Rogue justice, p.31
Rogue Justice, page 31
Mickey walked in from the kitchen moments later, a bottle of red wine in one hand, two glasses in the other. He was barefoot, wearing blue jeans and a black T-shirt. "Vera has the run of the joint as if you couldn't tell."
"No kidding. She's a real charmer, isn't she?"
"Yeah, that she is." Mickey said, easing down next to Zora. "And what about you, Zora? You doing okay?"
"Yeah, fine, just a little tired is all."
"Sure you're not hungry? I can whip something up if—"
"No, the wine's perfect, Mickey."
He nodded, popped the cork, and poured the wine. For a long moment they sat quietly, without saying a word. It had been nearly two weeks since they'd met with Jia-li Han at North Beach. Mickey had done his best to convince Zora to stick around after that, if only for a few days. He said he would take her camping into the meadows and mountains of the Olympic Peninsula, a world away from the camera crews and reporters still lurking about in the area.
Zora had wanted to stay too, torn between her head and her heart. In the end she'd said, "No," and reluctantly Mickey had driven her to the airport. They spoke little during that drive to Seattle and embraced awkwardly outside the terminal, unable to look each other in the eyes. Back home in Sitka, local cops cordoned off Zora's street, keeping a pack of still-hungry reporters in check. And for the next several days, she avoided everyone except a trusted neighbor. The only television she watched was the blockbuster special, after which she'd called Jia-li Han to congratulate her on a powerful and refreshingly honest report—a Pulitzer Prize-winning piece of journalism if ever there was one. The announcements from KOS that followed were a bonus. Zora liked that woman—Savannah Sokolov—imagined her as the older sister she never had. Maybe one day they could be friends?
But nothing seemed to placate the hollowing sadness Zora felt over the loss of her mother.
Then toward the end of the week, as she sank deeper into despair, something extraordinary happened. Zora dismissed the first night as a fluke. She did the same on the second night. But at 4:00 a.m. on the third night, she awakened a surprised Mickey out of a dead sleep, asking him if his invitation to escape into the wild was still on the table.
Despite the ungodly hour, his answer was an enthusiastic, "Yes."
Late that morning—this morning—she'd taken an Alaska Airlines flight back to Sea-Tac wearing her trademark baseball cap and sunglasses. Only this time, she'd added a blond wig to the get-up. It was part of a Marilyn Monroe costume she'd once worn on Halloween. She felt ridiculous, but it worked. No one had bothered her during the flight. Mickey met her at the airport sporting a killer smile and two dozen yellow roses. He made no attempt to push any of her personal buttons on the drive north. She liked that. He seemed to know instinctively what mattered and what didn't. For once in her life, she felt like she could let her guard down.
Now, some eight hours after leaving home, Zora sat quietly by Mickey's side listening to the steady rhythm of the rain, feeling the warmth of the fire. He poured more wine and offered a toast, "To new beginnings," he said.
They clinked glasses.
Several minutes went by then he added, "So, do you feel like talking about your eureka moment?"
"Yeah, I think so. But I'm not very good at this stuff, Mickey, so hang with me, okay?"
"I've got all the time in the world."
Zora shifted position on the sofa, curled one long leg under her, and took a deep breath. "Okay, you remember me mentioning my friend, Callie, right?"
"The terrible accident with the horses, sure"
"And the screams, Mickey, the awful screams."
He nodded.
"Nearly every night for thirty years I fought the same dragons, over and over. Then three nights ago it all stopped."
"You're kidding. Just like that?"
"Yeah, just like that."
Mickey thought for a long moment before responding. "Well, I'm no shrink but you've been through a hell of a lot over the past few weeks, Zora. Maybe what came down in the end with Chandler triggered some kind of catharsis. You wiped the slate clean, so to speak. You squared things with your friend, Callie. You got justice for your mother." He paused for another long moment. "And for Kat, too. I can't thank you enough for that."
Zora took a deep breath, her radiant green eyes changing color in the crackling firelight. "I don't know, Mickey, I hope you're right about Callie and Katrina. As for Chandler, I like to think it was his arrogance that got him killed. God knows I couldn't have gone through with it, much as I despised the man. Hell, I do that and I'm no better than him, probably worse."
Mickey took Zora's hand in his. "Look, there's no right way to lose people you love, not like we did. And facing the truth is never black and white. So yeah, Chandler got what he deserved. I believe that and so do the people who matter. Let it go, Zora. You deserve that."
"You really think so?"
"I know so," Mickey said. He set his wine glass on the table, pulled her close, ran his hands through her thick red hair. Zora melted into his arms and, for several long moments, they rocked gently back and forth.
"Thank you for that," she whispered.
Mickey traced the outline of her lips with his fingers. "You're the most incredible woman I've ever met, you know that?"
Zora felt a giddy flight of adrenaline, smacked him on the arm. "Ah, c'mon, I bet you say that to all the girls."
"No, I mean it."
"But you don't know me, not really."
"I know this, Zora. I'm a better me when I'm with you. I've never felt that way before."
"Oh, Jesus, Mickey..."
Mickey drew her back into his arms, softly, tenderly. She could smell him, practically taste him, his flesh warm and comforting. It seemed like forever since she'd felt wanted and protected. She wrapped his hand in her long, supple fingers and pressed the callused palm to her mouth, kissing it gently. "But my father, he made it so hard for me to trust..."
"I'm not your father, Zora. I'll be there for you. I promise."
She looked longingly into his eyes and in them saw truth. There was no yesterday, but Mickey had promised her tomorrow if only she would trust him now.
Zora kissed him fiercely.
Then the world went silent.
Epilogue
At dawn the next morning, high above the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the Old One stood ramrod still on a narrow, jagged ridge etched eons ago from solid granite. His eyes were fixed on the restless waters a hundred feet below. The swells slammed so hard against the craggy rocks, the noise sounded like thunder. Yet he did not flinch.
Neither did Houdini. He was standing at his mentor's side, an arm's length away. He'd spent the past hour recounting all that had happened since their last meeting, his delivery as crisp and clear as the early morning sky. In summary, he said, "The captain and the carpenter, Old One, they are very special people."
"Indeed they are."
"You are not troubled by our deceptive actions then?"
"You did what needed to be done, my son. Sometimes it is the best way, the only way. And you learned many lessons from the great blackfish, is that not so?"
"Yes. We all learned many lessons."
The Old One nodded, staring out to sea. "How strange it is for a species that lives its life without sun to lift the soul, to teach it how to soar, to send light into the darkness of people's hearts. Nature in her wildness has so much to teach us. We must never turn away from that wisdom, or be afraid of things we don't understand. There is such deep intelligence there, a mysterious force that connects all people and all things to Gaia, Mother Earth. We must use her knowledge wisely. Anything less and we shame the Great Spirit."
"You speak great truths as always, Old One."
The revered sage then turned slowly and placed his right hand over Houdini's heart. In his left hand, he held the distinctive feather of an eagle. "I am an old man and the time is long past for me to relinquish this sacred honor. An honor bestowed on me by Chief Raven Claw many moons ago as his forefathers had done with him. And so, with this symbol, I ask the Great Spirit to bless you and guide you on your journey. It is now in your hands."
"I am honored, Old One, but I am not worthy."
"Oh, but you are, my son, you are most worthy."
Houdini took the feather, clutched it to his body.
No words were needed. None were said.
They stood quietly after that, listening to the waves crashing on the rocks below, smelling the fresh salt air. More than three weeks had passed since the last sighting of the rogue whales, yet Houdini felt their presence now. He sensed the Old One did, too. And sure enough, in that sacred moment, five creatures burst from the gray swells, together as one, in an enormous breach. An instant later, they cleared the surface, climbing ever higher, their wild calls like a distant echo from some far-off time, silencing every creature on land and over sea. The breathtaking show of power and grace lasted only a few seconds, a final tribute it seemed to a kindred spirit. And then they were gone, moving with the ancient, endless currents toward the vast Pacific Ocean.
Houdini felt humbled and small. "Will we ever see them again, Old One?"
"I may not, but you surely will. You see, the mighty blackfish have come to call us back from the edge, to fire our imaginations, to rekindle our sense of awe. They have come to remind us that we are not nature's master, we are all one. All things are connected. It is their gift to the world."
A long pause, then Houdini said, thoughtfully, "Ancient minds that hold timeless lessons."
"Yes, my son," the Old One replied in a low, calm voice. "And we must listen and learn. We must learn what they know."
The End
Acknowledgments
The author gratefully acknowledges the help and support of many individuals who contributed to this work. They include Leanne Bucaro, Howard Garrett, Denise Guerrero, Art Insana, Peter Jaycock, David and Jane Lambkin, Linda Langton, Alan McLaren, Jason Neal, Rick Oltman, Nina Paules, Peter and Anna Quinn, Real Robles, Scott Rosekrans, David Samuels, David Sellars, Linda Silva, Detective Cloyd Steiger, Karen Sullivan, Bob Walthers, and June Williams. Many thanks to all.
With special thanks to a wonderful friend and editor, Olivia Rupprecht—and to my rock, Michele Wolpe, for being there, always.
Bill has spent most of his writing career in television with a long list of credits that also include work as a producer, director, and story editor. As Executive Producer of E! Networks iconic series, E! True Hollywood Story (THS), he produced more than 130 episodes (plus an additional 120 episodes in various other writing and producing capacities). Further, Bill created a successful spin-off series, THS: Investigates, while supervising a staff of 80. During his tenure as EP with THS, the series won numerous industry awards while generating annual ad revenues in excess of $135 million, placing it number 11 among all U.S. television shows at the time (ER was #1, Oprah #14).
Other credits include the Jerry Bruckheimer/Warner Bros. production of Profiles From The Frontline (Story Producer-ABC); Unsolved Mysteries (Writer-Lifetime Network); Beyond Chance with Melissa Etheridge (Story Editor-Lifetime Network); Rise & Fall of the Spartans (4-part Special Event series) and Jurassic Fight Club (Writer-History Channel); Stalking the Stalker (Writer-Fox Network); The Unexplained: UFO's vs. the Government (Writer/Producer/Director-A&E); North Mission Road and LA Forensics (Story Editor/Director-TruTV); Extreme Forensics and Hostage: Do or Die (Story Editor-Investigation Discovery); American Haunting (Writer-Discovery Networks).
Bill is a member of the WGA and holds a Ph.D. degree. He also has an extensive sports background as a color commentator with ESPN; and before that as a college hockey player and college and professional hockey coach. He resides in Playa del Rey, California and hails from Sarnia, Ontario, where he was inducted into the Sports Hall of Fame. In his spare time you'll find him reading, or in the great outdoors: roller-blading, running, hiking, or swimming.
Rogue Justice is his second book and first novel, the other being a non-fiction hardback titled Tough Target. He is currently at work on his second novel, The Game.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/RogueJusticeNovel
Twitter: www.twitter.com/billnealauthor
Website: www.william-neal.com
William Neal, Rogue Justice
