by Laura Acton
Officer Fouquet reacted when the door opened by pulling his service weapon, aiming at the fleeing person, and yelling, “Stop! Police. Stop right there.” Within seconds there was a blond man standing in front of the other one, and the driver exited the vehicle. His adrenaline pumping, he rapidly assessed the greater threat. The tall bald driver became the target of his gun, his subject. Failure to stop, he was the aggressor, only the blond stood still.
“Halt. Don’t move!” Fouquet zeroed in on Hardy. He would never forget that face, the man who turned him down for TRF twice.
Jon stopped now that the gun was trained on him. Palms out to the side, his voice level, and calm, he said, “I’m stopping. Please lower the weapon. I’m Constable Jon Hardy.” Hearing the sounds of his son retching, he added, “My son, only a boy, is throwing up. The other man is Constable Dan Broderick. We are with TRF. We are unarmed and pose no threat.”
Dan watched as Jon used his negotiator voice on the agitated officer. He released his held breath once the officer’s gun began to drop from Jon’s chest. He wanted to check on Kent, who was still upchucking, but stood stock still to protect Jon’s son from harm and so he wouldn’t present a threat to the cop.
Fouquet commanded, “Hands on the roof of your car and spread your feet.” When Jon complied, he turned to the blond. “Stay exactly where you are, and no one gets hurt.”
“Not moving.” Dan glanced at Jen. Her face was awash with fear and a mother’s desire to help her child. Shifting his gaze to the backseat, he was relieved to find Joey still sleeping. Good, he doesn’t need to witness any of this, it would scare him. Hell, this scares me.
Jon stood spread eagle with his palms resting on the top of his car waiting for the spooked cop to approach him. He took in the sight on the opposite side. Dan is using his unprotected body to safeguard my son. Damn, selfless of him. I owe him one for this. Kent could’ve been shot.
A squad car pulled up behind the motorcycle, and the partners got out of the cruiser. They had been on patrol when they came upon the scene and noting the officer’s gun drawn they stopped to assist. Hand on his holster, ready to draw if necessary, the younger officer said, “What’s up, Fouquet?”
Never taking his eyes off Jon, Fouquet said, “Not sure yet. Pulled them over, then one bolted from the car, and the other two exited the vehicle.”
Jon said, “We’re cops. Not doing anything stupid here.”
Dayton Hess recognized both officers. Ah damn, not them! I screwed up so badly at that bank heist. I shouldn’t have followed Fouquet’s lead. I can’t believe we arrested a cop thinking he was a perp and failed to get him medical attention. Shit, the guy got injured saving people, and we caused him more harm. Being sent back for remedial training and re-assigned to a hard-assed supervisory officer for an extended probationary period sucked, but at least I kept my job.
Hess didn’t want any more trouble so urged his previous partner to stand down. “Fouquet, they’re TRF. I recognize them from the Central Bank robbery about a year and a half ago. You should too.”
In the dim light, Dan studied the two men. The ones who went off half-cocked and wouldn’t let him speak. The one with a gun had knelt on his back where Murphy had focused his hits. The other had jerked him to his feet and put the cuffs on so tight they left marks. Crap! I have the damnedest luck.
Senior Patrol Officer Gould took control of the scene. “Fouquet, put your gun away.” He strode forward to Jon. “I know you. You’re the tactical lead of Alpha Team.”
“Yes. And you are?” Jon asked but remained in place not moving a muscle. The situation remained volatile, and he didn’t want to do anything to escalate matters.
“Dane Gould.”
Dan’s head whipped to the right. A name he wouldn’t forget. Dane had been one of the worst offenders when they were rookie officers right out of the academy. He thought they were friends as they went through the police academy—they studied together often. But after he turned in Brogan Snow and his goons, Dane became just as much of an ass to him as all the others.
Fouquet didn’t like being shown up. After holstering his Glock, he started for Hardy. That’s when he smelled pot. The TRF officer reeked of it. Instead of telling him he could move, he began to pat him down like any other perp.
Incensed by the pat down, but remaining quiet, Jon noted Dan’s eyes riveted on Gould. There was recognition in his blue orbs. Dan must know Gould and his gut told him they had a history … not a good one.
Dane Gould turned to the other man. “And you are?” A sense of recognition glinted in Dane’s eyes. There was something familiar about that man, but it was just out of his grasp.
Forcing his voice to be calm and steady, and pulling on a stoic mask, Dan replied, “Constable Dan Broderick, TRF. Please allow me to move and check on Kent. He is just a boy and ill.”
Daniel Broderick. That’s it. Those eyes I should’ve remembered. How did the damned turncoat return to the force? Too bad the sniper didn’t kill him this summer. Would’ve been no loss. Gould strode over to Broderick arriving just as Fouquet called out, “I found drugs. Quite a large amount of marijuana.”
Dan almost groaned as Jon tried to explain it was evidence they needed to turn in and was promptly cut off—as he had been in the bank. When Jon was cuffed, he figured he would be next, given he reeked of pot too.
Gould noted an odor of weed and a sneer covered his face. “Not the boy scout you used to be. Smoking pot now. Tut, tut. I’m taking you in.” He gripped Dan’s outstretched hand and squeezed a cuff tightly on his wrist.
Confident this would be sorted out, Dan didn’t resist as he was spun and his hands secured behind him in standard issue metal bracelets. Witnessing the astonished and disappointed expression on Kent’s face forced him to say something. “Not what you think, Kent. How’s your stomach?”
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Kent stared up at Dan. He couldn’t believe they were being arrested. Kent noticed the weird odor on them after the concert but didn’t know what it was. When Uncle Dan asked him how he was doing, Kent answered, “Not well. Too much ice cream.”
Chuckling, Dan tried to keep things light for Kent, whose expression showed some fear. “Yeah, I agree.”
Gould yanked Broderick backward, making him stumble a bit, then spun him around and pushed him towards the police car. His old hatred of this rat fink flaring, Dane shoved Broderick hard, causing him to lurch forward.
Dan’s stomach struck the front corner of the squad car’s hood. The impact sent him to his knees and unleashed nausea he’d been fighting. Targeting an open spot on the asphalt as he hurled, his aim was off—or he would claim so—and his vomit ended up splashing Gould’s pants and covering his shoes.
Jon yelled at Gould when he slammed Dan into the cruiser, “What the hell was that for? He—” Jon abruptly stopped as Dan threw up. So the sink got the better of both Kent and Dan. This would be funny except for Dan being manhandled. When Gould jumped back and started to lash out towards Dan, Jon roared, “Touch him again, and I swear you will lose your badge!”
On his knees, hurling, Dan overheard Jon—how could he not. He was incredibly grateful for Jon’s intervention. He knew what Gould was capable of doing—what he had done once before, long ago. Though he had no tangible proof Dane was involved, he was sure the man was part of the group, but he never said anything—would’ve been his word against multiple officers who would provide alibis for each other—was better just to leave the force.
An SUV pulled to a stop across the street and a lone man exited the driver’s door. The man strode with purpose towards the scene. Even in civies, he carried his six-foot-one frame with an air of authority. His ebony skin glowed in the dim streetlight, and his brown eyes narrowed on his handcuffed tactical leader. He noted Jen and Joey inside the car and Kent sitting on the ground near a puddle of puke. Dan was also cuffed but on his knees near the front of a police cruiser and heaving his guts out. Jon’s eyes were hard as steel
and focused solely on the officer who stood near Dan.
“What in tarnation is going on here?” Walter Gambrill demanded.
Fouquet spoke first, “They are under arrest for possession of illegal drugs.”
Gambrill blinked. “What?!”
“They wouldn’t allow me to explain. Dan needs to be uncuffed. Now!” Jon stated as he glared at Fouquet and Gould—two officers who needed a severe set down and retraining
Recognizing the TRF Commander, Hess stepped forward and hastily undid Dan’s cuffs. Not again. Christ, I have the worst luck.
In the course of the next five minutes, Jon was uncuffed and provided his commander a full briefing of the night’s events, starting with the incident at the concert hall through the abusive treatment meted out during the traffic stop. Jen went to check on Kent and helped him back into their car, fussing over him. Dan quit heaving, stood, and leaned on the back of Jon’s sedan eyeing Gould. Thankfully, Joey slept through the entire affair.
After listening to the report and asking a few clarifying questions, Walter sighed. He had been on the way back from the airport picking up his daughter and her family when he saw Jon’s car and Jon in cuffs. His timing had been perfect. Otherwise, his men would’ve been hauled into the station.
Walter shook his head. “Clearly this is a series of unfortunate events exacerbated by poor handling.”
More Going on Than Meets the Eye
49
December 23
TRF HQ – Briefing Room – 7:00 a.m.
As Loki and Lexa strolled into the room and Loki offered Lexa a double chocolate cookie with an impish grin, Bram exclaimed, “Amazing! They didn’t kill each other. And lookie there, Loki’s sharing.”
Nick chuckled as sheepish expressions covered their faces.
Dan set his coffee down as he noted Lexa dropped her eyes and took in the blushing cheeks of Loki. This should be interesting. “Do tell.”
Bram’s grin grew. “Oh, just a little fight over cookies. You should’ve seen Lexa. She chased him around Boss’ family room couch about ten times. Loki made a tactical error jumping over the sofa. Seizing the opportunity, Lexa tackled him ground and attempted to rip the cookie box from his hands.”
Still chuckling Nick said, “But Loki wasn’t giving up his Florentines for anything. He curled into a tight ball and hissed at Lexa like a cat. Thought I might need to Taser them to make them stop.”
Bram took a sip of coffee, a present from Jon and Dan who stopped at Timmy’s on their way in this morning. “Handcuffs worked fine.” Setting his cup on the table, he rubbed his arm. “Lexa packs a wallop when she can hit her target. Landed two of five blows thrown as I tried to pull her off Loki.” He retrieved his phone from his pocket and pulled up a photo, turning it towards the others. “Eventually they settled down and fell asleep.”
Jon, Dan, and Ray laughed at the snapshot of Loki cuddled up next to Lexa on the boss’ couch—both zonked out and Loki still clutching his box of Florentines.
Laughing, Ray suggested, “Think you should print that out and put it up on the tree.”
With a glare aimed at Bram and a show of a small fist, Lexa said, “Only if you want today to be your last day on this earth!”
Eyes alight with humor, despite being the target of the razzing, Loki tried for a stern expression and failed as he said, “Ditto!”
Ray turned his attention to Jon. “So how did Dan fare last night?”
Sharing a glance with Dan, having come to an understanding to leave certain things unsaid on the drive to headquarters after eating a delightful breakfast, Jon said, “Rather boring in comparison.”
“Enjoyed the concert, except for catching five boys smoking weed in the restroom,” Dan deadpanned.
Jon cocked his head. “Got pulled over and issued a ticket on the way home for the broken tail-light on Jen’s car.”
His voice light, Dan nodded and added, “And nearly got arrested for possessing marijuana.”
The team’s eyes all widened in surprise as Jon and Dan laughed. Questions flew, and Jon explained what occurred last evening, leaving out Dan’s run-ins with walls, missing chairs, and his puking because he consumed way too much ice cream.
Once curiosity was satiated, and the team enjoyed a laugh, Nick called the briefing to order, happy his three officers didn’t exhibit any lasting effects from their exposure to the cannabis and other chemicals. He provided them the latest status of criminal activities in the area which included a rash of burglaries targeting charitable organizations.
As he concluded, he turned to Dan. “Training day for you. Take fifteen and then return here. The team will begin running you through several negotiation scenarios.”
Dan nodded. He understood the significance of improving his skill set, but so many days he wished to focus solely on the tactical elements and let the others who showed prowess in negotiating and profiling handle that aspect of the job. But Blaze’s words echoed in his mind. A unit is only as strong as its weakest link. You never know when it will fall to you to save your brothers, so we train and cross-train like it is the real deal. Dan didn’t want to be the weak link so he would do his best to hone this tool of his trade.
TRF HQ – Briefing Room – 10:30 a.m.
Dan raked his hand through his hair as he stared at the wall trying to compose himself without punching the damned thing. Frustration built each time he failed the scenario—twelve times now. Every time Boss switched things up, he lost his perspective and couldn’t move forward. Give me a friggin rifle, and I’m in my element. Negotiation is damned hard. How do I connect with people I don’t understand? How come I don’t see the cues the boss does?
Nick asked, “So what cues did you miss, Dan?”
Dan clenched his teeth to stop from blurting out, ‘I don’t fucking know!’ He replayed the scenario in his mind, seeking but not finding the missed cues. Dan felt deaf and blind when it came to identifying signs.
Lexa studied Dan. He had reached the ragged end of his rope after going at this for three solid hours, but this was their job, push through even when discouraged and exhausted. Always his own worst enemy, Dan continued to second-guess himself, not acknowledging he was better than he thought. With strong mentors, a safe zone to practice, and some field experience he would eventually recognize he had the aptitude to negotiate.
Dan blew out a breath and turned to face the team. He shook his head as his lips pursed together. God, he hated to fail. He had read the books, over and over, but just like reading a book on shooting couldn’t in itself make one an excellent marksman, neither would reading books on negotiations make one an expert negotiator. It took practice—humiliating practice in this case. Twelve out of twelve times he bombed not picking up any cues from the subject.
Nick read aggravation and exasperation as Dan neared a breaking point. He had pushed him hard this morning. “Take ten everyone.”
Dan nodded curtly and without saying a word to anyone strode out of the room, heading for the stairwell. The roof his destination—the place he went to clear his head and regroup.
After Dan left, Lexa said, “He needs time.”
Jon stood and started to leave, but Nick called out, “Jonny, leave him be. Dan requires a moment alone to release his frustration.”
Bram dropped the unloaded weapon on the table and eased himself into a chair. “I struggled with this scenario for hours before I understood. It isn’t an easy one, but I’m confident Dan will figure things out.”
Lexa nodded in agreement. Boss employed one of their toughest scenarios for Dan’s training, but this was important to develop his negotiation skills. They all had to talk the talk. His lack of confidence in this area conflicted with all she knew about him, especially since he had successful outcomes when he spoke to soldiers. The boss made the right move to push him now because the longer Dan put off talking, the larger the self-doubt would grow. Today was a bit of tough love for Dan, but they all had to learn this one. Dan had to come to the re
alization by himself, none of them could help him.
Loki and Ray rose from their kneeling positions, happy for a break acting as hostages. They assumed seats and began discussing Ray’s trip to Jamaica.
Tia interrupted all thoughts and conversations. “Alpha Team, critical call. Larkin Children’s Home reported an armed abduction of four children in their care. Ms. Crudele, the director of the home called as soon as she was able to untie herself. The kids have been gone for two hours now. She became hysterical on the phone, so I dispatched EMS.”
Larkin Children’s Home – 10:50 a.m.
The team arrived and all headed into the building, except Loki who stepped into the command truck. Nick spoke with a patrol officer who led them to the common area of the facility. The children, a dozen or so ranging from ten to late teens, sat on the carpeted section of the floor with five adults standing near them. One woman, sitting at a table, was being treated by a pair of medics.
Dan recognized Jim from the back in an instant. He took pleasure seeing Jim on the job without him being the recipient of Jim’s ministrations. “How is she?” Dan asked Jim as they approached.
Turning at Dan’s voice, Jim smiled noting Dan appeared none the worse for wear after his exposure yesterday. Definitely, a Dantastic day, the first since arriving in Toronto, seeing Dan working without needing medical attention. “Ms. Crudele checks out. Heart rate initially a little elevated but has since evened out.”
Nick stepped forward and addressed the middle-aged social worker. “Hello, I’m Nick Pastore of the Tactical Response Force. Can you tell us what happened?”
The home’s director peered up at the sergeant, noting his handsomeness. The touch of gray at his temple in his dark brown hair gave him a distinguished appearance. She eyed the young officer next to him and instantly took a dislike to him. The military cut of his blond hair and his stance reminded her of the disgusting Kettle brothers. “They took them! He threatened me with a gun while the other tied me up, then they grabbed them and ran.”