Shattered Rhode

By Ned Draper

Set on the idyllic island of Newtown, Sean and his girlfriend Michelle are about to embark upon their brilliant future when tragedy strikes their close-knit community. Their split-second decision affects the island and state in profound ways they could never have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716916267

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DRAPER

Copyright © 2020 Ned Draper.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any

means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission

of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews.

Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue

in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-6847-4002-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-7169-1626-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019918967

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in

this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views

expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the

views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 05/22/2020

Acknowledgements

I dedicate this book to all the families and friends that have suffered loss due to alcohol and the profound impact this has on young lives, and to my sister Paige.

Prologue

The 50 Steps, dawn Thursday before Labor Day -

I sit here on what seems to me the beginning of time. My girlfriend Michelle is a step above. She’s on number thirty-one, and I am on number thirty two of the Fifty Steps. An ancient stone stairway built into the cliffs. In front of us is the whole world, a brilliant shimmering ocean vista; the most amazing thing I have ever seen. The sun is just breaking over the ocean horizon before us. A striking array of reds, orange and pink splashed overhead onto forever. On the horizon are regular swells that break off to the left and slam just short of the beach. A lone surfer drops into a perfect barrel and disappears under the crest. In front of us, East Point and the white light house. As the sun breaks the rim of the earth it warms her face first, then mine. Our hearts are still pounding from the sprint here. As the sun arcs up it bursts forth intensely. Ascending, the reflection on the water creates a wide golden swath, actually painful to look at, and by its shear brilliance brighter splashed across the water than the sun itself. The sun flows off the water, separated by the clear blue sky and we feel small in our little perch overlooking our wide bay.

We started this regular ‘date’ as a race at the beginning of last summer break, she’d bike from her house south, I’d run from mine north. The intersection by time on the road ends up here at the Baywalk trail and the Fifty Steps. Of course, getting here we fly. I do my breathless best at seven-minute miles, she pedals twelve miles in a half hour. We catch dawn on our big screen here, and head downtown for breakfast. Funny, the way home is pretty much a drag. But getting there is a rush. If there’s a heaven, I’m here…

I hope she and I stay together through my time in college. She is awesome. Sweet to a fault, tougher than any other girl I’ve met, and far smarter than me. Though I’ll never tell her that! As I turn and look up at her, her black hair hangs down in thick straight purity. Her dark eyes, curvaceous lips, oval face, and tanned soft skin set on high cheek bones make for a model’s head shot. She’s more athletic than me. She has all the right curves and sexiness of any girl I have ever seen.

This weekend I will be off to school. I don’t know how all this is going to work out. But right here, right now, this is the best day of my life! I wonder how it can get any better…

1

O fficer Tim Yarborough, a nineteen-year veteran of the Newtown force, glided along Belmar Avenue for the latter half of his second straight shift. Patrol in this section of town was rarely eventful, and after sunset Atlantic Drive sightseers drained through here back to Newtown Center from the various shoreline spots. This night in particular was quiet. Even though it was late summer; a fresh downpour washed any travelers, daylight, and pedestrians from the main way, sidewalks and cross streets. With the window down and the moist breeze flowing by the only noise about was the slow push of water from the wheels, and the occasional slap of the wiper to clear the stubborn drops falling from the thick verdant tree canopy above. No radio chatter, no birds, nothing exciting to attract his attention at all. His thoughts drifted to the occasional warm light glowing from the sporadic mansions breaking the darkening green miles. As if to mirror the aggressive aspirations of these castle owners the trees bridged the wide road and grasped at any opening to the sky from the street.

Approaching the sharp ninety degree turn at the Cortland Estate which ended Belmar Avenue and began Atlantic Drive Tim noticed the shrubs and widely spaced maples before him were different than they were the thousand times before on this patrol. The second maple from the left was stoically standing guard, but flashed a white swath two feet up, and its attendant rhododendrons were pushed over with sprinkled leaves and branches sprayed around the trunk and sidewalk. As he slowed so many times before at the turn his instincts kept him straight on and he decreased inertia to a barely perceptible stop. The street remained quiet, but he could make out a sound in the darkening grounds. He pulled the cruiser to the curb at a sideways angle to expose the light bar to both streets and switched on the blue lights. Occasionally tourists mesmerized by the mansions were caught off guard when they had to make the turn, best to make his street crossing with the strobes on.

"This is car six, at Atlantic and Belmar, I am inspecting possible storm debris by the Cortland residence, over’ he radioed to dispatch. ‘Copy’ his radio chirped back.

Tim slid out of the cruiser, switched off his wipers and grabbed the flashlight. His small frame tense as he marched into the undergrowth. He absorbed the telltale signs of an errant car. The broken branches splayed out underfoot as he slowed and continued on the soft ground. In front of him the ground was interspersed with muddy pools and rocks brushed white from metal. The taillights were the first shocking indication, the blinker lazily signaling a left turn. As Tim’s experience triggered his need to act, he sped forward, adrenaline started to flow, the crunch of a can under foot, smell of gas, and the slow effort riddled squeal of the wipers. The car now fully visible was overturned. Craning his neck, he made out the plate on the blue ‘73 Mustang.

Reaching to his shoulder strapped radio he leaned to speak into his microphone, ‘Dispatch, this is six, I have an overturned vehicle, plate DV4 69Z, Rhode Island, repeat David Victor four six nine Zebra’ he blurted while now scanning the passenger side for occupants.

His flashlight beam cut through a light haze inside, glass littered the black interior and roof, and the driver’s side window was blown out, the light but telltale smell of blood and beer was becoming apparent. Tim’s heart sank as he noticed the NHS graduation tassel hanging limply from rearview mirror. Finding no one in the car he hoped for the best. This would be a clumsy foot chase with a drunken scared kid. His experience with this was fifty/fifty. Half the time his worst fears were realized, he was not excited about chasing some drunk track star, but always better than the alternative.

‘Dispatch, this is six, no vehicle occupants in car, searching surrounding area for occupants, please send additional units for search, and a rescue for possible injuries’ he summoned. ‘Copy six, patrol four is on the way to you, and Oak Point fire station will respond, slow night, both should be there within two minutes’ Dispatch replied back.

Ambling from the dense growth into the now sparsely planted yard he saw what he feared. In the fading light his eyes narrowed and his bird like face had the look of hawk like intensity. Running now, with the bouncing flashlight alternating from his footfalls to the crumpled form on the lawn he reached his destination, the driver. Blood covered the right side of his face, his white tee shirt appeared smeared black without the flashlight on it, his jeans were ripped at the right knee, shoes knocked off and his brown hair was wetly matted down his forehead. Tim scanned forward and side to side about the lawn, there were no other shapes. But for the contorted placement of the victim’s arm, he looked as if he curled up on the lawn for a nap. Quickly Tim kneeled by his head and gently touched his shoulder, no response. Tim switched the flashlight to his left hand and thrust his right to snatch out the latex gloves he kept handy in his pants pocket.

Carefully Tim grasped the victim’s shoulder and more forcefully shouted ‘Can you hear me!’ As Tim shrugged the light to his jaw, he more closely inspected the kid with both hands. The black smears in the dimming light shown bright red crimson in Tim’s flashlight beam.

A slight breath came every few seconds in decreasing force. The pull of this kid’s life came most apparent though as he rolled slightly right. The sheen on his shirt was from a pulsing flow of thick blood that mutedly oozed from his neck. The kid’s eyes were open but registered no life, just the blank absorption of the light into the black iris. Tim smoothly applied his hand to this part of his neck. A weak gurgled response!

Tim, thinking fast, asked him ‘Is there anybody with you?’ he continued increasing his volume and urgency ‘If you can’t talk please nod yes or no!’ A weak indication no was slight relief but allowed Tim to focus all of his efforts here.

Twisting slightly left Tim allowed the light to drop to the soft lawn. His right-hand firm to the neck-wound his left swiftly went to the radio button at his shoulder. ‘Dispatch this is six, victim located, I am three hundred feet and slightly east of the Atlantic/Belmar intersection, victim needs immediate medical, repeat, immediate medical assistance needed! Laceration to neck, possible broken bones’ Tim’s thoughts raced but with nowhere to go. All he could do was keep this kid’s life from pouring onto the lawn. The crash scene would have to speak to the rest for tonight.

Flashes of red and blue bounced off the trees and skittered off the lawn to announce support was here. In the precious seconds the others thrust across the wreckage and underbrush. Rookie patrolmen Smith along with firefighters, Cavanaugh and Garcia were welcome voices, attached to lights pushing aside the darkness. Tim reached down and brought the beam of his light up in down in fast jerky motions to catch their eyes. ‘It will be alright kid; you’ll be at Newtown Hospital in just a few minutes’ he consoled. Then he gave a series of loud whistles to ensure not a step to them was wasted.

Ricky Garcia was the first to them. A twenty-one-year veteran of the Fire Fighters he had been on the ambulance crew for fifteen of them. Prior to that he was a Navy medic. Between both services he had seen his share of kids torn up by their own poor decisions or those of others. As Ricky took in the scene he got to the victim. "Rick, he’s been bleeding from the neck, breathing is shallower than when I arrived, and his arm appeared broken. He has been mostly unresponsive. He has not been able to speak.’ Tim urgently reported. ‘Alright, I’ll slide in to your right and keep pressure on the wound.’ Rick replied in a calm authoritative manner.

Rick took Sergeant Yarborough’s place and with firefighter Cavanaugh pulling bandages and equipment from the response bag, got to work. As Tim stepped back, he could see the other responders making their way to the lawn. Tim and Smith held their flashlights in this small busy space to allow the EMS team to work. It always impressed Tim the way Rick handled these pressure situations. All fluid motion, no wasted steps or time, all the while Tim knew Rick was computing the next action based on the time the victim may have. You could see in his eyes the concentration and commitment to seeing the task through no matter what. To the untrained eye EMS looked frantic. But to the professionals in attendance they knew too well this was compression of years of training for quick action to fight for the life trying to waft away.

‘Seconds count, ya gotta move fast’ Tim said under his breath to rookie Smith. The firefighters off the pumper came up with the backboard and lights to relieve the patrolmen. Tim carefully pulled his gloves off so as to keep the bloody side contained as he pulled them inside out. Tim and Smith jogged past the overturned Mustang and to the street where the ladder truck and firefighter waited. In the wash of the trucks lights he went to the spigot to wash off and pull together the scene.

Almost casually with reds and blues pulsing off all dark spaces he began to manage the resources that would be there soon. Orders were forming in his head and about to spill out to actions on the ground.

‘OK, Smith, I want you to get your car up to the next cross street and block Belmar, route traffic around the curve.’ Smith unsure of this situation questioned his superior ‘But shouldn’t we search for others, at the Academy…’ Tim cut him off quick, ‘We will search the grounds, the car and everything else we can get to. Right now, I need you to ensure that NO ONE comes down here that is not 100% trained to deal with this, no bystanders!’

Dejected and embarrassed for screwing up in front of his superior and a firefighter, Smith moved away.

Tim softened ‘Look Smith, I’ll explain more later, suffice it to say though that with cell phones and radios if a kid who knows him on the street sees this we’ve just created another whole set of issues to deal with. Any idea how hard it is to undo?’ Tim urged him on ‘Now get going, I’ll stop by when things quiet down.’

Looking at his watch he confirmed the time he took control of the scene, it was 20:05 hours, exactly 3 minutes and 30 seconds from when he first walked from his car. Turning to the firefighter he worked to further secure the area. Tim said ‘Uh, Firefighter Callahan, could I ask a favor of you?’ ‘Sure’ the young man said. ‘Could you keep an eye on my car and have dispatch let me know if bystanders or traffic come by it? ‘No problem officer’ Callahan replied.

Tim moved his cruiser so as to block the turn from the Atlantic side of the street, about a hundred yards from the cross street they were going to use as a detour.

‘Dispatch this is six, send a car to intersection of Granite Ave and Atlantic, blocking traffic, foot or vehicle. Send additional units to my location by overturned vehicle.’

‘Copy six’ he got back. ‘Six, the registration on your vehicle is to Sean Murphy, 116 Brook Avenue, Newtown.’

As Tim moved then parked his car and made the short walk into the grounds he began to think about the victim. If it was the same family he thought of this was going to be a very tough night.

Newtown is the only large town on this island. Everyone knows everyone, particularly when the tourists leave after Labor Day. When an out of towner wrecks it’s no less harrowing, but at least the aftereffects leave with them. Tragedies on the island stay here and leave deeply painful scars as reminders.

Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket he dialed the Officer in Charge at the station for a radio free exchange on what was happening at the scene. Tim watched as the EMS team moved Sean into the back of the ambulance for the short trip to the Newtown Hospital. The animated actions of just a minute ago were fading, Tim could tell they were now going through the motions. A miracle could always happen, but even with raw effort, equipment and expertise there was only so much that could be done to overcome the harsh physics of human bodies impacting steel.

Tim’s face was all business. His blue eyes, sharp nose and thin kind face absorbed the action around him. He looked a full foot taller than he actually was in situations like this. As if his sincerity and command was being stored, only to be let out for crisis situations. He pulled his hat off and set it on the cruiser roof. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead and back along his thick brown hair. He scanned the blocks in either direction and only one bystander was visible, probably a neighbor out with the dog, and one car pulled over and lingered instead of moving along the self-evident detour route.

‘Good evening Lieutenant Stokes’ Tim started. ‘Is it sergeant?’ Jim Stokes dryly replied.

‘Not really Jim, it actually looks pretty bad. The Murphy kid is on his way to the hospital. My guess is he won’t make it, and if he does he’s pretty busted up.’ Tim continued, looking around, and heading for the overturned car. ‘I am going to do another sweep of the area to confirm no additional victims or debris. The grounds are fairly clear though. Does not appear to be anyone at the estate, no lights came on, or people coming out to see what’s up.’

Tim continued with a sigh ‘I smelled alcohol at the car and saw a couple of beer cans laying around.’

‘You know how these go Tim, we’ll reconstruct everything and get a clearer picture. Based on what I know of the Murphy’s this will hit them hard. Defer any press or other questions to Lt. James Marks, we’ll put together a press release and stay on top of what happens at the hospital.

And Tim, feel free to give me a call on this whenever, this shift or anytime. I know you have been through this before, but it does not get any easier. I plan to keep you there until its wrapped up.’

‘OK Lieutenant talk to you later. Let me know if there is any news from the hospital or the family.’

Tim walked about the car then in lines across the accident scene. For the outside observer, it looked like he was pacing, about a few hundred feet, then about face a few feet over and back again. No sense dragging this out thought Tim, just do a grid search for any signs of other contact or debris. Satisfied the accident was as it appeared Tim went back to the cruiser to wait. The adrenaline charge was wearing off and now it was back to the classic duty of all first responders; hurry up and wait. The CSI team and a unit to take this traffic post would be here soon. CSI will capture everything in detail, fire will pack up and head home, and he and Smith would stand by soothed by the gentle buzz of their light rack and the cruiser engine.

Cars that came by were for the most part moving along, slowing to see what was visible but even the ones that stopped moved as soon as next in line pulled in close. The CSI van and unit 4 pulled up just as the last hasps and doors to the fire truck were being pulled shut, just about thirty minutes from when this all started.

‘All set Tim’ stated Captain Harrison. ‘We checked the car and it is leaking some fluids, but the gas smell is from when it rolled, the tank appears intact. As long as you don’t have a campfire it should be ok.’

‘Thanks Cap, any word on the victim?’

‘Well Tim, the radio traffic did not sound good. He went unresponsive right after they left. Last, I had heard from the Ambulance crew Rick was still working on him. Nothing final yet.’

‘Alright then, we’ll see ya.’ Fire Captain Harrison replied casually. The pumper puffed out diesel fumes as the red lights blinked out. From a responder to a large slow-moving truck, the life and purpose seemed to leave the truck as it started home for the station.

‘Hi Sergeant, where would you like me?’ said a placid patrolman John Mulcahy.

‘Hey John, pull up where my car is at the intersection and keep traffic moving and bystanders out’

‘Will do Tim. Any word on the victim?’

‘No John, not yet, but it does not look good. Make sure you let me know if any kids with cell phones or the press shows up.’

John moved his cruiser up to Tim’s and stationed himself at the hood. Tim met with CSI and showed them the scene. The animated and frantic flashes of ambulances, fire trucks and police cars were now fading fast. The last lights on the scene would now be occasional flashes from the cameras and finally the yellow sprays of light from the tow truck.

Tim’s cell phone buzzed as he was making his way to the car and John.

‘Hey, Tim, its Jim. I wanted to let you know that he did not make it. We have Lt. Marks headed to his house now’

‘How is everything at the scene?’

‘Fine, fine’ explained Tim. ‘Smith is at the north side on Belmar, and Mulcahy and I are on the South west on Atlantic. CSI is here, and fire is gone. All is quiet, no one even hanging around. I guess since all one can see from the street is the leaves on the ground, they assume it’s just storm debris. Did you call a tow truck?’

‘Nah, I’ll wait for CSI to wrap up. They said they would call in when they were done. The tow companies are like seagulls for a French fry this time of year, so they’ll be there quick’

‘Thanks Jim, I’ll catch up with you later.’

Sliding into his car Tim drove over to Smith and let him know about the kid. Smith had the look of both sadness and excitement that comes from this new experience. Sad because he was nearly the same age and could see himself going too fast in a car, and excited because he was part of the life or death struggles that happen on the front line of Police work. Tim had been there, just tough to remember how many of these there had been.

‘Smith, I’ll be in my car down by CSI doing my report, give me a wave or call me on the radio if anything comes up.’ Tim radioed Mulcahy ‘Unit 3, I’ll remain at Belmar just around the corner from you, give me a call on the radio if anything comes up, out.’

Tim looked intently at Smith. ‘How you doing Smith, you alright?’

Smith replied quickly ‘Sure Sergeant, I am fine, why wouldn’t I be?’

Tim loosened his command appearance and settled back into his five four frame. ‘Smith, seeing this is hard on us. I’ve been at this for a while ya know. It still hurts to see kids about your age go out this way. It’s quite sad, when you have kids it will hit real hard.’

Tim waited for a reaction from Smith. Tim knew that new guys in particular would try to shake off traumatic incidents. A combination of appearing to be tough, and not understanding that failure to treat this as a significant tragedy could make Smith callous before his time. Tim always felt that humanizing these things worked best. He kept his perspective clear when dealing with a drunk driver, or a parent livid at a kid out too late.

Smith only looked on, confused. As quickly as his consideration came, it left. Smith pulled his professional face and language back into their dialogue. ‘I’m fine sir, is there anything else?’

‘No, no, just making sure Smith, carry on.’ Tim said turning now to enter his cruiser.

Tim reflected then started to set up the car computer to do his report. As he began to fill in the form on the small screen, his strong features and brown hair bathed in translucent glow, his thoughts wandered.

‘What was Sean thinking, what did any of them think when this happened? Did the urge to undo the slight turn of the wheel, or the brief delay in applying the brake enter their minds? Could these kids fathom the finality of the brief lapse of focus? The laws of physics were so final. At speed X the unprotected body hits the steel shell of the car at force Y. This equals death or injury. Worse still when they are ejected as Sean was, it’s as if the body leaves all sense and comfort. Did he feel the brief rush of wind and flight as some compensation for the ground that was about the smash him?’ Tim asked himself. There were no answers to these questions in the report, Tim dutifully recorded only the facts he knew now.

Tim’s own facts were always in his mind too. He and Cheryl had their first baby when he was twenty-three. His son Bobby was driving now. His daughter Susan just a couple years behind at fourteen was the athletic princess, and the youngest, Haley, was still in middle school. Quite the well-rounded clan. Sometimes the thought would creep in, just enough to take a hold and glisten Tim’s eyes and tighten his gut. What if this was Bobby? Would Tim do his job or would all the training, experience and need of the situation fail? No way to tell. If ever the situation occurred Tim knew this, he’d be crushed. Even now just doing the job, he felt the pangs and pain of sympathy for the parents.

He can remember Bobby’s first steps on his own. The time he and Cheryl came home late after a grocery shopping, lost in the moment they set Bobby down in the car seat sleeping in the living room. Cheryl to the kitchen to put everything away, and he went to the car to bring in the rest of the bags. After a few minutes gabbing together in the kitchen Cheryl went to get Bobby and put him in bed, but Bobby was gone! Thinking he was crawling to his room they looked all around, then yelled his name. The return call said it all. Bobby had climbed the stairs to the unfinished attic. At the top he was smiling, proud to have made it up, completely unaware that the slope before him was thirteen individual falls. Tim smiled at the thrill of his walking but was terrified of the precarious situation.

‘Way to go Bobby! What a good boy! Stay there baby.’ Tim spoke nervously. Bobby’s smile was rich with pride and stretched ear to ear. His light blond hair tussled and consistent with the overachiever he was to become, his arms up signifying the accomplishment.

‘Dada! Look!’ Bobby shouted. Almost like he knew that just walking was not enough, something daring and aggressive would be far more memorable for Dad. Tim made his way slowly without ever breaking eye contact. Fully realizing that just that afternoon all Bobby could do was pull along the coffee table to stay upright. The last couple of stairs were the worst and the best, close enough to jump up and break his fall, but far enough away that if Bobby got excited, he might step too soon. Reaching Bobby was thrilling, he was safe, and he just crossed the threshold from baby to toddler.

Memories flashed along Tim’s mind then back into the cruiser. Back to the reality that there was a Mr. and Mrs. Murphy that would have these same sorts of memories, all ending tonight. No celebration for the next big step or danger averted, just a painful and final ending. Tim continues on thinking about this. Did Bobby know Sean? Were they friends? On an island relationships are interconnected and common, even comfortable, and of those half are relatives. Tim had to fight