Recycle - 1. Chapter 1

The first person who came into the station to report it seemed almost embarrassed and treated it a bit like a joke.

“I’m not really sure what happened,” he began, “and I still think it could be a prank one of my friends is pulling.” He hesitated, kind of looking anywhere but at Elena. She simply waited.

“But I’ve asked all my friends, and they’ve said ‘no’ – though they think it’s pretty funny, too.” He grinned. “And you gotta admit it is... and no one was hurt.”

He stopped again and looked around the walls. Once more, Elena waited. “Would you feel more comfortable sitting down?” she asked. He was standing at the front counter.

The boy paused, then nodded, and Elena buzzed him through the half door. It used to swing back-and-fourth freely, then the station put in a tiny security measure. Still, even with 15,000 people, Waldron was a very small town.

“Could you take over for me?” Elena asked Rob Perez, as she led the boy toward the conference rooms. There were four other officers working, but Don and Ike were on an investigation, Jae was out in a car, and the captain, as usual, was busy in his office. Their tiny support staff – six people to cover three shifts plus weekends – had been “furloughed” as part of the move. “We’ll get you back as soon as we can,” Owen – their chief – had promised. But that was almost a year ago.

As Rob took over the counter, Elena led the boy into the smaller of the two conference rooms. Past that, at the end of the row of three, was Owen’s office, the only private one. Everyone else shared desks in the common space. The town hall was built in 1869 and was historic, but it wasn’t large. Still, everyone wanted them back there, though it had taken three years to get out of their modern place.

“What’s your name?” she asked the boy as she pointed towards a chair on the opposite side of the conference table. She left the glass-paneled door open, more for air than for her safety. A picture window opened onto the main room and guaranteed no privacy.

“Kiran,” he said. “Kiran Sachs.”

“Elena Petrakis,” she replied. He extended his hand across the table, but she waved it away, smiling, and they both sat. “Now what’s this you’re a little embarrassed by?” she asked, legal pad in front of her. It seemed less official than working on a laptop. She quickly noted his name, after asking how to spell it – she would have had both his first and last names wrong.

“Well, I was out jogging along the river,” he began again, “you know on the path – the dirt one?” She nodded. “I do it all the time.” He quickly corrected himself. “Well, I do it when I’m at school, and it just started.”

“You’re a student at Waldron?”

“Yeah – a junior – kind of. It’s my third year but I’m one class short. I screwed up soc.”

He seemed embarrassed about “screwed,” too, but just smiled. She waved that away.

“Anyway, I started jogging again a few weeks ago. I mean I ran during the summer, just not here. I’ve been running since middle school – almost every day.”

“Nice.”

“It keeps me in shape.” He patted his abs. “Anyway, I was out running and thought I got bit in the... well, you know... rear end?”

They both laughed, knowing what he meant.

“But when I reached back to swat the damned thing, I found a dart.”

“A dart?” she repeated. “Like for a board?”

“That’s what I thought at first. Then I thought, ‘What would that be doing out here? This isn’t a bar.’ So I figured some kids were out playing nearby – you know, like paintball – and one of their shots went wild. So I pulled it out – it didn’t really hurt – tossed it in the bushes, and kept going. Then... I don’t know... maybe five minutes later... I kind of got winded. You know, sort of tired – a little out of breath. So I sat on this rock overlooking the river... but up on the bank. And the next thing I knew, I woke up, lying on the ground.”

“You didn’t connect that with the dart?”

“No... no way... I didn’t even think about it. One of my friends suggested it later.”

“And you don’t have the dart?”

“No. As I said, I threw it in the bushes.” He seemed to consider. “I don’t even know where I was... just somewhere in my run. Sometimes I go for an hour without really tracking myself.”

“On the same route?”

“Nah... I get bored.” He laughed. “But sometimes, I know where the girls are. So I run near them.”

“But not that night?”

“No. There was a party later. So I wasn’t worried.”

Elena considered. “Was this a Friday or Saturday?”

“No... mid-week.” He smiled. “We don’t need a reason to party.”

And they both laughed.

“Anyway, I woke up on the ground and thought, ‘Wow! I must be really dry. That’s never happened before.’ I mean, sometimes I run with a bottle... water bottle... holding it. But I hate that and hate the way it bangs against my leg if it’s on a strap. So I’m just careful.”

“But not that night?”

“That’s what I figured... till I got back to the dorm.”

“What happened there?” Elena asked.

“Well, nothing right off. I pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and chugged it. And I stripped down to take a shower. I usually take kind of long ones so figured that would make everything better. I mean a couple of guys can come in, wash up, and leave before I’m done. But one of my friends was shaving at the sink when I was toweling dry, and he glanced in the mirror and said, ‘Hey! Very nice! Very funny,’ and he laughed. I grinned but really didn’t know what he meant.”

“What did he mean?”

“Well... this.”

And he popped open the top of his shirt – he seemed to be wearing it so he could unbutton. And he pulled back the left side to show a new tattoo. It read “Recycle.”