Welcome Nerdettelove to the fold. Its great to have you here. I'm glad that you Like the story so far and that it peeks your interest. Be forewarned. I told everyone that there is plenty of twists left in the story and this is just one of them. So, You are not allowed to kill me today or tomorrow.
Thank you Random for the review. I love it when you guys share things with me even if it doesn't change the story. I like knowing where everyone's thoughts are going as they follow along with the story.
Kezz, no worries about reviews or me finishing the story. It's only a matter of revising and editing chapters. Basically they are all written. I swore before I even started this story I would not start posting unless it came to a conclusion.
And just so you know comments about the story doesn't mean anyone is off base. As soon as time permits I'll be working on interviews with characters from the story. That should be interesting.
Thank you Storypainter and Batgirl for your ability to beta and help me clean up every chapter. You're awsome (see i used the right word here). lol.
CHAPTER 21: Ultimatum
I walk through the doors at the court house and find my way to the district Attorney's office. I'm not really sure if I even care about a new lead in my dad's shooting. I just want my father back the way he was before all this started, or at least, able to remember who I am, if nothing else. I feel like this is a waste of time and I'm not sure I will share what they have to say today with Charlie.
The fact is, I'm pretty pissed off about being here. I just want to get on with my life and let Charlie live his life as best he can.
I approach the desk and am greeted by a lovely woman who introduces herself as Gianna. She speaks with a foreign accent that I can't place, since I haven't been anywhere other than Washington. She takes my name and informs me that Mr. Jenks will be with me in a few minutes.
Thirty minutes later a man in his late forties or early fifties steps out from the office door. He is a heavy set man but I wouldn't call him fat. His hair is thinning lightly on top and his hair is graying at the temples. The sleeves to his shirt are rolled from the cuff to just below his elbows. His tie hangs loosely around his neck. He looks at me then at Gianna.
"Miss Swan?" he asks me and I nod. He waves me in and returns back through his office door. I stand and straighten my skirt, before I follow him. He's seated by the time I enter.
"Thank you, Miss Swan, for coming in. I'm sorry if our meeting has in anyway disrupted your schedule. Please have a seat," he says formally, not even offering his hand for me to shake. I sit in the chair that he pointed out, mentally preparing myself for what is about to be said.
"You're welcome, Mr. Jenks." I pull my hair over my shoulder wishing I had pulled it into a pony tail instead. "So..."
"So...Yes...I assume you understand why you were summoned to my office." He's looking between me and the papers he has on his desk in front of him.
"I guess because there's been a new lead in the case regarding my father, Charlie Swan." I hope I explained that right. Because right now my mouth feels like sandpaper and I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to get my hopes up, again. Mr. Jenks sits back in his chair, letting his shoulders drop ever so slightly, looking at me with disbelief.
"Is that all they told you, Miss Swan?" he asks with a heavy sigh.
"Well, to be honest, Mr. Jenks, that's all I really remember of the conversation. They may have said more, but I really wasn't processing anything after they said they found another lead. It's been almost three years." I'm nervously watching my hands as I wring them over and over. I really don't want to go through this again.
"Well, let me clear up some things for you, young lady. One, yes, we have a new lead; two, its more than that; and three, I hope you or your father are ready to go to court and testify on behave of your family." My head jerks up and I take a long hard look at Mr. Jenks. He has my attention so he better not waste my time.
"I don't think I understand the situation then, Mr. Jenks." How much of the conversation did I miss Friday night? My thoughts were stuck on 'new lead', not court or testifying.
"Miss Swan." Mr. Jenks leans above his desk, his arms resting atop it, his hands folded together. "We have had an arrest to a different crime. The same gun used in the case is the same gun used in the attempted murder of your father. I'm not sure we can directly connect him with the attempted murder of your father, though I do believe it to be the same person. We cannot directly link him unless your father can testify, and from what I understand, there might be a problem with that. That's if I have my facts straight. Do I have my facts straight, Miss Swan?"
There is no way that Charlie could ever testify. He would get everything confused or worse; he could help get the person off.
"It's not that he wouldn't know, Mr. Jenks. He would. He just can't keep things straight in his mind and that would probably hurt more than help in the long run." The room is so silent it's loud, almost too loud.
"Miss Swan." Mr. Jenks leans closer. "Do you think your father would know him? I mean even if he is unable to testify. Would he know?"
I swallow really hard.
"I can't be for certain. I know how scrambled Charlie's mind is. He doesn't even comprehend that I'm his daughter, but it's all there...somewhere in his head, Mr. Jenks." Do I even believe that myself? I have to conclude that I do because it comes out of my mouth. I still hold out hope that maybe...I can't even be honest with myself and finish that thought.
"Miss Swan, I am one hundred percent sure that the man we have in custody is guilty of the crimes he is charged with. I'm also one hundred percent sure that he is the one that tried to murder your father! Do you even realize how much satisfaction I would find in prosecuting this person, knowing he was guilty of the attempted murder of a police officer, even if said police officer can't testify on his own behalf?"
"If you're not prosecuting this person for the, as you say, attempted murder of my father, why do you need us?" My eyebrows furrow and I know I have a confused look on my face because I don't get what this new crime has to do with my father other than it appears to be the same gun.
"Well, honestly, Miss Swan, I'm still building a case and I was hoping that maybe the information I have about your father was wrong. I'm hoping that during a lineup, he might recognize said criminal." Mr. Jenks looks down at his desk for a minute before looking back at me.
"If your father is able to identify his shooter...I...it...If your father identifies the shooter and it is the person that we have in custody, we might be able to link him to at least four other murders."
"What!" I don't worry how loud my voice is. "You want to use my father to link this person to four other murders? After everything he's been through and how it's affected him?" I'm standing with my hands on the front edge of his desk yelling at him, in total disbelief, that he can assume to use my father in such a manner.
"Miss Swan, I really don't need you on board to do this. I would rather have you on board but I can get a court order...even with your father's health issues." Mr. Jenks stands up, looking down at me, but he doesn't yell. In fact, he turns cold. He's not joking or trying to protect me. I can see he believes every word that just came out of his mouth and I'm livid.
He grabs a folder from somewhere off his desk and starts dropping pictures on the desk. His focus drifts from me to the photos as he drops them, one by one, in front of me. I look at them involuntarily.
"Bree Williams, 45 years old… Douglas Tanner, 34 years old… Riley Tread, 23 years old." He continues dropping pictures on the desk. There are several different people, different angles, different locations, but all the same image. I don't hear the name or age when he says the last one aloud.
I feel the color run from my face and I have to sit down. I close my eyes when he covers the pictures with a folder. It doesn't help because I can still see the images in my head. I'll comply with what he wants. I don't like it, in fact I hate it, but I have to remember who Charlie was and is, and what he has stood for his whole life. He would want to help. I think I'm going to be sick.
"If you're going to do this no matter what I say, why did you even bother to ask me to come here?" I ask, opening my eyes to look at him.
"Because I want this man put away for as long as humanly or non-humanly possible. I want this monster off the streets for the rest of his life, longer if I can get it."
"What do you need me to do, other than talk to Charlie about this?" Mr. Jenks relaxes in his seat.
"Miss Swan, I've done my homework. I've thought long and hard about this. The only thing I need you to do is be there. I have a psychiatrist that is new to the area that will talk to him. He knows that there are issues but he doesn't know what they are. I need you there as Charlie's representative, Miss Swan, that's it."
"You know this isn't going to be easy on Charlie, or myself. You understand that, right?" My voice raises on the last sentence. He has to know what he is getting us into and I really don't believe he knows anything atbout what's is going to happen.
"I've already made arrangements for myself and the court appointed psychiatrist to see Charlie on Wednesday. If he's agreeable, I want him to participate in a line up at the jail to see if, and I know it's a big if, he recognizes anyone in the lineup. Miss Swan, if he can identify this person as the person that shot him-this man will never and I mean never-see the light of day again," Mr. Jenks tries to assure me but it doesn't work.
"But he won't be able to testify. Why do you have to get him all wound up about something that is so messed up in his head?"I want to know what Mr. Jenks' reason is but he doesn't answer the question,
After my meeting with Mr. Jenks I make an appointment with my old therapist. I haven't been there in over a year, but I need someone to talk to and work things out with that is objective. I'm not sure who I'm trying to protect, Charlie or myself.
I don't want to get Charlie's hopes up because I know that it will only lead to frustration for me. I have no idea how Charlie is going to react. Currently, he is unpredictable at best. I can be honest and tell him what's going on and he could react in so many different ways. He could be impassive or he could get violent. He might think it's funny or he can panic. You never know how Charlie is going to take something like this and after talking with my therapist, she agrees.
The only conclusion I come to is that I will keep things to myself for the time being. If I feel the need to tell Charlie and the opportunity arises, I might tell him but maybe it's for the best if I let the DA and his psychologist tell him. I decide that it's for the best if I let them tell him the news. If Charlie was in his right mind I wouldn't have to worry about it.
Monday afternoon I need a distraction after I return home for the day. I feel restless and anxious. I need to get out of my own head and the only thing I know that will do that is the bag sitting in my closet that hasn't seen the light of day in months.
It isn't snowing yet but the leaves are past their peak. The richness of fall in all its glory has already past. The branches are in full view as the trees prepare themselves for the winter ahead. The grass is no longer the rich green that you associate with living in Washington. Dried leaves litter the ground creating a blanket of dull color across the open space before me.
I pull the collar of my jacket tighter around my neck as I lean forward, looking at a patch of dried leaves that sparkle from the sunlight in the midst of shadows from the trees above them. Click, click, click.
Joggers no longer wear shorts and t-shirts as they did during the height of a humid summer. Sweatpants and zip-up sweatshirts keep their bodies warm while knit beanies hide the color of their hair and keep their heads warm. Gloves cover their fingers but I doubt it's enough to stave off the chill. Soon enough, gloves and hats will have to be thicker to keep the children warm instead of the warmth from running to keep warm. Click, click, click.
It's harder to tell who each child is on the playground. Heavier jackets with hats and gloves keep them warm as they climb on the metal framed playground only to sit on cold plastic to slide to the ground. Tuffs of hair sticking out from under the hats are my only clue. Click, click, click.
Ice coolers and grills are now replaced by thermoses of hot liquid and a whole day at the park is replaced by an hour before a person or group wanders from the park seeking the warmth of their homes. Click, click, click.
The constant chatter of squirrels and birds is slowly being replaced with silence for the oncoming season. The squirrels are busy storing food, and the birds that don't stay year round gather in flocks and float on the air down the coast line, further and further away until they reach their winter homes. Click, click, click.
The landscape has is changing and you can almost see children bundled up in snow pants and jackets pulling sleds up the hill to where I sit, ready to fly down it to the fields below. I can almost hear their screams and laugh as I watch. It will come sooner than I want it to.
I can see that life at the park is starting to go on and causing me to look at my own life. Even though an awful thing has happened here not that long ago people, especially children, don't let it control their lives. As the almost tragedy moves further and further into the past, life returns.
To have the joy of living return to my life like what I see through the lens of my camera, would be a dream come true. I'm not that much older than some of the children that come to the park. Had the child-like innocence I had a few years ago been replaced by fear because of what happened to Charlie or is it hiding below the surface?
Am I jealous that it is so easy, or looks so easy, for children to move beyond something tragic? Or is that a product of growing up? Do I have to be a product of growing up? Is the joy of living the cost of becoming an adult? Maybe it's a decision that you have to make at some point in your life, to hold onto innocence. Can I...Do I...Should I try to make that decision?
Have I become, or have I chosen to become jaded at twenty-five years old?
I sit back in my seat, looking at the life surrounding me with a heavy sigh.
I have to admit, it's more than my father being shot that's made me so jaded. It's more than trusting someone with my heart who's untrustworthy, who finished knocking me off the cliff when I was on wobbly legs.
Yes, the thing with my father definitely tossed my world for a loop, but I hadn't completely retreated into myself until Mike left me with a broken heart for someone else.
Yes, I'm upset about my dad. I was afraid he was going to die, but he didn't. But did I still have faith? That's a hell of a question. Yes. If I hadn't had faith then, I would have given up when his heart stopped beating, but I didn't. I would have never recovered from Mike, and I wouldn't be sitting here right now, if I didn't.
How was I after Mike left me for another woman? I was hurt and wounded. What hurt the most, I guess, was the fact that I no longer had my dad to talk to. I was the parent now and he was the child and once he recovered, he wasn't the same. He doesn't remember me.
If those two events hadn't happened so close together, would I be in the same place I am now? If they had happened in reverse order, would I be in the same place now? I'll never know.
I look back through the lens towards the playground. It's the only place where people currently are. I've been so deep in thought about everything that I didn't notice the change-over of people in the park.
School must have let out because the playground is full. I've never been here during the week so I really don't know what to expect. But I can't take my eyes off the children. I can hear their laughter from where I sit.
The sound is sweet and innocent. It pulls at me and makes me focus. Click, click, click. I let my deep thoughts leave as I watch the children play. I focus on their interaction. I watch as they chase and play. I watch until my lens freezes on a pair of blue eyes. Even though I can't see her hair, I don't have to, because I recognize Alice's petite face.
God I love telescopic lenses.
She's is standing above the slide with a distant look on her face. Time doesn't seem to mean anything as I watch. Just as I'm beginning to become concerned, her eyes change again and seem to focus in my direction or more accurately on me.
She blinks and then smiles. It's not a big smile and I have no idea what it means.
The hair on the back of my neck tingles. Click, click click.
Did she just wave at me?
The competitive, energetic, bigger in life than size woman has been captured by my camera again. Another side of Alice Cullen-it's as if she knows I'm here.
Between the tingling sensation on my neck and the possibility that Alice knows I'm here, I'm kind of freaked out.
I've been so focused on revising chapters to keep a regular posting schedule that I don't have any rec's right now for everyone. I'm sorry but I thought you guys would appreciate regular updates. So until I get a bit further ahead with revisions. If i see something that strikes my fancy I'll share it then. Ok. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and decide to share some love by reviewing. click click click. lol