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A detective’s final case and hope for the future… |
| A harsh, screeching cry tore through Dan Sullivan's dreams, jolting him awake. He grabbed his gun in the bedside drawer. Rolling to his feet, he strode to the window, pulling back the curtain. A chicken-sized, gleaming crow perched on the windowsill, eyeing him sideways, shrewdly. It let out another noisome caw that rattled the glass, then took off, flapping and lurching. “Dan? Everything ok?” His wife Reema called. He stared out the window at golden trees and lightly frosted ground, then returned to stash his weapon. “A crow woke me up. I thought someone was screaming.” He sat on the side of the bed, watching sunbeams flickering on the walls, unable to shake the instinct of lurking danger. The unbothered songs of robins and chickadees outside failed to reassure him all was well. “Retirement bothering you?” Reema's voice was sympathetic. “Yeah.” He rubbed his knees. “I keep thinking there's an important case I should be handling. Plus I feel like someone's after us.” “It's ok. You're at a loss. What you need is something productive to do, now that you're not a detective anymore.” “I am a detective,” he said shortly. “I'm just not working.” “Well, what do private investigators do when they're not working? Write books, volunteer, share what they've learned with others. You could become a community advocate for at-risk kids.” Dan lifted his head. “I do think we should work with kids. I want to inspire them, give them something to believe in.” “I've had an idea for a while now,” Reema said. “Can we host a weekly kiddy class at the library and teach them about detective work? We can read stories and build a micro mystery project for them to solve, a new one each week.” “Good grief.” Dan turned to stare at his wife. “That's brilliant. Why didn't you tell me sooner?” She looked down with a smile. “I wasn't sure if it made sense. Lots of details to figure out.” He leaned back to hug her. “We’ll figure it out together. Now I'm excited!” *** The weekly “detective” class at the local library was a huge success. Dan and Reema set it up for kids between five and nine. They prepped a project each week, perhaps codes to break or a collection of objects to find. Sometimes the activity could be completed right there; other times, it was an assignment to bring home and report back next week. Word spread. The room was always full. Parents stayed and watched, or dropped their kids off. One morning, a girl arrived at the class with her teenage brother. Dan smiled at the boy's awkwardness. He was the oldest kid attending, clearly out of his age range as the others chattered and giggled. The boy sat back, watching the activity progress, occasionally helping out his little sister. As it wound down, they lingered in the background. Dan and Reema said goodbye one by one, until only the boy and his sister remained in the room. “I’m impressed you came with her,” Dan said, shaking his hand. “What are your names? How old are you?” “I'm Andy, fourteen. She's Annie, six.” Andy's face was pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes. Annie, bone-thin, stood quietly by her brother, clutching his hand and one of the plastic magnifying glasses Reema gave out. Their clothes smelled of stale cigarettes, and worn-down shoes hinted more of neglect than poverty. Dan guessed that it was Andy who had ensured his little sister's hair was carefully combed and smoothed into a ponytail. “So you guys are real detectives?” Andy asked. “Oh yes. I worked as a private investigator for nearly thirty years. My wife worked alongside me for some time.” “Wow, that's awesome. Because… I really need your help. How much would it cost to hire you?” “I'm retired now, so…” Dan winked. “Oh… I'm sorry. I guess—” “That means I can do it for free,” he clarified with a chuckle, waving the kids to a seat at the folding table. “Tell me what's wrong, Andy.” “Our next door neighbor is accusing me of stealing her diamond wedding ring. She says she'll call the police if I don't give it back to her. But I don't have it.” “How did she lose it?” asked Dan. “Why would she suspect you?” Reema inquired. “Annie and I were playing in her yard the other afternoon while she was gardening. She said she left her ring on the open kitchen window while she washed up, and it was gone within minutes.” “Was anyone else around at the time?” Dan asked. “No. That's why she thinks it's me. Jewelry doesn't just disappear.” Andy sighed. “She's heartbroken. Keeps telling me if I needed money, she would've given me some. I'd never steal anything. You gotta help us find it.” “We'll drive there and investigate right now.” Reema patted his shoulder and held out a hand to Annie. “Would you like to ride with us?” *** At the neighbor's house, Dan knocked on her door, introduced himself and Reema, and explained why they were there. “That's very kind of you, sir. I'm sure I don't know what became of the ring if poor Andy didn't take it.” Mrs. Freeman led them to the kitchen, pointing out the windowsill where she'd set the ring aside. They searched all around, even moving the dishwasher to see if it had slipped behind it. In the garden, they rummaged through grass and weeds under the window, thinking it might have tumbled outside. Dan stood up, brushing away dirt, trying to imagine what could have happened. Andy slouched disconsolately beside him. From a pine tree, a crow called. Raucous answers echoed in the distance. The crow flew to the ground, strutting briskly about the yard as if on a tour of inspection. “Say,” Andy muttered. “Aren't crows attracted to…?” Dan remembered the crow who'd woken him up, screeching on his windowsill. He and Andy exchanged glances, eyes wide. “Let's perform an experiment.” Dan returned to the kitchen, took some aluminum foil and crumpled it into a sparkly ball. He pulled a tiny tracking device out of his pocket and clipped it to the ball, then opened the kitchen window to set the foil out on the ledge, where the warm afternoon sunlight caught it. “Now we wait. If the crow is the culprit, we can see exactly where he goes to stash the loot.” “I do hope you're right, Mr. Sullivan.” “Call me Dan.” They didn't have long to wait. The crow swooped down to the open window, poked the aluminum ball, grabbed it in its beak, and flapped away towards a hill. “Oh my goodness!” Mrs. Freeman gasped. “Andy, I'm so sorry! That crow stole my ring, not you!” It was no easy task retrieving it from the crow's treetop nest. But the five friends managed to do it with a ladder and patience, while the whole crow clan screamed indignantly at them. “I can't thank you enough for coming here and doing this,” Mrs. Freeman said, wiping tears from her eyes as she replaced the ring on her finger. “If it wasn't for you and your wife, I would've never seen this again. I would've thought poor dear Andy took it and sold it.” “It was nothing,” Dan replied. “I'm happy to help.” He turned to Andy and Annie. “Here’s our number. You can call or text us anytime you need help.” Andy's eyes shone with gratitude. “Thank you, sir. Someday I'll be a detective just like you.” “So will I,” Annie chirped, waving her magnifying glass. *** A couple weeks passed. Andy and Annie didn't show up at any other detective classes. Dan often remembered them, wondering if they were ok. Autumn settled in, the Tennessee mountainsides taking on the colors of pumpkin spice. Leaves crackled underfoot as Dan and Reema sat down one evening under the maple tree in their backyard yard. Dan rested his guitar in his lap and strummed a few notes, warm and inviting amidst the songs of mockingbirds. “You know what?” Reema said, snuggling close. “I think it's time we fostered kids again.” “Monica would like that.” Dan nodded. They sat quietly together, remembering their adopted daughter. Her untimely death reshaped their lives many years ago. A child had not lived with them since. A text interrupted the fragile peace. It was Andy. Help. We're in danger. Dad's drunk and angry. I'm taking Annie to Mrs. Freeman's. Dan: We're coming right over with the police. Don't go near him. When they arrived, a man was stumbling around in Mrs. Freeman's yard, waving a baseball bat and shouting curses. While the police dealt with him, Dan and Reema went to check on the kids. Reema looked at Dan as they stood at the door. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” “I'm thinking Andy and Annie need a safe home.” “Could we be the ones?” “Don't see why not.” *** Another crisp autumn afternoon, a year later. Dan and Andy were practicing the guitar, discussing morals, mysteries and detective work under the maple tree in their backyard. Reema knelt nearby, teaching Annie to identify weeds. Andy picked up a ruby-colored leaf, studying it. “Dad, what's inner peace?” Dan paused his chords. He looked into the distance at the mountains surrounding his home. “Inner peace is when you know you're doing the right thing,” he said. “I've spent my life striving for justice and peace. It isn't easy. Most of the time I would say I wasn't entirely at peace with myself.” “Really?” “There was always a struggle to maintain balance: balancing family life with my investigations, balancing mental health while handling life and death situations, asking God why He allows so much suffering and crime. I overworked, wore myself out, and kept pushing forward even when I was hopeless and exhausted.” “Was it worth it?” “Of course. I would do it all again… though, there are always things I regret and would do differently. But difficult roads lead to beautiful destinations. I can look back and say I did the best I could. I made a difference in this world.” “When do you reach the destination?” “Probably not in this life. Only God knows when and where the journey ends.” “You think God is happy with how you did?” Dan adjusted the guitar in his lap. “I'm only a sinner saved by grace. Even if I was the best detective, best human being in the world, I wouldn't be perfect. Reema knows my worst flaws, and she still loves me. Without God's mercy and my wife's loyalty, I wouldn't be here today.” Andy looked from Dan to Reema. He folded his red leaf in half, examining it for symmetry. “So why does God allow evil, then? Why did our mom die? Why is our dad an alcoholic? Why did you have to take us in?” “We can't answer those questions, Andy. Everything that happens prepares you for what you will be in the future. Sometimes, all you can do is wake up in the morning and say ‘hallelujah, I'm alive.’” Andy leaned back against the maple as Dan strummed a simple melody. “Will God get rid of evil someday?” “Of course He will. We do our part, and He does the rest, in His own timing.” “Makes sense, I guess. I can't wait to get started.” “You and Annie will go far in life.” As Dan sat under his tree, watching the sun sinking towards the mountain horizon, he reflected that it had indeed been a good life, despite everything that nearly broke him. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he knew Who waited for him at the end of the road. Young Monica would be there too. He could almost hear her angelic voice, singing to his guitar. It would be a beautiful awakening. Notes ▼ lyrics to Woke ▼ video ▼ |
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