I am a detective

I am a detective

Copyright © Catcher78, all rights reserved.

Author's notes: This is a work of fiction. There is no underage sex. Any resemblance to people alive or dead is purely coincidental. Like all of my stories, there is no use of Artificial Intelligence (AI) in the writing of this story.

My name is Milo Kovarik I am a thirty seven year old member of the Lewis County Sheriff's Department and am a Detective in the Major Crimes Group. I grew up in Napavine, went to High school there, played baseball and basketball. I'm five foot ten inches tall and weigh one hundred and eighty five pounds

I seen a lot of shit, personally and on the job. I was raised in the foster system in Lewis, County. I was left inside the parish door of St. Joseph's the Catholic parish in Chehalis, during mass in August of 1989, during Sunday mass. They said I was five or six months old, a little underfed, but not too much.

By the time I was starting my senior year in high school in 2007, I would turn eighteen and I'd been with thirty different foster families.

I was not a bad, troublemaking kind of kid, some of the homes had bullies, be it one of the 'parents' or the biological son or daughter. I avoided fighting generally by running away as I was fast. If push descended to punch, I inadvertently discovered punching someone in the lower abdomen had a paralyzing effect and allowed me to escape. When I was a sophomore in high school playing for W. F. West High School in Chehalis a fight broke out as we were beating a team from Seattle, Rainier Beach, when this huge kid that went on to play football for Notre Dame tried to kill me with a punch to the side of my head. I ducked and leaned in and threw a six inch punch to his kidney and he collapsed on the floor. I was five foot eight and fifteen years old and maybe weighed one hundred and forty five pounds. The game was on a WIAA sponsored network with two cameras, neither of which saw me hit him.

I turned eighteen during my senior year, during the first week of December, the third. In the context of the foster system I had 'aged out' which is to say the checks to my foster parents stopped. They were nice people Chuck and Eve Watson, probably the kindest I'd been with, she could cook for sure and he made furniture in a little shop adjacent to their home. The home had been in his wife's family for a long time, so between his work and the checks from the foster system, they had a nice life.

They told me that I could stay with them through the Christmas holiday but I needed to be out on New Year's Eve. I had a job putting parts away in a muffler repair place all through high school and the manager had an old 1990 Isuzu Trooper that I drove around county for two years for one reason or another. Stan Novotny the manager bought a 2005 GMC 'Jimmy' to replace the Trooper. He asked me if I wanted it as he was going to have it hauled away for scrap.

So I had a highly functional, if ugly vehicle. I was eighteen and wondering if I could sleep in my Trooper and how would I stay warm. Perplexed and possessed of an offer to play baseball for the University of Washington on a tuition and books scholarship, I met with Coach Tom Zuber and asked if I might park in his garage and sleep out of the weather. That was a no-go as his soon to be wife wanted no part of me and he said it would be a 'WIAA' violation.

As the New Year crept towards me, I had talked to a Navy recruiter and took a test in his office and scored high and could learn how to be a 'SAR' air-dale which meant search and rescue guy, but I pretended to understand the dog reference.

It was three days before winter break when Coach Zuber came into my wood shop class and asked Mr. Ham if he could talk to me down in the counselor's office. I took off my work apron, washed my hands, grabbed my shit and followed him. Waiting for me was my AP English teacher Ms. Gutierrez-Jefferson and her daughter Isobel who was a junior and a member of the girls' basketball team.

Isobel was a vicious, foul mouthed bitch who had tormented me for two years knowing that it was suicide for me to respond. The most perplexing issues in this whole picture is that Ms. Gutierrez-Jefferson is openly gay and apparently Isobel was her biological daughter through some miraculous religious moment. At that point in my life I was not a believer, but I started to pray for removal from this room.

I refused to look at anyone in the room and stared at a point seven feet up on the opposite wall. Isobel kept saying, "What the fuck are you doing mom."

"Milo, coach Zuber has explained to me your story and being 'aged out' with respect to the foster system."

Isobel had shut up and was staring at me, her mother went on, "How many families have you been with?"

"Twenty nine, no thirty."

"How did you get here?"

I blew out what felt like a bushel of air.

"I do not remember this of course. I was left in the entrance to St. Joseph's Church during Sunday Mass, in Chehalis. Police were called and I was taken to a hospital and checked and they thought I was five or six months old, albeit a little underfed. They landed on a theory that somebody drove up from Oregon, or South from Seattle or even Canada, got off the freeway and left me inside the front of the church. They were back on I5 within minutes. For one reason or another, nobody adopted me. I have avoided fights as to fight means to be institutionalized and I am actually very fast so I avoided that."

"I have a scholarship to play baseball at the University of Washington, but I need to graduate high school to do that. I have talked with a Navy recruiter about enlisting if I'm unable to find a place to stay it is an option. I've taken tests and scored high enough for that to happen, with a chance after three years to get college degree as long as it's in a discipline that fits the Navy's needs."

The room was so quiet that I could hear them both breathing.

Ms. Gutierrez-Jefferson spoke, "Over our two car garage we have a legal one bedroom apartment with a kitchen and bathroom and wired for television. In the freezer, there are various meat and frozen vegetables and breads. Do you know how to cook?"

I nodded yes.

She went on, "There are utensils and pots and pans. I shop at Costco and will buy you eggs, coffee, bacon and sausage. Do you have things you like that I've not mentioned?"

I was quiet, nobody had ever asked me what I wanted before and I sat up and looked at her for the first time and said, "Peanut butter, sharp cheddar cheese, bologna, mustard of all kinds would be nice."

She said, "No problem, what about soda pop?"

"I like Coke and Dr. Pepper."

I settled in and we co-existed. I had more food to eat, whenever I wanted for the first time in my life. By the time of our first game I had gone from one fifty five to one seventy. We went twenty three and two and won the 2A championship and we were the number two team in the country according to USA Today.

I did not go to prom as it interfered with my travel team based in Seattle, the Seattle Studs with coach Guy Keller. The other reason I did not go to prom is that I was a virgin and had developed a crush on Isobel who had a stable full of guys that she 'dated' and if the stories were to be believed she was wild, so I was in Spokane in a thirty two team tournament.

I was drafted by the Tampa Bay Rays in the fifteenth round of the 2008 major league baseball draft. I signed with a fifteen thousand dollar bonus. I was assigned to the low A Columbus Catfish and after a week I was moved to second base, then third base and finally left field. I kept on playing because I hit and stole bases and went from first to home.

After the season, I was sent to what would be the new spring training site in Port Charlotte, Florida and they made me into a catcher because I had quick feet and I had a pop to pop time of one point seven seconds which was an elite number. At five foot ten and one hundred and eighty pounds what I did not do was hit a lot of home runs. In two seasons along the way I did lead leagues in doubles twice and I continued to throw guys out. I also learned Spanish so I could talk to pitchers from the Dominican who did role through the organization.

Along the way I did lose my virginity and had two long term relationships that did not stand up to the vagabond baseball life I was living. That is to say one of them cheated on me and I got caught in the bed of my manager's wife when I was on the injured list. The two events were related in that he slept with my girlfriend two years before that as a fading major league player on a rehab assignment. When I was on the injured list I told his wife and that was THE most fun I had in minor league baseball for almost a month. She had chapter and verse on his fooling around on her and she filed for divorce and got a whole bunch of his money. We're still friends.

The Rays were upset that I messed up their plans to groom him to be a major league manager and released me. Over the course of that winter during his divorce it seems he had several previously unknown children from Seattle to Boston.

I returned to Chehalis and answered an ad for the Lewis County Sheriff's looking for new deputies. I was done with baseball, could have signed a deal to play in Taiwan, Italy or the Netherlands but the events with the Rays would have black balled me from signing with other major league organizations. In the previous three years I had played thirty two preseason games with the Rays against other major league teams. For you stat-heads my 'splits' (batting average/on base percentage/slugging percentage/OPS) were.344/.417/.461/.878. I'd played on two championship teams at high 'A' and double 'A' my last manager at 'A' ball said and I quote, "You're too quiet with the pitchers, you need to be more assertive."

My response was, "We won and two of them were called up and are pitching right now with Tampa. I hit, we win I throw people out. You're full of shit."

Somewhere along the line my narrative had been written and in baseball that's a wildfire event and at all levels of baseball my career was over.

In 2010 I bought a thirty nine acre farmstead on Gish Road out of foreclosure for sixty five thousand dollars. There had been various crops, but I rented the fields and they put in field grass (hay) and the income from it paid the mortgage. I got a grant to put in a metal roof that I did not have to pay off until I sold the house.

There was wall to wall worn out carpets everywhere but the kitchen and bathrooms where there was old linoleum. It all came out and there narrow two and half inch wide fir floors. I sanded all that out over two winters and stained them. I put in wide tile in the kitchen and two bathrooms. There was a fireplace insert that could heat the whole place in an hour.

During the offseason since I had the property, I had not entertained company as I'd lost touch with my teammates as well as Ms. Gutierrez-Jefferson. I ghosted Isobel on social media, which was Facebook and she was a cheerleader at Washington State University in Pullman and well popular, which caused me to turn off my account.

I had a physical with the Lewis County contracted physician. He said that I had a low resting heart rate. I asked what that meant.

"Genetically, you come from people that ran a lot."

I said, "What on earth does that mean?"

"Well, Egyptian and Greek culture meet that criteria, you could sign up for Ancestry. com to find out more."

The training was at an academy in Burien, Washington which lasted the better part of six months. They housed us who were more than fifty miles away in an old dingy motel. I proved a good student, something I'd been indifferent to in high school.

Back in Chehalis, I was given to a sergeant who instructed me on everything about a squad car from a walk around before I accepted it for a shift and cleaning it out, especially how to deal with vomit from drunks and drug addicts. There were beat to shit Ford Crown Victorias from 2006 through 2011 and some new Dodge Challengers. I was only trained on the Fords as the command structure drove the Challengers.

I graduated in June of 2012 and worked with a thirty year veteran sergeant Stan Katyak. He was married, but separated from his second wife and had six kids across two marriages. His wife was living with a real estate broker and had been for some time. He had three grown kids from the first marriage and his kids from the current marriage spent every other month with him.

He liked to talk about the Mariners and was obsessed with John Jaso their catcher. Finally, I said, "I played with him in the Ray's organization. He's got some power, but can't throw for shit. He's more of a first baseman."

That bought me some silence for a minute or so.

"You played professional baseball?"

"Five years, in the Rays organization. I was a better hitter and defender both. I played for Coach Zuber, the team that won the state championship and was the number two team in America."

Finally after staring at me he said, "Why on earth are you here?"

"This is home."

"Parents..."

I interrupted him, "I'm an orphan, no family, couple of ex-girlfriends, but that's it. I was left on a Sunday morning at St. Joseph's during Mass. I was raised in foster homes. I own a home out on Gish road an old farm and I lease out the acreage and it pays my mortgage. I have no current girlfriend. I spend a weekend in Portland, when I need to be with someone."

"What kind of car do you drive?"

I thought that was a weirdly specific question out of context, but responded, "I drive a ninety four F-250 with the three fifty one engine and the five speed."

He questioned, "Crew or regular cab?"

"Regular."

"What's wrong with the engine?"

"It's leaning in to needing a ring job, but I don't push it at all."

"The three oh two is much better engine," we were having a conversation.

"The three oh two is a blown two eighty nine which is the best small block engine Ford ever built. It was the guts of the GT-40 that won at Le Mans, not to mention Carroll Shelby's AC Cobras."

He went on, "I know a guy that rebuilds the three oh two engines, should you want to replace them, he'll take your old engine back in trade."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I rode with him for four years until he retired.

I met my wife, his youngest daughter at a Christmas party at his house. Natalie and I were married in 2018. I was thirty one and she was twenty six and had a three year old son from a guy that she had an affair with as he was married and she was not. Her son's name was Tom and I adopted him.

We had two daughters Tereza and Jana and my son Milo junior.

I was now a detective sergeant primarily in major crimes, which included murder, kidnapping large scale theft. We also coordinated with the DEA regarding high end drug activity, which more and more included fentanyl, meth and both rock and a resurgence of powdered cocaine.

Natalie had a job with Centralia School District working in the superintendent's office as a project coordinator. About six months ago I discovered she was sleeping with the superintendent and his wife and had been for two years. One of my high school teammates called me and told me that his wife worked in the school district's office and it was apparently an open secret and been going on for some time.

I got a lawyer who explained that she would get everything except pre-marital assets. I asked him if it was legal for me to check on the DNA of our kids.

He pondered it and said, "As long as you have not filed for divorce just join something like Ancestry. com and include all of your kids in the application."

I did all that and changed shifts working from six at night until six in the morning, which meant I ceased sleeping with her, which she did not seem to notice my absence.

When the results came back from Ancestry. com I was surprised. It was an email and it showed who were my birth parents and grandparents all the way back my grandparents arriving in 1920 from Thessaloniki, Greece. My birth parents were married and living in Moraga, California. She was sixteen years older than me and he was eighteen years older than me.

Tom and Milo were not mine. Tereza and Jana were mine.

Tom and Milo's father was married to Isobel my high school nemesis and I had to conclude that Isobel put this in motion, but I did not really care as my love for Natalie was gone.

When I met with my lawyer and said, "I want nothing to do with her. My farm is a premarital asset. I want nothing to do with Tom nor Milo as I'm certain she did this on purpose and it predates when I think the affair had started by two years. Can you file for divorce with that co-parenting arrangement to occur?"

He pondered and said, "Almost certainly she will get custody of all the kids and you will be required to pay child support."

I said, "Her salary is five thousand more than mine."

"She will still get full custody and in a practical sense, could fuck with you in such a manner even with visitation rights you'd not see them very much."

I said, "Go ahead file. Serve her at work, just tell me when it's to happen that morning, her dad is my best friend and taught me my job."

I knocked on the front door of Stan's home. His rig was parked out front so I knew he was home. His wife Helen answered the door and immediately I knew she knew of Natalie's cheating. I pushed the door open and yelled, "Hey Stan, it's Milo, I need to talk to you."

He emerged wiping his hands dry on a towel and said, "What's wrong?"

"Helen you know, but this is going to be a surprise to Stan, so both of you sit down on the couch."

They did.

"Natalie is being served with divorce papers as we speak. Tom and Milo have the same biological father and the girls have me as a father. She has been cheating on me for at least five years and probably our entire marriage. Almost certainly she will get custody. I have been working nights for six months and she has not noticed that we've not had sex during that time. I no longer remotely love her. Stan my home is a premarital asset and I will retain it. Please follow me to get her shit. Her salary is slightly larger than mine so it's unlikely that I will have to pay child support. My attorney tells me that even with co-parenting she will probably fuck with me in terms of seeing the girls. I believe that she deliberately had Milo with her old lover, so I want nothing to do with him."

I stood up and said, "I'm sorry Stan, can we go now."

He stood and looked at Helen and said, "We're done."

He followed me in his pickup truck to my farm. The locksmith came after we'd been there ten minutes and sold me on digital locks and a battery system and a link to my station in case of burglary.

I said to Stan, "What's that about with you and Helen?"

"She's been having an affair for the last ten years with her broker in her real estate office. I'm not sure that Natalie is mine."

I said, "Well if you need a place to stay, I got all kinds of room," and laughed

He said, "I have all kinds of evidence, I was just staying together for the grandkids."

"So you need a lawyer?"

"No, I have one in Seattle. I caught her once before and there is a post-nuptial agreement in place. I have money she cannot get at I think I'm going to take some trips. I always wanted to see Prague and northern Europe."

It seems as if Natalie was surprised at my discovery. The papers included a do not contact order which she either did not read or did not understand and she arrived in her district car as Stan I were load her shit into his pickup.

She jumped out and ran to me and Stan stopped her and said, "He knows Natalie. Tom and Milo are full brothers."

She stood stock still, processing. Her crocodile tears now drying up.