"So the creature returns," Officer Scott jokes as I walks in.
"If I am the creature that must make you the phantom?"
"Ouch. Are you saying I need to wear a mask?"
My defenses weaken a little. I can't fight a smile.
"How are you today, Tyson?" Scott asks.
"Besides feeling like a prisoner sent off by my dad to a tower somewhere in the forbidden forest so he can go about his normal life?"
She raises an eyebrow as if to say yes.
"Not too bad," I respond.
"Better than prison?"
I chuckle. "Jury's still out on that one." I pause, then, "Can I ask you a personal question?"
We both know she has to say yes to build trust. She nods in a I'm-an-open-book manner.
"Why did you become a cop?"
Scott looks down at the floor. I think she is having a conversation in her head about what to say.
"Well, that is a complicated story."
"All I have is time," I say, getting comfy in my chair
"Okay. I will tell you, but you have to answer a question for me when I am done."
"Fair enough," I acknowledge.
She tells me her story. Boldly and unabridged.
When I was eight and my brother, Nash, was eleven, we had adventures all summer together. My father, Harold, worked long hours in the Police Department in Uptown Charlotte and my mom, Theresa, worked the morning shift at my aunt's diner. It was the first year Mama would let us stay home when she went to work. I was so thankful for Nash. He begged and pleaded to not have to go to Aunt Minnie's diner and wash dishes. Mama knew Nash would be starting middle school in the fall so she agreed. However, the catch was that he had to babysit me.
My brother gladly took on this task. He and I had a great relationship. We told each other everything. We seldom fought. He taught me to play basketball and I taught him how to enter the double dutch ropes without getting tangled up. We were a perfect team.
That summer, Nash and I were always left alone to do what we wanted until Mama got home from work. She would then put us to work helping her get dinner together and clean up the house. We would walk to the penny candy store. Go swimming at the public pool. Even ride our bikes to the baseball park across town to join the pick-up games of wiffleball.
The day that changed my life started like any other. My brother woke me up around eight to try to beat the heat. We discussed riding our bikes to the pool the previous night. By nine, we were standing at the fence that surrounded the pool with heavy hearts. There was a sign on the gate that said the pool was closed for the day due to maintenance. Disheartened we rode our bikes back to our neighborhood's playground and decided to make the best of our morning.
Nash was the first to notice a shady looking guy creeping around the outskirts of the sandbox area. When he made eye contact with the stranger, Nash was beckoned over. The man was holding a pair of what looked to be Air Jordans. This got Nash's attention and must have clouded his mind of good judgment. I followed him over to where the guy was standing under a tree. I would follow Nash anywhere because I have always trusted his decisions in the past.
That's when a second stranger appeared. A woman. She started talking to us about our mom and where we lived. In a split second, I was scooped up by the woman and all I could hear is my brother yelling for me to fight back: bite, scratch, scream.
Then nothing. It went all went black.
When I came to, I was in a dark, musky cement floor room. My brother was tied up beside me. I knew at that point that I was never going to see my family again.
My brother and I were held hostage there for months. We were hidden from the world, beaten, raped. This would have gone on for who knows how long had I not escaped.
I am sure my eyes are deer in headlights. Blown away by her tale, I whisper, "And your brother?"
She sadly shakes her head.
"I'm sorry," I say. My heart breaks for Scott.
"No one could find him," she explained. "I paid very special attention to where I was when I made it out and ran for help. I took as many clues in as I could to help lead the police to my brother's location. But by the time they got there, our captors and my brother were gone. They found a fatal amount of my brother's blood that led the detectives to believe he was dead.
"Even though my family and friends held a vigil for him, my father never let the idea that he was still alive die. He went out of his mind following leads and gathering information. My Mama always said that it broke his heart that he couldn't find his own son.
"He passed away from a heart attack when I was a junior in high school."
Scott is getting upset and I feel like a prick, but she pushes on.
"Knowing that these kidnappers, these monsters, had now killed the two most important men in my life I made a vow to myself that I would do my part to prevent something this terrible from happening to some other family. That's why I became a police officer."
The room is quiet. For once, my sarcasm and cynicism are rendered silent.
"Wow." I clear my throat. In a quiet voice, I ask, "What is your question for me?"
"If Jack is not your uncle, who is he to you?"
"Nobody. Not anymore," I say flatly.
"Please elaborate. He must be somebody since he agreed to house you for the duration of your sentence and asked me to be your parole agent."
I sigh. "He is my godfather–my dad's best friend from growing up."
She cocks her head to the side and sticks out her ear to direct me to continue.
Another sigh escapes me. "My dad and he were best friends growing up. They met when my dad was a junior in high school working for a construction company during the summer. I think Jack's dad just left one day and his mom needed him to go find work to help support them. He was three years younger than my dad but just as tall, so no one ever raised any questions. Jack had a reputation for getting into trouble but after a year of hanging out with my dad, he got himself together. Jack always said that my dad was the one who believed in him and really made him see the importance of going to college.
"Right after high school, my dad got my mom pregnant and they got married before my dad started college. My mom stayed home with me and my dad took on a full college load and continued to work for the construction company on the side.
"My earliest memories include Jack. He was always helping my mom by babysitting and taking care of me. The crazy thing is he was still just a kid."
I paused at this thought. I am not sure I have ever given Jack props for this fact.
"When Jack was a freshman in college, he found out his father had died and left him the cabin in the mountains here. From then on, my family spent almost all of our free time at the cabin. Until my dad started working long hours at the firm at which he was trying to make his way up to partner.
"Jack eventually married his high school sweetheart, Amber. She and I always got along really well and sometimes people would think that they were my parents."
This makes me laugh a little.
"When I was about ten, my mom got really sick. Though, I wasn't told about this until later. My parents would take trips all over the east coast going to the highest ranked cancer hospitals. I would go and stay with Jack for days at a time.
"When my mom passed away a few years later, Jack disappeared completely from my life. He vanished when I needed him most. When my family needed him most. I eventually wrote him off and promised myself that I would never let him back into my life. I never knew it was because he was in prison..."
Scott's office phone lights up and starts blaring an annoying high-pitched ring. I am happy it interrupted me because I suddenly caught all sorts of feels.
"I'm sorry, Tyson. I have to take this."
I nod.
"Officer Scott," she introduces herself.
I hear bits and pieces from the other end. "Kids found...empty meth lab."
"Meth–" she starts, forgetting I am sitting behind her.
"Okay. I'm on my way." She turns to me as she hangs up the phone.
"Duty calls?" I ask.
"It does indeed. Can we return to this topic another time?"
I shrug-nod.
"Thank you for sharing that story with me, Tyson." She ushers me to the door, hit the lights, and pulls it closed behind us.
"Thanks for listening," I return before stepping into the busy front lobby and then out the front door.