by Laura Acton
Approaching the desk, Dan gave the officer standing behind it a lopsided grin as he said, “Constable Broderick, reports.”
Glancing up from his paperwork, Al Riqueti smirked. “Little early for Halloween. Does your mommy know where you are, boy?”
Dan bristled but outwardly let the comment roll off his back. “Can you direct me to Constable Snow?”
“Hey, Brogan, your rookie is here,” Al shouted.
Turning, Dan caught sight of his training officer, a heavyset man across the hall. He stood more erect, wanting to make a decent first impression.
Lumbering over, Brogan eyed the green cop. Shaking his head, thinking the new crop of rookies got younger each year, and this one didn’t even look like he was out of high school yet. “You Broderick?”
“Yes, sir.” Dan stuck out his hand to shake and was surprised when Snow ignored it. He lowered his hand awkwardly as he waited for his superior to look his fill and make the next overture.
“How the hell old are you?” Brogan blurted out.
“Eighteen, sir.”
“Drop the sir crap. I work for a living.”
Al laughed. “Shit he’s not even old enough to drink … legally that is.”
“The brass is robbing the cradle with him,” Charley Turner said as he ambled up to the others.
Stomping the dirty, melting slush off his steel-toed boots, Robert Bozonnet joined the group. “Snow, you doing babysitting on the side and forget to tell us?”
Dan gazed at the four men, unsure how to take all their comments, but decided he was up for some hazing as the rookie and they latched onto his age and appearance. I can handle this. He smiled, hoping to build a friendship with his brothers-in-blue.
Brogan laughed. “Just jerking your chain, Broderick. Welcome to the fourteenth. Heard you were top of the class.”
“You heard right,” Dan boasted with a cocky tilt to his head.
Robert eyed the young officer, wondering if the rookie would show him up. He graduated last in his academy class, but he passed, thanks to a little bribe to the final exam proctor to turn the other way after his cheat sheet was discovered. His bass voice said, “I’m Robert.” Pointing to the other two he said, “The short one is Charley, and the big mouth is Alfred.”
“Call me Al. What’s your first name?” Al pondered why a Broderick, especially the son of General Badass Broderick, would join the police instead of the military. For now, Al would hold off prying, but he would find out eventually.
“Daniel, but I prefer Dan.”
“Danny boy, it is,” Al razzed the rookie. “At least until you grow up a little.”
Any retort Dan would’ve made was cut off by the shift sergeant.
“Roll call, boys,” Sergeant Blankenship called out as he strode through the hallway to the briefing room.
Brogan slapped a hand on Broderick’s shoulder. “Let’s go, Rookie.”
Eager to start his first day, Dan grinned and strode forward with Brogan, Al, Charley, and Robert. They all appeared to be likable guys, and he looked forward to developing a working relationship with them and perhaps a new chosen family too … like with Wilson, Buzz, and Dutch.
Rose-Colored Glasses
34
March 29
Blue Line Pub – 7:30 p.m.
Eagerly anticipating tonight, Dan joined Brogan, Al, Charley, and Robert at their usual table in the back of the bar frequented by officers in their division. The last six weeks had been jam-packed with tons of new experiences. Some of which left him a little shaken, especially the first time he drew his service weapon on a subject.
Brogan sent him on a coffee run by himself, and he happened upon a robbery in progress. Dan shook in his boots, and his voice quavered as he shouted at the armed youth to halt and show him his hands. The beefy teen, D’Ante Tate, turned out to be only six months younger than him and appeared to be equally, if not more, scared.
D’Ante didn’t want to join the gang, but when they pressured him with a threat to hurt his three younger brothers, he caved to protect them and sought to complete the gang’s initiation. Finding out D’Ante’s weapon was a stick and not a gun allowed him to take a different tact. Though he still arrested him, Dan listened to the teen and took time to understand his situation.
Flashing a grin, Dan took a seat with his seasoned brothers-in-blue. Brogan was tight with Al, Robert, and Charley, hanging out with them often after shift. They included him in their after-hours socializing from his first day. Although too young to consume alcohol, they invited him to the Blue Line Pub, where he ordered a soda while they drank beers or hard liquor. He didn’t mind being their designated driver and taking their drunk asses home … a small price to pay for being included in the brotherhood.
“So, Danny boy, how’d court go?” Al swigged his beer.
“Great. The judge put D’Ante into a diversion program instead of sending him to jail.” Dan took a drink of the root beer Brogan ordered for him.
Brogan set his empty whiskey tumbler down as he eyed his guileless rookie. “Pollyanna, he’ll be gang banging within two weeks. You can’t change society.”
Dan’s gaze narrowed. “I made a real difference in the kid’s life.”
Al scoffed, “Yeah, you did. Now he can put a bullet in your head the next time you encounter him.”
His happy mood souring, Dan placed his glass on the table. “Are you saying I shouldn’t have helped him?”
“What Al’s saying is you should’ve killed him while you had the chance and rid the world of another worthless piece of shit. If Brogan had been with you, he would’ve shot him,” Charley said.
“But he only held a stick.” Unease began to grow in Dan. Previous jaded comments by them started to filter in, but he shoved them aside, giving the experienced officers the benefit of the doubt. Each had five to ten years of service under their belts, so they possessed knowledge he didn’t, and he should seek to understand their viewpoints if he wanted to improve.
“You didn’t know that when you approached him. He claimed it was a weapon when he tried to rob the cashier. If he had a gun, you would be six feet under now, and General Badass would be dancing on your grave. Out there, it is them or us, and you can’t allow anyone to get the drop on you. I’ll pick us over them every time.” Brogan waved over the waitress and ordered another whiskey for himself and a rum and coke for Charley.
The mention of his father caused Dan to recoil. The general would be happy if he died, but Dan still believed he did the right thing. “He was not armed. I made a difference. If I fired before ascertaining if he was armed, I would now be up on charges of shooting an unarmed teenager.”
Robert snorted. “Baby Broderick, you’re still wearing those rose-colored glasses. He would’ve been armed by the time the inspector showed up.”
Dan’s eyes widened as he turned his gaze to Robert. “What?”
“We’d cover your back. We protect each other,” Al stated.
Unsure he understood correctly, Dan asked, “How would D’Ante have gotten a gun?”
“Simple. We all carry … insurance.” Charley tugged up his pant leg displaying a compact gun strapped to his ankle.
“What the hell?” Dan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head.
Snow eyed Broderick. He had been sizing him up for the last six weeks. The rookie pathetically clung to them, and Brogan managed to wheedle out of the gullible boy that his family discarded him for killing his sister. Charley moved too fast tonight, though, given more time, he would be able to groom Broderick and bring him into their fold. Doing damage control, Brogan used words which would produce the desired effect. “What they mean is we care about you, brother. You belong, and we would never allow scumbags to hurt you.”
Judging the impact of his remarks, Brogan noted Dan’s subtle inhale and the flash of hope in his eyes. He continued to drive home the point. “With us, you will never need to worry about being alone. We deal with the scum of the earth every day who don�
��t give a rat’s ass about our lives. Well, your life is important to us … to me. We will always be your first line of defense and know full well you will cover our six too. That is what real families do. They don’t turn their backs when things go sideways. You got four brothers now. You’re no longer an outcast.”
An internal war began in Dan. His desire to be wanted and be part of a family battled against his conscience and morality. They want me. I’m tired of being lonely. Do I compromise my integrity to belong?
When Dan remained silent, Brogan shifted his gaze to Al and grinned. “Think we should move this party to your place … our brother needs a beer or two tonight, and he can’t legally drink here.”
Al understood the plan. It would be the same one they used when they brought Robert into their scheme. They needed to ply Broderick with alcohol, so his memory of their comments became fuzzy as they began indoctrinating him to their way of thinking. “Absolutely.”
Dan cringed inwardly. He hated going to Al’s filthy place, and the thought of crashing at the bug infested apartment turned his stomach. “Nah, not gonna drink, remember, I’m your driver tonight.” He flashed a grin and lifted his root beer. “To my brothers in blue, drink up, I’ve got your back tonight.”
Glasses clinked, and the conversation moved into the usual topics which included sports, women, and razzing the rookie. As the night wore on, Brogan studied Broderick and believed he made inroads even without getting Broderick shitfaced. A self-satisfied grin grew as he downed another whiskey. Over the last eight years, rookie by rookie, he slowly built his empire. His revered status at the station house ensured no one would ever rat out his activities.
April 19
Metro Police Headquarters – 5:00 a.m.
Pulling the brim of his ballcap low to hide his face, and shoving his shaking hands in his jacket pockets, Dan strove to control his emotions as he entered headquarters and walked towards the bank of elevators. Disconcerted by activities he witnessed last night, and unsure he could continue to maintain his cover, he needed to talk to Fulco and Arbor again.
On March thirtieth, the day after he drove everyone home from the bar using Robert’s car, he called in sick and came to Internal Affairs. He met with two detectives and disclosed what he gathered from Robert the night before. Though nervous, his sense of right and wrong compelled him to come forward.
His rose-colored glasses had been ripped off in the last three weeks. Brothers protecting citizens is what he blindly believed when he hung out with Snow and the other three. He began to think he found a place to belong, and honest, decent people who would cover his back as he would theirs, but he was dead wrong.
God, I’m naïve. Desperation makes men do stupid things. I opened up too fast and shared things which Snow used against me. I should’ve never told them how my parents abandoned me after Sara died, and how lonely I became in my ice prison.
That night, after he dropped Al, Brogan, and Charley off, Robert started talking as he took him home, and Dan learned what these men were all about. Robert never knew when to shut up and fortunately spilled the beans. As he half-carried a drunken Robert into his apartment, Dan encouraged him to tell him more. He stayed and pretended to drink a beer with Bozonnet as the man revealed the sickening details.
An hour later, as he left, his anger over what they did to defenseless seniors boiled over, and he punched the brick wall outside Robert’s place. Luckily, he only bruised and bloodied his knuckles … no breaks. He didn’t sleep well, tossing and turning as Robert’s words churned in his head.
Arriving at the metro police headquarters by five a.m., he waited three hours in a tiny, windowless room before detectives Arbor and Fulco joined him. Once he revealed his concerns, they asked him to go undercover for them to gather evidence. With no thought of potential consequences to him, Dan agreed.
As the elevator dinged, indicating he reached the tenth floor, Dan sucked in a breath. He strode out, knowing the way now, having come here several times in the past three weeks. Going straight to the little room, Dan turned the knob and pushed open the door to find the detectives waiting for him.
“You look like shit,” Dieter Fulco said, as he pushed a coffee towards Dan.
Eyeing the coffee, unsure if he could keep anything down, Dan decided to leave it sitting there until after he gave his report. He spent the night puking as the attack on the elderly man replayed on a constant loop in his mind.
Terrance Arbor took a seat. His concern grew as Dan ignored the coffee. The kid did appear off. “Everything alright?”
Dan removed his hat and set it on the table. “No.” He swallowed hard as the images from yesterday assaulted him again.
Fulco shifted the waste can closer to Dan when he noted the pasty pallor of the young officer. “That bad?”
“Don’t think I can do this again.” Dan pulled out the digital recorder and slid it across to Fulco. “I did as you requested and they took me with them last night. That is evidence of …” Bile rose, threatening to make Dan spew, but he managed to gain control. “They grabbed an old man. Took him to an abandoned building. I watched.” Dan’s head lowered, as he fought tears.
“Hey, hey. Take it slow.” Fulco flicked his gaze to Arbor.
Arbor nodded. Both understood they asked a lot, possibly too much of this courageous rookie, but they wanted to ensure the charges stuck and sent Snow, Riqueti, Turner, and Bozonnet away until they were old men.
Composing himself, drawing on his experience in dealing with the general, Dan lifted his head, pulled his emotionless mask on tight, and reported what he witnessed in monotone. “I stood by while Al bound Mr. Craven’s ankles with zip ties after securing his hands behind his back with the same. Robert taped his mouth so he couldn’t yell out, then Charley kicked the shit out of him. When Charley finished, Brogan told Craven that if he did not want a repeat thrashing, he must pay them one hundred dollars in cash every Tuesday for protection. Snow also said if Craven reported them to the police, no one would believe him, and his wife would be beaten too.”
Fulco switched on the recorder then selected the only file as all three waited. When only sounds of static filled the room, Dieter almost groaned. “Damn. Snow must have turned on a digital jammer.”
Arbor peered at Dan. “Did you notice anyone with such a device?”
“No.” The realization he failed to obtain the evidence required caused Dan’s brows to furrow as he squeezed his eyes closed. “I can’t witness something like that again and do nothing. It took all I had not to pull my service weapon and arrest the four right then and there.” Opening his sapphire blues, he gazed at them, his angst-ridden soul projected in the orbs. “I’ll testify to what I observed. Will that be enough?”
In a soft tone, Arbor said, “No. I’m sorry, but you need to be involved in one more, and we’ll provide an old-school device which can’t be jammed.”
Dan’s stomach revolted, he paled, sweat beaded, and he bent over the trash can as he disgorged the water he drank before leaving his place. He spat several times, and a bottle of water magically appeared in his peripheral vision. He took it, rinsed twice, then sipped to stop the burning in his throat. Trying to deflect the reason for puking, Dan said, “Breakfast must not have sat well.”
Fulco snorted and tried to lighten the mood. “Water … breakfast of champions.” When that didn’t change the expression on the kid’s face, he said, “It’s okay. I puked at my first crime scene. We see some disturbing things in our line of work. I won’t lie … still want to hurl on occasion. If I witnessed what you described, I’d be bending over the can right next to you.”
Inhaling deeply, Dan gazed at the detective, unsure if he trusted what he said or if he only attempted to placate him. Dan decided to never again hastily trust anyone. He would require tangible proof demonstrated over time before he took another person into his confidence. “Okay, but I’m only doing this one more time. I can’t stand by while people are hurt.”
April 29
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Fourteenth Division – Men’s Locker Room – 6:30 p.m.
Dan dropped to the bench, exhausted after his shift, mostly from maintaining the façade of being friends with Brogan and approving of his activities. Waking up at four this morning didn’t help either. He met with Arbor and Fulco at five to obtain the new recording device, their early meetings necessary to avoid the possibility of running into any officers who knew him and might question why he went to the main headquarters.
“Hey, Broderick. You look like something the cat dragged in,” Dane Gould said as he approached his locker.
Dan glanced up and grinned at the friendly face of Dane. “Feel about the same. Long day.”
“At least you’re on days. You got the primo assignment, and I’m stuck on nights. How're things going with Snow?” Gould turned to undo his lock, and to hide his sneer. Broderick beat him out for the top spot in their graduating class, something which still stuck in his craw.
Forcing himself to sound upbeat, Dan replied, “Okay.”
Pulling off his shirt and pivoting back around, Gould inquired, “What were you doing at headquarters this morning?”
A flash of surprise lit Dan’s features before his mask descended. He would blame fatigue for allowing any emotion to show. He attempted to deflect, but he never lied well. “Um, something mixed up on my payroll.”
Dane arched his brow. “Payroll is on the fifth floor, You were on the tenth.”
This time Dan managed to cover his surprise, but his question accidentally confirmed his location. “How do you know?”
“My girlfriend, you remember Sage?” When Dan nodded, Gould continued, “Well she got a job as a file clerk at HQ, and she spotted you coming out of the IA offices.” His eyes bore into Dan’s. “You’re not a narc for the Inept Assholes, are you?”
Not appreciative of Gould’s derogatory humor, Dan hesitated. Unsure of who could be involved, his trust broken by the four, he suspected everyone and not even his study partner from the academy could be disregarded. Afraid the pause might be misinterpreted, and the truth revealed prematurely, he scanned the room for Brogan and any of his cronies. Releasing an unsteady breath of relief when he didn’t spot any of them, Dan shook his head. “Nah, only got turned around and went to the wrong floor.”