A Long Night Cry 1-3
A Long Night Cry 1-3
An Eli Ridge Novel
Chapter 1
The night was different than any before, not because of anything external, but because of the way Eli felt inside. The haunting pain and guilt were crushing, almost unbearable. He felt a pressing force on his chest, like his body was lodged in a vice that someone was tightening with an iron bar. He could deal with the pain. He’d done it before. It was the guilt he wasn’t sure he could live with. He struggled to catch enough air to breathe and speak coherently.
She tried to remove some of the pain with her gentle touch and reassuring voice but only saw more pain gathering, his breathing becoming more and more shallow.
“Try to take some deep breaths.”
Eli nodded then grimaced.
“I know what you are going through. No matter the circumstances, we tell ourselves we should have been the one to do more, to step in and prevent the travesty, but you did everything you could.”
“No,” he said, snapping a look at her. His face tightened, tears welled, eyelids quivered. His scowl pierced her; it was hard to endure. She squeezed his hand and placed her free hand against the right side of his neck.
The light in the room was dim because he wanted it that way, to mask some of the pain and hide his tears. He remembered his father’s words from two decades past, reminding him, ‘Boys don’t cry.’
“It’s okay to cry. I hope you know that. I am here for you . . . to try and take some of the pain away.”
Eli’s tears brimmed over, spilling on her wrist and forearm. A fist was removed from his chest, and he was able to breathe normal again.
Still holding his hand, she slid to the floor.
“Why don’t you come down here, with me?”
Frozen in agonizing guilt, he wept even more.
“Come,” she said, tugging at his arms, pulling Eli to her.
He moved to the edge of his chair collapsing to the floor, his legs unable to bear his weight. She pulled him beside her.
“Just lay here and breathe. That’s all you have to do, Eli.”
He did as she said, and it felt good. He remembered that he trusted her, and some of his heartache drifted away.
There on the cold floor, she lifted his head and placed it on her bosom. He adjusted his body perpendicular to hers. She placed a hand on his cheek and another on top of his head, her hands were those of a mother’s, caressing and comforting a troubled child.
“You are safe with me.”
His pain drifted away with the dark clouds stealing the moonlight away.
“You’ll go to the funeral with me, won’t you?” Eli asked.
She was silent. It was the one place Havana swore she’d never go again.
Chapter 2
*** SIX DAYS EARLIER ***
As the wheels of the plane touched down at Bush Intercontinental, Eli and Havana were jostled from their light sleep. They’d both agreed to leave their phones on the kitchen counter and just go away, somewhere they could not be touched by work, or friends, or the press. They wanted to be alone, to escape from life and get to know each other more intimately, but that was gone now, and reality was beginning to creep back into their minds.
Their red eye back to Houston capped off four days of solitude, something they both needed to recover from the exhaustion that had set in while working the Jigsaw Killer case. While away, they made a rule not to discuss the case they’d just solved but broke it innumerable times. Still in awe at how the case unfolded, they watched the prime-time news coverage of the case while away. Instead of being frustrated, they laughed at the botching the media made of how the case went down. It was over, the killer was awaiting sentencing, and they knew they needed to move to the next case they’d catch.
The drive from Houston to Eli’s house was smooth on the Hardy Toll Road.
“Are you ready to get back to work?” Havana asked.
Eyes fixed on the highway, Eli thought a few moments before he answered.
“I’ve been told each homicide case, especially the brutal ones, take a little bit of your soul with them,” Eli said.
“Do you think that’s true?”
“I’m not sure, but there’s still a hollowness here.” Eli tapped his chest. “Maybe it’s some of Naomi’s pain that hasn’t left this God-forsaken Earth and still needs a vessel . . . maybe it’s concern for the kid. I don’t know.”
She knew ‘the kid’ was Jeremiah Cormier, Naomi’s son. Havana saw that Eli had gone somewhere dark.
“What is it, Eli?”
“Or maybe it’s regret that I didn’t end that piece of shit’s life when I had the—”
“Eli,” Havana said, shifting in her seat, “you need to talk about this more. We can get you hooked up with Internal Wellness and they can give you time to decompress. You’ve been through hell over the last few weeks.”
Her concern was visible. It comforted him. He shook his head knowing he’d never ask for additional time off. He longed to get back to his mission and believed it was the only thing that would restore wholeness.
When they merged onto Interstate 45 North, he stayed right to take the Rayford Road exit and noticed a large outcropping of full-grown palm trees being planted in front of a new construction project. A temporary sign read, ‘Future home of New Life Church.’ Eli wondered how a church could afford to import two dozen palm trees to create an oasis in the middle of North Houston. It was a fleeting thought, a judgment he knew he needed to dismiss.
When they turned into Eli’s driveway, he noted his aging Impala had collected a thick layer of dust, that it hadn’t rained in quite some time. That was rare during hurricane season. When they stepped out of Havana’s Tahoe, they were draped in a blanket of moisture that hung in the air.
Upon entering Eli’s home, they made a beeline to their cell phones that had been left plugged in on the kitchen counter.
“I have to head south to the station, Eli.” Havana said. “Huntsman is bugging out down there without me.”
She unplugged her charger from the wall and turned for the door. Eli wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
“I will never forget this past week,” Eli said, his face close to her cheek.
She smiled and thought a moment before responding. “You better not. I’ll pull rank on your ass and haul you into the station.”
Eli kissed her neck then released her despite his desire to hold on. After walking her out and giving her another kiss, he then went for the shower but was interrupted by an incoming call. The sound shocked him, igniting an anxious frenzy. He read the caller I.D., ‘Detective Prick,’ and made a mental note to correct it.
“Partner, what’s up?” Eli forced a light tone.
“Niceofya to answer the phone, Ridge. Didja even take it with ya?”
“Well, you see, I meant to, but—”
“Never mind that. I need you up here ASAP.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t have time to explain things over the phone. How soon can you get here?”
Eli looked at the shower he was headed for, then turned away, grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter, along with his gun and badge, and said, “Be there in twenty.”
Chapter 3
On his way, Eli stopped at Starbucks on Rayford Road to pick up his go-to drink, a Venti Pike Place with two Stevia and a splash of steamed cream. Despite the sweltering Houston climate, he liked his coffee to burn when he drank it.
“Missed you over the past few days, Eli,” the barista said as she passed his double-cupped coffee out the drive-thru window.
He smiled and said, “Thanks for remembering my name.” He raised himself out of his seat a bit so he could read her nametag. “Julie, have you ever thought about police work? You have a knack for details.”
She threw him a smile. A customer calling her by name was a rarity in her line of work.
“You know—I’ve never thought of that—but maybe I will.”
She jiggled a wave, ever-so-slightly and smiled, “Hope to see you tomorrow, Eli.”
He dropped two dollar bills in a square plastic canister displayed outside the drive-thru window that read, ‘TIPS. Words accepted; dollars cherished.’
Merging onto I-45 North, he eyed his dash clock and noted it was almost an hour after the bankers started work, so his drive to the station should be clear. As he sipped his coffee, his anxious mind ramped up. He wondered about the urgency in his partner’s call. It was out of character for Detective Third Grade Thaddeus Preck to sound frenzied. Shit must have hit the fan. He prepared himself to be showered in it as soon as he arrived back to work from his sabbatical that had ended too soon.
As he passed by the heart of The Woodlands, the easterly sun beamed off the mirrored finishes of the twin Hendricks Towers standing high above every other building in town. They were beautifully constructed to blend in with the man-made lake below them. The entire project had cost the wealthiest man in Houston over a half-billion dollars. The towers were a statement of art to most. They represented greed and power to Eli. They were a symbol of one man’s evil that had infected thousands of lives, the man he’d helped put behind bars close to six years ago to the day.
Howard Hendricks, the Texas billionaire, had wanted to purchase the city through corrupt politicians and inner-city donations. He was set to appear before a parole board in a few days. It was a day that Eli hoped would never come, one that haunted him because of what Hendricks had done to him and his family.
It had been close to a week since he’d thought about Hendricks, his childhood, the loss of his father, and the time his mother had done in prison. But the memories always came back, like a recurring nightmare that looped through his mind.
He smiled knowing it was the five days away he’d spent with Havana that had taken him far away from his darkest memories. He already missed her, the way she laughed, her scent, hard to pinpoint but something floral. He took a deep breath trying to imagine just the way she smelled, but nothing remained. All he smelled were hints of aging upholstery, dried cardboard, and dirt that had been mashed into the floorboard over its lifetime of police work.
The vibration on his thigh interrupted his thoughts. He fished his cell phone out from his khaki pants. Suspecting it was Preck, he answered it without a look.
“Detective Ridge.”
“Eeelliiii! You know I gave birth to you, right?”
Eli pulled the phone away and glanced at the caller I.D. that read ‘Penny Ridge – should you answer?’
His mother’s voice had a way of sobering him. He searched for a way to shake her. Patience was usually his best chance of shortening the call.
“I was out of the country.”
“Well, for Chrissake, send me a text next time. I was worried sick, you know. I haven’t heard from you—”
“It’s only been five days,” Eli said, grinding his teeth, chewing the words he did not want to escape from his mouth.
He pulled his coffee to his lips, another tactic to hold his tongue. He let out a hissing sound after taking in too much hot coffee.
“Eli, what’s gotten into you, son? You’re hissing me?”
“No, Penny. I am not hissing you. Just drank too much coffee—”
“Where are you, Eli?”
“Headed into work. Why did you call?”
“Well, that’s pleasant, son.”
There was a long pause. Eli considered playing the ‘static game’ and disconnecting but was curious, so he decided to wait her out. Penny took a few deep breaths, working herself into a victim mentality, then gathering her fragile emotions.
“Eli, do you know what’s coming up this week?”
In the rearview mirror, Eli could still see the top six floors of the Hendricks Towers. “Yes, I do.”
“Can you be there with me for the parole hearing, Eli? I’ve decided I want to speak up and try to keep that bastard from getting out of prison.”
“It depends on my workload, but I’ll try.” As he said it, Eli felt a tingling sensation in his ear. The caffeine, heightened anxiety in his mother’s voice, and the thought of Howard Hendricks paroling out set his senses on edge. It felt like a wire bush was being dragged down the side of his face. A tightening in his collar and fullness in his chest forced Eli to release the top button of his shirt.
The phone vibrated against his ear, alerting another call was coming through. He struggled to process everything.
“I need to go now, Penny,” Eli said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“What? What about the hearing, Eli?”
His face felt hot. Beads of sweat formed and dropped onto his khakis. He pawed at another shirt button but realized he’d already released the last one. He rolled down his window to get some fresh air, only to be blasted with a film of hot humid wind, adding to his frustration.
“Eli!” Penny cried.
Another buzz at his ear felt like a bee was trapped between it and the phone. He peeked at his phone and saw the incoming text messages from Preck.
Where you at, Ridge? I need you up here ASAP!
“Well, will you be there for me or not, Eli? You are the only one I have anymore,” Penny said.
He considered tossing the phone out the car window. Instead, Eli hit the End Call button and threw his phone at the passenger seat. He lifted his coffee from the console and took another sweltering drink, this time burning his throat.
“Damn it!”
A splash of the molten hot liquid landed on his wrist causing him to swerve on the highway. Shaking, he finally managed to set his coffee down. He pulled a napkin from the center console and steadied his car in the middle lane. The driver beside him, in a raised Ford F-250, shot him a dagger-like stare then accelerated ahead.
Eli showed his teeth and gulped deep breaths, struggling to get enough air. The fog in his head began to clear a bit. His sweat turned to a chilling dampness. He reached to the dash and turned the air conditioner down two notches.
Thoughts of weakness flooded his mind. Shame followed when he realized he’d just had a panic attack.
Read Chapters 4-6 here
Commentary:
This was by far the toughest book I’ve ever written. I believe you’ll understand why when you get into the book and meet the characters.
Check out the first two Eli Ridge novels below.
