A Father's Wrath Read Online Free Page A

said,
“I’ve got the same Irish temper as you, so I won’t hold that
against you, but you better cool down. Go home and wait for my
call.”
    Richie stood there for a moment, looking down
at McCoy, then he nodded, turned around, and walked
away.

CHAPTER 10
     
    Joe had on a pair of jeans and boots and his
heavy coat when he drove his five-year-old yellow Mustang to his
mother’s house, which was only a few blocks away from his
house.
    He rang the bell twice, then used his key to
let himself in. A few pieces of black furniture sat against olive
green walls with white trim. Everything was as spotless as it was
at Joe’s house.
    Joe’s mother zipped out of the kitchen in her
electric wheelchair. “I couldn’t get to the door. I had a meatloaf
in my hands.”
    “Don’t worry, Ma.” He sniffed the air. “Smells
good. What is that?”
    “Scalloped potatoes.”
    “I told you not to go crazy with all this heavy
cooking.”
    “And what am I supposed to do? Shrivel up and
die?” She spun her wheelchair around and zipped back into the
kitchen.
    Joe followed her.
    Mrs. Martello had thick red hair and freckles
with pale blue eyes. Joe inherited his brown hair and brown eyes
from his father’s side of the family, which were dark haired and
dark skinned Sicilians. Joe’s complexion, however, was much lighter
than his father’s family, due to his mother’s Irish
genes.
    A former district attorney, Joe’s mother was
paralyzed from the waist down after a car accident in 1984 that
also killed the fetus in her womb and made it impossible for her to
have any more children.
    Mrs. Martello took a bottle of Sam Adams out of
the refrigerator. “You want one?”
    “I’m working tonight.”
    She opened the beer and took a big gulp, then
said, “Everything is done. Just have to let the meatloaf settle for
five minutes before I can cut it.”
    Joe opened a can of soda. The only time he had
soda, or beer, was Sunday dinner at his mother’s house.
    “So, how’s things going with that new
girl?”
    “Michelle.”
    “Yes, Michelle.”
    Joe knew what his mother wanted to hear, so he
humored her. “Things are going good. She seems like a nice girl.”
He then tried to change the subject. “Did that lazy nurse do
anything today, or was she on Facebook again all
morning?”
    “So I guess the conversation about Michelle is
over. I’ll cut the meatloaf now.”
    After dinner, Joe kissed his mother goodbye and
left the flash drive in her china cabinet next to the extra set of
keys for his house.
    Snow flurries and icy highways forced Joe to
slow down and drive cautiously all the way to Manhattan. He thought
he would be late, but was lucky to find a parking spot just around
the corner from the precinct. He made it in with just enough time
to put on his uniform and make roll-call and briefing.
    After a typical meeting, Joe was on his way out
the front door for another night of walking the cold
streets.
    Just as he got outside, he ran into Detectives
McCoy and Perez.
    Both detectives nodded at Joe, but didn’t say
anything.
    Joe stopped and said, “Detectives.”
    They stopped.
    McCoy said, “Officer?”
    Joe asked, “How’s the Carson family
doing?”
    McCoy said, “Why don’t you just walk your beat
and let us worry about the Carson family?”
    “Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “You don’t outrank me, wise guy. I’ll tell you
to go fuck yourself any time I feel like . . . now . . . go fuck
yourself.”
    A few cops and civilians on the sidewalk
stopped to watch the confrontation.
    Detective Perez stepped between them. “You men
and your testosterone. Why don’t we all try to act like
grownups?”
    Without a word, McCoy turned around and marched
into the precinct.
    Joe turned around and trudged through the snow
toward Madison Avenue to spend another night giving directions to
tourists and telling bums to keep moving.

CHAPTER 11
     
    Bradley had just finished a big dinner with his
large, but