Four

4

There was something wrong with tonight. Something in the atmosphere, Rick Sheldon thought to himself. He had been sheriff of this small Idaho town for almost twenty years and he had never felt the air like this before. Maybe all his younger religious years were finally paying off for him, Rick laughed at that. He had grown up in the Catholic Church, under strict guidelines for almost his entire childhood. He remembered the first time he had gone to confession even though it had happened almost forty years ago. He was eight years old and his day had come. His mother had been preparing him for this amazing occasion for almost a year and Rick was just ready to get it over with.

Rick had walked into the little confessional booth (They always reminded him of payphones for some reason) and sat down on his little seat. And the father spoke to him.

“Hello my son”

“Forgive me father,” he recited the words his mother had taught him flawlessly, “For I have sinned.”

The priest asked him what he had to confess. Rick was only eight but it seemed he had a list of things bigger than the room itself. First, he had stolen a piece of candy from the local supermarket when he was four. He had been holding his mother’s hand waiting in line and a piece of chocolate caught his eye, he sneakily grabbed it and stuffed in his pocket and ate it later at home in the bathroom, no one had even known, except for God of course according to the priest.

Second, when he was six his cousin George had come to visit one Saturday and his mother had given them both a Popsicle. Lemon Lime, Rick could still taste it on his tongue. Now George in his infinite wisdom thought he was the big dog of the two of them. He had devoured his own Popsicle before Rick had even got in three licks and demanded that Rick hand his delicious snack over. Rick refused of course and George knocked it out of his hand onto the dirty ground. Rick snapped his beloved iced treat was ruined; he clenched a fist and punched George in the nose. Rick felt the bone snap at the impact and blood immediately begin to flow down George’s face. He cried like a little baby, Rick’s butt had been sore for a week after.

There were countless little sins, and then last and certainly not least was the previous summer when Rick had peeked into the window of the Pederson’s and seen their sixteen year old daughter getting dressed. Rick admitted that he probably looked more then he should have but he didn’t stay for long. It seemed like hours that Rick sat in that little booth and when he was finished the priest told him that he was forgiven but to make sure that he never did any of that again. Rick had left that booth and gone on with life as any normal eight year old boy would and had visited that booth numerous times over the next ten years.

On his eighteenth birthday he turned his back on the church and went his own way. He joined the army luckily in a time of peace drank his way through his four year enlistment and found his way back to Idaho and joined the police academy. He graduated with honors thanks to his military training and began his career. And that’s when he met Megan. Megan’s grandparent’s William and Lorraine Bridgewater were the towns oldest resident’s. William’s great grandfather had founded the town one hundred years ago and was throwing a party in celebration of the occasion. Rick was working it, making sure that none of the old people got out of hand.

He had been walking through the Bridgewater’s enormous house chewing on an appetizer when he stumbled into an attractive young lady.

“Hey, watch where you going!” Rick yelled at her and when she turned around was immediately silent.

Standing before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. She was about 5’8” three or four inches shorter then he was. Long brown hair hung down to her shoulders, and green eyes peered up at him.

“I’m so sorry officer” she said batting her eyelashes, “I was just trying to find my grandfather.”

“Well then I must insist that you let me escort you to his location.” Rick said all tough and manly like.

“Oh I would be honored sir.” She said sarcastically, curtsy and all.

They walked around the party together, exchanging stories of where they had been and where they had come from. Megan’s parents had moved away at a young age embracing the city lifestyle over the small town atmosphere. Megan’s mom had been a nurse and her dad was a doctor who was very well practiced. One night they were on their way home from an awards banquet held in her father’s honor when their car was struck by a drunk driver, they were both killed instantly. Megan had been ten years old and she was devastated. Her grandparents took her in, well sort of, they paid for her to go to the best boarding school money could buy and after that they paid for her college. She was on her way to become a lawyer and she was here for summer break. Rick was in love instantly. They spent a lot of time with each other over that summer and Megan decided to give up law school and stay in town. They were married the following summer.

Rick had loved everything about the woman expect for her views of religion. Megan was raised in a Holy Roller church. She believed in spiritual gifts, speaking in tongues, the whole nine yards. Even after her parents died she made arrangements with the dean of the boarding school she attended so she could still go to church on Sundays and Wednesdays for bible study. Rick’s experience with religion as he called it had kind of numbed him by the time Megan came into his life.

“It’s not religion babe.” She had told him numerous times. “It’s something completely different it’s about being one on one with your creator and understanding what it means to really know him.” It went in one ear and out the other for over twenty years. One night they had gotten into a huge fight about God and love among other things. He had said some horrible things, she left storming out the door off to play with her God. She had gotten into her car and left in a hurry not paying attention to anything going on around her. At an intersection five miles from their house a dodge ram ran a red light and slammed into her car. Rick had rushed to the scene as soon as he heard the call on his radio.

She was lying on a stretcher barely alive. Internal bleeding, the paramedics told him, she wouldn’t survive the ride to the hospital. He bent down to the stretcher tears pouring from his eyes, the woman he loved lay their dying and she looked up at him, after all the nasty things he said with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Forgive me,” she said barely audible, she had done nothing wrong. “I love you, and so does He.” And then she died. Rick had lost it for almost a year, becoming friends with the bottle. He had nothing to live for anymore. He had thought of suicide but he was not selfish and couldn’t bring himself to do it. So he finally got over it and came back to work, he still hadn’t healed completely even though it had happened almost four years ago, and he still drank every night to numb the feelings.

Numb the feelings; he thought to himself, do I have any left to numb? And that’s when the door to his station flew open and the crying woman fell into his office blood pouring from an open wound on her arm.

“Rick, Rick,” she screamed, “Bobby Williams has lost it!”

“Calm down Sharon,” Rick tried to speak slow and mellow. Sharon had a reputation of making a bigger deal of things then they actually were. She owned the little Gas station on the corner of town which was a pretty steady money maker for the town. “What happened?”

She explained that she had just finished up closing the shop down, her boyfriend Otis was finishing up cleaning the repair shop up, and she was outside locking the door when she had spotted Bobby out of the corner of her eye. She had greeted him and asked what he needed thinking he was just making a last minute beer run when he had lunged at her. She had thrown her hand up to fend him off and he had bitten down on her forearm taking a chunk of flesh with him as she screamed and shoved him away from her. She hadn’t even thought about Otis and had started running towards the sheriff’s office.

“Okay Sharon, I’ll go take a look,” Rick told her, “Danny should be here in about ten minutes to relieve me you can wait here until he arrives. There is some gauze and tape in that cabinet over there.” Rick opened the top drawer of his desk and took out his 9mm that rested inside. He hated packing heat; he only took it when he knew it was absolutely necessary. Bobby had been known to be a difficult case. On more than one occasion he had spent a night in one of Rick’s many luxurious cells for being drunk and disorderly, but assault, that was new.

“I’ll be right back.” He assured her with a hand on her shoulder, “don’t go anywhere sit right here until Danny gets back.” Sharon nodded in agreement as she walked to the cabinet and retrieved the gauze. Rick opened the door and walked out into the night, nowhere near ready for what awaited him at the gas station.