At Home ~ Part I

‘You are worthy, our Lord & God, to receive glory and honor and power,

for you created all things, and by your will

they were created and have their being.’ ~ Revelation 4:11

            “I’ll be late getting home this week.” Declan had explained to his daughter on Sunday night. “It can’t be helped… we don’t tell Mom, ok?”

            Brittany’s blonde eyebrows had scrutinized him closely for a moment, the tips ticking at the position of leverage she found herself. “You gotta buy me those caramel-iced brownies from Chip’s. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

            That had been their deal and Brittany’s Wednesday package sat atop Declan’s files in the passenger’s seat. Five hours of overtime this week alone and he still found plenty of clutter for his desk at home. It just never ended; he would like to see criminals have their nine to five disrupted. Have their dinners and holidays cut short... but then, they would need a conscience for that.

            Ok, not fair. Declan scolded himself, turning onto his street. Sorry, God. Nineteen years as a deputy and I should know better.

            Nineteen years… boy, had he seen plenty. Running a hand over his wrinkling forehead, Declan pulled into their driveway. He stopped before the garage. He’d leave the car out for him and Brittany to wash after dinner; a clause in their deal. Brittany only got the brownies if she helped out with a few chores. Though their family’s psyche was a bit twisted when it came to chores; Declan detested them, Brittany revealed in them.

            No self-respecting 13-year-old ‘reveals’ in chores. Declan got out of the car. He juggled the files and the brownies on his way to the front door. Keys? Aw man, in the ignition!

            He was always doing that! Declan turned from their front stoop when it caught his eye. Or rather, the lack of it; of the glass in the left-most panel of the front door. What…

            His instincts answered the question. The files and brownie bag scattered from his hands and he rammed inside. The door didn’t protest, bits of the glass pushed across the foyer tile. Declan’s heart was racing and he choked on his scream for Brittany. The foyer of their home led into an open living room and Declan’s palms began to sweat against the metal of his 9mm. The walls- they were blank. All of the pictures and décor had been taken down.

            “Dispatch,” Declan spoke into the radio at his shoulder. “This’ Deputy Sheriff King. 211 at 384 Silver Day Avenue. Units in the vicinity respond!”

            He didn’t listen for a response. “Brittany!”

            Not a sound answered him.

            Her flute lesson was cancelled today. Declan reasoned- to himself or to God? She- She should be here.

            “Brittany!” the father in him roared for her this time. When he should’ve been yelling ‘police’ and establishing his presence. But he wasn’t going to war with his two personalities. She’d go into our room. Patty and I have always told her to.

            “Brittany!” Declan ordered her name this time, mounting the stairs cautiously, weapon ready. They had a long hallway- there was Brittany’s room and the bathroom to the right, his and Patty’s room and the guest bedroom to the left. All the doors were closed. “Honey, it’s Dad. Answer me!”

            “Daaad!” Brittany screamed. In the next instant she was flying from behind her bedroom door. Declan met her at the top of the stairs, gun pointed down so he could wrap an arm around her. He needed to feel her, even if she was shaking. Thank you, God.

            “He told me- to stay in my room,” Brittany hiccuped into Declan’s shoulder.

            “I’m here, I’m here,” Declan rocked her slightly. “How long?”

            “Seven minutes.”

            She couldn’t be wrong. Brittany excelled at math.

            “You’re so smart.” Declan breathed in, catching the scent of his daughter’s hair. It’d break him if he didn’t let go now. “Get back in your room, lock the door.”

            Her grip tightened. “Dad…”

            “Brittany, now.” Declan told her, drawing her back to meet her eyes. They were brown like his, only tears and fear had reddened them. “I’ve got to check the house. I’ll be right back.”

            He waited until she had retreated back into her room. He pushed down any parental impulses and went back to checking the house. Even though he knew that the guy would be long gone.

`&`&`&`&`&`

            Their neighbors, the Ottens, were generous enough to house them for the night- and as many nights as necessary, Mrs. Otten had insisted.

            “Even after that tacky police tape is off of your front door.” She had smiled warmly across her and Mr. Otten's dinner table. It was a good thing that she meant well. 

             Declan rubbed at his eyes, sitting on the edge of the sofa bed in the Otten’s basement. His spirit and body were completely drained at two-o-clock in the morning. But he didn’t think it fair to sleep when his wife and daughter weren’t.

            Oh God… Declan moaned into his hands, trying to purge the possibilities from his head with the holy name.

The man who had been in the King house was a spree burglar that had been hitting the community since July. Every two weeks, always on a Thursday, this man burglarized a house. It was a terrible smear on the department to have not caught him and all the officers were feeling the heat raining down from city hall and the public. It was the burglar's recklessness and predictability that seemed to keep him invisible. He struck during daylight hours, used front doors, and left a more then notable trademark. Any pictures or artwork, anything hanging on the walls inside his latest house, he took down.

            He takes his time to prove that he can’t be caught. Declan’s hands squeezed around the sides of his head. He doesn’t bow down to anyone or anything. And he touched my child! Oh, God…

Declan looked up as Patty tiptoed back down from the guest bedroom. She wore a ragged sweatshirt that matched her strained face. She caught his eyes for a second before moving past him and around the bed. Declan knew to worry. Patty was the most direct and up-front person and to have her not speak to him… that was her at her foulest.

“She asleep?” Declan ventured.

“Hopefully for the rest of the night.” Patty pretended to fluff her pillow. “I’m going to take the day off tomorrow; she might want to stay home from school…”

“Don’t,” Declan shook his head. “You used up your sick days for our summer vacation. The chief’ll let me work third shift tomorrow…”

“No, no,” Patty waved his suggestion off. “Don’t let us interrupt the department’s schedule. We don’t want to feel like a burden.”

Declan turned to eye her fully. “Excuse me?”

Patty didn’t elaborate, slipping into her side of the covers. Declan watched her, hardly fooled. “You want me to list the number of ways that I’m sorry? Want me to describe my guilt?”

“It shouldn’t be guilt, it should be shame.” Patty let the curt in her voice sting him, her eyes- a blazing hazel-green- locked on him. “Thirty minutes, Declan. With driving, that puts it more at forty-five. I asked you for thirty minutes.”

“I was getting my job done-” Declan put in.

“Planning out the new curriculum.” Patty nodded. She was aware of the citizen’s academy because Declan had been helping teach it for four years. That, and it was all Brittany talked about. The second she turned fourteen, she was going to be attending, she swore to the both of them.

“You worked on a curriculum,” Patty’s fists balled up into the sheet. “And a criminal broke into our house! Do you think he would’ve tried that if your car had been in the driveway? We agreed that we didn’t want her home alone.”

Declan knew he didn’t have an answer for that. He hadn’t wanted Brittany home alone either, with everything that was going on. “I’m… sorry. I… I didn’t see the harm in it.”

“Or the harm in having her lie to me about it.” Patty shook her head, fussing with the pillow again. “I’m the one who likes keeping secrets Declan, not the other way around.”

“Patty, it had nothing to do-”

“She has a mark, Declan!” Patty hissed, the tears hitting her eyes. “He left a mark on her neck from where he dragged her. He could’ve done worse!”

She closed her eyes, unable to think it. At least that was something they could agree on. Declan exhaled, eyes downcast. “You don’t think I know that? You don’t think-”

Patty pushed her palm toward him, eyes still closed. “You… you let me down, Declan. And I can’t handle that right now.”

And she turned on her side without another word. Declan looked at her back for a moment before taking his pillow and stretching out on the floor. Lord, how do I fix this?

~To Be Continued~