Read Online Be Mine by Rick Mofina - Free Book Online

folded neatly into quarters. She would speak near the end. The mayor was up
first and began by honoring the entire department.
    “We know that every day you start your tour, you put it on the line
for us, and for that, this city is deeply grateful,” the mayor said. “We can
only pray that whoever did this to a fine son of the city is brought to
justice.”
    Molly gazed at the beautiful stained glass, the Corinthian columns,
and wished this were all a bad dream, a horrible dream as the police chaplain
followed the mayor.
    “Something evil brought us all together today,” the chaplain said.
“Something wicked has pierced our hearts. But it will never defeat us. For no
such act of cruelty, no attempt by darkness, shall ever succeed. We will
prevail.” Hooper’s sister was next. Andrea squeezed Molly’s hand, then her
husband’s before going to the podium where she reflected on how all of her life
she’d looked up to her big brother. How after their parents passed away she
became closer to him, her rock during the storms of her life. “Cliffie,” she
said, staring at his casket, “you’ll always be my hero.”
    Molly began to quiver, wondering if she could go through with this
as the chief of police went next, barely containing his anger.
    “Not many of you are aware, but I knew Hooper when I was a captain
and he worked for me a few years back. He went undercover on some dangerous
operations and he got the job done. And done well. He was one of the finest
officers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.” The chief took his time
so the weight of his words could be felt.
    “What happened to Hoop is an insult and an outrage to our police
family,” the chief said, letting seconds pass. A few people coughed, some
sniffled. “Yes, we’re all hurting, and that’s understandable. But make no
mistake. This will not weaken us. Find solace and draw strength from our maxim.
‘Oro en paz, fierro en guerra. Gold in Peace. Iron in War.’ We don’t just wear
it. We don’t just carry it around. We swear by it. We live by it. And we die by
it.”
    Molly watched Beamon rub his knees. He was next. She patted his
hand. He went to the podium, gripping its sides as if struggling not to fall.
    A few rows back Sydowski raised his chin, tightened his arms across
his chest, and absorbed every iota of Beamon’s demeanor.
    “My family moved around a lot when I was a kid. As an only child, I
never knew the feeling of a large family until I joined the SFPD,” he began. “I
was in Robbery before I went to Homicide a few years ago. That’s where I met
Cliff.” Beamon paused.

    “He’d already put in quite a few years in Homicide when he got me
for a partner. But he was cool with that. He was patient. He was my mentor and
maybe sometimes we didn’t see eye to eye--” He stopped to rub his right hand
across his lip, and Sydowski tightened his focus on Beamon’s scraped knuckles.
“But he taught me, watched over me. He was my brother and I loved him.”
    Turgeon touched the corners of her eyes. Sydowski shifted in his
seat, thinking long and hard, reassured by the fact the police surveillance
team was capturing video and audio of everyone inside and outside the church.
    Molly took a deep breath, squeezed her piece of folded paper, then
patted Beamon’s shoulder as she rose to take her place at the podium.
    She unfolded her sheet, its crisp crackling echoing. Then she cleared
her throat to assure herself that she’d have the strength to push words through
her mouth. “Just read your words. Read aloud, slowly and clearly,” the priest
had advised her before the service on how to get through it.
    “Cliff was a kind, gentle man who always worried about the children
who got caught up in some of his cases. He wanted to have his own family one
day and I know he would have made a terrific dad.”
    Molly kept her eyes on her sheet because she was too nervous to
raise them and look into all of the faces before her. She could