Guns And Roses

Chapter 16

Walker came back to the present with a rather abrupt jolt. Still seated upon his movable chair, it was like he’d just come from some distant land; re-entered some unhappy memory locked up in the recesses of his mind. Thornton was still authoritatively giving out orders to all the men of the force, though Walker knew now, that all efforts were supremely futile. Nothing he or anyone did as a Detective now, really mattered. Walker was sure he knew what had to be done. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt in his mind.

“Stop, Thornton,” he croaked meekly, but it was enough to get hold of Thornton’s attention. “What’s up Walker?” asked Thornton looking towards his friend; stifling a gasp, gazing at him with great concern. Walker’s face was extremely pale and had lost its usual firmness and authority to an alarming degree. His face had been drained of all its blood, to the extent that Walker seriously looked on the verge of being sick.

Thornton came close to him and put his hand on Walker’s shoulder to give him some support, for Walker barely looked alive to Shane. “You okay, man?” he whispered. Thornton was smart enough to not let his fellow colleagues and subordinates see their respected Senior Detective in such a pitiable and vulnerable position. That would just bring the morale of the entire team down.

Walker finally responded after repeated enquiries, asking for some water. Thornton knew that water wasn’t going to be enough at all. The Chief’s room was right beside Walker’s office, and awkwardly supporting him up, Thornton took him into Chief Rutt’s office.

 Rutt was sipping some tea, while simultaneously looking over a seemingly crucial piece of paperwork of some previous case. As he saw both men come in, he addressed Thornton, “Ah! Just the man I was looking for,” said Rutt taking another sip of his steaming cuppa. “Thornton, here in this paper you’ve outlined...” Mid-sentence, Rutt looked up and saw the condition in which his most prized detective had been brought in. Paler and more saddened than Rutt had ever seen him, Walker sat down on the comfy divan beside the Chief’s desk with Thornton’s assistance.

While Shane closed the door and shut the flaps looking in to the room from outside, Rutt quickly gave Walker a dash of brandy, which he always stored in his cabinet. Immediately, the Detective’s cheeks regained their colour and he felt somewhat more composed and in control of things. The wonders of alcohol, thought Thornton, looking at Walker expectantly. Both men waited patiently for Walker to talk about what had happened. Something obviously had occurred, which had caused Walker to look so shattered. You could bet your life it was dead serious.

When Walker finally spoke, he spoke with the air of his customary professionalism and vigour. But, what he said wasn’t an explanation. A pair of words would hopefully suffice, as he wasn’t going to go over what he’d just recollected. No way in hell.  

“Layne Munford,” he said, feeling good enough to stand up now, and he slowly paced the length of the room.

 Thornton took it like a bullet to the chest. “What the hell? That is not possible, Walker, and you know that better than anyone!” “I’m telling you man,” retorted Walker quickly, “it’s him.”

Thornton sat down on the floor, as if all hope in the world had been lost. He knew Layne from his days at Uni, and was very well familiar with what had happened on that fateful night. He was one of the few persons Walker had even told the incident to; Thornton had played a great role in helping Walker understand that it wasn’t his fault at all. It was just very harsh luck and a chain of unfortunate and unforeseen circumstances; nothing more, nothing less.

 Now seeing the conviction which Walker held in his eyes, Thornton knew that Walker was absolutely sure. Though how Layne had come back to life, was far beyond the understanding of a mind even as sharp as his.

Chief Rutt on the other hand, was familiar with the event, even though it had been hushed up in the press with great difficulty. Walker was honest, and had told him about the incident; the boost which made him completely determined and passionate to become a detective, avenging the death, or murder, of his close friend. 

Rutt knew that Walker wasn’t kidding around, but he did ask him about how he reached this conclusion. Walker knew that it had to be said or else Rutt wouldn’t be one hundred percent convinced. So painfully, he spilled out everything he’d thought about, and how it was the only thing that connected all the dots.

When Walker ended his lengthy narrative, Rutt sat down on his chair. He was quite disturbed now, having heard the exact manner in which Layne had supposedly died. Still, he had to keep his cool, for the sake of everyone involved, especially the victims.

“Well, gentlemen, this now ceases to be an investigation. As effective immediately, this is now a rescue operation. Walker, I presume that if you’ve told me this much, you have some vague idea of where our hostages are located?” asked Rutt leaning back on his chair.

“Not a vague idea, sir. I’m sure,” replied Walker with a sigh of something which definitely wasn’t relief. Walker felt he had known all along, but he’d just tried to delay himself from visiting that disastrous place again. Thornton was slightly surprised as to how Walker knew the destination which they would have to go to, but he didn’t doubt him for a second. “Well then, my man, where do we go from here?” asked Chief Rutt, now all ears.

Walker replied as he looked from the cabin’s open window towards the dreary sky. He turned around, and with the feeling that he would surely curse himself many years down the line, replied to the two men in the room, “Klamath River.”