10 Years Later

• • •

Hopping out of the shower after winning our latest softball game, I had been thoroughly stressed about my math test the following day. I’d changed into my pajamas and met my mom in the kitchen, where she was making dinner as we waited for my dad to get home. I tossed my math book on the table and hopped onto one of the bar stools.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked, wondering why he wasn’t home yet. Dad was rarely late getting home for dinner.

“Running late, I guess,” Mom said over her shoulder as she tended to something she had going in the frying pan that smelled delicious.

Someone knocked on the door. The knock was so gentle that at first I thought I was hearing things.

“Was that the door?” My mom turned slightly to look at me.

“I wasn’t sure. I’ll go check.” I jumped down and rushed to the front door.

Swinging it open, I was met by the ashen faces of two police officers I didn’t recognize. One looked really young, and the other was about the same age as my dad. They removed their caps as they looked at me.

“Can I help you?” I assumed they were looking for my dad, although his coworkers didn’t usually stop by our house.

“Hi, Cammie. Is your mom at home?”

Curious, I squinted at them, wondering how in the world they knew my name. “I’ll go get her,” I said, then closed the door behind me and called out, “Mom, there’s two cops at the door. I figured they were looking for Dad, but they asked for you.”

I rounded the corner into the kitchen as the metal spatula Mom had been holding dropped to the floor. It clanged loudly on the tile, rattling for a moment as it rocked back and forth before finally coming to a stop. It’s a sound I’ll never forget.

Still confused, I asked Mom if she

was okay.

“Turn off the oven and the stove, please, Cammie.” She wiped her hands on a towel, an expression on her face I’d never seen before. “I’ll be right back.” Her voice cracked, and she was the palest I’d ever seen her as she headed toward the front door.

Mom’s odd reaction made my stomach twist with worry; something was definitely wrong. I turned everything off as she’d asked and rushed to the door just in time to see her fall to the floor in a heap. Her legs folded, and she simply collapsed on top of herself.

“We’re so sorry, ma’am.”

I looked up at the men as I dropped to the floor next to my mom, cradling her in my arms. “What happened? What’s going on?” My gaze traveled between my mom’s face as she cried hysterically, and their stoic ones. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on!” I shrieked.

“Cammie, your father was shot and killed during a robbery,” the older officer said slowly. He looked extremely uncomfortable, as if he’d rather be anywhere than here at this moment. Sadness etched his features as he twisted his cap in his hands, and he averted his eyes as he added, “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Wrong place at the wrong time?” I repeated, thinking how weird that wording was. Dad was a cop, of course he’d be at a robbery. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

My body went numb. I completely understood in this moment why my mom had crumpled to the floor as if her bones could no longer support her. Mine felt as if they’d cracked beneath the weight of his words.

The younger officer glanced at his partner, and when the man gave him a slight nod, he cleared his throat and tried to explain. “As far as we can tell, he was on his way home for the day. He stopped at a mini-mart in the area to pick up a bottle of wine. While he was in the back of the store, a man we’ve since learned is a local gang member stormed in with a gun and tried to rob the place.”

The officer paused for a moment and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “This is where the details get sketchy, but it looks as though the robber tried to take a young girl hostage, and your dad tried to stop him. The scumbag shot your dad three times in the chest.”

My mind imagined the scene as he explained it, but my brain got hung up on specific details, specific words. It was as though I couldn’t possibly be expected to process all of this information without having my questions answered.

“How do you know he was getting wine?” I asked in a voice I almost didn’t recognize as the two cops stared at me. “You said he stopped for wine. How do you know he was getting wine?”

“He put the bottle down on the floor when the robbery started. He was the only person in the back of the store.”

That made sense. More questions. In the midst of my absolute heartbreak and horror, I was consumed with the need to have answers. “What happened to the girl?”

“Your dad saved her life. Who knows what that guy would have done if he’d gotten her outside with him. A lot of gang members have to do crazy things during their initiation. Kidnapping can be one of them.”

“Where’s the robber now? Did you catch him?”

The younger cop avoided my eyes as the older one maintained hard contact. “He got away. But we’ll get him, Cammie. We’ll find this asshole. I promise you.”