Free Veil - 02 - The Hammer of God by Reginald Cook Page A

ring.
    “I have news, Robert. Come to Detective Reynolds apartment. It doesn’t look good,” said Thorne.
     

13
     
    R obert sped into Chicago and headed for South Shore, where Detective Reynolds owned a condominium. Forty-five minutes past noon, most of the city’s faithful went about their daily routine with systematic ease. City street crews directed traffic around pylons, while they repaired chuckholes in the asphalt, and scheduled maintenance before a hard winter took its toll. Hustlers hawked their wares, some legit, most illegal, all under the occasional watchful eyes of Chicago’s patrolling finest.
    Detective Reynolds, a twenty year police veteran, was somewhat of a legend on the streets of Chicago. Tales of his exploits were many, however, one story stood out as Robert’s favorite.
    Late one Friday night, back when the detective was still a uniform patrolman, he and his partner were cruising through one of the seedier sections of the city’s South Side, when an explosion in a house the next street over rocked the neighborhood. Reynolds and his partner were the first to arrive on the scene and found an old, beaten down house quickly being gobbled up in flames.
    “My babies, my babies!” a distraught mother in a nightgown bellowed, running up to the car. “My son and daughter are up there! Help them, please!”
    “How old are they?” Reynolds asked, calm and controlled.
    “Six and eight,” she screamed.
    “What are their names?”
    “Carl and Kendra,” the mother told him, collapsing to the ground.
    Detective Reynolds’ partner called for backup and the Fire Department. Reynolds looked up at the flames filling the second floor, and without hesitation, rushed inside and bolted up the stairs, fire crackling all around, screaming the children’s names. He found both kids unconscious on the floor in their bedroom, the exit blocked by the raging inferno. Witnesses outside said they heard a loud crash, looked up, and saw Detective Reynolds falling toward them with Carl and Kendra under each arm. He landed hard on the grassless lawn, breaking his right leg in two places, but saving the children, who suffered a few bruises and were treated for smoke inhalation, but otherwise were okay.
    When Detective Reynolds returned to work he received the highest honors the police department and the City of Chicago could bestow, not to mention, street credibility any officer would dream of, and the nickname of a comic book superhero with the persona of a bat.
    As with many women, Thorne kept the intimate details of her love life guarded, but in all the years Robert had known her, no man could ever boast the impact Detective Reynolds had on her. Where most of Thorne’s relationships lasted six, nine months at the most, the detective had managed to survive close to three years, and Robert wasn’t surprised when she accepted the detective’s proposal of marriage. Thorne was the happiest Robert had ever seen her, and he was glad she found someone to share her life with.
    However, a month before they all flew to Martha’s Vineyard for a small ceremony, the whole thing was suddenly called off. Thorne spent a week at Robert’s place moping. He didn’t press her, and she never said a word about why the wedding was canceled. Thorne eventually shook it off and remained close friends with Detective Reynolds. They even took trips together on occasion, but the subject of marriage never came up again.
    Robert drove into the underground garage of the detective’s complex and parked. Shadowy and dark, the drab concrete felt more like a tomb, adding to Robert’s already foreboding sense of dread. He strode out of the elevator on the tenth floor and knocked on the white and gold trim door, numbered ten-twelve. Thorne snatched open the door, all smiles, and gave Robert a long, tight hug, as though she knew it was just the medicine he needed.
    Detective Reynolds, six-three, muscle plastered, with flawless, midnight black skin,