Got Your Six

Chapter 15

Calvin

All eyes are on me. At least, that's the way it feels as I walk into the community room of the funeral home. The place is packed full with family and people that knew Cameron at one point in their lives. I ignore the tables filled with various sandwiches and cookies and make a b-line towards Kayla who's sitting at a table on the edge of the room. She pulls out the chair next to her and I plop myself down in it, letting out a long sigh.
"I know everyone else has told you by now, but it really was a nice eulogy," she says with a comforting smile.
It's true, I've been told by at least fifteen people by now. I had to escape to the bathroom just to get a few seconds of silence. Brooke put everything together for today, with the help of my parents. We had a private burial early this morning and then made our way over to the funeral home to make sure everything was ready for the memorial. It was very nice, as everyone keeps saying, and most people even stayed for the food afterwards.
"Thanks," I try to give her a smile in return but it feels too forced. "I guess I should probably go around and socialize."
"I think it's okay for you to just take a minute," Kayla assures me but I stand up anyway, wanting to get it over with.
What I really want is to disappear into a hole for a few years until people stop looking at me with so much pity in their eyes. Instead, I stroll across the room until I find my Mom. Richie is sitting next to her, scarfing down a sandwich. My dad is sitting on the other side of her, making small talk with my Mom's sisters and my Grandma.
"Are you doing okay?" I whisper as I lean down to give my mother a hug.
"No," she says with watery eyes. "I'll make it though," she assures me with a smile too fake to fool anyone.
Mom's been an emotional wreck all day, but who can blame her. At least she's surrounded by people that love her, and who loved Cameron as well. I'm sure they're talking about all the good memories they shared with him.
I look over at Dad who gives me a reassuring nod, telling me he'll take care of her. I can't imagine he's holding it together any better than she is, I think he's just better at hiding it.
Grandma grabs my arm before I walk away and pulls me down for a hug. "That was a beautiful eulogy," she tells me. That makes sixteen.
I give her a little smile and then keep walking around the room. I pass by a few tables occupied by some people I don't recognize, probably high school friends of Cameron's. Brooke is standing next to the food tables in the front of the room, thanking everyone for coming as they grab something to eat.
"How are you holding up?" I ask as I approach her from behind.
She turns around and gives me a quick hug. "Better on the outside than the inside," she tells me quietly.
I like to think I'm the same way but I know that my emotions have seeped through to the outside on more than one occasion today. Brooke is definitely keeping it together better than I have been as of late.
"Have you gotten anything to eat?" Brooke asks me.
"No, I don't really have much of an appetite right now," I tell her.
"I know what you mean. I haven't eaten much of anything all day," she says and then turns to greet the next person in line.
It's a younger guy who looks to be around Cameron's age, dressed like he just came straight from an emo concert. He wears a baseball cap, tilted down in an attempt to cover his face. He completely ignores Brooke as she thanks him for coming. Then he grabs a sandwich, puts in on his plate, and walks away, all while keeping his head down.
"Did you know that guy?" I ask Brooke who looks just as confused as I am.
"No, maybe he went to high school with Cameron. I don't know much of his friends from high school. He hadn't talked to any of them in a long time," she informs me.
We both watch the guy weave through the tables with his plate until he finds an empty table in the back of the room and then he takes a seat.
"Weirdo," I mumble under my breath.
Brooke continues to welcome a few more people and thank them for coming. As I take a look down the line, I spot a familiar face.
"Captain," I say, walking down the line of people towards him.
I watch his head perk up as he looks around the room and then catches my gaze.
"Thanks for coming," I say while shaking his hand and inserting myself into the line next to him.
"Of course," he says. "I wouldn't have missed it. Cameron was a good kid." He pauses, as if taking a brief moment of silence just at the mere mention of his name. "That was a nice eulogy you gave."
Make that seventeen. I wonder if I'll make it to twenty by the time this day is over.
"Thanks. Hey, have you guys gotten any leads yet?" I ask.
I know I'm not part of the case, hell, I'm not even back to work yet, but I just can't help but ask. The second they catch that guy, I want to know about it.
"Unfortunately no," Captain Bennett says, taking a step forward in line. "Even though I'm not letting you work the case, you know I'll keep you updated if we get any closer."
"Okay, well thanks anyway. Do you have any idea when I can come back to work? Being stuck at home all day is sort of driving me crazy and I could really use something to take my mind off things," I tell him, hoping to get a positive response.
I haven't been getting much sleep over the past week. Although, I filled the time by working on my eulogy, making sure it sounded perfect before I had to present it in front of everyone. I need to get back to work. I need to feel like I'm doing something besides just waiting for Gavin to show his face and get himself arrested. We all know that's not going to happen on its own.
"Why don't you take another week off and then come back?" Captain suggests. "Just spend some more time with family. It really helps in times like this," he tells me, as if speaking from experience. As far as I know, he's never had to experience anything like this.
"All right," I say, knowing nothing I say will change his mind. It's not worth trying to convince him otherwise, especially not in this setting, in front of all these people.
We finally make it to the front of the line and Captain Bennett grabs a plate while Brooke thanks him for coming. Still not hungry, I slip out of the line and gaze across the rest of the room, looking for anyone else I might be able to converse with. In the back of the room, still sitting all by himself, I catch the guy with the baseball cap staring at me. He looks down at his plate as soon as our eyes meet and shoves another bite of his sandwich into his mouth. Maybe it's a police officer's intuition, or maybe it's just my paranoia, but something just seems off about that guy.
I walk back to my mother's table and crouch down next to her, pointing out the suspicious looking guy to her. "Do you know who that is?" I ask her quietly, trying not to alert anyone else at the table. She knew more of Cameron's high school friends than I did, so I figure if anyone might know, it'd be her.
She squints her eyes and looks across the room, then quickly looks away when the man locks eyes with her. "No, he doesn't look familiar," she admits. "Why does it matter?"
"It doesn't, I was just curious," I tell her.
The last thing I want is for her to start worrying, she's already having a rough day as it is. It's probably nothing anyway, just my paranoia, but I have to be sure.
The line at the food table is down to the last few people and Brooke is still standing at the entrance, alone. I swing past the end of the table and grab myself two of the mini water bottles, taking one to over to Brooke.
"You should drink something at least," I say as she takes the small bottle from my hand. I hold up the other one so she can see that I'm taking my own advice.
"Thanks," she says softly while twisting off the cap only to take a small sip and put it back on.
My eyes scan around the room again, only to make sure the ball cap guy is still at his table. I figure if I stay by the entrance I'll be able to catch him on his way out, if only to ask him how he knew my brother, assuming he did in fact know him. By the time my eyes reach his table, it's completely empty. My head swivels back and forth around the room, looking for where he might've gone.
"Are you good?" Brooke asks, noticing the way I'm looking around the room like some paranoid freak. I'm hoping no one else has noticed.
"Yeah," I mumble, making eye contact for half a second and then continuing to look around the room. I look past Brooke just in time to see the back of a baseball cap, rounding the corner into the lobby. "I'll be right back," I say before brushing past her and following the man into the lobby.
The ball cap man is pushing open the exit door by the time I enter the lobby, causing me to pick up the pace to catch up to him. I burst through the door and round the corner, nearly running into the back of him.
"Oh, sorry," I say reflexively.
The man turns around and opens his mouth to say something but closes it when he sees me staring back at him.
"Who are you?" I ask him, then decide I sound too much like a cop and decide to reword it. "I mean, how'd you know Cameron?"
"Huh?" The man says. Then, "Oh, uhh," trying to catch up to the conversation. "We uhh, went to high school together," he says nervously.
"Bullshit," I blurt out before I even have time to think about it.
"What?" The man says, looking around for anyone else but we're the only two outside. "I need to get going."
"Where you off to?" I ask, figuring I'm already too far into this, I might as well try to get the truth out of him.
"Just going home, man. Is there a problem?" He asks, taking a few steps backwards.
His facial expression lets me know he's nervous. It very well could be because there's some strange man interrogating him in the parking lot of a funeral home, but something tells me this guy is hiding something, and I intend to figure out what it is.
"There's no problem, I was just asking how you knew my brother, that's all," I tell him, matching his steps to keep a small distance between us.
"I told you, I went to high school with him. What's your problem? Just leave me alone," the man says and then turns to walk away.
I don't know exactly what it was, but it was like a switch flipped in my head and I lost control of my body. My hand reaches out and grabs the man's shoulder, turning him back around. Then I grab his black sweatshirt with both hands and shove him hard against the side of the funeral home.
"My problem is I don't fucking believe you and I want to know why you're here," I spit out, getting less than two inches from his face.
The man looks around nervously for someone to interfere but has no luck. For a moment, I expect him to scream for help but he remains quiet and stares at me with fearful eyes. I really hope I'm right about this guy, otherwise I'd just be assaulting a guy in the parking lot for no reason. I hope no one comes out to see this.
"Please, just let me go, man," the guy pleads.
"Tell me why? Why should I let you go? Where are you going? Why did you come here?" I ask him intensely. "Don't give me that, 'I went to high school with him' bullshit. You were eyeing me up the whole time you were in there, trying to avoid me, avoid everyone for that matter."
"I'll be in trouble if I don't get back soon," the guy tells me. Panic fills his voice and he looks as if he's on the verge of tears.
"What are you talking about? Who are you going to be in trouble with? Did someone send you here?" I ask, leaning back just a little but keeping a tight grip on him. I'm close, the last thing I need is for him to run now.
He doesn't say anything, he just nods his head up and down as he swallows nervously.
"Who sent you here?" I ask him. I wait a few seconds for a response but he remains quiet.
I quickly glance over to the front entrance to see if anyone is coming out. The coast is clear, good. The last thing I need is for someone to find us like this and then start questioning me. I can't let this guy slip away without getting something out of him.
"You tell me something I wanna hear and you can get outta here," I assure him. It's a half truth, really. It all depends on what he decides to tell me if I'll let him go yet or not.
The guy hesitates for a moment before regretfully mumbling the name, "Gavin."
"Gavin? Gavin sent you here?" I ask the man, tightening my grip as if this man suddenly turned into Gavin.
"Yes," he winces.
"Why?" I ask immediately.
"He just wanted me to scope it out," the man tells me, seemingly willing to say anything at this point just to gain his freedom.
"Why?" I ask again.
"I don't know, I really don't know," the man insists.
"Where is he?" I ask him, unwilling to take 'I don't know' as an answer for this question. "Where is Gavin hiding?"
"I can't tell you that, man," he says nervously. "He'd kill me."
"I'll make sure you go from here, straight to jail, and you'll stay there until you rot if you don't tell me," I say through tightly gritted teeth.
"At least I'd live longer," the man says, making it clear he doesn't intend to release any more information.
Maybe it's the paranoia again, or just the need to see Gavin behind bars, but something causes me to loosen my grip on the man to grab the pistol out of my waistband. "I wouldn't be too sure about that," I say, pushing the barrel of the gun into the man's abdomen. "Where the fuck is Gavin hiding?"
A single tear rolls down the man's check and I begin to wonder if I've taken it too far. What has become of me? I've never felt so violent in my life. Even taking down all the other criminals that I have in my time as an officer, I've never gone to such a dark place.
The man remains silent and I push my gun even harder into his stomach. "You tell me or I'll kill you myself," I say, shocking even myself with the words that just left my mouth.
"A safe house," the man says quietly. "He's hiding in an abandoned house at the end of Weaver Street."
There's something about the tone in his voice and the fear in his eyes that tells me he's not lying this time. I finally release him from my grip, take a step back, and watch as the young man scurries off to his car. His tires screech as he peels out of the parking lot within a matter of seconds. My eyes shift down to the pistol my hand is still clutching tightly. It may not have been the best way, nor the right way to handle things, but it got me the answers I needed. That's all that matters. Besides, no one got hurt, not this time anyway. Would it have been different if it had been Gavin standing in front of me? That's a question I'm not ready to face just yet. I slide the pistol back into its concealed holster in my waistband and let my shirt fall over it, hiding it from anyones view.
"Jenkins?" I turn around to see Captain Bennett standing next to the door, presumably ready to make his departure.