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| Josh |
“Yeah. It’s in the Southwestern part of the state. South of Springfield. Less than a two hour drive.”
“Well, all right.”
That’s about how the conversation went.
At 92 degrees (33 Celsius) it had been a hot day. With my sunglasses on and the AC blazing, I was driving along the Massachusetts turnpike. The sky was a flawless blue, the trees on the side of the road a perfect green. I wasn’t really sure yet exactly why I was being sent here. It had seemed like the chief didn’t really know any specifics himself, or if he did, he didn’t really tell me much about it. Yet I loved doing these undercover assignments, especially since my divorce. It helped me to stop thinking about the state of my own life, as I was able to adopt someone else’s.
Two things were different about this assignment though. The Southwick Police Department had requested an undercover agent. The town was too small, so the odds of someone recognizing the officer were too high. Plus they didn’t really have much experience in the area. The other thing, which seemed so random, was that the chief picked me because they needed someone who could play ice hockey. This probably meant that was going to be my way in. I didn’t know anything else about the assignment, but I was experienced and confident enough to roll with the punches once I got there.
I had played hockey in high school and college. I’d had the opportunity to play professionally, but it wasn’t where my heart was at. I had continued to play casually for a few years when I went to the police academy, but once I became a cop and got married, life got in the way. And I seriously got into weightlifting to keep me in shape instead. I liked my muscular body. To be in shape in my job and at my age was of vital importance. Though I also liked the way people looked at my body and admired it. And I liked the way the sleeves of my T-shirt would cut into my bulging biceps as I drove, right now. I felt confident in my body, at the age of 38.
Looking back, I am glad sports were a big part of my life growing up. It made me into the strong man I am today. In college I was sometimes embarrassed of my body. As with most sports on ice, playing hockey gave me a huge ass from the age of 18. I thought it wasn’t cool to have a big ass like that at the time. My ex-wife said it was my best feature, and she made that clear by slapping and squeezing it, in and out of the bedroom. Once I had met her in my mid-20s, I became more secure with my own body.
I was on my way to the briefing at the Southwick police department, driving all the way from Boston. In the back I had a bag with two weeks’ worth of clothes. The length of the assignment was unclear. With the information I had gotten, all I could do to prepare was buy some new gear and go back to the skating rink. Last night I put on my skates for the first time in a few years. After a while I was comfortable on the ice again.
Westfield. Exit 3. Finally. I paid at the toll booth and went right at the crossing. I passed a Wendy’s and as if on cue started to get hungry. I decided to keep going as I knew I had to be nearly there. Westfield was clearly a lively city, a suburb of Springfield I presumed. I feared Southwick was going to be a very quiet town. Though maybe that had its advantages when it came to the job I was going there for. If lots of people knew each other, people were going to know who did what. Maybe I just needed to make them talk.
Still in the center of Westfield, I surprisingly crossed a bridge over a large river. I ended up in what seemed like an older part of the city, with a beautiful church and a town clock. I think I finally came to the end of Elm Street when I saw a sign for Southwick.
“Here we go”, I said out loud over the 80s rock that was coming from my radio. I took the right onto Court Street and the left into the accurately named Pleasant Street. This was a typical suburban-looking street, quiet, with stand-alone houses and perfectly kept lawns. This continued when the name turned into Maple Street. Eventually I had to take a left onto Southwick Road, which was also Route 202, when I knew I was on my way to leave Westfield.
The further I drove, the quieter it became. Until suddenly I already saw the sign that I was entering Southwick. It wasn’t that far out, somehow that was a relief. The green fields with old-looking farmhouses gave the town a traditional feel at first. However, it didn’t take long until I saw large stores appear and there was an American flag on every lamppost. An episcopal church, an Asian restaurant, and an antiques store followed each other on the left of the road. This was possibly just the average American town. I had lived in Boston for all of my life, and even though I was only two hours away from it, this felt like a whole new place.
I had to find my way to the Police Department first. My GPS told me to take a left in between the Presbyterian church and the Country colonial gift shop, onto Depot Street. Before I knew it, I had found it on my right. I parked on a nearly empty parking lot and went inside.
“Hi, I’m Detective Josh Fanucci, I’m here for an appointment with Raymond Medina.”
The young officer behind the desk looked at me and said, “From Boston, right?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I’ll go get him.”
Within seconds, a slightly overweight, tan, bald man came to get me.
“Fanucci, from Boston?”
“Yep”, I said as I shook the hand he had extended.
“So happy you’re here. Please follow me.”
Chief Medina took me to a conference room where he had clearly prepared for my visit. A whiteboard was filled with photos and information. Two other officers got up from their seats and shook my hand. They were called Smith and Pratt. They took me through the case at hand in detail.
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| Dylan |
“Kohl is your suspect?”, I asked.
“Yeah. For three murders. Now, we don’t get many murders here in Southwick. Yet there’s been three in the past year”, the chief said.
“So why Kohl?”
“All evidence is circumstantial”, Pratt started. “Similar MOs. Same gun was used each time, and Kohl has one like it registered in his name.”
“Also, he knew all of the victims”, Smith added. “Southwick is a small town, but this seems like a coincidence that’s too big.”
“Motive?”, I asked.
“He owns an art gallery in town, and a few others elsewhere in the state. Yet he’s a regular IT guy. We’re not sure those things go together. We think it’s related to the murders.”
I realized that this case had been too much to handle for a force this small.
“Have you brought him in?”
“Yes, shortly. Confirmed alibis on two of the murders. And great lawyer.”
“You think he ordered someone else to do the other two?”
“Yes.”
“And gave them his own gun?”
Silence in the room.
“So what do you expect from me?”, I asked.
“Answers. We think that if you get close to this guy, we’ll at least know if we’re on the right track or not.”
There was a short silence until Medina said: “Soo… how good at ice hockey are you, really?”
After I asked for some more details, I was given two files, a new wallet, phone and a set of keys. For a department so small, they were quite well prepared for an assignment like this.
I went back to my car and sat in it. The two files were labeled DK and JR. I opened the latter and saw my new name and address. Josh Roberts, 628 College Highway, Southwick, MA 01077. I closed the file and put it with the other one on the seat next to me. I drove to my new apartment and wondered why I never got a fake name that suited my heritage.
I realized I had already passed the apartment on my way to the police station. It was a small apartment building in between a funeral home and a florist, which was fitting. Across the road was a large restaurant called Tucker’s. I took the stuff chief Medina had given me and put it in the bag I had in the backseat. The set of keys I kept in my hand as I searched for apartment 10, which ended up being on the second floor. It was quite a nice 1-bedroom apartment, about 700 square feet (65m2). A nice kitchen with everything I could possibly need, hardwood floors… The bathroom was rather basic, but overall, they did well. I took the files, wallet, and phone out of my bag and put them on the dining table. The bag I took to the bedroom and put on the bed.
I unpacked my bag and put the clothes away. I checked my own phone for any messages. My closest friends and family got a text saying that I was on an assignment. Together with my own wallet and keys I put them in a drawer. As I closed it, I said out loud, “Time to become Josh Roberts.”
I walked back to the living room and sat down at the dining table. I opened the file that said JR and took my new phone in my hand. I memorized my new phone number which was written down in the file. The contacts in the phone were chief Medina, Smith and Pratt under fake names, as well as a contact that just said ‘Landlord’. Nice touch. I presumed many of the other contacts were fake. There was an icon for e-mail, where there had been messages from my account to the hockey coach. It was agreed that I would join training tomorrow evening. Out of curiosity I tapped the Facebook icon on the phone and I saw that a profile had been made for me. Josh Roberts already had 139 friends. They had used photos that had been used for earlier assignments. I even had an Instagram account.
I checked the wallet and saw a fake drivers’ license and a working credit card, as well as some cash. To make it look more real there were some random coupons and receipts in there as well. In the file I read more about my new persona. They had kept my date and place of birth, meaning I was still 38 and from Boston. They had made Josh Roberts a plumber, which was what was usually my job during these undercover assignments. I was pretty good at fixing things, so it seemed to make sense at the time. In a few instances it got me inside a suspect’s house.
It was important for me to read up on the why I had come from Boston to Southwick. They had gone with the sick Mom-approach. Fair enough. Might be good for some sympathy if needed. My “Mom” Marilyn was 61 and suffering from breast cancer. Because we both valued our privacy I didn’t move in with her. She supposedly lived by herself on Powder Mill Road. Or she would have, had she been real. My actual Mom was alive and well, back in Boston.
I decided I was ready to be Josh Roberts. And the first thing Josh Roberts was going to do was eat. I walked out of the apartment and crossed the street to Tucker’s, where I had an early lunch. I posted a photo of my food on my new Instagram profile. During lunch I googled for the nearest gyms. I was surprised to see a yoga center and a Hapkido & martial arts school. I found a regular gym not too far away. Body Fit Warehouse. By the time I had finished lunch, my photo had likes from people of whom I had no idea who they were, but I guessed the accounts were operated by people in the department.
After lunch I walked back to my apartment, packed a gym bag and went to check out Body Fit Warehouse. It was only a 5 minute drive. I looked around while I drove, trying to get to know the town as well as I could. When I got there, I was surprised at how well-equipped the gym was. I could definitely make that work for the next few days.
When I was getting my lift on, I noticed some people looking at me. I wasn’t sure if it was because they liked what they saw, or because a new person didn’t walk in every day. With a town this small, a big guy like me doesn’t go unnoticed. I showered and drove back, picking up some supplies on the way.
Once I got back and put the groceries away, I got myself a beer and got settled on the sofa with the file marked DK. It started with Kohl’s own info. Our birthdays were a week apart, but he was five years younger than me. He was married to a very pretty woman named Amanda since 2015. No kids. IT consultant in Westfield. Owner of three art galleries. Most important of all, one speeding ticket in 2014. And that was it. Clean as a whistle. I scratched the back of my head.
The rest of the file described the victims. Former owner of art gallery. Neighbor. Fellow hockey player. Three men, all white, all around his age. Shot in the head near their homes with the same type of gun. Well, at least I figured out why there’s a spot on the team.
I stared out the window as I thought of a strategy. I had to get close to him and become his friend. Expressing an interest in art before he mentions his side business. And then hopefully figure out what’s going on.
The next day I called Chief Medina at the police station. We discussed my strategy and we exchanged any last minute questions we had for each other. He told me that he was willing to offer any help I could possibly need and that I could call as often as I wanted. Chief Medina seemed very chill to work with.
That evening, I travelled to the Amelia Park Ice Arena in Westfield, which was only a 10 minute drive. I parked and took a deep breath before getting out. The coach was waiting for me by the entrance of the arena.
“Josh?”, he asked when he saw me approach.
“Yep!”
“Wow, you’re a big dude, I love it!”
I shook his hand as he introduced himself.
“Evan Longino. The boys call me Coach.”
“Josh Roberts, nice to meet you.”
It felt natural to say my fake name.
Coach Evan took me to his office and checked my skates and the rest of the gear I had brought.
“Yeah, these are good”, he said as he checked my padding and my helmet.
He said my gloves looked a little worn, and instantly handed me a new pair. He also gave me an extra stick, a few training jerseys, and a mouthguard.
“Thanks, man”, I said.
“Let’s get you introduced to the guys!”, Coach said as he slapped my shoulder hard.
As Coach walked me over to the lockerroom, I realized I was for the first time going to be confronted with the suspect as part of a larger group. It was key to give all of the new people I was meeting the same amount of attention, and not in any way show I was here just for one person.
I could hear the talking even before we entered the lockerroom. The door was slightly open. Coach opened it fully and only then knocked on it.
“Guys! Meet your new teammate!”, he shouted. Everyone was quiet immediately. I stepped forward and looked into the room. Somehow I immediately locked eyes with him. All the way in the back. My eyes were immediately drawn to his blue ones. Dylan Kohl. This had never happened before. I could not control it. I quickly scanned the rest of the room, pretending it didn’t happen. I saw a selection of men in various stages of undress but didn’t really look at them. I cleared my throat.
“Hi everyone, I’m Josh”, I said as I smiled.
“Let’s all welcome Josh with open arms”, Coach said, “show him the ropes around here, all right?”
Some of the guys shook my hand and introduced themselves. I could only remember a few of their names, as that sort of thing goes. I quietly found a locker and put my bag down. I got changed and followed the other guys to the ice.
As I sat on a bench by the ice, next to some of the other guys while we put on our skates, they asked me some questions. I told them I just moved here from Boston and I felt like getting back into the game after high school and college. They told me about the league that they were in and how they finished 4th out of 10. I purposely didn’t seek contact with Dylan.
Practice was quite intense. I started out OK, but I noticed I was exhausted halfway through. I was getting lots of compliments from the guys once we were off the ice.
“Glad to have you on the team, dude!”, my new teammate Ross said.
“You rocked it!”, I heard someone say as they walked by and squeezed my shoulder. I looked up. It was Dylan. Once I looked at him, he winked. I smiled.
“Thanks!”
Even the Coach came up to me before I went to the locker room.
“Promising start, Roberts. You did good! See you next week.”
I carried my skates and my helmet to the locker room. I was happy to get out of all of this gear. It was quite a tight locker room when the whole team was changing at the same time. It wasn’t uncommon to feel someone’s ass against your body. Everyone was bumping into you. A quick look got me to notice that pretty much everyone had that hockey player curse of massive thighs and butt. I felt like I fit in.
“Josh, are you up for drinks? So we can get to know you a little better?”
I looked at Ed, who was standing there in his underwear, shouting across the room.
“Sounds great!”
“Who else is game?”
A few guys said they would join, but I couldn’t really keep track.
“Wife’s been on my ass, gotta go straight home, sorry”, John said, who was standing right next to me.
“Oh, no problem, man. Some other time will work.”
“It was good getting to know you though. Damn, you are dynamite out there!”
I laughed.
The warm water of the shower felt just great on my tired muscles. I closed my eyes and let the water run all over my body. I noticed it got quiet in the showers as Aaron and James’s conversation continued in the changing area. I opened my eyes and saw there was only one other person in the shower area. Dylan Kohl. I caught him looking at me, but he didn’t seem fazed. He gave me a quick nod. I nodded back. I turned off the shower, got my towel and walked back to get dressed.
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