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Untying the Shadows

By Mary Cantell

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Chapter One

Early March 2007
Alexandria, Virginia

Tess’s stomach swirled as she approached the smoked glass door of the red-brick building. Police departments were foreign territory, and she felt out of place even setting foot onto the property. Walking along Wheeler Street in downtown Alexandria, she half-expected to see large granite steps and globe lights inscribed with POLICE in front like in old TV police dramas. Although the clean lines of the three-story building and grounds lent a modern aesthetic similar to a business office or school campus, her nerves responded otherwise. Along with a jittery stomach, her palms moistened. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Her conscience was clear. Not even a parking ticket in the past five years.
She took a deep breath and reached for the handle. The smooth metal felt cool in her palm and she wondered how many people crossed this same threshold and never made it back out. Permanently detained—behind bars or sheltered in a closed, dank space. Would they have solitary confinement in such an upscale facility or was that relegated to the Alcatrazes of the world? While she didn’t quite feel nauseas, the cream cheese bagel she ate this morning still sat like a lump in her stomach.
A middle-aged balding man in a grey uniform hunkered behind the security desk making a notation on a fluorescent yellow post-it note with a black Sharpie pen. He glanced up and greeted her in a flat tone, “Help you, ma’am?” as though already inconvenienced.
“Hello, sir,” she said in her most polite voice. “I’d like to speak with Sergeant Kilroy, please.” Her stomach did a little flip.
The desk officer stared back at her over the top of his glasses as though she were asking for the moon and stars. A half-eaten jelly doughnut and a mug of coffee sat among the clutter of paper on his desk along with a tiny portable TV tuned to The Price Is Right.
“Kilroy? His voice caught on the k in and while he needed to clear the phlegm from his throat, he didn’t. “What’s this is in reference to?”
Her stomach tightened at his brusque tone. “It’s kind of a long story, but the Sergeant will know.” She paused. “I’m from out-of-state,” she said with a modest smile, lending a confidence she didn’t own coupled with as much lightness as she could muster, hoping the out of state would pull some weight. After driving nearly three hours, she was determined to speak to him and sensed the man behind the desk would as easily dismiss her as lend her a nickel.
“Your name?”
“Tess.” She stepped closer to his desk. “Tess Thompson.”
He slowly turned to pick up the phone as though he didn’t want to exert himself too much. She figured he had a muscle injury and was in pain or was plain lazy. Possibly a former patrol officer either suspended from duty or who had enough of street work and was ready for retirement. Either way, the art of customer service was not his strong suit.
“Hey, Sandy. Got a woman out here looking to see Kilroy.” He paused and then let out a forced chuckle. The phlegm in his voice now even more annoying coupled with evidence of his smoker’s voice. “Yeah, okay.” He hung up the phone as slowly as he picked it up. “The sergeant isn’t in right now.”
Tess’s heart sunk.
“But he should be back in a while according to dispatch, so if you wanna take a seat,” he said, pointing with a stubby finger to the hardback chairs along the window, “you can wait in there.”
“Oh, that’s great, thanks,” she said, relieved at the good news.
The late morning sun cast a large rectangle on the laminated floor. She slipped out of her leather jacket and cast a glance around the sterile room, taking note of the commendation plaques on the wall. From her seat, she strained to see if Sergeant Kilroy was among those who had received a distinctive honor. He was the kindest policemen she’d ever spoken to with the exception of Mr. Jackson, the school crossing guard who once stood on the street corner in her neighborhood after serving thirty years in the police force.
Alone in the room, she pulled out her cell. Her private message box signaled there were two messages. The first one came from her son Chad, a junior at the University of Maryland, who let her know he received the care package she sent and mentioned the cookies weren’t broken this time. “A minor miracle, kudos to the post office,” she texted back. The second message came from family friend Charlie, an old neighbor who recently moved to Florida and who was now engaged to be married. “Good news, congrats to both of you!” she wrote. He texted back: “Hope u guys can make the wedding.”
Tess: “There’s always time to visit Florida. When is it?”
Charlie: “May 12th.”
Tess: “I’m thrilled for you! Was she surprised when you proposed?”
Charlie: “It was a surprise for both of us. When I got down on one knee, my pants split.”
Tess: “Oh, no.”
Charlie: “Yeah, it kind of broke the moment. Then I couldn’t tell if she was crying or laughing.”
Tess: “2 funny.”
Charlie: “By the way, thanks for being there for me and for your prayers with—well, you know.”
Tess: “I’m so glad Diane’s out of your life. What a mess that was, right?”
Charlie: “U R not kidding.”
Tess: “I’m glad you found someone who understands you. It makes all the difference.”
Charlie: “It’s great, Tess, you have no idea.”
Tess: “I think I do.”
Charlie: “Listen, I have a teleconference in a minute, I need 2 go but I wanted u to know about the wedding. You’ll be getting an invitation in the mail.”
Tess: “So u wanted to warn me ahead of time, is that it?”
Charlie: “Yeah, I didn’t want to shock u.”
Tess: “All right, talk later. Bye.”
While waiting in the empty room, Tess felt her nerves tighten. How long was this going to take? At one point, she felt the urge to get up and march down the hall to look for Sergeant Kilroy herself in the slight chance he came back through another door. Police departments must have secret ways of coming and going; it was all part of the cunning detective-mystery element to their jobs.
Conflicted whether to get up or remain in the waiting room, she settled on distracting herself for the time being with Facebook and began to scroll through her wall. She paused at the picture her friend Lola, a realtor, posted about the real estate business in the Tampa/St. Petersburg area. She mentioned the time is now to consider buying property in Florida, the land of sunshine. A photo of her latest listing offered a two-story cottage by the water. Lola hoped to resurrect things for the waning real estate business in the sluggish housing market, and a good number of homes were available in her territory. The pink cottage by the silky aqua waves drew Tess in.
Thoughts of her home back in Pennsylvania came to mind, the property she and Tim struggled and saved for after living for a decade in a tiny garden style apartment. With the economic picture they were facing, Tim’s words came to mind. “Maybe we should consider downsizing to something more affordable.” She hated the idea.
Tess continued scrolling when she sensed movement nearby. She glanced up to see a tall dark-haired man in blue approaching.
“Sergeant Kilroy?” she said, standing.
“I am,” he replied with an eyebrow raised curiously.
“I’m Tess Thompson… we spoke a while back.” She extended her hand and he reached out to shake it. Though Tess realized he probably didn’t remember her. Or if he did, he was puzzled as to what she was doing there. She released her hand from his firm grasp.
“I’m here about the murder of George A. Le Cotte.”

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