章節 11: Funeral
The next day, Ethan arrived at the police station. As soon as he got out of the car, he saw Emmett grabbing Hansen by the arm and walking out the police station door.
—Emmett, where are you taking this idiot? —Ethan asked, approaching.
—He wants to make a deal with the district attorney and testify against Proctor, in exchange for a reduced sentence. Gordon asked me to take him to the district attorney's office to see what evidence he had —Emmett replied, without stopping.
—Okay, be careful.
"Hansen took a challenging look at Ethan, who couldn't help but scoff."
—Hansen, you're in a good mood today. —Ethan said to him, patting him on the arm.
— Fuck you! Keep your stinky hands away and wait for my lawyer, you asshole —spat Hansen, with cold sweat on his forehead from pain.
—Hansen, we're going to miss you —Ethan replied, smiling and rubbing Hansen's wounds a little harder.
—Leave it Ethan now, I'm in a hurry, so I'll go first —Emmett said, opening the back door of the police car, letting Hansen in before leaving the police station.
-Inside the police station, Siobhan and Brock were sitting at their desks, sorting transcripts. Today there was no room to think about administrative licenses; the whole situation had mobilized them. The Banshee Town Police Department could not afford to close due to the incident on the Amish farm the night before. Hood, as always, was nowhere to be found. No one knew why he was gone.-
At that moment, Emmett's patrol was advancing without haste, when the sound of the engines grew louder, closer.
In the rearview mirror, Emmett saw two motorcycles fast approaching. The motorcyclists dressed in black, with dark helmets that hid their faces. Something in his behavior put him on alert. He slowed down, waiting for the motorcycles to overtake him, but instead they put one on each side of his vehicle.
Suddenly, one of the motorcycles crossed in front of the patrol, forcing him to turn the wheel abruptly to avoid a collision. The other motorcycle approached dangerously next to the driver, his pilot pulling out a pistol with a silencer. Emmett had no time to react before the bullet hit the windshield, breaking it into a thousand pieces.
— Shit! —Emmett yelled, stepping on the gas while trying to escape the ambush. But the motorcycles were decided. The one in front stopped dead, and the one next to him shot again, this time reaching one of the rear tires.
The police car skidded, Emmett struggling to stay in control as he felt the vehicle lean dangerously to one side. With a violent turn, the patrol hit the road and crashed into the trees, stopping suddenly in a ditch.
"Central, here Alpha 23! Code 10-33, I repeat, Code 10-33! I'm under attack (...)
Stunned, Emmett reached for his radio to ask for reinforcements, but before he could finish his call, the driver's door was slammed off. One of the bikers forcibly took him out of the car, throwing him to the ground with brutality.
— What the hell do they want? —Emmett growled, trying to get up. But before he could react, he received a blow to the stomach that left him airless.
The other biker approached, keeping silent as he pulled out a long, sharp knife. Emmett, panting from the pain, saw the shine of the blade and knew that his options were running out.
Shortly after sitting down, the radio on Ethan's shoulder issued an urgent call from Emmett. Before he finished speaking, a shot rang through the radio and communication went dead.
-Ethan and the others quickly left the police station, took a couple of shotguns and left fully armed, heading towards the district attorney's office.-
A few minutes later, Ethan saw Emmett's patrol, in a ditch on the side of the road. officers only saw their partner lying on the road, his head bleeding on the pavement, so they quickly went to check it out, Ethan and Brock began to move around the scene looking for the suspects in the attack.-
—Two motorcycles attacked me. Motorcyclists wore black leather jackets and helmets, and there was no registration information —Emmett said, shaking his head dizzy and grabbing Brock's arm.
Brock nodded and quickly returned to the car, started the vehicle, and moved on, but Ethan knew there was little hope. The gunmen had already escaped.-
—I contacted Chief Hood, and he is on his way —Siobhan said, hanging up his cell phone.
—Don't move yet, let's see how the wound is.-Ethan examined Emmett; he only had a few slight scratches and concussion symptoms. After confirming that there was nothing serious, he asked for a radio ambulance and walked to the injured police car.
—The tire burst, the vehicle lost control. There are several shots on the windshield, they were very professional. —Siobhan reported, shaking his head —. They were coming for Hansen, maybe Proctor found out that they were going to give him away, not the first time.
The glass in the back seat window of the police car was shattered. Hansen lay handcuffed in the back seat, lifeless, his body shattered by bullets, this was a message.-
Ethan scratched his head. I didn't expect Proctor to move that fast. Fortunately, Emmett was fine.-
After a brief silence, Ethan processed the scene with Siobhan, Emmett was taken to the hospital and would be under observation for a couple of days and on leave for a couple more before returning to the station, so both would have to do the paperwork correspondent.-
A few days later, Ethan was in a crowd, holding a bouquet of white flowers. Next to the coffin, a woman in a black dress sang "Amazing Grace" with deep emotion.
The state senator's son had died in the jurisdiction of the Banshee Town police station. Although the main culprit was captured, he was silenced during the escort and no leads had yet been found. So all members of the Banshee Police Department except Alma attended Reed Schumacher's funeral to offer their condolences.
After the funeral, Ethan returned to the patrol car, his shift has just begun. A moment later, Siobhan opened the passenger door and got into the car.
—Come on, I really don't like funerals —Siobhan said, fastening his seat belt.
Ethan started the car without saying anything. She knew Siobhan's story, all the members of her family had died, and she was the only one left. Perhaps the funeral scene had moved her.-
Moving slowly down the road, after opening the window to enjoy the wind, Siobhan returned to his usual state of speaking and laughing.
-At that moment, a white courtesy car stopped in front of the Kinaho Moon Casino. The white limousine stopped in front of the red carpet, and a bald man in a white suit got out of the car. The journalists, who had been waiting a long time, surrounded him with cameras and microphones.-
Ethan slowed down the car and looked at Proctor and several people from the Kinaho tribe who were at the end of the red carpet, waving to the people.-
— Is something happening at the Kinaho Moon Casino? —Ethan asked, looking at Siobhan.
—Saturday night is fighting night. They await the combat of UFC fighter Damian Sánchez —Siobhan replied, reading the spectacular on the side of the road word for word.
— What's up? Are you interested? Do you want me to stop the car and let you buy a ticket? —Ethan joked, seeing people queuing up to buy tickets.
—No, I prefer WWE, that's better —Siobhan replied, smiling.
—Well, you're right —Ethan agreed.
At that moment, a car passed him at high speed. Ethan looked at her board and saw that the vehicle was going very fast, clearly at speed, gave Siobhan a quick look, saw that she was already sitting firmly, raising Ethan's thumb.-
Ethan turned on the police lights, grabbed the wheel hard, and stepped on the gas. Crown Victoria roared and the chase began.-
After leaving work, Ethan didn't want to go home early, so he decided to drive to The Forge Bar. As soon as he crossed the threshold of the bar, his eyes caught the figure of Hood, sitting alone in a chair next to the bar, while Sugar took care of keeping his glass full.
—Hi Sugar, time without seeing you —Ethan greeted, walking directly to where Hood was to sit next to him.- Chief Hood.-
— How such an officer they bite —he replied, placing a cup in front of Ethan and serving him a drink of bourbon.
—If things have been moving these days, there are many things to familiarize yourself with —Ethan said with a slight shrug.
—It looks like you're adjusting well —Candy said with a smile.
—Thanks —Ethan replied, finishing his drink and hitting the wooden counter, to ask for more. Meanwhile, Hood at his side continued to drink in silence.
—Boss, Gordon didn't invite you over to his house after the funeral? Why are you drinking here? —Ethan asked, turning his attention to Hood.
—There I was, but come back quickly. —Hood murmured, looking at his glass sadly.
Ethan understood the reason behind Hood's depression. District Attorney Gordon's wife, Carly Hopewell, was his ex-girlfriend.
More than ten years ago, Carly's father, known as Mr. Rabbit, organized a diamond robbery in which Hood and Carly participated. After obtaining the diamonds, Hood was tasked with deflecting his pursuers, but was caught during the flight, while Carly managed to escape by a stroke of luck.
After spending more than ten years in prison, Hood learned of Carly's whereabouts through some friends once he was released.
That's right, he spent more than ten years in prison.
Hood, who came out not long ago, was not the real sheriff. He was actually an impostor.
Based on clues provided by his friends, Hood arrived in Banshee Town only to discover that his former girlfriend had married and had given birth to two children, of whom the eldest daughter, Deva, was his.
He wanted Carly to go with him, but she refused and did not accept that Deva was his daughter with Hood.
Carly had also lied to him about the diamonds, which they had stolen at the time. He said someone else had been stolen. Hood ended up spending more than ten years in prison for nothing. As long as he had no mental problems, everything would be fine.
Accompanied by Ethan, Hood drank even more fervently, until he finally dropped onto the bar and fell asleep.
Ethan, holding a glass of wine, walked to the jukebox and selected a song called Burning Love by Elvis Presley. As the music began to play, the crisp sound of high heels hitting the wooden floor reached his ears from behind him.
A woman, or perhaps a man who enjoyed wearing high heels, stopped behind him.
Ethan turned his head, outlining a smile and extended the drink in his hand towards the blonde beauty in front of him.
—Miss Bowman.
—I haven't seen you in a few days —Rebecca replied, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of whiskey.
—I wanted to ask you for your number last time, but unfortunately Mr. Bowman was present. And did I have to pretend we don't know each other? —the Amish girl winked at Ethan.
—My father would repudiate me if he found out I have a phone or I see cute boys outside the farm.
After exchanging phone numbers, they both headed to the nearby pool table and started playing.
Rebecca took the pool cue, put a piece of chocolate in her mouth, and carefully rubbed the tip of the cue while looking at Ethan.
Then, he leaned over the pool table, waved his arm, and the balls scattered across the table.
Standing behind Rebecca with her own taco in hand, Ethan watched the curves of his body, feeling that the whiskey he had just drunk had too strong an effect, causing his abdomen to warm up.
It was his turn to play. Ethan held the heel, aimed at the cue ball, calculated the angle, and pushed it hard. Accidentally, the cue ball flew off the table, rolled into a small side door, and fell into the basement.
Hearing the cue ball bounce and hit the stairs as he descended, Ethan left the taco and held out his hands helplessly.
Without saying a word, Ethan nodded at him. Rebekah got up slowly, her heels echoing on the wooden floor as she followed him to a discreet door in the corner of the bar, and without looking back, she went down the stairs to the basement.
The basement was dimly lit, with boxes stacked at the corners and a worn wooden table in the center. Ethan closed the door behind them, the click of the bolt echoing in the silence. He turned to look at her, his dark eyes reflecting a mixture of desire and determination.
Rebekah stepped over to him, the sound of her breathing getting louder as she got closer. Their lips were found in a hungry kiss, their bodies colliding with a passion that had been contained for too long. Ethan gently pushed her against the table, his hands sliding down her hips as he kissed her more intensely.
Rebekah responded with equal fervor, her hands running down her chest, unbuttoning her shirt urgently. The tension between them finally erupted in a whirlwind of caresses and whispers. Every movement, every touch, seemed to charge the air with electricity.
The minutes faded into a whirlwind of desire as they gave each other up in that dark, lonely corner. The murmurs in the bar above became distant, irrelevant. In that basement, only the two of them existed, lost at a time that had been inevitable from the beginning.
When they finally separated, they both breathed with difficulty, their bodies still glued by the heat of the encounter. Ethan looked her in the eye, and without saying a word.
Rebeca straightened in front of a broken mirror, adjusting her hair with fast and almost mechanical movements. The basement lobby was shrouded in dim gloom, dotted with forgotten boxes and furniture. Ethan, meanwhile, buttoned his shirt with a mischievous smile on his lips.
—Well, that was ... unexpected —Rebeca commented, trying to take her eyes off him.
Ethan looked at her from the mirror reflection with a spark of fun in his eyes.
—Inesperate? I think we have been waiting since there is a mouse good.
Rebekah raised an eyebrow, looking at him skeptically.
— You? Maybe. I was more concerned with not wrinkling my dress.
Ethan let out a low laugh, adjusting his jacket with a touch of humor.
—Sure, because wrinkling that dress would be a much worse crime than anything else we've done.
Rebecca, putting a heel on her foot, couldn't help but smile.
Ethan finished adjusting his jacket, looking at Rebeca with an expression of complicity. — Well, if anyone asks, we were just ... inspecting the basement. For security.
Rebekah headed for the door, winking at him as he moved gracefully.
—Of course, it is always better to be safe. See you, Inspector.
Ethan watched her come out, the soft laughter on her lips as she walked away.
Rebecca vanished into the darkness of the bar, and Ethan, with one last smile on his face, prepared to go out the other door.
The next morning, Ethan squatted at an intersection. Today he was in a good mood and took it upon himself to turn on the patrol lights so that passing drivers could see the flashing lights from a distance.
In this case, if any stubborn driver tried to speed up or pass a red light, they would not hesitate to intervene. After two hours of surveillance, Ethan received a radio notification from Alma: Someone in the Maplewood community had called the police, requesting that he go to investigate.
Ethan drove to the Maplewood community, a typical middle-class neighborhood with scattered single-family houses and meticulously trimmed lawns on the doors.
After getting out of the car and reaching the whistleblower's address on the other side of the lawn, Ethan rang the bell.
After a moment, the door opened a little and, seeing Ethan in uniform, the red-haired woman opened the door with confidence.
—Mrs. Kendall, I am Officer Ethan Morgan. What happened? —Ethan asked calmly.
The person who had called the police was the wife of the mayor, Dan Kendall, whom Ethan had met at Reed Schumacher's funeral.
—Hello, officer. You can call me Jenny. I just saw someone walking into the backyard of the Michelle family home. They are on vacation in Hawaii. I felt uneasy, so I called the police. Please take a look —Jenny replied, visibly nervous, as she crossed her arms over her chest.
—Okay, go back to your house; I'll take care of checking —Ethan assured him.
After Jenny closed the door, Ethan pulled out his Glock and headed for the neighboring house.
He walked to the window next to the front door and looked inside, but saw no movement. Then she headed to the side and saw a man in a visor cap coming out of the backyard in obvious panic.
—Banshee Town Police Department, don't move! —Ethan ordered out loud, but the man immediately fled upon hearing the warning, dropping a silver candlestick from his pocket.
The distance was considerable, so Ethan decided not to shoot. Instead, he chased after him while asking for radio support.
The man in the visor cap saw Ethan getting closer and closer and desperately reached into his pocket.
When Ethan saw him move, an internal alarm went off and he launched himself to the side.
There was a "bang", but he didn't know where the bullet ended up.
— Shootings, shots! I request reinforcements! —Ethan yelled on the radio as he rolled and stood up, continuing the chase.
—I'm close; I come from the east side of the Maplewood community —Emmett's voice answered on the radio.
—He looks like jeans, a baseball uniform and a visor cap. He is a white hamble of 30 ails.
—Understood, I'll go to the front to intercept it —Emmett confirmed.
After chasing the suspect down another street, Ethan saw Emmett's police car approaching in the opposite direction, forcing the suspect to back off.
—Be careful with the crossfire —Ethan warned on the radio while shooting several shots at the man in the visor cap.
Although he failed to hit due to distance, he managed to successfully corner him.
Emmett's police car stopped twenty meters from the corner. Emmett got out of the car, opened the trunk, and pulled out a Remington M870. Ethan also moved quickly, using the passenger door as cover.
—Banshee Town Police Department, you are surrounded. Drop the gun immediately —Ethan ordered, and Emmett fired without hesitation into the corner.
With a strong boom, Remington's shot smashed the tiles on the wall.
— I give up, don't shoot! I give up now! —screamed the suspect in panic, throwing a gun
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