Chapter 33

With a zombie-like click of the remote, Grady Benson turned up the volume on the TV. Did they really think he couldn’t hear them through the thin stucco walls? Or maybe they no longer cared. It was the same conversation, anyway-Lucy aggressively vilified him (faking Gulf War Syndrome) while Kyle did his best to defend him (members of the Dead Parents Society). But Kyle was no match for her, and she would eventually make him believe he got his way, when in reality, she was toying with him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he viewed Kyle hesitantly enter the living room. “Lucy and I are going to the GPD picnic. But we’re going to hit that new bar The Ostrich after, if you’re interested in meeting up. Might be fun … like the old days.”

Grady forced himself to peel his eyes away from the television. “I’m kind of engrossed in this show. But thanks for asking.”

“What are you watching? I thought the OJ trial took the weekends off,” Kyle made some charity conversation.

“It’s an investigative report on GNZ about a judge in North Carolina named Raymond Buford. He doesn’t believe in laws against drinking and driving, and recently let off a man named Craig Steele, who then mowed down an innocent family.”

Kyle predictably began to squirm-he believed in the concept of closure, and used it to rationalize the emotional pain of his parents’ death. Grady was convinced that the only thing closure would accomplish would be to build up the pain inside him. And when it eventually came out, and it would, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

But as expected, Kyle found his inner closure, and attempted to change the subject. He pointed at the reporter on the television. “I can’t stand that JP Warner-he’s such a phony.”

Grady disagreed. “I actually think he is the most brilliant journalist alive.”

Kyle looked surprised. “I remember you telling me that JP Warner was an insufferable glory-hound who was all about himself, and not the story.”

“I did say that when he arrogantly refused to cover the Simpson trial, thinking it was beneath him. But this recent investigation series on dirty judges has changed my mind. Maybe if more reports like this were done, many tragic accidents could be averted.”

He knew the mention of tragic accidents would get Kyle to leave him in peace. He’d rather numb the pain than find a cure for the disease. And it did. Grady didn’t even hear Kyle and Lucy leave for the evening, as he remained glued to the television.

He couldn’t get his mind off the investigative report-he envied reporters like Warner who could shed light on injustice, and in doing so, stop future tragedies. Wasn’t that what he and Kyle vowed to do-Batman and Robin?

Well past midnight, Kyle and Lucy returned home, stumbling drunk. They were singing a loud duet of the theme song from the television show Friends that was on top of the charts.

I’ll be there for you! I’ll be there for you!” they continued to belt out in loud, drunken voices, before tumbling to the floor.

Lucy laughed hysterically as she unsuccessfully tried to pick herself up off the ground. Her inebriated personality was friendlier, and spoke to Grady as if they were long lost friends. “Kyle was swerving all over the road,” she explained, placing her hands on an imaginary steering wheel, and continuing to laugh like a hyena.

Kyle joined her laughter. “I told Lucy I saw three lanes,” he stopped and looked at Lucy-who lay next to him on the floor-and they broke into giggles at their inside joke. “She told me to use the one in the middle.”

The domineering Lucy spoke over him, “Kyle got pulled over at the corner of Alma School and Ray Road.”

“Good thing it was one of our buddies from the force or I woulda been screwed. The rookies were the only ones on duty tonight because of the picnic, so what were they gonna do … arrest me?”

Grady’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “They knew you were drunk, but let you continue to drive?”

Lucy walked to Grady and patted him on the shoulder. “It’s okay-they were our friends-it was one of those wink wink things.” She tried to wink her left eye, but it more resembled a seizure.

Grady calmly walked to the phone and began to dial.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asked.

“I’m calling the police, I have to report this. I’m sorry, but you could have killed someone.”

“We are the police-we should arrest you for being a freeloader!” Lucy fired back. She had sobered enough to remember that she despised him.

She lunged at Grady. He responded by forcefully shoving her to the ground.

Kyle discovered the spine that had been missing since he found closure. But his punch was slow and telegraphed. Grady saw it all the way, blocked it with raised hands, then clutched Kyle by the throat and jammed him against the wall, shaking paintings of Arizona sunsets.

Kyle tried to squirm, to no avail. For months, Grady had lacked the energy to pick himself off the couch, but now suddenly had the strength of two men. He glared into Kyle’s eyes and felt a powerful chill throughout his being. He knew he was looking into the eyes of evil.

He let go of Kyle’s neck, and he fell to the ground in a heap beside his girlfriend. Grady quietly walked to his room and shut his door, leaving stunned looks on Lucy and Kyle’s faces.

He couldn’t shake the darkness he saw in Kyle-but he also saw the future with clarity-a future in which he’d have to be the one to stop Officer Kyle Jones.

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