Everything I Failed To Be

Chapter Eight


Time: 27 May 1999

Sharon pulled up at St. Joseph's to pick up her kids from school. Despite having been held up by Andy, she was a little early. Sitting in the quiet car, her eyes on the buildings beyond the large parking lot, she was unable to keep her mind from going back to her accidental meeting with Andy. It did not surprise her that he thought it necessary to caution her about her involvement with the Connolly family, but what he had said about witnesses going missing did increase her general sense of anxiety. On a rational level, she knew that the man Sean and his father had questioned a few days ago had not survived the ordeal, but to hear it mentioned in such a matter of fact way made it even more real, as if she needed that.

Ever since that night, she had been haunted by dreams about the faceless man. She saw his bruised and bloody body, heard him beg for help. Sometimes he accused her of being a coward, of having run away when she should have helped him. The worst nights were those when the man wasn't faceless, when she would look from the broken body into the familiar face of her husband. Those were the nights when she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep again. She would sit on the porch and stare into the night, wishing Jack would at least call to let them know he was okay. She would cry for him, for the faceless man and the guilt she felt over having failed him. She would shed tears for her children and for the sense of security they all had lost. With the break of dawn, she would wipe away her tears, put on a smile and start her day, never letting her children or anyone else see how much she was hurting and how close to breaking under the pressure she really was.

She could feel the darkness of guilt and fear close in on her once again. The car was suddenly too small, the air inside feeling too thick to breathe. Being idle was something she was trying hard to avoid these days, as it left her time to think, and with thinking always came the almost paralyzing sense of anxiety.

Unable to stand the quiet of the confined space any longer, she decided to step out and get some fresh air for a little while. Moving around would also give her a good opportunity to keep an eye out for whoever was following her. Over the last days she had spotted several different men keeping an eye on her wherever she went. They weren't amateurs and made it hard for her to identify them, but she knew what she was looking for, something most of them were not prepared for. Even when she had laid eyes on her tail, she never showed that she realized she was being followed. It was difficult to keep up the pretense when she felt her skin prickle with the sensation of being watched, when she was constantly aware of eyes and ears being on her at all hours.

As she walked across the parking lot towards the school grounds, she noticed several men sitting in their cars or standing around, but most of them appeared to be fathers, waiting to pick up their children. By the time she had made it to the path leading up to the church building, she had narrowed it down to two suspects, both of whom were wandering in the same direction. Pondering her next move, Sharon kept walking towards the large double doors, gravel crunching underneath her feet with every step.

She enjoyed the warmth of the afternoon sun on her skin, but something was pulling at her, a need she had not felt in a very long time, compelling her to enter the cold, dark building. Sharon had grown up in a Catholic family and had held on to her faith all her life. Whenever possible, she found the time to attend mass, feeling bad about not being more involved in the every day activities of her parish. And yet, it had been a while since she had last felt a true passion about it. She was unable to recall when she had last entered a church out of something other than habit and a sense of duty.

Finding an empty pew in the back, she sat down for a moment and allowed her mind to calm down and the constant chatter inside her head to quiet. Apart from the priest who occasionally walked back and forth in the front, silently going about his business, she was completely alone. It was a feeling she savored more than she thought possible, and for the first time in months she felt a sense of peace settle over her soul. Her eyes drifted over to the confessional on the other side of the church, and she thought that it might feel good to talk to someone about everything that was weighing her down. It usually left her feeling lighter and helped her sort through her problems and concerns. This time, however, it might not be wise, considering that someone had most likely followed her to the door and might enter the church at any time to find out what she was doing. If they overheard her talking about the things she had witnessed, she would not just put herself and her children in danger, but the priest as well. It would be selfish of her to risk that simply to alleviate her guilt.

Instead, she slid off the bench and kneeled, her hands folded in front of her and her head bent over them. She let her eyes close and reached out with her mind towards an open, loving ear. She placed her burdens in front of her and asked for help carrying them, for guidance and the wisdom to make the right choices for her children's sake. She prayed for the soul of the man whose murder she had witnessed and for the people who had loved him, and for forgiveness for her failure to prevent the murder and for lacking the courage to speak up, for risking other people's lives to protect her family and herself. Then she simply waited, listened into the silence, reflected on her actions and their consequences, considering all possible roads ahead of her.

It was the muted sound of hundreds of children leaving the adjacent school buildings, laughing, shouting, and chatting that drew her out of the restful quiet of her mind and back into reality several minutes later. Slowly rising to her feet, she walked out of the church, casting one last glance towards the altar. Her eyes were drawn to the wooden statue of the Virgin Mary, and they lingered on the serene expression with which she gazed upon her child. She had seen it countless times, but for some reason it touched something inside her heart this time. The burden she was carrying suddenly felt lighter. She still felt guilt, and fear, and helplessness, but somewhere in all of that chaos and madness was also hope. For what exactly, she didn't know, just as she had no idea what it all meant or how it would help her deal with the situation. All she knew was that it felt just a little bit better.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It was almost seven by the time they made it home. Ricky had mentioned that he needed new shoes for baseball, because his were getting too small and they were hurting his toes, so they had stopped on their way home to take care of that. To appease Emily, who had made sure they knew how much she disliked having to tag along, they had picked up pizza for dinner. It suited Sharon just fine that she wouldn't have to cook. She still had to deal with that enormous, never-ending pile of laundry, and at some point she should also clean the house. There was a time when she would vacuum clean at least every other day, because the dog hair bothered her too much. Lately, she was happy when she got around to it once a week. Her neglected household and the increased number of takeout dinners they were having were just more reason to feel guilty. When had her life started to get so complicated?

Having sent her kids to clean up before dinner, she checked all the doors and windows on the ground floor, before she walked upstairs to change out of her work clothes and figure out where the source of all the dog hair in her house was. Usually, he would already be waiting for them at the front door, excitedly wagging his tail at the prospect of someone taking him out and playing with him. That was, unless she had forgotten to close her bedroom door. The little pest loved nothing more than stretching out on her bed, enjoying the quiet and comfort just as much as herself. He also knew very well that he was not allowed to be there, which of course meant that he used every opportunity to sneak inside. Whenever she caught him, he would look up at her with this adorably guilty expression and tilted head. She could never really be angry with him, even if it meant washing the bedspread. That was most definitely something she did not want to do tonight, so she resolved to let him feel her displeasure this time.

When she stepped into her room, her eyes immediately landed on the large pile of brown fur curled up in the middle of her bed. Oscar was an enormous, ugly, but incredibly adorable brown mutt. They had found him five years ago, going through a dumpster close to Emily's ballet school, and her daughter had fallen in love with his big, brown eyes right away. He had been dirty and smelly, mud and small twigs caught in his fur. Reluctantly, she had agreed to take him to the vet, and somehow, she still wasn't entirely sure how, he had ended up going home with them and had become a part of their family. She liked to grumble about him, about the dirt he carried into the house, about his smell and the hair that was everywhere, about always ending up to be the one to take him for a walk, and about carrying mountains of dog food into the house once a month. And yet, this odd-looking little creature that she had named Oscar, because he had lived in a garbage can, had wormed his way into her heart.

Despite her unexpected fondness for him, she was highly irritated by his presence in her room. Sharon raised her voice and clapped her hands once to get his attention. "Oscar! Get out!" she yelled, frowning when he failed to move or even so much as twitch his ear. He could be incredibly stubborn, something that definitely made him fit into their family, she mused as she sat down on the edge of the bed to nudge him. For a brief moment, she thought how nice it would be to simply curl up next to him and fall asleep, but he needed to be walked and her children were waiting for her to eat dinner with them, not to mention all the chores that were still awaiting her. "Come on, buddy. Time to get up." Gently tugging one of his floppy ears the way he liked, before she let her hand slip to his neck to scratch him, she was startled when her fingers encountered something wet. Snatching her hand back, she gasped in surprise and jumped off the bed, quickly backing towards the door, her gaze on the blood that coated her hand, the other one clasped to her mouth to keep in the scream that wanted to escape.

It took a moment for her brain to kick back in. When it did, she noticed the sheet of paper that rested next to Oscar's body, and she reluctantly inched closer to the bed to look at it. Only seven words were scrawled on it in large, bold letters.

Imagine if this wasn't just your dog.

Her eyes widened in shock as she realized that someone had gotten into her locked home and murdered an innocent animal for no other reason than to send her a warning. What else would a person like that be capable of? Andy had been right when he said that these people didn't mess around, and they were clearly worried about her loyalty.

She stared at the note for a long moment as she wiped her trembling hands on her skirt in an attempt to get the blood off of them. The cruel words taunted her, standing out on the white paper, already burned into her mind. Her instincts told her to grab it, to hold it, in order to be sure that it was real. It was common sense and her training that kept her from picking it up to avoid getting her fingerprints on it.

They needed to leave. The house she had always thought of as her haven was no longer safe. Someone had gotten inside despite her precautions, and nothing would prevent them from doing it again, possibly when her children were home.

Sharon hurried over to the closet, ripped her soiled clothes off and replaced them with a pair of jeans and a sweater. Despite wanting nothing more than to get her children to safety, she decided that scaring them with her bloody clothes would not be a good idea. Once she was changed, she tore the small suitcase from the top shelf and started tossing items into it. She wouldn't take much, just enough for a couple of days, until they could figure out what to do. There was no time for more. She didn't think, simply dumped clothes inside before she moved on – first to Ricky's room, then Emily's and finally the bathroom, collecting more clothes and necessities until nothing else would fit inside anymore. Zipping it up, she only paused long enough to wash her hands before she dragged the luggage downstairs, already yelling at the kids to grab their school bags and get going.

Both of her kids started complaining at the same time, making her head spin even more.

"But Mom, we just got home," shouted Emily angrily.

"What about the pizza? We haven't even finished dinner?" whined Ricky around a mouth full of food.

Sharon dropped the suitcase in the kitchen, right next to the backdoor that lead into the garage. Ever since that night she had witnessed the murder, Sharon had taken to parking the car in the garage instead of the drive. The protection of the garage around her, when she got into and out of the house, gave her the illusion of safety, even if she knew that it was nothing more than that.

"I don't want you to argue with me. Get your things and let's go. Right now!" She knew that they would do what she said. They always did when she used that particular tone with them, because they had repeatedly experienced the consequences of not complying.

"We have to take Oscar, too. He can't stay here, Mom." Emily sounded scared as she got up to fetch her backpack. She knew that something was very wrong. Ricky seemed much less concerned. He had always been a little oblivious and more than happy to let others do the worrying while he had a good time. He took the schoolbag that his sister tossed at him and grabbed a slice of pizza on the way to the door, waiting for his mother and sister to join him before he opened it. It was something Sharon had drilled into them when she had first begun to grow suspicious of the mess her husband had gotten them into. Don't leave the house alone. Don't stand outside unless you have to. Stay together. Never walk anywhere alone. It went on and on, and Sharon hated that she had to ask her kids to be suspicious of everything and everyone. She had never wanted to be one of those mothers who saw evil behind every corner and every hedge, even if her first job made it easy. All that had changed when Jack had left them with an ominous warning and more problems than she had ever thought possible.

"I'm sorry, honey, but Oscar can't come with us. I'll get someone to take care of him," she tried to calm her daughter's worries. There was no way she was going to tell her the truth right at that moment, but she would not lie to her, either. Emily seemed doubtful, but she reluctantly moved to join her brother at the door and let Sharon usher them out into the garage and towards the car.

When they were all settled in the car with their luggage stowed away in the trunk, Sharon hesitated a moment before opening the garage door. Where should they go? The most logical answer would be the police. They had offered protection in exchange for her help. The problem was that she didn't trust them. Her issue was not with the investigating detectives. It was with all the other people that would see them there, with being among a large group of strangers.

There were very few options. She could drive to Santa Monica and ask Jack's brother if they could stay there for a while, but that would only serve to endanger him and his family, too. The same was true for her sister in Oregon, even if she felt awake enough to drive through the night to get there. Taking a plane to Boston to get to her parents was out of the question, both for financial and practical reasons. That really only left one option.

The slightly creased business card was still sitting inside the cup holder she seldom used for anything but storing little items she meant to take to the trash on her way inside. She had put it there earlier today, after she had run into Andy Flynn at the courthouse, still undecided about what she wanted to do with it. Picking it up, she stared at it for a moment, her gaze caressing the familiar name. Despite their past and despite all the unresolved feelings that might still linger between them, Andy was the only one in all of this she felt comfortable relying on. If there was one person whom she would entrust with her children's lives, it was Andy Flynn.

Hitting the remote to open the garage door, Sharon backed out of the drive and pointed her car towards the address on Andy's private business card. She kept an eye out for her shadow and spotted them following at a slight distance. Thankfully, the streets were still quite busy. The other cars provided some protection, as they would deter Connolly's goons from doing anything to them. At least that was her hope. She wouldn't be able to breathe easily until the moment they were safely inside Andy's house, if at all. In the meantime, her children had overcome their surprise about the unexpected departure from their home and started asking questions. She was not willing to tell them everything just yet, not while driving and being unable to comfort them, but she was at least able to reassure them that they were going somewhere safe.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

It wasn't exactly too late for visitors, but Andy Flynn was still surprised when someone rang his doorbell. By the sound of it, they were trying to aggravate him into punching them. "All right, all right, I heard you the first time," he yelled as he made his way to the door. He ripped it open and scowled at the person on the other side. The moment he realized who it was, his irritation vanished, making room for confusion and concern.

Sharon looked even more pale and drawn than she had earlier that day, if that was at all possible. Her eyes were wide and nervously darted towards the street several times, once again looking for an invisible threat, he thought. It was subtle, but he noticed how her body was angled slightly to shield her children from whomever she suspected to be out there. The girl looked spooked, her arms crossed in front of her, and her brown eyes bright with fear as she stood close to her mother. The boy on the other hand seemed to have a hard time keeping his disapproval of the situation to himself. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his face was all teenaged outrage. He stared at the floor, the unruly mop of dark hair falling over his eyes.

"Can we come in, please?" Her quiet, pleading words startled him out of his surprise, and he stepped to the side to make room for them to enter. Before he closed the door, he cast one more glance down his driveway to the street. There was an unfamiliar, dark blue Taurus parked at the curb, and he thought that he saw movement inside it, but it was too dark to be sure. With an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, Andy closed and locked the door and turned towards his guests.

They all stood in the small, brightly lit hallway for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. The light made it even easier for him to see the traces stress and fear had left on Sharon's face and in the way she held her body. He also took the chance to study her kids more closely. The boy looked a lot like his father with that pout and the sloppy posture of protest. He almost expected his mother to call him on it, but she was clearly too distracted to worry about that. He was tall for his age and his long, muscular limbs were very different from his father's more stocky build. Andy supposed that the boy took after Sharon's family in that regard. He had once met one of her brothers, a tall, athletic guy with too much brown hair and dark eyes.

The girl wasn't short, but she was tiny, even skinnier than her mother had been when he had first met her. From what he could see under that hideous school uniform, however, she was not just skin and bones; she seemed to have a lot of muscles. Andy wondered what kind of sport she was into, before he shook himself out of his musings, trying to decide how to move them all past the awkwardness.

Forcing the frown off his forehead, he let a little bit of the charm everyone accused him of spreading too liberally seep into his voice, even if he didn't really feel it. Not with the knowledge that someone was out there, trying to harm his unexpected guests. "Hi, I'm Andy. I used to work with your mom a long time ago, but I guess she told you that already."

The girl nodded, extending a shy hand in greeting. "Yes, she did. I'm Emily and that one," she pointed at her brother in a dismissive gesture, "is Ricky." It was clear from her tone that she would rather have crawled into a corner and ignored him, but her manners had won over her shyness. The same could not be said about Ricky. The boy glanced up for a mere second to acknowledge the older man, before he stared at his sneakers once again, his mumbled greeting barely audible. Andy met Sharon's gaze, shrugging at the lack of enthusiasm. He got it. The kid had no idea where he was and what was happening, but to admit to being scared was close to impossible for a boy his age.

"Hey kids, I'm sure your mom has rules about watching TV at this time, but she's out of her jurisdiction here. Why don't I show you to the living room and we check if there's something on TV that you'd be interested in." He started down the short hallway, motioning for them to follow and was relieved when, after a quick glance at their mother, they went without protest. Once the kids were settled, he would find out what exactly had happened.

Andy led Ricky and Emily into the large living room at the back of the house, telling them to make themselves comfortable on the big, black leather sofa. It was soft, with a high back and two very cozy corners to curl into. His ex-wife had hated it, because of its size and color. She had always complained that the monstrosity, as she liked to call it, took up most of the room and made it appear like a bachelor's pad. That was exactly what his living room looked like. The furniture was dark, and the shelves held nothing but a few books and videotapes, as well as the two photos he had of his kids. He always meant to decorate it some more, but there was really no point. He seldom had anyone over who minded. His partner surely didn't, and if his dates went further than dinner, he was not in the habit of bringing the lady in question into his house. As he thought about it, Andy realized that Sharon was the first woman to visit him in the two years he'd had this house. He just wished that it were under more pleasant circumstances.

After getting the children settled with the remote control, Andy discreetly checked the backdoor and living room windows to make sure they were properly closed. He also drew the curtains, so no one would be able to look inside. Then he turned to leave the teenagers to their movie and attend to their mother, who was watching him from the door. "Your mom and I will be in the kitchen to talk for a bit. Holler if you need anything, okay? I'll bring you something to drink in a moment," he tossed over his shoulder before he left the room, gesturing for Sharon to precede him.

"I'm so sorry for showing up like this, but I didn't know where else to go," she apologized once they made it into the large, airy kitchen. It was his favorite place in the house, designed for the family meals he had always wanted but never managed to host. His kids were not interested in spending time with him, so the whole house often felt too big and too quiet. That would probably not be the case tonight, he mused as he turned towards the sink.

"Don't worry about it. I told you that I'd be there for you and I meant it. Come on, let's make some tea and you can tell me what happened." He filled the kettle and put it on the stove. He busied himself with finding two cups and the herbal tea he had bought a while ago because an acquaintance from AA had recommended it for its calming effect. Deliberately taking his time, Andy waited for Sharon to speak, remembering that it was not a good idea to pressure her into opening up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift, her hands nervously fidgeting in front of her as she stared at the floor. He had never known Sharon Raydor to be insecure, but that was exactly how she seemed to him at that moment.

"They are following me. I thought I could handle it, but today someone broke into our house. I don't know how they got in. It was locked down when we left in the morning, and I didn't see any obvious signs of forced entry anywhere." She paused her quiet account of what had brought her to his door. Her tone was almost devoid of emotion, and she might have fooled anyone else, but Andy still knew her enough to be able to pick up on the very subtle tremor, the effort it took her to force the words out.

He had already suspected that Connolly had someone keep an eye on her, both from what they had come across during their investigation and from her behavior earlier that day. If he wanted to help her, he needed more information, however. Careful not to look at her and to keep his voice as neutral and non-threatening as possible, he prompted her to keep talking. "How do you know? Did they take anything?"

"No," she started, her voice breaking. "There was nothing out of place anywhere, except…" Once again, her voice gave out and she cleared it before she went on. "Our dog… Someone killed him and they left a note on my bed, right next to him."

He turned around to face her, shocked by her words, and aching for her when he saw the silent tears that ran down her cheeks. His first impulse was to close the short distance between them and wrap his arms around her, to hold her and allow her to cry on his shoulder, but they were not that close anymore. He didn't think that she would welcome that sort of closeness from him. A part of him wanted to hope that her showing up at his door meant something, that what they had shared so many years ago was not completely lost, but he realized that it wouldn't be that easy. They had made a choice, and they had lived with that choice for seventeen years. Life had changed them. To assume that they could pick up where they had left off was unrealistic.

Deciding that, for the moment, it would help both of them to focus on the facts, he picked up one of the steaming teacups from the counter behind him and passed it over to her. Their fingers touched when she took hold of the cup, and he let them linger for a short moment, trying to give as much comfort as such a small gesture could. "What did the note say?" Andy looked at her over the rim of his own cup, watching as she inhaled the fragrant steam and closed her eyes as she took the first careful sip, savoring the strong flavor.

Sharon's eyes remained closed as she lowered the cup and took a shaky breath. "Imagine if this wasn't just your dog," she whispered, before she slowly raised her gaze to meet his. She looked absolutely terrified, her eyes dark with fright and shining with the tears that kept falling. He had never seen her like this, so scared and helpless. He could only imagine what she must feel, having to trust someone else to help her protect her children.

He couldn't afford to linger on those thoughts, however. Someone was out there, intending to harm Sharon and her kids, and he would be damned if he let them. Telling Sharon to sit down at the kitchen table for a moment, he grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge, ignoring her disapproving look, and made his way into the living room. He put the cans on the glass surface of the small coffee table in front of the kids, picked up the phone from the cushion next to Ricky, and continued into his small office at the front of the house, directly opposite of the kitchen. While he dialed his partner's number, Andy opened the safe at the far wall and retrieved his spare gun and holster, and some ammunition. The phone held between his shoulder and ear, he loaded the weapon with practiced ease as he filled in a grumpy, barely awake Provenza on what had happened, making sure that a team would go to Sharon's house and secure whatever evidence they would be able to find. He also requested reinforcements to come to his place, because with Sharon being here, in his house, Connolly and his men would expect her to talk, and they would want to prevent that at all costs. There was only so much Andy could do on his own.

With Provenza's promise to set things in motion and to be there as soon as he could, Andy hung up and went back to the kitchen, picking up his own gun where he had left it in the drawer of the sideboard in the hallway. Sharon sat exactly where he had left her, the cup clutched between her hands as if holding on to it would help keep her afloat in this sea of chaos. Holding out his spare weapon for her to grab, he tilted his head, allowing a teasing note to slip into his voice. "You still know how to handle one of those?"

Sharon's lips curled slightly in that way that was supposed to tell him that he was being an idiot. "I can still outshoot you, if that's what you want to know," she drawled, taking the gun from him, checking the clip to see if it was loaded and clipping the holster to the waistband of her jeans, carefully arranging her sweater over it to hide it from view. It made him feel better to see that she had recovered her composure somewhat, her cheeks dry and her shoulders straightened once more.

Offering his hand, he was glad when she took it and allowed him to help her up from the bench and didn't pull away once she was on her feet in front of him. "Come on, let's see what kind of trouble your brood has gotten into," he suggested, gently tugging on her hand as he stepped towards the door. "We'll have to figure out sleeping arrangements, too. There are two guest rooms upstairs and you can sleep in my bed." He grinned when she stopped in her tracks and turned around to stare at him before he went on to clarify. "I'll be sleeping in the office. The couch in there folds out, and I'll feel better being close to the door, just in case."

Sharon nodded, placing her right hand on his chest, her eyes once more shining with fresh tears. "Thank you, Andy. I mean it. I truly appreciate everything you're doing for us." She looked over her shoulder into the living room where Ricky and Emily were engrossed in an action movie she probably would never let them watch before bedtime under normal circumstances.

With a soft sigh, she returned her gaze to him, the sadness in it causing the breath to catch in his throat. "How do I tell them that someone killed their dog, Andy?" Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper and it broke his heart to see her hurting so much. "He was just a dog. He never hurt anyone and they killed him. They killed..." The last word was lost in a sob when the iron grip she had on her emotions finally slipped. It was testament to the ordeal she must have been through recently that she allowed him to witness her break. She had never been a fan of being too emotional in front of people, even those she was close to.

Andy might have hesitated before, but as he watched Sharon crumble in front of him, he simply reached out and gently pulled her against his chest. His arms slipped around her carefully, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted to, before he tugged her closer, his hands stroking her back in slow, soothing circles. Her hands curled into his shirt, holding onto him with a death grip, her head resting against his shoulder. Her slight body trembled in his arms, almost soundless sobs shaking her for long moments. He had no idea what to do, except hold her for as long as she needed and promising her to help her fix the mess she was in. Andy was grateful that she even let him do that much, that she allowed him to comfort her, and that she felt safe enough with him to lean onto him. For the moment it had to be enough. They would figure out everything else in the coming days.

~TBC~