There was a car parked in front of Luke’s darkened house, unusual in that there was an ordinance prohibiting parking on the street at night. Bryan might have wondered why it was parked in that particular spot, since the street was otherwise empty and Luke did not appear to be home. Bryan might have noticed this, if he was in a mental state to notice anything.
Even though it seemed as if no one was home, Bryan got out and went to the front door anyway. He did so basically because he had nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. And no matter what happened, he was going to talk to Luke that night.
The doorbell went unanswered, so without a cell phone to call Luke and ask him to come home, Bryan stayed on the porch, sitting on the steps and occasionally getting up to pace. After a half hour, he wondered whether Luke might already know that he was there and, more important, why. Perhaps Julie had called him. Either way, there was nothing to do but wait, and he would wait as long as it took.
Bryan didn’t notice Chris Gallagher sitting in the driver’s seat of the car parked out front. There were no street lamps nearby, and the interior of the car was too dark to make anything out. But Chris had not taken his eyes off Bryan since his arrival.
Chris had spent that time formulating a plan. He knew from his online research that the man on the porch was Luke’s brother, Bryan. He seemed agitated, but that was not Chris’s concern, since it was highly unlikely that his distress had anything to do with Chris’s situation, or Steven’s death.
As he was trained to do, he weighed the merits of the plan in his mind, careful to keep it untainted by emotion. It seemed to Chris to be more than workable; it could provide cold justice to the cop who had killed Steven while, more important, giving Steven a posthumous exoneration.
He made one phone call, keeping the phone turned in such a way that Bryan could not see the light. The call was to a marine buddy, to ask for the favor that could make the plan workable.
It was a large favor, but it was granted, no questions asked, as Chris knew it would be.
Chris got out of his car, closing the door softly behind him, so that it was still ajar, but the light would not stay on. He approached the porch, and did it all so quietly that Bryan did not even realize he was there until he heard his voice.
“What time do you expect your brother?” Chris asked, though he knew that it was a question for which Bryan did not have an answer. Bryan would not have arrived when he did if he knew when Luke would get there. And he certainly would not have rung the doorbell, checking to see if Luke had been home.
Bryan felt a twinge of fear. He couldn’t make out Chris’s features in the darkness, but the voice was not familiar. Yet this man somehow knew that Luke was Bryan’s brother.
“Any minute,” Bryan said, annoyed with himself for using Luke for protection in that way. At that moment, with his anger at Luke so intense, he did not want to have to depend on him for anything.
“Really,” Chris said. It was not a question, but rather a statement that revealed, with some amusement, his certainty that Bryan was lying.
“Do I know you?” Bryan asked.
“You’re about to,” Chris said, and in one incredibly quick and silent movement glided forward and rammed an elbow into the side of Bryan’s head.
Bryan slumped to the ground, or would have had Chris not been there to catch him. He lifted Bryan as if he were a toy, put him over his shoulder, and carried him to his car. He looked around to see if he had been seen, though it wouldn’t have mattered much either way.
Chris drove away, with Bryan unconscious in the backseat. He took no particular satisfaction in what he had done. He and Luke were not yet even, not even close.
But they would be.
The phone woke me at five o’clock in the morning.
Cops are not like normal people when it comes to middle of the night phone calls. Most people experience a moment of panic, fearful that the hour of the call means that something bad has happened to someone they care about. And very often their fears are justified.
We cops are different in that we’re positive that something bad has happened; nobody calls a cop when they have good news. For example, I’ve never gotten a radio transmission or call urging me to head to a place where someone has reported reading a good book, or listening to pleasing music.
The other difference is that we don’t worry so much about the call when it comes, because it’s almost never about someone we care about, or even know. There’s no personal attachment to it; we care, and we’re sworn to protect, but it’s a job.
But caller ID this time told me that this was something different, and I instantly became just like every other person in this situation. It was my brother calling from home, so something had to be wrong with either him or Julie.
“Bryan?” I said when I picked up the phone.
“It’s not Bryan,” Julie said.
Even in just those three words I could hear the anxiety in her voice.
“Julie, what’s wrong?”
“Bryan’s gone, Luke. He left last night, and he hasn’t come back.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. We talked about our marriage. I said things I’ve needed to say … I’ve wanted to say … for a long time. I told him I needed time to think about our marriage.”
“Think about your marriage?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“Thinking about whether I wanted to stay in it,” she said. “God, Lucas … what the hell is the matter with me?”
“Take it easy, Julie.” What she had said opened up all kinds of questions, none of which I was willing to ask. Instead I focused on Bryan. “So he just stormed off?” I asked. “Did you try and call him?”
“He slammed the door so hard it broke the handle. He left his cell phone here, so I have no way to reach him. He didn’t go to your house?”
“No, I haven’t heard from him. He’s probably at a hotel, maybe in the city.” In a way I was actually a little relieved. The worry of the late night phone call was at least removed; wherever Bryan was, he and Julie were physically fine.
“Luke, I also told him some things I didn’t mean to say.” She paused while I cringed. “Things I shouldn’t have said.”
“Oh, shit. Julie.…” Alarm bells were going off in my head.
“I’m sorry, Luke. I know I promised.”
Julie and I had a brief affair, if you could call it that. I prefer to think of it as a moment of sexual weakness, even though that isn’t technically an accurate description, either. It happened six years ago, a month before she and Bryan were to be married, when he was expressing doubts about going through with the wedding.
So she was angry, and we were out commiserating, since I had recently had a breakup of my own. Not that my breakups were exactly news events; you could set your clock by them.
But what happened between Julie and me wasn’t revenge sex or even rebound sex. I wish it were, since that would have been the end of it. I was in love with Julie, I was before it happened, and I have been ever since. I also believed that she was in love with me.
We never talked about it again after that night, and until this phone call I thought we never would. But I learned a lesson; if you’re going to fall in love with someone, your sister-in-law is not a terrific idea. Unfortunately, I was never able to put that lesson to any good use, since Julie is my only sister-in-law. And it was too late to stop loving her.
“It’s OK, Julie. We’ll deal with it. I’m sure I’ll be hearing from him soon.”
“Please tell him to come home, Luke.”
“I’ve got a hunch that right about now advice from me isn’t going to carry the day.”
“Will you let me know if he calls you?” she asked.
“Of course.” Then, “Julie, why did you tell him?” She had to know it would be devastating and hurtful to him, which made it uncharacteristic for her to have said it. She was also breaking a promise to me in the process, which represented another surprise.
