Harlan approached from behind. The old man was facing the setting sun. The daughter had left, and based on his observations during the past few days, Harlan figured it would be at least ten minutes before an orderly showed up to wheel the man back to his room.
The sunroom stood empty accept for his target, who sat with eyes closed, dozing and grunting to himself. Sure not the man he once was. Not the man he was last time they had run across each other. Harlan took one last look over his shoulder, then closed in. He pushed the wheelchair toward the most secluded part of the room. The sudden movement made the old man jerk, and his raspy breath immediately grew heavy.
“If memory serves, you were a bit spryer back in the day, weren’t ya?”
The old man cocked his head, and Harlan could see Lars struggling to turn, but his body wasn’t cooperating.
“You probably can’t even wipe your own ass, huh? Somebody’s gotta spoon-feed ya and all that sorta bullshit. Hell, I guess you’d welcome a bullet in the head right about now, wouldn’t ya? I’m here to tell ya it won’t go that easy.”
Harlan felt his anger surge and didn’t try to stop it. Though he was a cripple, Norgaard had no doubt been pretty well cared for. Harlan figured the man had never felt mistreated or abused. That was a luxury Harlan intended to snatch away here and now. Replace it with fear. Harlan bent down close.
“I’ve been tucked away seventeen years because of you and a few others. Let me tell you, Lars, a couple of your boys still don’t know what hit ’em.”
Harlan spun the chair and stared at his victim as the old man seemed to scan his memory. With their eyes inches apart, Harlan enjoyed the moment as the gravity of his circumstances took hold and a look of terror came over the old man’s face. What little color there was drained away, and his head began to bob in an aimless motion. In the otherwise silent room, Harlan heard the sound of a weak running stream in the plastic bag strapped to the side of the man’s chair.
“Yeah, there you go. You remember, huh?” Harlan patted Lars on the cheek with an open hand. “You were a regular badass with a badge back then. Look at you now. Nothin’ but a droolin’ sack a shit who can’t so much as string a few words together.”
Harlan got even closer, his lips almost touching the man’s ear.
“Now, about the gal who just left. You two sure spend a lot of time together. Makes for a pretty picture. Seems to me she’s the only one willin’ to have anything to do with your cranky ass. I’m guessing she’d be your daughter. Am I right, Officer Norgaard?”
Harlan watched the old man’s eyes dance to life at the mention of his daughter. Lars seemed to try and shape a word in response, but it came out like nothing more than a light gust of wind on a hot, dry day. Harlan nodded his head.
“I know, you have a tough time making yourself heard these days, don’t ya? Don’t worry about that, old man. All you need to do is listen.”
Harlan whispered low into the man’s ear, making it clear the words were meant for no one else.
Harlan backed away and watched the rage set in. Lars managed to ball his fists and raise up in his chair. The string of coarse grunts caused Harlan to laugh in response.
“I sure enough struck a nerve, didn’t I?” Harlan said. “Imagine how that’d feel, Lars. Your daughter … your child, took from ya.”
Lars tried again to speak, and Harlan raised his voice to a loud and angry whisper to talk over him. “What’s a cripple like you gonna do about it? Not a damn thing you can do, is there? I know an old man who suffered a similar fate.”
Harlan knocked the wheelchair to one side, dumping the old man out. Norgaard’s body twisted in the air and crashed onto the hardwood. Harlan heard a deep thunk as the man’s head hit the floor, and for a moment he worried that he had killed the former cop. Harlan looked closer and saw shallow breaths. Blood ran from a deep gash, turning Norgaard’s wispy white hair red. The man’s eyelids fluttered open.
“Don’t you go dyin’ on me now. You still got a good bit to learn about pain, about sufferin’ and loss. You’d think a man in your position would be learned out in those areas, but that ain’t so. You got a good ways yet to go.”
Harlan stepped over the sprawled body and feigned a kick to the head. Norgaard flinched and Harlan squatted down for a few parting words.
“Someone will be along directly, Norgaard. I’m sure they’ll patch you up. I want you to be around to see what I got planned for that pretty little girl of yours.”
Harlan brought his face close and once again whispered in his ear. “Just know this, Norgaard. You brought all this shit on yourself.”