Treachery Rising (MidKnight Blue Book 4)

by Sherryl Hancock

  Treachery Rising

  Sherryl D. Hancock

  Copyright © Sherryl D. Hancock 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Vulpine Press in the United Kingdom in 2018

  ISBN 978-1-912701-03-2

  Cover by Claire Wood

  www.vulpine-press.com

  To the lovers and fighters of the world. Keep doing what you do, it’s worth it in the end!

  Also in the MidKnight Blue series:

  Building Empires

  Empires Fall

  Where Loyalties Lie

  Chapter 1

  In Sacramento, California, Joe had managed to find a townhouse he could rent for the two months he’d been there. The house was actually downtown; he hadn’t been able to find anything closer to the college.

  The second day he was in town, he met with the Chief of the Bureau of Narcotic Enforcement and the Chief of the Sacramento Police Department. He found that he liked both men. John Davies, BNE’s chief, was very down to earth, and the Sac PD chief, Arthur Martinez, had come up through the ranks so he understood the day-to-day struggle his officers faced. Joe had impressed both men with not only his knowledge of gangs but also with his expertise in weapons. He was able to provide the pros and cons for both departments’ issued weapons as well as suggest some additional benefit to other weapons.

  By the end of the session, John Davies had invited Joe to attend an upcoming Special Agents in Charge meeting for the Bureau of Narcotic Enforcement coming up in San Diego. “The invitation extends to Lieutenant Chevalier as well,” he had added.

  The next morning was Joe’s first appearance at the Sacramento Police Department’s academy. It was their first day at the range, and although the sun was out, the breeze was chilly and the air a bit more crisp than Joe was used to.

  “I thought you came from England. It’s cold there, isn’t it?” Jessica asked, grinning at Joe as he pulled on his FORS jacket.

  “I haven’t lived in England for goin’ on fourteen years,” Joe retorted, giving her a sour look.

  “Bad mood today, Sergeant?” Jessica said.

  “No, I just hate mornings, especially when they start at 6:00 a.m!” He’d had to get up at 6:00 to have time to get showered and dressed and be able to make the hour’s drive to the academy.

  Joe retrieved his gear bag and looped his newly polished duty belt around his arm. He’d had to hunt for the duty belt he had used when he was in the sheriff’s academy, having not been on the streets for very long as a deputy; the belt had gotten put away and forgotten about. He had found it the week before and had some work done on it to make it presentable again. The academy class was dressed in jeans and their academy sweatshirts, each with their names on the back. The students were milling about, waiting for the course to start. When Joe walked onto the range, someone yelled, “Fall in!” The candidates organized themselves into two rows and stood at attention.

  “Oh shit,” Joe said, getting a flash from the past, when he’d been in the academy, which received a number of chuckles. “Look,” he said, addressing the candidates, “I’m probably gonna get my ass chewed for this, but I’m so long out of an academy, all this formality scares me. So why don’t you all relax and we’ll be just fine.” A murmur went through the group, and there were more than a few small applauses. Finally, everyone seemed to relax.

  “First of all, the name’s Joe Sinclair. I’m a sergeant with the San Diego Police Department. I’ve been a cop for over ten years. I graduated from the San Diego sheriff’s academy at the top of my glass in marksmanship. Trust me, boys and girls, it’s come in real handy in my line of work. Are there any questions?”

  One young man raised his hand. “Sir?”

  Joe looked at him and shook his head. “If that was your question, then the answer’s no. Don’t call me sir—call me Joe, or Sinclair. I’ll answer to either.”

  The young man laughed with rest of the group and shook his head. “No, sir—I mean, Joe—I was curious what your average range score was, so we know what to aim for.”

  “Three hundred,” Joe said simply.

  “But that’s a perfect score.” Disbelief colored the young man’s voice.

  “And?” Joe replied. The student just shook his head. “Anything else?”

  “Have you ever been shot?” a young woman asked.

  “Yes, I have,” Joe said. “And trust me, it hurts.”

  He looked around, seeing that no one else seemed ready to ask any questions. “Now, what I do want to do, before we do any shooting, is to take a look at everyone’s duty weapons. I don’t go for salutes and I don’t play drill sergeant, but I will run anyone’s ass outta here if your weapon is not properly cared for. So why don’t you prepare your weapons for inspection. For those of you who don’t know what that means, I want your magazine removed, your slide locked back, and your barrels pointed at God. And believe me, if I find any chambered rounds, God’s gonna be the only one that can help ya.” His voice was serious, and the group shuffled nervously as they complied with his request.

  Joe checked the weapons, and after making a few comments to some of the candidates in terms of better cleaning, he told them all to get comfortable. He spent the next two hours talking to them about their weapons, what they could and could not do and what would cause them to malfunction. He told them about what he planned to teach them and what he expected of them. “I’m not looking for perfect marksmanship. I just want you to be proficient with your weapon.” He looked around the group seriously. “Your weapon should be your last line of defense, but if you get down to using it, you better know what you’re doing, because I can guarantee you one thing—if you’re afraid to shoot, your adversary won’t be, and that’ll get you killed.”

  At that, he told everyone to take a break.

  While on break, Joe called to check in with Midnight. Luckily, she was in her office for a change.

  “Hey there,” Joe said when she answered the phone, sounding harried.

  “Joe, hi, how’s it going in cow town?”

  “Fine, except for the fact that I’m cold and damned tired!”

  “Cold I get, but why tired?”

  “Because I had to get up at six o’clock in the fucking morning, that’s why!”

  “Sorry, honey, that’s the breaks. Oh, by the way,” she said, changing subjects as fast as ever. “Speaking of fucking and up, you did.”

  “I what?” he asked. “How’d I manage that all the way up here?”

  “Well, you did it before you left. I just didn’t know it till you were gone.”

  “What happened?” he asked, concerned now. He didn’t like to make mistakes; they were usually dangerous.

  “Well, remember that raid you planned?”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly.

  “Well, you forgot to figure in their hit on that cop supply shop a month ago.”

  Joe closed his eyes, his face showing his irritation at himself. “They had armor,” he said, following her lead. “Shit, I didn’t remember that. So what happened—did everything go all right?”

  “Well, duh, Joe, you don’t think I’d be so calm if I’d lost someone, do you?” Midnight’s voice showed the
strain she was under. Having him gone was harder than she had expected.

  “No, that was a dumb question, I know,” he said. Another thought occurred to him. “Rick must’ve been all-time pissed.”

  “Well, that’s a fair assessment, since he got a pretty good crack on the head from someone he thought he’d disabled with a chest shot.” Her voice was tinged with anger, and Joe understood that she must have been terrified when she realized what had happened.

  “Night,” he said, knowing there wasn’t much he could do at this point. “I’m sorry. Shit! My mind wasn’t on the job, and I know that can’t happen. I’ll pull it together while I’m up here, I promise.”

  “Yeah, I know you will,” Midnight said, regretting her anger. She knew what he was going through; she herself knew better. “Look, don’t sweat it. Nobody got hurt bad, and we shut ’em down.”

  “Yeah,” Joe muttered, still irritated with himself.

  The class noticed their instructor was distracted when he began the second part of the morning. The rest of the day was spent doing drills. Joe’s mind wouldn’t let him rest, wouldn’t let him forget that he’d screwed up, and it could have cost him his best friend’s life.

  He told Jessica about it a couple of days later, while they were at lunch. She told him about the shootout that had scared her off the street.

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do next week when the shooting at the range is real. I get real jumpy around it,” she was saying.

  Joe was watching her. “I’ll get you through it, and I’ll get you back on the street before I leave Sacramento.”

  “In two months?” Jessica shook her head. “I doubt that.”

  But Joe nodded. “You wait, you’ll see.”

  ****

  The following week at the range, not only did Joe stand behind Jessica when the shooting started, but he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. At the end of the day, after the candidates had gone, he stood with her, having her draw her weapon and fire “dry” rounds. He’d had her remove the ammunition clip, the “magazine,” and remove the chambered bullet by pulling back the slide and locking it into place. As night approached, he actually had her shoot the nine rounds her gun contained. After the first couple of rounds she didn’t jump every time the gun fired. By the last shot she had actually hit the target in a respectable area.

  “See?” Joe said, grinning at her.

  “Oh my God,” she said, laughing. Out of impulse, she turned and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him. Joe hugged her in return and smiled down at her.

  “Told you, didn’t I.” His eyes held a twinkle in them, and Jessica had to agree with him.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she said, waving away his confidence.

  “We’d better get goin’.”

  They followed each other in their respective cars. Joe remained behind her, yet another gallant thing that Jessica found endearing about him. Twenty minutes into the drive, on a lonely strip in the middle of nowhere, a car coming the opposite way took the oncoming curve too wide and came within inches of colliding with Jessica’s car. Jessica veered off just in time, but lost control of the car and rolled down the embankment at the side of the road. The other car overcorrected and ended up skidding away and colliding with a streetlight.

  Joe slammed on the breaks, avoiding the accident. He jumped out of the car, running headlong down the embankment. Jessica’s car had ended upright, but the engine was on fire. Joe tried but couldn’t get her door open. Jessica looked dazed, but she was conscious, and Joe yelled for her to cover her head. Taking a step back, Joe kicked in the driver’s door window. Knocking the remaining glass out with his arm, getting cut in the process, he managed to pull her from the vehicle. He carried her up the embankment and put her in the passenger side of his car. Another car had come along by then, and its driver was trying to help the driver of the other car involved in the accident. Joe knelt in front of Jessica, touching her face. “Think you can radio this in?” he asked. She nodded. Joe stood and ran over to the other vehicle.

  “The doors are all jammed!” the man trying to help yelled. Then he pointed to the small child in the back seat. There were two adults in the vehicle as well.

  “Shit!” Joe said, seeing that both adults were unconscious and the child was crying. “We gotta get these doors open, now.”

  “Yeah,” the other guy said, “but how?”

  Joe kicked out the rear window, on the one side where there wasn’t a passenger. Bracing one booted foot beside the door handle, he grabbed ahold of the interior handle and, with every ounce of strength he had, he yanked as hard as he could. The metal groaned and gave a little, but did not open. Joe was panting by this time, as adrenaline surged through him. He could see that smoke was starting to fill up the interior of the car, and he knew he had to get this door open. Taking a deep breath, he pulled with all of his might. The door gave with a metallic shriek and Joe fell backward to the ground. He hit his shoulder on a large rock, but he didn’t even feel it. He jumped up and climbed into the car to get the young child.

  “It’s okay,” he told the little girl, “I’m gonna get you out of here.” With as much gentleness as he could, he lifted the girl out of her seat. He handed her to the man waiting just outside and went back in after the other two people. The smoke in the car was thick by this time, and he began to cough as he moved to the passenger. The other man had handed the child off to yet another passerby who had stopped to help. Joe could hear sirens in the distance, but he didn’t think they’d get there before the car was engulfed in the flames that had started flicking out from under the hood. He checked the woman on the passenger’s side and found that other than a nasty cut to the head, she seemed okay to move. Grabbing her under the arms, he pulled her over the seat and moved to hand her out. He went to the driver and noted that the steering wheel had been jammed downward in the accident; there was no way to get the man out without damaging his legs or worse. Joe climbed over the seat, and then, leaning back toward the passenger door and making sure the man’s body was out of the way, he kicked at the driver’s door, trying to shove it open. Two kicks later the door came open and the other man was able to pull the driver out.

  Joe was coughing, with tears from the noxious fumes running down his face, which was smudged from the smoke. He slid out of the car and helped the other man to carry the driver. Ten seconds later, they were thrown to the ground as an explosion ripped through the gas tank. Joe lay in the wet grass, staring at the fire. He was breathing heavily and still coughing from the smoke he’d inhaled. When he stood to move the driver again, his vision swam and he began to feel lightheaded. With all the effort he could muster, he made it to the top of the embankment before he sank to his knees, his vision going dark. The last thing he heard before he passed out was Jessica yelling his name.

  Joe woke a little while later. He had an oxygen mask over his face, and he was staring up into Jessica’s eyes. He lay on the grass, his head on her lap. After a few moments, Jessica noticed he’d come to, and she called the paramedic over. Joe was already reaching up to rip the mask off as a wave of nausea hit him. He rolled off Jessica’s lap and, staggering to his feet, walked a few feet away before being sick. He walked back to Jessica and sat down heavily in front of her. The dizziness came over him again, and he moved to lie back on the grass, but Jessica tugged him over so his head rested on her lap again. She stroked his hair. “You okay?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah,” Joe said, his voice hoarse. “If the world would just stop spinning.”

  “Close your eyes,” Jessica said. Joe did, and he felt better.

  A little while later, a car drove up and two men got out. One of them was older, in his mid-fifties, and the other was about thirty-five. They hurried over to where Jessica sat with Joe’s head on her lap.

  “Jess?” the older man said, concern written all over his face.

  Jessica looked up. “Daddy!” she said, surprised to see him, although she realized she shouldn�
�t be—he monitored the police radio even at home. The other man was her brother, Henry. Joe moved to get up so that she could stand and show her father she was okay. Upon standing, however, Joe found it necessary to sit again immediately or risk passing out.

  “You okay, son?” Gerald Harland asked Joe.

  “Oh yeah,” Joe said, waving the other man’s concern away. “I just did my first day as a fire-eater, and I’m not quite up to the task.”

  Gerald Harland laughed, as did his son and daughter. “You should have seen it, Dad!” Jessica said. “Joe rescued me and he got that family out of their car right before it blew up!”

  Joe was shaking his head.

  “Yes, you did!” Jessica said, wanting to give Joe all the credit she thought he deserved.

  “Whatever,” Joe said, resting his arms on his knees and his head on his arms.

  The next day at the academy, Joe was being hailed as a hero. The Sac PD chief even called Midnight to tell her what her officer had done. Midnight had texted Joe immediately.

  Joe called her from his cell phone, since he was out on the range.

  “So I hear you’re a celebrity now!” Midnight yelled, trying to make herself heard over the sound of weapons fire in the background on Joe’s side.

  “Don’t you start too,” Joe said, gesturing to Jessica to watch the candidates as he walked far enough away to be able to have a civil conversation with his boss without yelling.

  “Whaddya mean, don’t start? From what the chief told me, you saved four lives.”

  “I don’t think I’d go that far,” Joe said.

  “Well, the chief did.”

  “Well, obviously he’s given to exaggeration.”

  “Yeah, right,” Midnight said. “Are you okay?”

  “I got a little singed, and I can’t stop coughing, but other than that…” He trailed off as he laughed.