Daring Pt. 01

"I can take care of myself," Denise said.

"Oh," Harry replied, throwing his hands up in that annoying way he had about him

when he was literally calling you an idiot. "You can take care of yourself," he said mockingly. "Do you hear this?" He directed that at Jane.

Later Jane had to choose her words carefully. She had to be careful what she said. She had saw Denise look at her, almost imperceptibly, out of the corner of her eye.

"I don't agree or disagree," Jane said as they were getting ready for bed.

Harry slumped his shoulders and sighed. "How did I know you would side with her?"

"I'm not siding with anyone," Jane said. "I just think you're overreacting."

Harry furrowed his brow, a trademark look, that, over the years, Jane had learned to hate. Absolutely hate. Harry, especially since graduating high school, had developed that look and that attitude about taking sides. It was always about taking sides, and Harry always expected people, especially his employees and his family, to take his side no matter what. Jane had to constantly remind herself - or convince herself, which ever way you wanted to look at it - it was that dreadful personality trait inherent in Harry was what made and kept him successful; kept Jane and Denise and Mark in fine threads and nice rides and a huge house stuffed with all the amenities money could buy.

Jane, that night, Wednesday night, one of the nights she knew Harry would expect sex, decided she didn't want an argument and told Harry she would talk to Denise, try to reason with her.

Jane was on the other side of the bed, taking off her clothes down to her black bra and panties, when she felt Harry's hands around her waist.

"You look good in black, babe," he said, his mouth close to her ear.

Her first thought - and she hated herself for thinking it - was she was never going to fucking wear black again. Black anything. Black shoes. Black belt. Black earrings. Nothing black ever.

"Thanks," she said, non-committal, like saying thanks to someone who opened a door for you.

Harry, predictably, moved his hands up over her bra-clad breasts and squeezed them. "Why don't you leave the bra on," he said.

Jane could feel his prick getting hard against her ass, sure he would want to have her lean over and fuck her from behind, Harry's preferred way of fucking.

"Okay," Jane whispered.

"Why don't you take off your panties," Harry said, kneading her breasts, pinching the nipples through the fabric, the one thing Jane did like.

Jane bent over, Harry still hanging onto her breasts like he was afraid she would run away, slipped her panties to the floor. While she was still bent over Harry placed his right hand on her back and held her there. What a surprise, Jane thought. He moved his right foot inside of hers and pushed her legs apart, spreading them wide.

"God you look hot like that," Harry panted.

Harry, she could hear him do it, spit on his prick - where did he learn that, she thought - and lubricated it. He slid his prick up and down her slit, wetting the lips and slid his prick in. She heard him sigh with pleasure.

"How does that feel?" he asked.

"Good," Jane replied, hoping she sounded like she meant it.

Harry moved both of his hands to her shoulders and started to pump into her with

some purpose. She hated to admit it started to feel good. She started to match him stroke for stroke, pushing back into him, her ass and his stomach making a slapping sound with each thrust.

Harry let go of her shoulders and unclasped the black bra. It fell forward enough to expose her breasts and Harry reached his hands around and started to pinch and squeeze Jane's nipples.

She was going to cum. The son-of-a-bitch was going to make her cum and from the goddamned sound of it they were going to cum together. And they did, Harry grunting and groaning - another sound Jane had learned to hate - and Jane trying to keep her shuddering to a minimum, not wanting Harry to know how intense it was, hating the fact that all they did was fuck any more, never made love.

"She's not up there," Mark said. He sat back down and started back in on his bagel.

"What do you mean she's not up there?"

"She's not in her room. Her bed is made."

"Her bed is made?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Why are you repeating everything I say?"

"She never makes her bed."

The sound of Will's cruiser was a welcome sound. He heard the cruiser door open and close and the sound of Will jogging towards him. Stone started back to meet him before he saw the body.

"What's up, Chief?" Will asked when he spotted Stone.

"Someone called this morning and said there was a body in the woods across from the plaza," Stone said.

"A murder?" Will asked, surprised.

"A murder."

"Probably just a hoax," Will said.

Stone didn't answer, it was written all over his face. Will looked at him, a murder in Daring, that just didn't happen.

"Did you find something?" Will asked.

"Follow me," Stone said.

They started back towards the body and Will said, "Stone, you're not fucking with me are you?" Will thinking that Stone had somehow found out he was with Elsa this morning.

"Why would I do that?" Stone asked.

"I'm assuming you found a body, right?"

"Yeah."

"That means there's been a murder here, in Daring, right?"

"I don't know what happened yet."

"You're beginning to worry me, Stone."

"I want you to be prepared."

"Prepared for what?"

"What you're about to see," Stone said, glancing over his shoulder towards the body. "Everything is about to change, Will, everything."

Stone had been a no-nonsense chief since he had taken over. Will had looked up to him and not because he was Stone Goddard, but he was a good boss, a good mentor, fair and consistent. And he could count on that consistency every single day with Stone. Will never had to worry Stone was going to be inconsistent and that had given Will a kind of foundation for his future. He wanted to become chief of his own town one day.

But this worried him. He had never seen doubt in Stone's eyes. Never. Even when the town was aghast at the fact Stone Goddard was going to be their next chief. Stone came into the job and never batted an eyelash about the talking-behind-his-back bullshit that had jetted through the community. Never batted an eyelash when no one was taking him seriously about the position. Of course that was until he had arrested a small time ring that was running a meth lab in the trailer park off route twenty-two. The arrest included a local member of the board. After that no one questioned whether or not Stone Goddard was going to be the right man for the job.

"Do you know who it is?" Will asked.

"Yeah," Stone replied. "I do."

"Who?"

Stone hesitated a second before he said, "Denise Carson."

"What?" Will asked, not sure he heard right. "Did you say Denise Carson as in Harry's daughter?"

"Harry's daughter," Stone said as if it was the first time he had put the two names

together.

"Jesus Christ, Stone," Will said, stunned. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Stone said. "I'm sure."

"You've seen her?" Will asked.

"Her face is covered with a plastic bag, tied at the neck with rope."

"Her face is covered?" Will asked, hopefully. "Maybe you made a mistake then."

"I don't think so," Stone said.

"Let's look again," Will said.

They made their way to the body, Will seeing the depression in the tall grass before Stone could point it out.

"That's the body?" Will asked, his voice cracking.

But Stone didn't answer. He just continued on to the tall grass before they stopped and Stone said, "Step in my tracks and just take a quick look. We need to get the scene secured. I've already contaminated some of it, I'm sure."

Will looked at Stone and then placed his feet in the depressions Stone had already made. He took two or three steps before he leaned in and looked down at the body.

Will Dawson was not prepared for the shock of what he saw.

The Marines had toughened him up, toughened him up good. He had been a skinny wimp of a kid in high school who had played no sports in school and had been about as popular as trigonometry. He had been picked on and bullied in high school; never had a girlfriend and never really had many friends, real friends to speak of. After the Marines he had come back to Daring and wouldn't you know the first evening back home, hanging out at the basketball courts behind the police station, some of the old assholes had picked up on who he was and started in on him.

"Hey," Bud Nelson said. "Look who's here."

Bud was playing basketball with Scott Henderson, Colt Dennings and Tony Pappas.

They all stopped to look. They all gathered around Bud like they were getting ready to pose for a picture, Tony holding the basketball. Will had a flashback of when the four had played basketball in high school and he had seen that same pose way back when, thousands of years ago when he was in school and these four morons had looked at him like he wasn't even part of the human race. When they treated him like he wasn't part of the human race.

Will just stood there and looked back.

"Did you stop there on purpose?" Stone had asked when Will had recounted the story for him years later.

"I suppose I did," Will answered.

"What's he staring at?" Tony asked.

"Maybe he discovered something while he was away," Bud said and laughed. "You're in the wrong part of town for that," Bud shouted at Will. The rest of the group finally got the joke and started to laugh, but Will just continued to stare; continued to stare in that same way his drill sergeant Jesus Gonzales, a Mexican with a name like Jesus and every boot camp had to set a few new recruits down a few pegs when they inevitably made fun of his name. He had stared like that. After the initial shock of his name, and descent, the new recruits realized they were in for a long summer from the little Mexican; the one with the thousand yard stare that

could melt you like butter in summer on Parris Island.

The four started to become a little uncomfortable with the stare. Like maybe they were dealing with someone who wasn't firing on all eight cylinders.

"You have a problem, Dawson?" Bud asked.

But Will didn't answer. He was calculating what was going to happen next. He had beefed up in the Marines. The clothes he was wearing certainly didn't show it, but he was much stronger than when he was in high school. Much stronger and, more importantly, not afraid. He was calculating how many good punches he could get in before the four of them overtook him. They wouldn't be expecting he would fight in the first place and they definitely wouldn't be expecting he knew how to fight.

"Let's get back to playing," Colt Dennings said. "This fool ain't worth it." Colt waved his hand at Will and then grabbed the basketball from Tony.

"What are you afraid of?" Will said to Colt.

That stopped him cold. He turned and looked at Will, the other three making catcalls how Will Dawson had called him out and what was he going to do about it.

"Fuck you, you little freak," Colt said.

Will stepped forward and said, "No, fuck you."

That was all it took for Colt Dennings as he threw the basketball down and headed straight for Will. Will was prepared, knowing the guy was going to overreact, throw a wild punch and Will was going to bury his fist as far as he could into his stomach.

"Hold on here," Chester Brown roared. Chester Brown the chief before Stone took over the job, walked over to them. "What's going on?"

"He's causing trouble," Bud said referring towards Will.

Chester Brown looked towards Will and raised his eyebrow. "Will Dawson?"

"Yes sir," Will replied.

"Yes sir?" Chester said and turned to the other boys. "Did you boys hear that, 'yes sir?' That's the military talking."

"He's trying to pick a fight," Colt said.

Chester Brown looked back and forth a few times before he said, "He's picking a fight with all of you?"

"We were just playing basketball and he walked up here and started something," Bud said.

"You're kidding me, right?" Chester asked, smiling.

The four boys were speechless for a second. Now that they thought about it, it was a ridiculous claim. Will Dawson was there to pick a fight with them, yeah right.

It was Chester Brown's cool demeanor that diffused the situation. That cool demeanor, but also the authority in the voice that impressed Will. Will looking at Bud and his friends and seeing how they respected Chester Brown, that got him to thinking. Got him to thinking about law enforcement as a future.

Afterwards he had asked Chester Brown what it would take to get a job in law

enforcement. Chester told him to use his GI bill and get back to school. "Major in criminal justice," Chester told him. "And then we'll talk." And that's exactly what Will had done. He got into Mercer College and graduated.

The plastic tied over Denise Carson's head was what got to Will. This wasn't the first dead body he had seen, but seeing someone he knew, someone he had seen grow up, in such a horrific circumstance that was obviously murder, made him vomit. He stepped to the road and puked.

"This is bad, Stone," Will said between retches. "Real bad."

"Let me have your radio," Stone said.

Will grabbed the radio from his belt and handed it to Stone.

"What are we going to do?" Will asked and then vomited again.

"We need to secure this area and get the coroner," Stone said. He hesitated. Placing the call was going to start something. This town, this small town where he had grown up and went to school and had become a basketball star, was going to be turned upside down; thrown into a whirlwind of swirling accusations and paranoia. Placing the call meant the small town of Daring was going to be changed forever.

The scene at the entrance to the woods had turned into exactly what Stone didn't want it to turn into, a spectacle. But it was a murder, beyond his control for now. Anyone driving by was sure to take notice. There must have ten vehicles out in front of the woods and no mistaking it was a crime scene.

The crime lab was out of the State Police Barracks in Lawrenceville, just east of Erie and was the considered the Erie Barracks. They covered an area to the Ohio and New York state lines and thirty miles directly south.

Stone called them and they sent out their forensic team. There was Eric Levins, fifty-two, a wretchedly thin man, frail even, a pock-marked face and clothes that looked like he had stepped straight out the 70s. He had with him a black case that looked like it was far too heavy for him to lift. Kathryn Weston, sixty, an overweight woman, rimless glasses, dark transition lenses, dressed like she was a security guard for a mall. Her hair was short, dark, low maintenance. And then there was Ben Molina, forty-two, a Mexican, dark-skinned, mustache, serious looking, no nonsense type of guy from what Stone could gather.

"Chief," Ben Molina said, shaking Stone's hand, firm. "I'm Ben Molina. I'm with the State Police forensic team. This is Eric Levins, he'll be taking the photos and this is Kathryn Weston, she'll be collecting evidence. Just to make sure we're on the the same page, you understand we'll need your full cooperation."

"Sure," Stone said. The man getting right to the point, Stone thought.

"Where's the body?" Ben asked.

Stone led them over to the weeds and the three team members looked in at the body. Ben Molina leaned in and had a serious look on his face. "Let's get to work," he said.

CRIME SCENE tape was used to section off the area about fifty yards in diameter. Ben Molina had asked Stone to keep a man posted at the entrance. "We need to keep this area secure, chief," Ben Molina said. "The county coroner will be coming shortly and Brian Cornell, the District Attorney. He likes to oversee a crime scene, especially if it's a murder."

But Stone had been expecting that. He knew the DA from back in his playing days. Brian Cornell playing for the city, the prep school. A decent player, but all those prep school boys played with a sense of purpose no matter what the sport.

"I'll make sure they get through," Stone said.

"I'm not sure how you want to work this case, chief," Ben Molina said, sounding, or trying to anyway, like he was giving advice without giving advice. "But you can coordinate something with the DA's office."

"Coordinate what?" Stone asked, playing dumb.

"Help with investigating the case, chief." Ben Molina let it hang out there, see where it went.

"I'll talk to the DA," Stone said. And left it at that.

Brian Cornell arrived about ten minutes later, looking like he had just come from a run. And then Stone remembered, back in the day he was assigned to guard Stone, make him run until he dropped was the strategy. Hadn't worked as Stone recalled.

Brian Cornell was a tall, good looking, black man. Aspiring to political office was the rumor.

"Stone Goddard?" Brian Cornell said when he saw Stone. "Christ Almighty, how long has it been?"

"High school."

"That's right," Brian said. "I was assigned to guard you, make you run all over the floor, tire you out."

"Didn't work," Stone said.

"I remember. You ate my lunch as I recall. I have to admit, I didn't expect to see you out here, the chief of Daring?"

"Makes two of us," Stone said.

"That's unbelievable. I remember watching you on ESPN, shooting the three against...who was that? Vanderbilt, maybe."

"Could've been."

"I thought I'd see you go pro," Brian said. "What happened, you don't mind my asking?"

"Got side-tracked," Stone answered.

"Side-tracked? You're talking to a DA, remember? It's my business to be nosy."

"It's personal. No offense."

"None taken, but that's too bad," Brian said. "Weren't you pre-law?"

"For awhile, yeah."

"Side-tracked, huh? I thought you would have my job by now." He laughed, but he was serious. "You still playing any ball?"

"Pick up games now and then."

"As I recall they have some courts right out back of your station, don't they?"

"You have a good memory."

"Can't imagine you've lost much. In the skills department I mean. You still look in good shape."

"I can hold my own."

"I'll bet you can. Maybe we can see if I've improved any over the years."

"I'm sure you're a busy man," Stone said.

"You always were too goddamned humble, Stone Goddard," Brian said. "Shit, if I would have had your talent I'd been talking shit from here to Tallahassee." They laughed and Brian put a hand on Stone's shoulder becoming the DA now. Talking shit in his own way. "Why don't you show me what we've got out here so I can make sure these people from the barracks don't fuck up the evidence."

They walked to the body, Eric Levins had marked off the area and was taking pictures. Kathryn Weston was collecting evidence and bagging it. Ben Molina made his way over to Stone and Brian.

"I told the chief you'd be out here soon," Ben Molina said to Brian.

Brian put his hand back on Stone's shoulder and said, "Me and the chief go back a long way, Ben. He was a basketball star here while you were still working the streets in Tucson." Brian turned to Stone. "Did Mr. Molina inform you of his background?"

"No," Stone said.

"Another humble one like yourself," Brian said, smiling. "Molina worked homicide in Tucson for ten years before he made his way up here to the bitter cold of northwestern Pennsylvania."

"Tucson, huh?" Stone said. "I played there once."

"Close to the border, drug smuggling," Brian said. "Plenty of murders to keep a man busy."

Ben Molina looked like he wanted to get back to work and said, "I only ever played soccer. My people are almost done," he said to Brian.

"Thanks, Ben."

Ben Molina walked away, Brian got serious and said, "He lost his wife and daughter. Had pushed too far in an investigation that had a background in drugs. Came home one day and they were killed. Couldn't stay there any longer."