by Laura Acton
Too small to crawl through, which means any escape I plan will require going up the stairs once I can figure out how to free my hands and feet. He hurt too much at the moment to contemplate how he might manage to release his bonds, climb the steps, or deal with the four men above.
No stranger to pain, both mental and physical, Dan allowed himself to groan as he attempted to find a more comfortable … make that a less uncomfortable position. Once settled, he thought about how wrong he had been about so much of his childhood.
Delving into this part of his past with his parents, Bella, Wilson, and several others had been a painful experience, but gaining an understanding of how screwed up his mind had been, helped him now. I do have family … tons … both blood and chosen. And friends too … Jarmal, Mrs. Stark, Caroline and Gladys at Mayfield. Someone will miss me or notice I’m gone and contact my dad or TRF.
His thoughts shifted to Lexa. Although he found the process of breaking up with her excruciating, she continued to be his beauty. Unsure how he would move forward, Dan decided if he lived, he had time to figure things out and if he died, then problem solved.
Negative thoughts slipped away. I will leave here alive. Snow is a neophyte compared to the torturers I survived. Alpha Team, my chosen family, will find me in time if I can’t escape on my own.
Brody held Danny in his arms and whispered, “That’s right, brother. Stay optimistic. We’re doing everything possible to bring them to you, so you hold on. And just so we are crystal clear, I’m real! I am your Guardian Angel.”
Warmth cloaked Dan as if the afghan his mom made him wrapped around his chilled body. His eyes drifted shut as he wondered who would alert TRF he was missing … that is, if they didn’t already know. For the umpteenth time, he hoped his call went through to Boss. If it didn’t, the logical person to contact them would be Eleanor since he failed to return with Mr. Waggles’ food.
Maplehurst Correctional Complex – Interview Room – 5:00 p.m.
Former Guns and Gangs Detective Emilio Sanchez stared at Travone Tate. His lawyer came through in getting him transferred to a more secure location, but he found himself trading seclusion for safety. He waited for news in solitary while the Crown Attorney’s Office decided whether or not to accept his plea deal. He wanted the minimum sentence possible for his role in the ill-fated attempt of Nores to kill Raymundo Paloma and the rest of the TRF team.
“So, what did they say?” Emilio asked.
Travone adjusted his tie. “I tried to arrange things with the details you provided, but Jacob Sundqvist, an up and coming attorney in their office, is playing hardball. I checked him out. His father was an Ottawa constable who died on duty when an angry, ex-cop went on a drunken rampage. Sundqvist takes a hard stance against cops who cross the line and prosecuting you will further his career. However, he is here and wants to speak with you.”
Sanchez clasped his hands, happy he held back information to use as a potential bargaining chip. Several minutes later the door opened and Emilio sized-up his adversary. Average build and features, nondescript and nothing noteworthy apart from the long, prominent scar across his left jaw.
Jacob eyed the former detective as he took a seat at the table and set the folder he carried down. Although he only served a six-month stint in Ottawa’s juvenile dentition center after he, Todd, and the others beat the shit out of the new kid at school, he still feared possible recognition by boys who could annihilate his ambitions. So, he limited meeting felons face-to-face, preferring the one-sided confrontation of the courtroom.
Uneasy, but relieved this man was not one of his cellmates, his hand unconsciously rubbed his scar, a reminder of his first night in juvie. Except for the mark, he never regretted his involvement in the beat-down or manipulation of his father and the system afterward. He lied to investigators, telling them Todd coerced him and he feared they would do the same thing to him if he didn’t participate. His duped dad pulled strings for him, resulting in a reduced charge, a shorter sentence, and a sealed record when he reached eighteen.
For twelve years, Jacob carefully crafted his public image with his sights set on becoming the Attorney General. The murder of his wife during the Playful Minds Daycare incident about two years ago worked to his advantage. He played the grieving husband role to perfection, though in truth their marriage had only been one of convenience to hide his sexual preference for men, which he discovered while incarcerated. No one would ever guess he or his lover were gay.
Assuming his hard-ass persona, Jacob spoke words he didn’t believe but suited his career ambitions. “Nothing you conveyed thus far warrants a lesser sentence. You crossed the line. Your actions not only betrayed the trust of your fellow officers but the welfare of the public.
“The raid on the BDC hangout netted enough evidence to send the Nores brothers and most of their crew away for a long time. What you shared is old news, so unless you can provide additional details, prepare for the maximum sentence.”
Spreading his palms out on the cool, metal tabletop, Emilio assessed the assistant prosecutor. A calculating thinker much like Pitbull. I can manipulate him. “What if I could provide details which will further your career and put you in the spotlight for those principles you espouse by saving the life of a constable and protecting citizens?”
Jacob leaned back, shrugging slightly as he used a bored tone. “Doubt there is anything you could tell me which would do that, but I’ll listen and if what you say possesses merit … we’ll see.”
Viewing the exchange between Sundqvist and Sanchez, Travone got the impression he watched two snakes in the grass sizing each other up. He remained quiet wondering what his client would reveal.
“What if I told you Alonzo’s release was no accident?”
Lifting an eyebrow, Jacob waited.
Sitting straighter, Emilio said, “Pablo, the youngest Nores, was tech savvy and could charm women. He talked someone named Theresa, don’t know her last name, into hacking into the prison system to swap out their identities with inmates who were set to be released.”
Sundqvist’s attention was captured. “And?”
“And they weren’t the only ones to walk out unnoticed. Several others were released to be used as a diversion in case the hack was discovered.”
“How many?” Jacob asked.
“A dozen or so. I can supply you their names, but they chose four dirty cops to be the primary focus.”
“Why?” Travone inquired, intrigued by the new information.
Emilio peered at his lawyer. “Because they have a beef with one of the TRF officers. When the testimony of a rookie cop convicted them, they swore to kill him when they got out. They still had fifteen years on their sentences. Alonzo and Diego believed all resources would be put into rounding them up first and Machete would be able to stay under the radar.”
“Give me the names of those released.” Jacob pulled out a pen to take notes.
“Brogan Snow, Alfred Riqueti, Charley Turner, and Robert Bozonnet are the ex-cops. Besides their BDC members you recaptured in the raid, they also set free Alex Maroto, Fang Yijun, …” Emilio went on to list eight others.
Jacob finished scribbling down names, recognizing Maroto’s name. The first man he put behind bars after joining the Crown Attorney’s office. “Which TRF constable did they want to target?”
“Daniel Broderick.”
Sundqvist’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the persona non grata responsible for his fall from grace his junior year of high school.
Tate’s eyes widened with surprise. Anxious for the welfare of an honorable man and friend, he wanted to abandon this meeting and his client to call Jarmal to request Dan’s number and warn him of the potential threat, but Sundqvist’s and Sanchez’s next words settled him down.
“I’ll contact TRF to inform them of this new development. How long have these men been out?” Jacob’s thoughts went in conflicting directions.
Shrugging, Sanchez answered, “Not sure, but at least
a few weeks. Although I think Alonzo and Diego overestimated their hatred of Broderick since they have not killed him. Most likely they took this as an opportunity to slip across the border into the U.S. and are long gone.”
Agreeing, but wishing for the opposite outcome, as Broderick’s death would suit him fine, Sundqvist closed his folder and stood. “I’ll speak to the Crown Attorney, and if this checks out, we may be able to cut the deal you wanted.”
After Sundqvist exited, Travone glanced at Sanchez as he packed up. “Why didn’t you tell me this when we first spoke?”
Emilio relaxed. “Learned from the snitches I made deals with. My CIs, many of whom I cultivated for years, never revealed everything on the first go.”
Travone appreciated the candor and wondered what Emilio’s life would’ve been like if he had not grown up in the Blooddrop Crew neighborhood or been coerced into helping the BDC to protect his family. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I receive a response from Sundqvist.”
Striding down the hall, Sundqvist decided tomorrow morning would be soon enough to contact his boss. Driven by his lust for power, he didn’t wish to be late for dinner reservations at Chez Larousse with Councilwoman Lorelei Ravenswood. A relationship with her would further his career by introducing him to those in society with influence and deep pockets.
TRF HQ – Briefing Room – 10:00 p.m.
Nick removed his cap and rubbed his eyes as he leaned back in the chair. “Unless anyone has additional input, debrief is complete.” He scanned his team, all exhausted and drained emotionally from the last call which extended three hours beyond the end of their shift.
He received head shakes indicating no further commentary. “Alright. Today was a rough one. I’m canceling pre-shift workout tomorrow, and Colton’s team will cover the first two hours of shift, so time for everyone to head home and grab some decent rest. See you all back here at nine a.m. with clear heads.”
Loki, Ray, Bram, and Kinsey slowly rose to go to the locker rooms. Jon remained with Nick and waited until the others cleared out before speaking. “You did everything possible. Everything right. Sadly, the boy was too far gone and beyond saving.”
Nick peered at Jon with sorrowful eyes. “In my head I understand, but my heart needs a bit to catch up. Linden was so young. It is painful when a seventeen-year-old believes their life isn’t worth living.”
Jon’s mind went to his teenage son, as he reviewed today’s scenario, grateful Kent didn’t experience the life of their subject. He sighed and met Nick’s gaze. “Linden lost all hope after being isolated for years. Shuttled from one foster family to another. No friends. Bullied constantly. Establishing a connection with someone so cut off would be difficult for anyone.”
His eyes tearing up as he bent his head towards the call transcript, Nick began to scan the pages hoping to discover in his dialog with Linden if he missed an opportunity to connect and to determine the exact point of no return for the youth.
After studying Nick for a moment, Jon intervened. “You told the team to go home. Make you a deal. I’ll finish the paperwork if you to do the same thing.” He pulled the transcript away. “It’s late. Go.”
Recognizing he was not in the right state of mind to review things objectively, Nick rose from his chair and patted his long-time friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Jonny. I do need a break.” He started to exit, but stopped at the entry and turned back. “Jon?”
“Yeah?” Happy Boss took his advice, Jon swiveled the chair toward the entrance. The suicide call lasted over six hours. Nick tried so hard to reach Linden. Watching the despondent teen pull the trigger and end his life when they were within five feet of the boy had been hard on Nick, and the rest of them too.
“Did you ever get a hold of Dan?”
Jon shook his head. “Tried several times but it keeps going to voicemail. I left many messages asking him to at least text me to let us know he is alright, but he hasn’t. Though, I don’t blame him after how I treated him. This is all my fault. I hurt him with my words and broke a trust …”
“This isn’t all on you, Jon. I played a part too.” His eyes flicked to the transcript. “I intended to give him space and to protect our team balance by keeping their relationship private, but forbidding him to contact anyone on the team, especially Bram, … I isolated him … I hope that doesn’t cause …”
“He isn’t Linden,” Jon inserted, grasping where Nick’s thoughts appeared to be heading. “His pistol is still in the gun safe I gave him. Dan most likely went on a long run and is choosing to ignore me. I would do the same if our positions were reversed. It would be a cold day in Hell before I’d answer.”
An idea popped into Jon’s head. “Perhaps he might answer if he isn’t aware it is us. How about calling him from the loaner phone?”
Agreeing the idea had merit, Nick pulled it out and dialed. It rang six times and went to voicemail. “Dan, this is Nick. We’re worried about you, and we’ve been trying to reach you. We realize our behavior was way out of line, and our dialog cruel and insensitive. Jon and I would like to meet with you to apologize, but we will acquiesce to your needs. Though, I would appreciate it if you would at least acknowledge you received our messages. My phone broke, so at the minimum, please text Jon.”
He disconnected, and a weary sigh escaped. “Let me know if he texts you.”
“Will do.”
Having changed without bothering to shower, wanting to go home, crawl into bed, and attempt to rid himself of images of a teenager blowing his brains out, Loki spotted Boss and needed to tell him about his phone. Stopping outside the briefing room, he said, “Boss, the phone is toast, and the sim card was damaged somewhat, but I set up a program which will hopefully transfer most of your data to a new one. Should be ready for you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Loki.” Nick nodded and headed towards the lockers.
Loki shifted his gaze to Jon. “I hope Boss sleeps tonight.”
Distinguishing Loki’s remark voiced the techie’s concerns over being able to find respite from Linden’s death, Jon decided to plant another thought in Loki’s head … one which would distract him. He glanced at his still blue-tinged hand before lifting it and giving Loki a grin which somehow mixed mischief and determined retribution. “He might, but I’m gonna spend my entire night thinking about payback.”
Loki’s eyes widened. “But … but it was supposed to be Kinsey, not you. Isn’t my fault you went all gung-ho for inventory. You’re never the first in there. Would’ve warned you but things went a little wonky after we found out about Dan taking a vacation.”
At the mention of Dan, Jon’s grin completely disappeared, and the niggling sense something was wrong returned to Loki. Comprehending he would receive no answers from either Jon or Boss based on this morning, Loki only waved goodnight and hurried out. Once outside headquarters, he dug his cell phone from his pocket and selected Dan’s contact. The call ended up at voicemail.
With thoughts of how lonely Linden had been fresh in his mind, Loki wanted to make sure Dan understood he cared and would always make himself available. “Hey, buddy. Boss said you went on vacation. Worried a bit at the suddenness of your decision but I understand after all the crap the past few months. Give me a ring if you want to talk to a friend. Take care and enjoy your time off … you deserve a break.”
Mrs. Starks’ Apartment – 10:00 p.m.
Eleanor returned to her apartment and shut the door. “Well, Mr. Waggles, Dan still isn’t home. His boss must’ve found him on his run, and he must be working late, or he would’ve brought your food. How about a little more beef?”
“Woof!” The puppy rushed to the kitchen, sat down, and wagged his tail.
Chuckling, Eleanor shuffled forward. “Guess that is a yes. If Dan doesn’t come tomorrow, I’ll ask Ivy to help me carry the bag.” She opened the fridge, pulled out the cooked ground beef, and put a portion in her pup’s bowl.
As Mr. Waggles ate, Eleanor sighed. Dan’s behavior today was odd, he
usually would’ve called at least. Though, he had been rather busy and not home often in the last month after his girlfriend got shot.
“Dan and Lexa make a lovely couple, Mr. Waggles. Love, true love, only comes along once in a lifetime.” When Waggles peered up at her with soulful eyes, she smiled. “Well, not exactly … I love you as much as I did Skippy. Finish up, bedtime.” After the collie gobbled up the final piece, Eleanor started for her room. She made a deal with herself to give Dan until tomorrow evening to stop by before she called his work to check on him.
Missed Connections
16
May 7
Somewhere on the Outskirts of Toronto
Water dumping on his face roused Dan. He sputtered as the deluge continued, hoping not to inhale liquid into his lungs. For a moment his mind placed him solidly there, but the water stopped as Al’s voice registered instead of Grape Man or The One.
“Wake up, Dickhead. I’m tired of waiting.” Alfred threw the empty, plastic bucket at Dan’s head, a satisfied grin split his face as the ratfink groaned when the pail hit him, bounced off, and rolled away.
Blinking his eyes open, Dan noted a single, bare bulb illuminated the area. Outside was dark, so it was nighttime, he just didn’t possess a clue as to what time of night or how long he slept. Shifting his focus to Al, he noted the man listed to one side. That along with the strong odor of alcohol told him Al was drunk.
He licked the moisture from his lips, craving more, but realized they would not be providing him anything to quench his thirst. “What do you want now, asshole?” Dan clamped his mouth shut again. Shit, they make me stupid, irrational, and reckless. I need to keep my damned mouth closed, or they’ll kill me before Alpha Team finds me.
“You’re more pathetic now,” Al slurred out. “I’m gonna enjoy every minute of exterminating you. You will pay ten times more for everything I put up with on the inside. Cons don’t like ex-cops.”