Chapter 30
It was the last two hours of Jeff’s shift and he drove around the streets of Phoenix. It had been another slow but steady day.
There were some on the force who wanted every day to play out as a Die Hard movie, and they fancied themselves Bruce Willis. Then there were others who liked their days to be very boring and got irritated if they needed to pull over a speeder.
Jeff’s preference lay somewhere in-between. He liked his days to be busy so the time went quickly, maybe a little bit of excitement, but he certainly didn’t want to be shot at or run through cut glass à la Bruce Willis. However, the last week or two he had craved a little more action just to get the anxiety and anger out.
Today was different from any other day. Today, he’d also gotten served with divorce papers. It pissed him off but also made him want to curl in the fetal position, throw a childlike fit, and bawl his eyes out.
Whatever had set up shop in his heart was consuming him. His anger simmered, and he kept thinking about doing things he shouldn’t be doing, like smacking the shit out of this asshole he had just pulled over going ninety in a fifty-five speed zone in his fresh-off-the-lot, brand-spanking-new black BMW 7-Series. Jeff knew the car cost more than he made in a year, and its driver reeked of pretentiousness and arrogance. Frankly, he wanted to connect his fist to a few of those veneers and make the guy bleed.
Normally a big shot in a sleek, expensive car wouldn’t faze Jeff—he was comfortable with who he was, his station in life, and happy with what he had. However, today was a whole different story.
“C’mon, cut a guy a break.” The man smiled, the sun glinting off his veneers.
“Can’t do that, sir,” Jeff snarled, taking the man’s license. “When you’re going forty miles per hour over the speed limit, I can’t just let it slide.”
“Sure you can.”
Jeff said nothing and walked back to his car. He typed in the name on the license into the computer and shut his eyes for a moment to try to relax while he waited for the information to load up. The late afternoon was hot on this spring day, and a trickle of sweat ran down his back, making his irritation grow.
Evil.
His eyes flew open. That word had come out of nowhere, but it perfectly described what he felt was inside of him. He felt like his guts were being slowly chewed away by evil, and any goodness he had within him was disappearing, being consumed.
He took a deep breath and tried to clear his thoughts.
What in the world was wrong with him? Maybe he needed to up his visits to the department shrink.
Sara.
Whatever this thing was—this evil—had started shortly after she disappeared. It had to do with her, of that he was certain. He wished he knew what to do to make it stop. He just wanted to feel normal again, but he felt anything but normal. It was as though there was something larger than him, something more powerful than him at work.
Rubbing his face, he checked the computer. Mr. BMW didn’t have any outstanding warrants, which was kind of disappointing, as he would have loved nothing more than to throw some cuffs on the d-bag, rough him up a little bit, and toss him in the back of his cruiser.
Jeff walked back over to the car and handed Mr. BMW the ticket.
“I wish I could say thanks,” the guy joked.
Jeff just stared at him. He wondered if Mr. BMW could tell that Jeff was looking for a reason to shoot him. Yeah, he really wanted to kill this guy and yes, the thought repulsed him, but it didn’t worry him as much as it should.
So instead of thinking about how concerned he should be that he wanted to kill Mr. BMW, he punched him in the face.