"Chief Bennett." A tall, dark man stated, entering
Samís office. He wore a new police uniform and looked younger than 25.
"Yes Jacobs." Sam answered, looking the youngest recruit of the Harmony Police Department over.
"A strange call just came in. Henry Miller just reported his dingy being stolen." Jacobs replied.
"That seems pretty routine Jacobs." Sam scoffed.
"It was stolen by your brother." Jacobs replied. Samís eyes grew wide and Luis, who had slipped into
the background, spit out the coffee he was sipping.
"Thank you Jacobs. Weíll take it from here." Sam stated, recovering his demeanor. Jacobs smiled weakly
and walked out of the room.
"Why do you think he did it?" Luis asked, fearing his friend was going to do something drastic.
"Well I donít think heís going to commit suicide if thatís what youíre implying." Sam sighed, "But
maybe he got a lead."
"About a boat?" Luis skeptically asked.
"Possibly. Hold on a minute." Sam held up a finger as he picked up his phone and dialed the harbor
masterís office. After a brief conversation, he hung up the phone and looked directly at Luis. His expression
was grim. "Phil said Hank was there a while ago, asking questions about a freighter. He recognized the
name it was registered under. Somethingís up."
"Heís thinking sheís on the freighter?" Luis stated.
"I think so."
"If heís going out there, we gotta help him. There could be a hundred guys on that freighter." Luis
"I thought so too. I told Phil to have the boats ready." Sam stated, standing up and grabbing his
jacket. He headed out the door and hollered, "Any available man is to come with me now!"
The group of officers followed the chief as he ran to his car and raced down to the wharf. Time was of the essence.
As Hank steered the dingy towards the big freighter looming in the distance, his mind was overcome with the memory
of when he met her, specifically when she was drunk.
Hanky! Letís got play something. A pool table! Iíve seen people do that! Teach me!" She yelled, pulling
him out of his chair and to the one unoccupied pool table. Once there, she grabbed a cue, while he racked up the
balls. After completing his task, he walked over and stood by her.
"Okay, Hanky! Iím ready for my first lesson." She said, bending over like she had seen the other men
do. Hank stood next to her and told her what to do.
"The object is to hit the white ball with the cue, and knock the other balls into the pocket. But you donít
want to knock the white ball into the pocket." Hank said, giving her the basics, and not wanting to confuse
"Like this." Gwen said, hitting the ball, but only sending it a few inches. Hank shook his head,
and repositioned the ball. Without thinking, he went around her body, and positioned himself so that he was covering
her. Together the launched the ball towards the others, which broke them up. Hank gulped when he realized their
closeness, and backed away. Gwen shot him a hurt look, but it disappeared the moment she heard the Karokee machine
start with a familiar song. She raced away from Hank, and up onto the stage. Quickly she grabbed the microphone
in time to begin the song.
"Now I donít have to question, where you were last night. ĎCause I already know what you will say, I already
know you lie. But I canít be mad at ya, Ďcause thereís something that you donít know. That when youíre gonna do
you own thing, I catch out, when your talking to me. When youíre out in the club, donít think Iím not. Even when
youíre out, makiní love Donít think Iím not. When youíre feeling good, in somebodyís spot, getting hot, donít
stop. Just donít think Iím not, Ďcause Iím out getting mine."
She crumpled there on stage, unable to finish the rest. Hank ran to her side, and gently helped her off stage.
He sat her down at their table, and left to get a cold compress from the bartender. Lightly, he dabbed her forehead,
and the rest of her tears. Her sobs slowly subsided.
He had helped her then, and that was what he was going
to do now. As he approached the boat, he killed the motor and let the dingy drift until it slowly crashed into
the side of the freighter. He grabbed the side and pulled him and the dingy along it until he reached the built
in metal ladder. He used the short rope left in the dingy to tie it up to the ladder. After making sure the rope
was secure, he climbed the stairs slowly, keeping an ear open for any sound.
Hank reached the top and listened. After a minute of silence, he hoisted himself over the side and onto the deck.
He crept into a doorway left open, and looked around. A hallway led straight in front of him, and he traveled
Voices startled him, and he quickly ducked into the dearest room. Leaning his head up to the door, he listened
to the conversation.
"I donít understand you Todd. Why do you put up with that lady. Like sheíll ever eat." The deep manís
"She reminds me of my sister I guess. I know she thinks sheíll die, but I donít want her to give up hope."
The other man identified as Todd replied.
"Well, if she thinks sheíll die, then she wonít think nothing of the scar she gets." The deep manís
voice reasoned. Hank clenched his fist at this news. They werenít going to kill her, no, they were going to
let her suffer through life with a scar. Hank had given his fair share of scars, and knew they meant a long,
deep gash across the face, and probably a beating to go with it. Nothing that plastic surgery would ever get
rid of, a constant reminder to watch their step.
"Still." Todd stated.
"Leave her alone Todd. Thereís nothing you can do to help her, especially when sheís given up her will to
live. We both know the only way sheíll die is if Bennett comes. And if he hasnít come yet, then thereís a good
probability he wonít."
"Yeah. Címon, Sully wanted to see us about someone." Todd sighed, and Hank heard footsteps vanishing
in the distance. He waited for another moment before he opened the door and walked down the hall. ĎNo way in
hell are they going to scar her, let alone kill her.í He thought as he lurked.