The Grim Reaper
Chapter 64: Recovery

Copyright© 2015 by rlfj

Thursday proved to be about as hectic as I expected it to be. By the time the detectives came to see me, I would be the last guy they would be talking to. By that time, they would have already interviewed everybody except the three dead guys, and they would have been autopsied. The crime scene crew would have been all over the last car they had been in, as well as all over the Quiki-Stop. The security videos from the Quiki-Stop would have been obtained, as well as any from any of the surrounding stores. From those videos, anybody else who had been in the area would have been tracked down and interviewed. The Georgia State Patrol, the Alabama State Police, and probably the FBI would have been contacted for assistance. The only person left to talk to was little old me.

That started right after I finished my yogurt and juice in the morning. First in were my old friends Detective Barker and Detective Smith, who had run the investigation into the shooting back when I was still on probation. They weren’t anywhere near as much a pair of assholes as they came off during that initial meeting. They asked me for my statement, and I immediately responded by asking for my lawyer. They gave me a pro forma argument, but then vacated the room, and Stillwell came in.

“Good to see you again, Officer Reaper.” He reached out and shook my hand. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, Mister Stillwell. Anything I should be doing here?”

“You know the drill already. Tell me what happened, and don’t leave anything out. We’ll call in the detectives. You’ll answer their questions. After that ... we’ll see.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. Stillwell had me lead him through the incident. After that we called in Barker and Smith. Within minutes it was obvious that the two detectives had interviewed half of West Georgia and reviewed all the videos. They still tried to trip me up on specifics, and Stillwell did his old trick of ‘Asked and answered, Detective.’ Eventually they ran out of questions and folded up their notebooks.

Barker said, “Thank you, Grim. I know we told Mrs. Reaper not to talk to you about what she saw, but I think we can let that go. You two can let her know.”

“Okay, I’ll tell her. What now?”

Smith answered. “You know the drill. You’re the main attraction in an officer-involved shooting. We are officially informing you that you are on administrative leave, not that you’re going to be able to do anything anyway. Try not to arrest any of your nurses.”

“You ever tried to survive on broth and yogurt?” I asked. “I’m getting tempted!”

They both grinned at that. “You were the last person we had to interview. Next step is that we finish our report, probably Friday or Saturday. It goes to the Review Board.” I groaned at that. “Depending on what they do, sometime in the next few weeks there will be a second investigation. After that you need to go before the Grand Jury and get passed by the department shrink. You’ve been through this before, haven’t you?” commented Barker.

“Thanks for the reminder.”

Smith said, “Grim, your responses basically match up with everything else we’ve been learning about this. I have to ask you - not part of the investigation - how in the world do you make shots like that when you are under fire and wounded?”

I grimaced at that, but I knew the answer. “I can’t explain it, guys, but I never miss.”

“I analyzed the tapes. Every single shot you took went right through the X-ring. You took seven kill shots, and every single one went straight through the heart and spine. Those three men were dead before they ever hit the ground, and that was after you were already wounded!” I was trying to answer when he added, “It’s like last year. You took three head shots while rolling around on the ground under fire. How do you do that?”

I just shook my head. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Ever since basic training I’ve never been able to miss. If you want me to miss the target, I need to aim for a miss. Does that make any sense?”

Barker smiled, but said, “No.”

“As far as the bit about being under fire, that’s real easy. I did damn near three years in Iraq, almost all of it under fire. Any of the guys I served with would have reacted immediately, just like I did. You were either quick or you were dead.”

The two detectives took off, leaving me with Stillwell. “It’s still awfully spooky the way you never miss,” he said.

“Don’t ask me to explain it. Just don’t ever pull a gun on me. It won’t be good.”

“You really need to talk to that shrink!”

I laughed at Stillwell but kept my thoughts to myself. I was already seeing Shemel about once a month for my PTSD. I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say about this. I wondered if he would have to recuse himself because he already knew me.

I napped some that afternoon but woke up when Kelly came in around four in the afternoon. She brought with her my laptop computer and books and all from my classes. Those she dumped on a chair, and then she came over and gave me a four-alarm kiss. “You keep kissing me like that and the alarms on the equipment are going to go off!” I said.

Kelly giggled. “Mister Tough Guy! You’ve never complained about my kissing before.”

“Well, if my blood pressure spikes and I die, at least I’ll go out with a smile on my face,” I laughed.

“Too bad we can’t do anything else to raise your blood pressure.”

“I’ll probably need lots of bed rest when I get home.”

She nodded but got a serious look on her face. “Grim, I know we were going to wait until you got your Senior Patrolman rank, but I don’t want to wait any longer. When you get home, I want to get the IUD taken out. I am not going to complain about you being a police officer, but I do want to have children with you, just in case. Please.”

That took me a little by surprise, but I couldn’t see arguing about this. I had been on track to make Senior Patrolman next year in any case, so this was only jumping the gun by a year at most. “Okay. You’ll probably have to do most of the work, though, for a while at least.”

Kelly’s face lit up in a huge smile. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I don’t mind. If I’m on top, then I know we’ll have daughters!”

I rolled my eyes at that. “You better hope they let girls play football by then, because if you actually commit the unforgiveable sin of bearing female children, I will be buying them pink footballs!”

“Unforgiveable sin? I can’t wait until they hit their teens and start dating.”

“Fine by me. By then I plan to be commanding TRT, and I will follow them around on dates in the Cougar, with a Ma Deuce on the roof!” I replied. “How are you feeling, babe?”

“I’m good. I went back to class today. Everybody there knew about you. It was the same over at M-Triple-C. I saw your teachers and they gave me your assignments and promised to work with you on making things up. With any luck you won’t lose the semester.”

“Excellent. If that had happened, I was going to dig up those jackasses and shoot them all over again!”

“So, you saw the detectives this morning?” she asked.

I nodded. “They were here, and Stillwell was here. I spent the entire morning going over the shooting. I think it is being judged a clean shoot, but I won’t be sure until the final report comes out, probably this weekend.”

“They said I could talk to you after they were done,” Kelly told me.

“Yeah. How bad was it, babe? I was praying that you were hiding down behind some kegs or something.”

Kelly looked very serious again. “I was, sort of, but the beer cave had a glass door that I could see through. I pretty much saw everything that was happening in the store, but nothing from outside. I started calling 911 as soon as I got inside.”

“Good! That was the best thing you could have done. I didn’t want you coming out and trying to help or something. I was worried that you wouldn’t get a signal inside the cooler.”

Kelly shrugged. “Seemed to work fine.”

“And you saw...”

“I saw everything. I saw you shoot those two men, and I saw you get hit and stagger up to the front, where you got shot again, and I saw you keep going, crawling out through the window. Then I simply heard the gunfire, but I stayed where you told me to, until a policeman with a gun out came into the store. I yelled out I was in the beer cave, and he pointed his gun at me until I came out,” she said.

“Good. Don’t make any sudden moves at a time like that, until they can figure out who’s who.”

“I didn’t know who it was, but I remembered seeing his face at the Cherokee once. Tim was there, and that new girl, Jenny. I remember them being there. Then you went in the ambulance to the hospital and Creighton drove me over.” She took a deep breath. “You lost a lot of blood, Grim, a lot. You almost bled out there in front of the store keeping that guy Bolling from leaving. They couldn’t figure out how you kept standing there holding your weapon up. I knew. I mean, I know how you are, but still...” She took another breath and finished, “I told them you would have stood there until you died on your feet, but you would never have given up.”

I just nodded. I didn’t have much to say to that. “I’m sorry you had to see that, babe. That’s not a part of my life I ever wanted you to see.”

“Was Iraq like that?” she asked.

I laughed at that. “Iraq was a lot worse, a whole lot worse!”

We talked the rest of the afternoon, though I did fall asleep once. My next visitors were Chief Jefferson and Captain Crowley, who came in right after dinner and moments before my parents arrived. Kelly moved my school stuff off to the side.

“How are you doing, Grim?” asked Captain Crowley.

“It’s good to see you again, Patrolman Reaper,” said the Chief.

“Yes, sir, thank you. I’m good. I’m still pretty weak, but as soon as I can get out of here, I’ll be back at the station,” I answered. I knew that probably wasn’t the case, but I wanted to sound positive.

My mother and Kelly looked alarmed at that, but the Chief and Captain Crowley just smiled. “I think we can afford to wait until your doctors clear you for duty, Grim,” said Crowley.

“I know it will be a stretch, but the Matucket Police Department will get by without your services for a few more weeks,” added Chief Jefferson.

“Understood, sir.”

“We talked to Barker and Smith before we came out here. While it isn’t official yet, they told us that they are going to be reporting it as a clean shoot. You know that it won’t end there, but according to everybody who has been involved in this, there has been nothing but praise for how you handled the situation. You did good, Grim,” said Captain Crowley.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It’s a touch premature, but I think you should make your reservations for next year’s awards dinner. Unless something radically strange happens, you’ll be getting the Medal of Valor and a Purple Heart,” added Jefferson.

“Yes, sir, thank you.” I smiled, but it didn’t mean that much. You never wore your medals except on a dress occasion, like at the awards banquet or a funeral. Otherwise, they would simply sit in a box in a drawer, much as my Army medals had sat in a box, at least until I sent them back to the Army.

Mom grumbled, “I would have been much happier if you hadn’t had to earn them in the first place!” Dad rolled his eyes at me and simply gave Mom a hug around the shoulders.

“Captain, Chief, can I ask a question?”

“Sure, Patrolman. What’s on your mind?” replied Jefferson.

“What in the world were those ass ... criminals doing in Matucket in the first place? The last I heard, they were arrested up near Chattanooga, on the Alabama side of the border.”

Both men sighed and shook their heads. “False alarm. It turned out to be three teenagers joyriding in the neighbor’s car. They damn near had heart attacks when they got stopped and a dozen cops drew down on them. They were lucky they weren’t shot!” answered Crowley.

Chief Jefferson nodded in agreement. “All over the area people were getting stopped. They weren’t the only false alarm, not by a long shot.”

I made a wry smile. “Figures. What was their final body count?” Then I thought about what I had asked and looked at my family. “Sorry guys, forget it. I wasn’t thinking.”

Kelly surprised me by saying, “No, I want to know.” Mom gulped but nodded.

“Eleven. It was eight the last you heard on Thursday, but after Gadsden, when they killed the Alabama Trooper, they hit a convenience store outside of Fort Payne, killing the clerk and grabbing two girls. Then they changed directions and came southeast, to where you ran into them Saturday evening.”

“The girls?” I asked.

Crowley just gave me a grim look and shook his head. They must have been in the trunk of the blue Chevy. “If you hadn’t stopped them, it would have been at least two more, the Quiki-Stop cashier and the woman out at the pump.”

“She okay? She got conked on the head, I remember that.”

Jefferson gave me a wry smile. “She’s good enough to complain that you didn’t put down your gun and surrender. We can expect a law suit any time now, I’m sure. She’s even complaining you shot her tires, to keep them from escaping; she wants us to replace her tires, all four.”

“Great,” I grumbled. My parents both complained about the woman’s ingratitude, but it wasn’t anything the police officers in the room didn’t expect. I also expected it to get laughed out of court in a heartbeat. Still, it was a nuisance none of us needed.

“Forget her. Nobody is going to listen to her. More important is that tomorrow you need to get cleaned up. Company is coming,” said the Chief.

“Oh?”

“Governor Perdue is going to visit, along with a bunch of reporters and television cameras. He’s going to personally congratulate you and bask in the glow of your wonderfulness,” said Crowley.

“Oh, Christ! You’re kidding me, right?”

“If you get asked any questions, just say good things about truth, justice, and the American way. You can then move on to Mom, apple pie, and the girl next door,” he added.

“Captain, if you weren’t a captain, I know how I would reply! Hey, is that State Trooper still outside? You can send him home. I promise I won’t talk to any reporters.”

“We will, after you see the Governor. It’s better optics, whatever that means,” Captain Crowley finished.

“He won’t be the only one, either. I have it on reliable authority that you’ll probably get somebody from the Alabama Highway Patrol over here to shake your hand and thank you. Don’t be surprised if they give you a medal, too. Something else to add to your dress uniform,” said Jefferson.

“Yes, sir.”

The next few days were hectic, or at least as hectic as they could be for a guy flat on his back in a hospital. Kelly helped me shave and clean up, and the doctors and nurses got me into some decent pajamas and hid the bandages as best they could. Sonny Perdue came by in the early afternoon, and Kelly was there, along with Chief Jefferson and my parents. Photos were taken and everybody sang my praises. I just said thank you and praised Grady and Matucket General and the EMTs and the nurses and the doctors and my fellow officers and anybody else I could think of. I had enough experience to know that maybe fifteen seconds might make it onto the air, probably of Sonny shaking my hand and looking like he had personally operated on me, right after he pulled me out of the line of fire. It was just sheer luck that I had killed the bad guys when he was about to do it himself.

And people wonder why nobody likes or trusts politicians.

My cousins, Dave and Jerry, were at Georgia State, and they dropped by Thursday night. Bobbie Joe drove back down Friday night after classes, which was about a seven-hour drive. He got home too late to see me, but he came over Saturday morning, along with my grandparents and Uncle Dave and Aunt Laurie. My parents also drove over, and everybody was there in time to see a couple of police officers come in wearing the uniforms of the Alabama State Troopers. One of them had the silver eagles of a Colonel and the other had the brass oak leaves of a Major. They introduced themselves as the head of the Alabama Department of Public Safety and the head of the Alabama Highway Patrol, and they both thanked me and shook my hand. Once I was well and out of the hospital, there would be a ceremony in Alabama, and I would get another award from them. Telling them ‘Thank you, but it’s not necessary’ would be pretty rude, so I simply said, ‘Thank you,’ and promised to be there as needed. They asked me some questions about the shooting and offered to make me an Alabama State Trooper if I ever decided to move to Alabama. I turned down the offer but thanked them anyway; it was always nice to be asked.

I managed to avoid any reporters, probably because by the time I was healthy enough to talk and I was cleared by the investigation, I was old news. The department issued a statement that I was healing but wouldn’t be able to return to duty for some time, and nobody cared. It ended up in the back of the Metro section of the Times-Dispatch, but Channel Nine ignored it completely. Fine by me. As I got better, I cracked open my books and started catching up in my classes. Kelly would assist in the evening, but my biggest headache was simply typing one-handed. My left arm was heavily bandaged, and I couldn’t really use it yet. I was told that after they got the bandages off, I would be able to start doing some physical therapy, and it should heal properly and get back into condition. That worried me, though, since if it didn’t get better my law enforcement career was over. Likewise, I still had a bunch of bandages and tubes in my left side from getting shot in the back. I couldn’t leave the hospital until they came out.

 
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