“What is the point,” I muttered under my breath. The wind stirred the leaves of the oak I sat under. I leaned back against the bench and looked up at the sky. The stars blinked dimly; clouds hid the moon from my sight. It figured.
In the wake of the recent race riots, the burning of our city, and the murder of Bradley Freeman, I found myself at a crossroad.
My faith, or lack thereof, seems to have hit an all-time low. I come to the town square and assess if my partner and I make a difference in our community.
I’m not convinced we do. During the riots our bank was robbed, people were hurt, some were killed, and Jackson Titus escaped capture.
His partner, Bronowski is serving life in prison for his role in the slaying of Bradley Freeman. The other person involved slit her wrists and bled out on the steps of the local church.
Titus is out there somewhere, biding his time and waiting for his chance for revenge. I know this for a fact, or my name is not Thermopolis Konan.
Given all that has transpired in the past few months, no one can blame the town folk for not having faith in the police, or in the government.
I find myself in the midst of a crisis of faith, and I wonder if I will ever find my way back to the light.
I pride myself on being a realist, neither pessimistic nor optimistic, rather a person who accepts his place in the universe and takes life as it comes. However, things have changed, and I am at a loss on how to fix it.
Lilly Thompson, my partner and friend, walked across the square. Her long legs stride purposefully toward me and my bench. Judging from the tiredness that showed in her eyes, and the serious look that darkened her perfect face, there’s been another murder.
She walked up to the bench and sat next to me. Her coffee was in her left hand, and she took a sip.
“You’re out here communing with God, aren’t you?”
“I’m trying, Lilly. He’s not answering me at the moment.”
“What are you asking for?”
Lilly looked at me and gave me a small smile. She took another sip of coffee and cleared her throat.
“There’s been a murder. Chief Janko called us in.”
“Yeah, I figured. Where did it happen?”
“The abandoned train yard out by the warehouse district.”
“What a horrible place to die.”
“Yeah. Are you ready to tackle this case, or should we tell chief to get someone else?”
“No, let’s go on out there. My crisis of faith can wait.”
Lilly giggled and stood. I followed her out to the car. The air had grown damp, the threat of rain heavy on the wind, and somewhere deep inside I felt a chill that caused me to shiver.