Free Father's Day by Keith Gilman Page A

still swollen from the spring rain. They’d ridden their bikes together on a dirt track behind Karakung Little League Field, building ramps from cut up portions of plywood stolen from a construction site nearby. It was around that time they’d decided they wanted to be cops. It was also the time they’d first faced the fact that they were infatuated with the same girl.
    Her name was Sarah Powers back then. They’d followed her home from school every day down Woodbine Avenue, a long line of wide-eyed boys who’d follow her for the rest of her life. She’d become used to it, used to the attention, the looks from men and boys alike, looks she’d learned to take for granted.
    Lou’s chances with Sarah had never developed into anything but an occasional meeting behind the old Stegmair building or a walk in Morris Park, hidden behind a row of towering pines. The few times they’d been together, he’d come away feeling that Sarah Powers was dangerous, would always be dangerous for any man who fell for her, who lost control and put himself in the palm of her hand. He saw it coming; he’d sensed that she’d squeeze the life out of Sam Blackwell. He’d always regretted not telling Sam what he thought. It was the only thing he’d kept from him. He’d felt guilty about it then. He felt guilty now.
    Sam had married Sarah a month after they’d graduated from the police academy. It had seemed like such a good plan in the beginning, both of them deciding to join the force, live the life, and it almost worked. But things started to unravel, just as Lou had feared. The badge turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing. Although he’d never told Sam the truth about him and Sarah, never told him that they’d been together, if only for afew fleeting moments that had never amounted to anything, he believed Sam must have known and didn’t care or simply refused to face it. As the years went on, it had become harder to affix blame to those things that appeared to be out of his control. If he was going to blame anyone, it would be himself.
    He took another long drag off the cigar, held it up in front of him, like some kind of connoisseur savoring a glass of fine wine. He examined the dark skin, rolled it between his fingers, gauging the ring size, the length. He flung it out the car window and watched it skid across the icy parking lot.

 
6
     
    It was just after noon when Lou got back. He found Maggie curled up on the couch with a gallon of chocolate ice cream on her lap and a silver spoon in her hand. He’d always kept a carton in the freezer. Ice cream was a custom at bedtime when Maggie was small—a substitute for a baby’s bottle, milk to make her sleep. As she got older, it became a form of bribery. It also worked wonders on a hangover. He’d gotten the idea from his father, who’d taken him to the Dairy Queen on City Avenue every Wednesday night in his police car, even in the winter after football practice, when he and Sam would wrestle in the backseat.
    “Early start?”
    “Yeah, I had a date with an irate cop and a frustrated housewife.”
    “Which was worse?”
    “I managed to keep them apart.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Mitchell would try to pump her for information. That wasn’t going to work. She’d clam up and I’d never get anything out of her.”
    “So you think the girl’s mom is lying.”
    “Let’s just say, she’s being less than honest. She gives the story in bits and pieces. I have to drag it out of her. She’s dealing with a guilty conscience and I know firsthand what that can do.”
    “What do you have to be guilty about?”
    He came up behind her and stroked her hair as he had when she was a child, playing with her ponytail, tickling her face with it.
    “By the sound of it, you have her condemned already. Why are you so suspicious of everyone?”
    “It’s what twenty years as a cop will do to you.”
    “Don’t give me that. You were probably like that your whole life.”
    “And