Possession of Justice

Possession of Justice, Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Alex Kramer was watching the game, and Tessa was nagging him about something.  She was poised at the door frame between the kitchen and the front room of their small condo.  The baby was on her hip; the baby that always seemed to be on the verge of an all out hissy fit. Damn, why had Tess wanted a baby so bad? All he did was create a wedge between him and the sexy, sultry Tess he used to know. Now she was chronically unhappy, and the blame seemed to constantly lie at his feet. He took a swig from his beer, tuning her out.

“Alex! Are you even listening?” Tess was petulant. Liam belted out an angry wail, adding emphasis, his fat little baby face scrunched, his mouth an accusing pout.

“Of course I am, Tess.” But he was watching an amazing play by his favorite college quarterback and was a million miles away.

“Oh God, forget it!” Tess stomped off.  Alex was somewhat relieved by her absence, but a lurking discomfort about the situation dampened his enjoyment of yet another amazing play. He knew at that moment he should get up and go to her.  But he didn’t.  He drew another deep swallow of beer. He leaned back in the armchair and was drawn back in to the zone; the world of sports, where women and babies dare not enter.

Later, after five beers and a football induced doze, Alex woke up to find himself parched.  He got up and wandered to the refrigerator for a Coke.  Shit, he thought.  No Coke, not even a bottled water to quench his alcohol induced dehydration.

He listened but there were no signs that Tess, or the baby, were awake.  He gingerly tiptoed to the bedroom and peaked in.  Tess lay on the bed, with Liam in her arms. The slow movement of her chest confirmed she was asleep, and Liam was peaceful beside her.  Alex felt a tug somewhere in the vicinity of his heart.  It was only in that moment, when they did not need anything from him, that he could quietly relish the beauty of his young wife and infant son.  Guilt tugged at him. He wanted to go to them and put his arms around them, vowing to be a better husband and dad, but then she would wake up and tell him just how badly he was messing it all up. God, he told himself, grown men don’t cry. But stupidly, a tear formed at the corner of his eye.

He took a step away from the doorway to the bedroom, shaking it off, remembering his original quest, which was something to drink. The convenience store was just down the road. He could walk there, a wise choice considering he was probably over the legal limit to drive. Alex determined that a Coke would taste perfect right now, and maybe a bag of chips. Tess never kept snacks in the house because she was trying to lose the baby weight.

The early autumn air outside was crisp, but still warm enough to walk with just a sweatshirt on.  Alex crossed the street in front of the condo and walked toward the 7-11 two blocks north.  He thought about Tess and Liam, and how damn sweet they looked sleeping. He vowed to himself he would spend the next day with them.  He wanted to see Tess smile again, to hear her laughter. He wanted to learn how to be a dad to his son.

Alex entered the store and moved to the back refrigerator cases where the soft drinks resided. He grabbed a couple of one liter bottles and paused in the chips aisle, assessing his choices. He heard a shuffling noise at the front of the store, and peered around the corner to where the clerk stood at the register.  A man stood across the counter from the clerk. At first glance, he appeared to be a customer making a purchase.  But something seemed strange. The clerk’s face was tense with fear and the man across from him seemed agitated.  Gut instinct informed Alex that this was a robbery in progress. He took a silent step backwards, out of sight.

A gunshot pop pierced the air, and Alex’s heart dropped to his stomach. He crouched in fear, feeling instantly nauseous. Alex heard rapid footsteps moving toward the exit and the sound of the doors swishing. The shooter had evidently fled the scene. Alex crept quietly to the front counter, and saw a man in the parking lot running away from the store, out into the night. Alex was alone, except for the clerk lying on the floor behind the counter with a bleeding wound to his head. Alex reached for his cell phone, but to his dismay realized it was at home. He bolted through the doors out into the parking lot, hoping to find someone with a phone to call for help, his heart racing with adrenaline. At that moment a light blue SPD car screeched into the store parking lot, lights flashing.  Thank God, Alex thought. He ran toward the police car, gesturing towards the store. “A man has been shot and needs an ambulance! The store was robbed!”

The police officer exited the vehicle with a gun pointed squarely at him. “No!” Alex yelled. “It’s not me. The guy ran that way!” He pointed in the direction that the shooter had just fled, but the officer did not appear to listen or look in the direction Alex pointed. Another gunshot pop pierced the air. This time for Alex there was only dark silence.