CHAPTER 22 : Saturday Morning Cat & Mouse

Still fueled by the bitter emotions stirred up in his dream and with the verses from the Bible to talk about, Cromwell has no intention of waiting until Monday to tear back into Gary. With the all-too-common lack of memories from the previous night, he stirs on his couch, still dressed in his suit from Thursday.

The daily bathing and changing of garments that most of society adheres to are trivial matters in the life of Cromwell.

He often opts out of changing ties or suit jackets. There are way too many murderers and criminals on the loose for him to waste such valuable time worrying about social etiquette or fashion. After emptying the large volume of liquid he still contained from Friday night, he splashes his face with cold water and slicks back his hair. Never one to spend too much time shaving, Cromwell’s face still isn’t able to produce a thick, solid beard, even at his current age. A quick shave around the mouth and chin a couple times a week is enough to pull off the clean-shaven look. He’ll worry about that before Monday, but he has more pressing issues now.

His stomach distracts him as he heads towards the front door. Though he knows his chances are slim, he checks the fridge anyway. There’s certainly no lack of condiments, but a half loaf of bread is the only item that would pass for actual “food” in his refrigerator. Ever crafty and resourceful, he reaches past the three partial bottles of ketchup and grabs the mayonnaise. After laying a quarter inch of it on one of his pieces of bread, he tops it off with another slice. Though perhaps not traditional or common, it’ll do the job for now, buying him a few hours before he needs to eat again. Either way, for the moment the problem is solved, and breakfast is served.

For Cromwell, the hunt is already on for today; all he needs to do is find his prey.

Having awoken hours before the detective, Gary and Ray are jogging around a local lake near Gary’s house. It’s been a while since Gary has taken the time do a full lap, but he’s glad for the exercise. Besides working on his “spiritual fitness” in the pen by spending long hours reading the Bible and praying, Ray also joined in on the physical fitness method of passing the time. Many an hour was spent doing sit-ups, pushups, or other simple workouts. Though Ray had never played any sports in school, he had always enjoyed running in gym class.

Obviously running long distances was not an option for him in prison, and there certainly was no change of scenery. Ray had wanted to keep fit once he was released, but he wanted to run regularly just for the sake of it. After so long of being so restricted, his entire adult life so far, Ray desired to eat up his freedom and love every minute of it.

The three mile trail around the lake was more than Ray could have imagined. The breeze, the trees, the ducks, the flowers, and the turtles periodically plopping off the logs into the water as the two passed by were all so simple, but yet so incredibly beautiful and valuable to Ray. Plus, the companionship of his only real friend, Gary, at his side made the time all the more enjoyable.

Having spent too many of his recent years as a “desk jockey” sitting in from of a computer screen, Gary’s physique lacked the definition that it once had in his younger years. Though it certainly wasn’t something that Gary would invest his time in by himself, to “work out” a bit with Ray was something that he considered to be a great investment of his time.

Though many people interacting with the one who killed their spouse, or the one whose spouse they had killed, would have a terribly awkward and difficult time, Ray and Gary’s interaction seems so natural and easy that no one would ever assume what was in their past.

It is peculiarities like this that drive Detective to probe further, and probe further he will. Cromwell knows that things aren’t always the way that they seem, and that too many have grown too comfortable living a lie. There certainly is a bottom to this, and Cromwell’s shovel is ready to keep digging.

Ray is more relaxed today, and remarkably slept incredibly well. He had figured that he would have been tossing and turning all night, having his subconscious plagued by visions of the detective, but there was no such occurrence. Even his stomach had settled down before he turned in to the night. Prior to that, Ray thought that the stress of the situation was giving him an ulcer.

Though Gary’s house is closer to Cromwell’s than Ray’s apartment, and though Gary is the target the Cromwell currently has in mind, the detective drives past Ray’s first anyways. Cromwell figures that the two are most likely together anyway, and it’s harder to tell if Gary is home, since he parks in his garage. Ray’s little, beat up, two door hatchback is hugging the curb outside his apartment.

No sign of Gary’s car anywhere around here.

Cromwell continues creeping on by as he scans the area with his sunglasses and thinks to himself. Either Gary is still solo today or he has already picked Ray up. He’ll know soon enough.

Cromwell turns east and again appreciates his sunglasses. The sunlight would be blinding to any man at this angle, but it’s even worse after you’ve been drinking. At the station a lot of the guys think Cromwell wears the glasses just to look tough since he’s such a skinny guy. If they saw him without them, they’d know why he always has them on, even late into the evening.

Over the years his drinking has been taking its toll on his body. The detective is becoming more than just an emotional shell of a man; he’s now dwindling down to a physical shell of a man too.

Cromwell is an empty black hole.

He’s already destroyed so much of who he was, it seems that there is nothing left to destroy but the body that he’s trapped in. No, they’re not just to look cool or tough; he wouldn’t be able to function without his sunglasses. Without the dark lenses blocking his eyes from those on the outside, they would see how dark he has really become, and most likely run in terror.

Were it not for his pride in his work, and his success in it too, there would be no beneficial distraction for the man, and nothing good that he could accomplish, much less get paid for.

Working with a room full of detectives doesn’t allow for many secrets, and most of his coworkers know that he is a drunkard, but even the best of detectives can sometimes only find the tip of the iceberg, without having a clue what lies beneath. As his actions in the interrogation room with Gary clearly testify, Cromwell is a very large bomb with a very short fuse. The only difference between him and the cold-blooded killers that he puts away may be that he hasn’t found the one responsible yet.

The rest of this scum he deals with may represent the man who killed his wife and child, but they are not the one. He is the one that keeps Cromwell pressing on.

He’s still out there, and justice still has not been served.

I don’t believe that even Cromwell understands what would happen if he ever found him. For now, he’s the unknown destination. The rest of these rats are just the unpleasant scenery along the way. Like dirty rungs of an old ladder, each criminal represents another step closer for Cromwell, so he presses on in the same direction. Gary is the next dirty rung to step on, and the detective has every intention of stomping on him. But first, he’s got to find him.

On the last leg of the jog the trail passes a small beach. Already hot and sweaty from the three mile jog behind them, Gary has an idea.

“Ray”, Gary lets out between short breaths, “Do you want to jump in for a quick swim?” Gary’s spontaneity was one of the characteristics that first attracted Julia to him. Though he hasn’t displayed much of that over the recent years, Gary couldn’t help but recall so many spur-of-the–moment ideas and adventures that he had enjoyed with wife.

“I can’t swim,” Ray replies, “But I’ll jump in!”

Before Gary can even react to his response, Ray has already veered left and is racing toward the beach. Caught off guard, and already winded, Gary doesn’t reach the beach until Ray already has his socks and shoes off, and is splashing around in waist deep water. After a few moments, Gary joins Ray in the lake, and embraces the refreshing coolness of the water.

Ray is beaming like a child who has just seen the ocean for the first time. This too is another simple pleasure of life that was prohibited for almost as long as Ray can remember. The bulk of Ray’s memories consist of the daily monotony of life in a cell.

There are so few “good” childhood memories from Ray’s upbringing, that he really doesn’t spend much time reminiscing.

All he knows for sure is that this feels good! Having never spent much time at pools or lakes as a kid, Ray is experimenting with his newfound almost weightlessness. Attempting to mimic Gary’s back-float, Ray looks more like a man baptizing himself and inhaling water with each attempt than a “swimmer.”

Just blocks away, Cromwell is still on the case. Such simple pleasures, though once forbidden for Ray, have become unappealing to the detective.

To the detective’s surprise, Gary’s car is out in the open driveway, rather than tucked away in the garage. Today may be easier than he thought. Cromwell studies the neighborhood and then the house as he pulls up and parks. Though the thought doesn’t occur to Cromwell, his sober curb parking is much more successful than his drunken attempt the other night.

Cautiously, Cromwell exits the vehicle and crosses the street. Too many of these thugs have caught him off guard before. He is now entering Gary’s home turf, and though it is necessary to do his job, it is still one of the least desirable aspects of his line of work. The interrogation rooms are so controlled. The suspects have nowhere to go, no weapons available, and no one to help them.

Like an ant under a magnifying glass, Cromwell only needs to focus the heat in a situation like that to break the suspect.

Here though, out in the open, there are too many variables. Too much is unknown, and too many things are possible. Here is where the real crimes are committed, and where mayhem and madness are at home. Hopefully, this will be an easy invitation back to the station. Suspects are rarely as cooperative as Mr. Swier has been, which might actually mean something worse.

Some of the most twisted and demented criminals that Cromwell has encountered in his years are the plainest, neatest, most polite individuals that you could ever meet. Once, a seriously disturbed man who committed a very long list of atrocities even confessed to Cromwell that his whole goal in appearance was to look as pleasant and normal as possible. Indeed, the man was the last one you’d pick out of a police lineup if you were playing “guess who’s guilty”.

Much like Cromwell, the heart of the man was hidden from view, and he had fooled many for a very long time. Though Gary was always pleasant in his interactions with the detective so far, Cromwell doesn’t seem to be able to differentiate between the real Gary and the Gary in his dream. The two are one in the same to the detective.

Perhaps he even got a better look at the real Gary through the dream.

The man is either a mastermind manipulator who had his wife killed and is now living a twisted lie under the guise of Christianity, or he is a simple and forgiving widower. Cromwell’s mind is already made up, for he has never been lead to investigate cases where there wasn’t a whole lot more to the story.

How or why he is lead in this way even he doesn’t know, but something pushes him, and he lets it. Now, he’s being pushed towards Gary, and he will keep him locked in his sights until this is over. The details still need to be worked out, but, as far as Cromwell is concerned, the game is over, the case is closed. He knocks on Gary’s door and attempts to peer through the blinds on the other side of the glass. After a few moments of carefully listening to the silence, Cromwell knocks again.

Back at the car the detective is mulling over possibilities in his head. Since Ray’s car was still at the apartment, Cromwell speculates that Gary is home, alone, and hiding. As he waits, agony returns to his stomach, and he has a tough choice to make. If he leaves to get something to eat, his prey will surely flee. If he stays, it’s a waiting game, and Gary must be more prepared to outlast him. Inside the house is food, water, and a bathroom; none of which are available to Cromwell at the moment. Cromwell is kicking himself for not stopping to grab something on the way. “If I had made two mayonnaise sandwiches, I’d never be in this predicament”, He thinks to himself, contemplating other ways he could have prevented this unfortunate situation.

If he had the energy and wasn’t in such pain, Cromwell would leave the car so that he would appear to be watching, and sneak off to the nearest gas station or store to grab something. Though he knows that stalking his prey requires energy and endurance, neither of which he’ll have much of without food, he still endures for as long as he can. As he floors it down the street to make it as quickly as possible, he never notices Gary and Ray walking up the wooded path across the street. Although the two can’t help to notice the unusual driving habits of the driver, they can’t be certain of the driver’s identity.

“Was that Detective Cromwell?” Rays asks Gary.

“I’m not sure,” Gary shrugs, “But it wouldn’t surprise me. Let’s go dry off”, he adds as they cross the street.

By the time the detective returns, the pair are gone. As he pulls up and parks, Cromwell screams “NO!!!” and punches the steering wheel repeatedly, reacting to the absence of Gary’s vehicle in the driveway. Punching the wheel causes the horn to blast, and an elderly man walking a Pomeranian in front of the next house up the block scowls at the detective.

Not knowing what Gary had actually been doing, or that Ray was with him, the detective quickly draws false conclusions based on his lack of information. As he walks to where the car had been, how irate he has become is obvious. Without enough evidence to push anything further, Cromwell is alone in his endeavor.

He can’t put out an APB or call in any assistance.

Like a laboratory mouse trapped in some cruel maze where the scientists keep moving the cheese, Cromwell is rapidly growing dangerously frustrated.

He races the twenty feet back to his car and speeds away. The timing of Gary’s disappearance is too much for the detective to take. He’s fleeing. That’s the only conclusion that makes sense. Now the question becomes whether he flees solo or takes Ray with him.

From what he knows about Gary so far, it’s a horse apiece. He’s obviously quite fond of Ray, and Ray has certainly come in handy for him before, but if Gary had really masterminded the death of his wife, then he’s incredibly intelligent and manipulative. In that case, Ray will be left alone to suffer anything that the detective can muster. Cromwell cuts through a gas station parking lot as a means of avoiding the red light and cars in front of him while he gnaws through the tough plastic that is wrapped around the block of cheddar he bought.

Since a liter of soda and a bag of chips weren’t going to provide enough nourishment for the detective, he had grabbed an eight ounce brick of medium cheddar in a hurried attempt to find some sustenance as quickly as possible while trying to avoid losing his prey. Though Gary has escaped for the moment, the cheese is a pleasing treat. Cromwell enjoys another bite as he turns on the road that runs past Ray’s apartment.

All appears to be the same at Ray’s, and there is no answer on his door either. A sunken, defeated feeling engulfs Cromwell. The airport and bus stations seem to be such long shots, but they are the only options that make sense to the detective.

“They’ve left, both of them”, is the haunting thought that’s on replay in his mind.

The way Cromwell figures, Gary is a driver, so the likelihood that he would leave town via some other means is slim. Mexico is probably the destination. Running south out of town on the highway that leads to the interstate begins to appeal to the detective more than checking the airport. If Cromwell’s attempted stakeout had prompted Gary’s flight, then this escape may not have been premeditated. Gary may have wasted some time grabbing supplies at a grocery store and gassing up before attempting to leave town, so even though he had a head start, Cromwell could still catch him. Plane tickets take time, so the road it is!

While Cromwell labors away working himself up and keeping the oil barons in charge by frantically racing around town, Gary and Ray are enjoying a much different pace to their weekend.

Gary had changed quickly after the late-morning swim, but Ray is still damp. The pair spend some time spontaneously shopping for a dry outfit, and then enjoy a quick lunch provided by a local street vendor. The food is incredible and tastes like something that would cost four times as much at a “real” restaurant. After finishing their lunch at a park nearby, Gary and Ray walk and talk for a while.

Gary is still concerned about Ray’s perspective, despite his better countenance and demeanor today, even after a possible Cromwell sighting. As Gary speaks of eternal things, Ray listens and contemplates. Soon, they pass by a local Christian book store. They decide to stop in and look for a wholesome and encouraging movie to enjoy after their early dinner.

The movie winds up being very edifying, and perhaps exactly what they needed at the moment. They enjoy both their dinner and movie before Gary drops Ray back off at his apartment. Both are turning in a little early for the night, because tomorrow is Sunday.

Upon returning home, Gary begins to pray.

“Lord, thanks for this wonderful day, and for the relationship that You have blessed me and Ray with. What a powerful testimony to Your power and excellent example of forgiveness our friendship is. Despite the difficulties that it is bringing, I thank you that even the local detective Mr. Cromwell is confused by it. Father, help Timothy Cromwell to see who You really are, and His need for You. It must be so difficult to see one’s own sin when all you deal with is murderers and rapists and such, so Lord please convict him.”

“Revive and amplify his conscience, Father, and give him no rest from his sin. Help it to constantly pester him and eventually drive to the cross of Jesus Christ, the only one who can make him clean. Thanks so much for the opportunities already to speak to Timothy, and help me to be faithful and appropriate in all that I will say to him the next time we meet. Let me never be ashamed of You or Your truth, and empower me by Your Holy Spirit. Father, I ask that You bless Ray as well, and help him to continue to feast upon Your Word and renew his mind by meditating on what he reads…”

As Gary is still praying, over at Ray’s apartment Ray has just finished washing up for the night. Rather than heading straight to bed, he sits upon the sofa and picks up his Bible. Unbeknownst to Gary, the very prayer he is now praying for Ray is already being answered.

While those two are peacefully settling in for the night in spiritually beneficial manners, Cromwell is still racing. The interstate had been a bust, as was the airport and the bus stations. Since the second he let Gary out of his sight this morning it has been a desperate cat and mouse game, which has proved most unprofitable.

Both Gary and Ray wind up turning in for the night before Cromwell passes by for a final check this evening, so all appears to be the same. Gary’s car is still not in the driveway and Ray’s is still on the street. Both places are dark with no sign of lights or inhabitants, so the detective assumes that they are empty. Though he hopes to get another chance, he fears the worse.

There was once, several years ago, when he let one get away.

Though no one else could be sure, Cromwell’s mind was made up, he had the right man. A young girl had been hit while riding her bike late at night. The impact had proved fatal for her, but the driver had apparently never even stopped. For some reason, an elderly neighbor was the one who Cromwell had locked his sights on. The case had already grown cold by then, and there was an unfortunate lack of interest by some by the time the detective had sensed something.

Rather than immediately seizing the opportunity and investigating, Cromwell followed orders and finished the case that he was actively already working on first. By the time the detective sought the elderly suspect out for questioning later that week, he had already died. Though an escape by death may not seem to be too successful, to Cromwell it loomed over his career as a giant failure, forever tarnishing his previously spotless record of “getting his man”.

He had vowed to never, ever let anything like that ever happen again, and passionately obeyed whatever promptings he received in a much timelier manner from then on.

Until now, there had been no further mishaps.

Cromwell’s life had been consumed with his work. His personal life was nonexistent, consisting mostly of drinking and passing out, so he’s beginning to feel like he’s losing it, like he’s past his prime. The thought of becoming a failure at work too is more than he’s willing to contemplate, so he’s done thinking for the day. Enough of this mind! Coherent thoughts are now the new enemy!

Multiple bars line the roads between Cromwell’s and Ray’s, so the detective has his pick. Tonight, he chooses the one he’s least likely to have offended anyone at lately. A sane choice in general anyway, but tonight the detective is being especially cautious due to his nerve-racking day. The last thing he needs is for someone else to tick him off.

This Bomb has been doing enough ticking on his own.

THE END OF CHAPTER 22

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LOVE LIKE HIS : Chapter 22 - SATURDAY MORNING CAT & MOUSE - An Original Story by @papa-pepper