Patrick?" I turned and saw it was none other than Bud Roberts.
"Yes?"
"Uh, well, I was wondering if I could have a word with you," he said. "In private. Only for a few minutes, I promise," he said, smiling at Shannon.
I looked to Shannon, who just half-smiled and said, "I'll wait for you at the truck." I was slightly irritated that she hadn't bailed me out. But I also know that she probably knew better than me that I needed to bury the past once and for all...if not to forgive Bud and Clarissa, then so I could at least get to the point where I didn't give a shit. Shannon gave me a quick kiss and turned to head back towards my vehicle. Bud stood there watching her go, eyes firmly fixed on Shannon's magnificent ass. I couldn't blame him. But it still pissed me off.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer," I said, snapping him out of it.
"Oh, right. Sorry," he said, sheepishly.
I followed Bud to a small sitting bench nestled amongst the headstones and about 50 yards away from the dispersing crowd. I took his lead and had a seat next to him.
"Well," I started, "you wanted to talk. Spill your guts."
"That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you, Patrick. I have a lot I want to say. And after today, I'm afraid I might not get a chance to tell you."
"Okay," I encouraged.
"Patrick, I'm a man who is used to getting what he wants. I've always been that way. If there was something I wanted, I did whatever it took to eliminate everything that stood between me and my goals, understand?"
"Okay, Coach Roberts," I said, sarcastically. "Get to the point."
"Sorry. I know that must sound like a cliché. But it's true. When we were younger Margolene was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my entire life."
"She was a beautiful woman up until the day she died, Bud. Not just in her youth. Margolene was one of the most beautiful, genuine and caring people I've ever met," I added.
"Yes, I know. I guess, Patrick, that I've just always been someone who was never able to combine my physical attraction and emotional attraction to someone. My emotional attachment lasted only as long as my physical attraction. I know that probably makes me an asshole in some peoples' eyes. But at least I'm being honest about that."
"Again, what's your point?"
"My point, Patrick, is that I've been unhappy and miserable for a long time. And I want you to understand that my unhappiness is what led me to do what I did with Clarissa. I know that doesn't excuse what I did to you. But I just want you to understand where I was coming from."
"Fine. I understand. May I go now?"
"Patrick, I want you to know that I really did love Margolene at the end. I know it was her illness and all. But when she started losing weight and started to look again like the woman I fell in love with all that time ago."
My eyes narrowed. "Let me see if I understand you correctly, Bud. You're sitting here trying to tell me that you rediscovered your love for the woman who bore you four children after she started losing weight? Weight that she was losing because the scourge of cancer entered her body and started destroying her? You're trying to tell me that you started to feel sexual attraction for your wife for the first time in years only when she was dying of cancer?"
"I know it sounds bad when you put it that way, Patrick. But at first, I thought she was doing it for me. I thought she was losing the weight for me. And it worked. But just when it was starting to go so well, she found the lump in her breast and everything got thrown into chaos. I had always loved her breasts and then they were both surgically removed. The chemo and radiation left her an emaciated, bony, skeletal looking shell of who I had started to fall in love with again. Pretty soon, I was driving her all over to doctor's appointments in Rochester at the Mayo Clinic. But nothing was working."
Fuck! I just shook my head in disbelief. "Bud, why in the fuck are you telling me all of this shit?"
"Patrick, all of this has made me take a hard look at my own mortality. I'm approaching my late 50's now. I know there are probably fewer days ahead than there are behind me and that thought is now scaring me."
"Yeah? And?"
"Patrick, I'm going to ask you something and I know it is going to be hard for you to hear."
"Why am I not surprised by that?" I said, acerbically.
"Patrick, I'm asking you to forgive me. For everything."
"Fine, I forgive you. Can I go now?"
"That's not all, Patrick. I want your forgiveness for everything I did. I also want to ask you for your blessing."
"My blessing? Blessing for what?"
"I...I want...to ask you...for your permission to start seeing Clarissa...again," he stammered.
Pretty sure my jaw dropped. If I stood up too quickly, I would have tripped over it.
"You've gotta be shitting me. Are you fucking kidding me???"
"Patrick, just hear me out, okay?"
"No! No, I won't hear you out! Look over there," I said, pointing towards Margolene's yet-unburied casket. "Your wife isn't even buried in the ground yet and you are asking me to bless her replacement? Jesus Christ! What the fuck is wrong with you, you miserable old bastard?!!"
"Yes, Patrick! I am a miserable old bastard! I've been miserable ever since you forced me to stop seeing Clarissa! Believe it or not, I did and do love her! My wife is gone, Patrick! My children are all grown and gone and have their own lives! I have nothing! No one! And it scares the hell out of me, Patrick! I know it takes a lot of gall for me to ask you this but I'm doing it out of respect for you, Patrick, and because of how sorry I am for everything Clarissa and I did to you.
"I know I have no right to ask this of you, Patrick. I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear and the last thing you ever expected. I also know you have the power to ruin me further if I anger you. I'm just asking you to forgive me and Clarissa enough to let us move on together. You're married again now, Patrick. To an absolutely amazing and beautiful woman. You're so lucky! I just want to experience that again before I'm too old! Please, Patrick! I'm begging you. I don't want to spend the last days of my life alone!"
I was too stunned and shocked to do anything else but just sit back down on that bench. I stared at Margolene's casket. A short distance away, the cemetery crew waited for the last of the mourners to leave before lowering the casket into the metal vault and then sealing it away for eternity. It pained me to know that it was the last time I would see her, or at least her casket. It looked so lonely just sitting there, a gentle breeze flowing and causing ripples amongst the massive pile of flowers that sat atop her casket.
Flowers. Caskets. Death. I remembered a story that was often told about how flowers came to be associated with funerals. It was often said that flowers were used in the days prior to modern embalming techniques when the time between death and burial was necessarily short, given the rate of decay. Flowers, and lots of them, were used to mask the smell of decay, as well as to add some pleasant beauty to the scene to offset the various colors the body would show as the decomposition process took its inevitable and natural course.
Who are we to think that we can add beauty to death? Do we really think embalming, dressing a corpse in pretty clothes, adding makeup and a lot of flowers can truly mask the ugliness behind death and the fact that a human being has said goodbye to everyone and everything they leave behind? How do you dress up the fact that the sum total of a person's life carries on only in those who are left behind? Margolene was lying in that casket right now. The shell of a body she left behind couldn't care less what Bud and I were talking about. I wondered if there was some spirit, some remnant of her essence and intellect that was left behind anywhere that still cared about Bud. Or hated him. Or pitied him. Or felt anything, something for this morally bankrupt sack of shit that sat next to me. The man who dared to ask me for forgiveness for violating my marriage and my wife and made her into a whore. The Catholic in me thought there was something left of her somewhere who still cared. The cynic in me wasn't so sure.
But then I remembered something that Shannon had quoted to me from a book she was reading. I can't for the life of me remember the book or the topic but the phrase had stuck with me for over a year. It said, "True forgiveness means giving up all hope of a better past."
No matter what I did, I couldn't change anything to make what Clarissa and Bud did to me go away. I couldn't change the past to make Clarissa un-fuck Bud Roberts or Marion Lawson or Brad Weston or anyone else she decided to spread her legs for. But the fact to the matter is, it no longer matters. I made a vow yesterday that I would never make the same mistakes with Shannon again. And just moments ago, I had told Bud I would forgive him. And even if I couldn't change it, I realized in that moment that I no longer gave a shit. Bud Roberts would always be Bud Roberts. Forgiving him meant that I had to give up all hope of ever changing him.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"I don't care," I said, finally.

"Excuse me?" Bud asked.
"I don't care," I repeated.
"About what?"
"About you. About Clarissa. About Marion. I don't care. Do what you want. If you want Clarissa and she's dumb enough to actually want you back, so be it."
"Do...do you really...mean that, Patrick?" he asked, hopeful.
"Sure. Go for it. Both you and Clarissa are two of the most morally and mentally fucked up people I have ever met. If you want her and she decides she wants you, then go for it. Personally, I don't think you have a prayer. Ever since her mother got hooked up with a guy who has more money than King Midas, she's become nothing short of a gold digger. The problem for you, Bud, is that you're a lifelong civil servant. Which means you ain't got a lot of gold. But, hey. Whatever."
I stood and started walking away.
"You really mean that, Patrick? I mean, are you really serious?" he called after me.
"I'm serious as a heart attack, Bud, when I say that I no longer give two tinker's fucks about you or Clarissa. If she does take you, Bud, you better never try being a dad to my boys. That's my job. You mistreat them in any way, shape or form - or even Clarissa, for that matter - I'll rip off your goddamned head and shit down your neck, understand me?"
"Thank you, Patrick! That means the world to me!"
"Lots of luck, asshole. You're gonna need it. Some women are high maintenance and Clarissa needs more upkeep than a fucking 747. I wish you the best of luck!"
I stopped by the gravesite one last time and took a final glimpse of Margolene's casket. I caressed the shiny polished oak coffin and leaned in and gave it a kiss.
"Rest well, Margolene," I whispered. "You deserve it."
When I got back to my truck, Shannon had it running and ready to go.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"I don't wanna talk about it," I answered.
"Patrick," she started, getting defensive.
"I just wanna go home, sweetheart. I promise I'll tell you anything you want. But I just need to get out of here right now."
"Okay," she said, somewhat put off.
We rode in silence for about ten minutes of the ride home until I reached over and took her hand and just held it until we got home. I still couldn't get over the nerve of Bud Roberts. He was a shell of a human being, completely devoid of the capacity for reasonable thought of feelings for anyone but himself. Even I knew that there was no way Clarissa would take him back. If nothing else, I at least had to give her some credit for that.
We entered the house and I started changing out of my uniform and into some casual clothes.
"What did Bud want with you, if you don't mind me asking?" Shannon asked coming into the bedroom.
"I don't mind, sweetheart. And from here on out, you should consider it a right to know whatever I know. I promise, from here on out to keep nothing from you, no matter how bad, scary or dangerous it might be. It should have been that way from the beginning and I'm sorry that I have to start over and rebuild the trust in you I took for granted."
"That means so much to me," she said, taking my hand. "So, what did he say?"
"Are you ready for this?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, a sly smile creeping across her face.
"Believe it or not, Bud actually asked me if I had a problem with him dating Clarissa again."
Shannon's mouth was agape. "Wh, what? Are you kidding me?"
"I shit you not. I absolutely shit you not. That self-absorbed narcissistic bastard who had an affair with my wife actually had the balls to ask me if he could see her again. At his own wife's funeral, for Christ's sake!"
"Oh, my God! What did you tell him?"
"I told him to go for it. I also told him that, ever since Clarissa's mom got hooked up with a multi-multi-millionaire that Clarissa herself had turned into a money-hungry bitch. And a retired Sheriff doesn't have THAT kind of money. So, you do the math on that one."
"Aaaaah," Shannon cooed, and then giggled. "It's like you're giving him something and nothing at the same time! Well played, Mr. Quinn!"
"Why thank you, Mrs. Quinn!" I replied, leaning in for a deep, passionate kiss.
"Mrs. Quinn! I love the sound of that!"
"Me, too, babe. And I want you to know that I will do whatever it takes to get our marriage back on track and headed towards forever. The thought of losing you, whether you left me or whether someone took you from me, scares the shit out of me like nothing else. And I'm so damned sorry for not telling you about the Hammadi kid. I'll do whatever it takes to re-earn your trust. I'll talk to someone, go to therapy to deal with my issues - it doesn't matter. Just as long as you're there to help me through it."
Shannon reached over to hug me and kiss me. "Of course, Patrick. And you should know that I'll never leave you. I chose you and you chose me. And I know someone you can talk to. He and his wife are terrific friends of mine. He specializes in working with Veterans but I know he'll be terrific for you, too! And I'll be there with you every step of the way. I promise!"
"Thank you, sweetheart. I know I can do anything with you by my side!"
"You better," she said, stealing another kiss. "You've got nine months to get your act together," she teased.
"Why? What happens in nine...Oh, shit! Are you serious?"
"Why yes, my dear husband! You got your blushing bride good and knocked up on our wedding night!"
"How long have you known?"
"Only a couple of days. I haven't even confirmed it with my gyno yet. But even the home kits are highly reliable and I took THREE just to be sure."
"Wow," I whispered. "A little earlier than we had planned. But I can't even begin to describe how happy I am."
"Come on, babe. Let's go to bed! We've got some time to celebrate before the kids come home!"
"Sounds like the best kind of therapy!"
*****
I had one final task to complete to put the entire episode of this past summer and autumn behind me. We had eight finalists on our approved civil service list of candidates to fill Tristan's position. Of those, I chose to interview three whom I felt had the best qualifications, based on years of experience and their resumes.
I interviewed the first one on Wednesday of that week and another on Thursday. Either of them would have been solid additions to our department. The first candidate was a female officer with the St. Cloud, Minnesota security officer Department and the second candidate was an officer from Minot security officer Department.
The third and final candidate was a man who wasn't currently working as a law enforcement officer but who had moved to Red River Falls to follow his wife, a successful realtor from the very affluent Twin Cities suburb of Edina, who had bought a half-interest in the local Century 21 real estate firm here. He was fairly tall, about 6'2", and had the physique of an athlete, very muscular and trim. He was also an African-American. And, no, I wasn't interviewing him specifically to replace Tristan, who was also black.
"Karl?" I said, calling to him out in the hallway where he was seated.
"Yes, Sheriff," he said as he stood.
"Pat Quinn," I said, smiling and extending my hand.
"Karl Rahman," he said as he shook it. He pronounced his last name as rock-mahn.
"Please come in and have a seat," I said, gesturing to a chair.
"Thank you, Sheriff."
"So," I said, taking my own seat. "You'll have to pardon us. We're in the process of getting ready to move to new offices in the coming months and we're already starting to pack things up," I said, nodding to various boxes. My office was becoming more cluttered by the day.
"No problem, Sheriff," Karl said, in his deep bass voice. Wow. Barry White had nothing on Karl Rahman.
"So, why don't you tell me a little about yourself," I said, opening his file. "I'm a bit confused. You introduced yourself as Karl but your info lists your name as Kareem."
"Uh, yeah. Well, I've gone by Karl since I was a little kid. My father named me. My full name is Kareem Abdul Raheem Rahman. I was born in East St. Louis, Illinois. My father was fortunate enough to get accepted to St. Louis University back in the 1980s on a basketball scholarship."
"No, kidding? Did your Dad play for Charlie Spoonhour?"
"Naw, naw. Pops played two years for a guy named Rich Grawer. Coach Spoonhour didn't come along until the nineties."
"Oh, I see. I'm off by a few years," I chuckled.
"That's cool, Sheriff. Anyway, Pops only played two years before he tore the ACL and MCL in his right knee. Anyway, he ended transferring to Northwestern University and got a degree in Engineering. While he was going to college there, he ended up getting acquainted with and becoming a member of the Nation of .,. Karl was actually my birth name but he renamed me Kareem."
"That's an interesting journey your family took. Is your father still pretty active in his faith?" The question took him back a bit but he pressed ahead anyway.
"Somewhat, but not with Nation of .,. He joined a more mainstream mosque a few years back."
"What led to that, if I may ask?"
"Uh...well...actually, it was because Minister Farrakhan has started urging members to start studying Dianetics."
"Dianetics? Seriously? Isn't that a Scientology thing?"
"Uh, yeah, Sheriff. It is. That's why Pops left. He had no intentions of being a damned Scientologist," Karl said, chuckling.
"How about you?"
"Me?" he asked. "What about me, Sheriff?"
"Are you pretty active with your faith?"
"Uh, I consider myself a '., yes. But I wouldn't really consider myself devout. More like a lapsed '.. I pray when I have something to talk with God about. I try to help the less fortunate when I can, especially with my time instead of money. I've never been to Mecca but I'd like to go at least once in my life time."
"Is your wife '.?"
Karl took a deep breath and I sensed I was really pushing the limits. "Um, no, she's not. Latisha is actually a Pentecostal. We're raising our kids to be accepting of both faiths. When they are old enough, they'll be able to decide for themselves what path they choose to follow."
"I see," I said, nodding.
"May I ask you a question, Sheriff?"
"By all means," I invited.
"Why are you so concerned over my faith?"
I took a deep breath and thought carefully about my answer.
"Karl, I'm sure you are probably aware that there have been a number of incidents in Red River Falls that surrounded a certain ---c influence. No doubt that you heard about the death of one of our deputies, his fiancée and her two brothers, as well as the death of a State Trooper."
"I'm aware of what happened, Sheriff."
"Then I'm sure you know that my deputies and I were responsible for taking the lives of those two men."
"And you're worried about hiring a '., Sheriff?"
"No. No, absolutely not. I guess I'm more worried about what you might think of me as your boss, knowing that I took the life those two men. I'm concerned that you might think I have a deep-seated fear or dislike of '.s."
"Do you, Sheriff?"
"I don't think so. Or at least I don't like to think I do. But I'd also be lying if I said that I wasn't extremely angry over what happened to my deputy."
"Why wouldn't you be, Sheriff? I'm sure you care a great deal for every one of your deputies. I'd be more concerned if you weren't upset about the death of one of your own."
"I just don't want it to be a cloud that hangs over our heads if we end up working together. I guess that's why I wanted to get it out in the open."
"So you are concerned about what I might think of you, Sheriff, because you took the lives of a couple of dirt bags?"
"I wasn't sure what to think. But I do appreciate your candor."
"Sheriff, I'm gonna guess by that crucifix on your wall that you're probably Catholic. But, aside from that display, I have no doubt that you probably check your beliefs at the door. And I would absolutely do the same thing. I would want you to see me not as a '. deputy, but as simply a Mason County Sheriff's Deputy."
"I appreciate that, Karl."
"And as far as I'm concerned, Sheriff, those two men had everything coming to them, as far as getting themselves killed. What they did to their own sister is something that would NEVER be allowed in .,. Those are ancient tribal beliefs that pre-date .,. Honor killings are not, never have been and never will be encouraged nor endorsed by .,." The conviction and passion in his voice told me that he truly believed every word he was saying.
"Can I ask another question, Sheriff?" he asked.
"By all means."
"Why did you want to interview me today? Are you looking to make a statement with this hire? Are you looking to hire another black deputy? Or a '. one?"
"Absolutely not, I assure you. I have your file here from your time with the St. Paul security officer Department. You were there for eight years. Graduated top of your class from the Minneapolis security officer Academy. You were decorated twice for bravery. In the entire time you were an officer there you had a total of two citizens complaints filed against you and both of them were resolved in your favor."
"Gotta love those body cams," Karl said, smiling.
"You got that right," I agreed. "That's why we have them on our department. But moving on, you also started and headed up a youth crime partnership in the local colleges, served as a D.A.R.E. officer for a while and were named Officer of the Year in 2014. And to top it all off, you had a 94% arrest-to-conviction rate, which was the highest of all officers on your department. You made Sergeant a year ago and were on the list for Lieutenant. You're not just a cop, Karl. You're a superstar. And yet, you chose to leave the Twin Cities and follow your wife here to Red River Falls."
He shrugged. "This is where my family is. My wife and kids come before my job. Not to mention the fact that my wife makes a heck of a lot more as a realtor than I do as a LEO."
"I hear that," I said, chuckling. "My wife is on a fast track to becoming a Nurse Practitioner and is having her name thrown around for Vice-President of Nursing at Holy Family Medical Center, which will put her ahead of me. By a long shot!"
"You know how it is, then," Karl said, grinning a million-dollar smile. "Probably not too many cops besides me that'll have a house down by the country club. When Latisha bought it, I damned near had a heart attack. I told her I'd need to get her pregnant two or three more times just to have an excuse to use all the room!" he said, laughing.
"Yeah, definitely some nice houses down there," I agreed. "Look, Karl. I appreciate your candor and willingness to answer my questions and be so open with me."
"Definitely didn't get this deep and personal with Chief Banks the other day."
"Chief Banks? I take it you are on Red River PD's list, too?"
"Uh, yeah. Doesn't sound like they're going to be bringing anyone on any time soon, though."
I sat there and gave Karl a good once over. His service record at a MAJOR metropolitan security officer department was basically unblemished and he had immersed himself in absolutely every aspect of his work and had been devoted to giving back to his community. I could easily be looking at the man who might one day replace me as Sheriff of Mason County. If I was seriously looking to hire the best candidate for the job, I had no further to search than the man sitting right in front of me. In fact, I'd be the biggest jackass in the Upper Plains if I didn't hire him on the spot.
"Deputy Karl Abdul Raheem Rahman," I said thoughtfully. "Kinda has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
"Yes, Sheriff," he said just beaming. "It sure does!"
Karl stood up as I did and I extended my hand, which he shook vigorously.
"Deputy Rahman, welcome to the Mason County Sheriff's Department!"
"Thank you, Sheriff!"
"Follow me a second," I said, opening my office door and leading him out into the main office area.
It was nearly 3:00 in the afternoon and the middle of shift change. So there were numerous deputies milling about the office area.
"Can I have everyone's attention?" I called out. Immediately the buzz died down. "I just wanted to take a moment to introduce everyone to the newest member of the Mason County Sheriff's Department, Deputy Karl Rahman."
The room immediately broke out into applause and everyone came over to shake Karl's hand and introduce themselves. I wasn't sure how they would react at first, given that Karl was technically Tristan's replacement. But Chris Hayes said it best when he mentioned that the department would take a psychological step forward just knowing that we were back at full strength, that seeing that blank space on our staffing roster next to the number 17-25 was bothering people now more than anything.
I felt certain that, wherever Tristan and Miriam were looking down on us from, that they couldn't be happier that we had such an amazing and qualified man like Karl to join our ranks. They would both be immensely proud.
EPILOGUE
It was the damned flowers. There was a sea of flowers at Tristan and Trooper Rockney's funerals. People sent a sea of flowers to the Sheriff's Department afterwards. There was a sea of flowers at my wedding. There was a sea of flowers at Margolene's funeral. When I was hospitalized after being shot a couple years ago, my hospital room was constantly filled with flowers until the day I was discharged.
It became what my therapist, Doctor Gene Handler, termed as "triggers" that automatically harkened back to some of the darkest days in my life. I had what can only be described as a ton of emotional baggage. The shooting, Clarissa's affair, her and Bud's efforts to frame me and send me to prison, my divorce, my torrid affair with Clarissa's mother, Tristan's death, Trooper Rockney's death, killing William Raymond Jackson and Kimberly Trenton, killing the two Hammadi brothers.
I had been trying to bury everything for so long that it was slowly bubbling to the surface and finally broke under the threat that Jaffar Hammadi posed to my family. Dr. Landry employed what he called "immersion therapy" which has had a lot of success for Veterans of Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. It has also had a lot of success for bang victims. As odd as it sounds, it involves the patient giving a play-by-play account of the traumatic events and actually has the effect of giving the individual more control over the memories and emotions and how they affect daily life.
Shannon, Bridget, the boys and I also had a chance to finally go on our honeymoon. We took a magical trip on a Disney cruise to the Caribbean while the kids were home during Christmas break. The ship, the weather, the entertainment, amenities, activities and food were absolutely amazing! We spent five days cruising aboard the ship and another four days in Orlando at Walt Disney World and all of the area theme parks and attractions. It was just what we needed to jump start our family life once again.
Jack and Suzanne even came along so that Bridget could stay with them. Nick and Jake had a room to themselves, which they thought was awesome. And Shannon and I had a lot of "catching up" to do. She even joked that I was trying to see if I could get her even MORE pregnant, as if that was possible.
There was still one area I had a lot of work to do - regaining the trust of my boys. In dealing with all the shit I had to work through following Tristan's death, I had withdrawn greatly from both of my boys, but especially Nick. It took more than a few heart-to-heart talks and an endless stream of apologies from me. I even invited him to one of my therapy sessions with Dr. Landry to help work some things out. He's a typical teenager and pushing his boundaries, just like any teen. We're not back to where we used to be but we're getting close. In spite of everything, I'm still immensely proud of him and the young man he's becoming.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

*****

KARMA IS A FICKLE BITCH WHO DOTES ON IRONY - AND OCCASIONALLY KICKS YOUR ASS WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT
Friday afternoon at the Sheriff's office and I was going over finalizations to prepare our move from our cramped, antiquated offices and jails to the new Joint Public Safety Center as our combined Sheriff's office, security officer department, fire station and National Guard armory and other offices was being called. I was coordinating everything from new office furniture and equipment delivery, records, arms and munitions, evidence and, finally, transferring prisoners to the new jail. I was literally up to my ass in the alligators, as they say. Fortunately, things were fairly quiet in the New Year, thus far.
As I sat at my desk going blind on all of this, my phone buzzed. It was Karen Landingham.
"Yes, Karen?"
"Sheriff, your wife is here." Shit. I had my door closed and she probably thought I was busy.
"Please, send her in."
Shannon actually burst through the door, eyes red and swollen from crying.
"Sweetheart, what the hell is wrong?"
"Oh, Patrick! I'm so sorry to rush in here like this," she said as I embraced her.
"What is it sweetheart?"
"Patrick, I just got a phone call from your sister, Beth. It's your father."
I steeled myself to what came next. "What's happened?"
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but he's in the hospital. He's had a massive stroke! He's in a critical care unit in Des Moines."
I struggled to speak. "How...how bad?"
Shannon hugged me and held me close. "I'm afraid it was very bad. He's lost the use of everything on the right side and he can barely speak."
Oh, shit. I had been able to reverse a lot of the damage over the past few weeks with all of the people I had hurt, shunned and pissed off over the last few years. Even Clarissa and I were on better terms than we had been in a long time.
But the one person I still had an extremely toxic relationship with was my father. And now, I suddenly had no idea whether I would ever get the chance to fix it.
KARMA IS A FICKLE BITCH WHO DOTES ON IRONY - AND OCCASIONALLY KICKS YOUR ASS WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT.
The problem was that right now I couldn't figure out whose ass Karma was trying to kick.
My father's?
Or mine...
To be continued in "Murder in Mason County" later this year.
SB
P.S. - For those of you who found the info about Minister Louis Farrakhan incredulous...well, I did too. But you can find if by googling "Louis Farrakhan Dianetics" and it will bring up a whole litany of articles excoriating the minster.