All In a Bow - Epilogue
The midday sun finally broke through the cloud cover and he reached up and slid down his sunglasses which had been resting on top of his head. Ramirez signaled and merged the Tahoe onto I-37 South. Just as they had that fateful night, almost four years ago. His destination was not some isolated ranch house this time. It would be about an hour’s drive to Three Rivers so he opened the tray and slipped in the C.D.
Morrison had always liked Seger’s music. Swore that every song the man did spoke to him and that this one, Against the Wind, had been his favorite. He would play the whole disc but started with this song as a little tribute to him. Besides, the song and the entire disc had rubbed off on him a little.
He stayed in the middle lane and settled in with the traffic flow. Wyatt Allen had called him earlier, just after lunch, as a reminder of what day it was. Lieutenant Allen asked him again about needing somebody to ride along with but he declined, saying he wanted to make the trip alone.
Much had happened over the last three and a half years. Almost none of it good. Ugly, bitter times for everybody. He had no wish to rehash everything for an hour there and an hour back on a drive like the one he was about to have. Even with Wyatt, who he had the ultimate respect for.
In his mind though, Ramirez began to do exactly that, what he didn’t wish to do. He had no choice really. So, the video began to play, and the memories came flooding back.
The fallout of what happened with the chase and final confrontation with Landry Brandt and Carmen Flores had not been immediate, but it hadn’t really taken that long either. Internal Affairs opened an officer involved shooting case, led by a certain chief investigator named James Wagner.
Wagner and two of his bloodhounds had started by poking around in everyone’s personnel folders including Parker’s, as well as reviewing crime scene information, interviewing everyone involved and taking their statements.
The investigation centered around the fact that Carmen Flores at the top of those stairs had not been armed and the belief on the part of some that she presented no immediate danger to either Ramirez or Morrison, or the kidnapped girl up there with her.
The fact was, the twenty year old kidnap victim named Eden Marie VanDyke was already dead when Morrison had shot Flores. That looked and sounded simple on paper but that night, on those steps, Ramirez and Morrison were only sure of one thing. Time was short.
Hector shook his head slowly remembering how Morrison, stubborn as ever, had ignored everyone’s advice by not lawyering up. He didn’t deny, or try to dodge his conduct. In fact, neither he nor Ramirez had ever given one thought to staging the scene.
Morrison gave direct, straightforward statements that included both detectives not being able to discern if Flores had been telling the truth about already strangling VanDyke. He also stated that he had warned Flores multiple times to come down and she was impeding him from coming up the stairs to reach VanDyke.
Ramirez thought about the smug Wagner from I.A. and how he tried everything he could to break and ruin Morrison. When finished with Morrison, Wagner shifted his focus to pinning some sort of official misconduct charges on Wyatt Allen for appointing Morrison, without more vetting. He was successful there too. Allen took early retirement to save his pension.
Then the civil trial, when Morrison had no choice but to get a lawyer. Everything had been on the line including his freedom, his former law enforcement career and civilian reputation. Even his relationships with his ex-wife and estranged kids …all of it, was laundered in public. Morrison was screwed by an inexperienced lawyer and an unsympathetic jury.
All of this was capped off by the stroke Dan Morrison suffered one sunny afternoon sitting out in the yard. It surprised no one considering his age and the pressure he’d been under. Sure, it had been a minor stroke and he recovered, but it was still a stroke. Everybody knew, including him, that once you’ve had one, an internal timer is set for another. When it will go off is a surprise waiting to happen and it will almost assuredly be worse than the first.
Ramirez saw a sign go by saying 15 miles for his turnoff go by and then glanced at his eyes in the rearview mirror. The man looking back was someone he hardly recognized anymore. His eyes jerked away from the mirror but then floated reluctantly back.
The car drifted a little out of the lane and he realized it in time, reigning the Tahoe back in line smoothly. The car wasn’t the only thing drifting so he boxed up everything he was thinking about and stored it away for later. Like only cops can do.
It wouldn’t be long now.
When he saw the man walk around the corner of the brick and stone building, he knew it wasn’t him. The guy was too thin, his hair was too white, and he was walking with a slight but noticeable limp. He knew it couldn’t be Morrison, but Ramirez continued to study the man, and with every step closer, the awful truth sunk in.
Hector put on the best smile he could manage. Getting out of the car he waved at Morrison who was looking down, but then glanced up and grinned at Hector. He a quick hand up and waved back . It had been a hard 4 years for his partner.
When the gap was about ten yards, they both quickened their pace and when they finally hugged it was brief…but fierce.
“Hey pard. Long time, man. Too long.”
“Hey Hec.” Morrison pushed away grinning, then put his hands on both of Hector’s shoulders and shook him. “Jesus. Next time, why don’t you park in the same fuckin’ zip code as me? You still can’t drive worth a shit.”
“Didn’t know for sure which door they’d let you out of. Get in, you grouchy old fart.”
As both doors slammed shut, Hector looked over at his old partner. “Got some people who want to see you tomorrow night, Danny. I ain’t askin’ either. You’re coming. We rented out a small banquet hall, my uncle owns.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“Yup, 7 bells. Catered. The best damn Mexican food in San Antonio.”
“I’ll have to check my schedule with my personal secretary, Mitzi, but that’ll probably work. Now if you don’t mind can we get the fuck out of here before they change their mind? I’ve got this weird thing now about high fences and barbed wire.”
Ramirez started the car and smiled. “Sure, sure. Where to?”
“Anywhere that’s got booze and hot women…women that feel sorry for gimpy old men that have been rode hard and put away wet.”
“You sure about the booze? I mean, health wise and all…”
“I’m as sure about that, as I’ve ever been about anything.”
“How come you never wanted me to visit?”
Morrison pointed out the front windshield. “Onward, James. And, if I really gotta explain that to you, you’re not nearly as smart as I always said you were.”
Ramirez laughed out loud for the first time in years and put the car in drive.
Morrison is a straight-up good guy. At first I thought that he had died, either by his own hand or as a result of some medical condition. It was good to see he still had some of the old piss and vinegar left in him, even though a little worse for wear. I really enjoyed this series, Jim. Sad to see it end. I'll be waiting to see what you come up with next. Great job!
Wow. I don’t know what I expected to happen after the last episode, but this knocked the air out of me. I hate that these guys, especially Morrison, had to go through this. But it’s so real and has such gritty depth, it couldn’t be otherwise. Just a fantastic story, Jim. Masterfully done.