by Laura Acton
Dan drifted off to into a light sleep.
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Outside Room A – 2:00 a.m.
A brown-haired, brown-eyed man of average height and nondescript features wearing a hospital janitor’s uniform stopped to talk to the officer. “Long night?” he asked.
“Had longer,” Fargusson replied.
“I know what it’s like—pulled many nights of guard duty when I was in the military. On my way to get a coffee, could I get you one?” the man queried.
“That’d be nice, no cream, three sugars please,” Fargusson answered.
“Be back in a minute,” the man said as he left to get the coffee.
Five minutes later he returned with the coffee and they had a short conversation about mundane things before the janitor left. Marc slowly took a sip of his coffee.
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Inside Room A – 2:55 a.m.
A man slithered into Dan’s room unnoticed by the now sleeping patrol officer. Slipping him the sleeping powder via the coffee had been easier than expected. The idiot would be out for hours and never even know it. Some people were just so trusting. “Now to take care of this cocky son of a bitch,” he whispered.
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Outside Room A – 2:55 a.m.
Officer Marc Fargusson was feigning sleep. He’d thought the coffee sure tasted weird at the first small sip. After decades on the force he had learned to listen to his gut feelings. Something was kicking it into high gear.
As he engaged the janitor in everyday conversation, nothing out of the ordinary and highly forgettable, as he probed for information. “So, if I need another cup of joe, where would I find it?” he’d lightly asked.
The janitor happily told him where and said that anyone on the floor was welcome. That, in fact, he’d just met another haggard guy grabbing a cup and as he shook his head said that no one ever looked rested in the ICU.
“Thanks. I’ll let you get back to it,” Marc had said with a smile and a nod as he sat back down in the chair and pretended to take another sip.
As the janitor had walked away, Fargusson thought, I have a job to do, protect the sleeping young officer from whatever was coming. He wasn’t at all comfortable with the plan, but it wasn’t his call to make. They wanted to catch the guy in the act so they could make the charges stick, whatever they might be.
Shortly after Alpha Team and those other guys ran into the ER, Agent Donner had stomped out of the hospital looking like a baby whose candy had been taken away. Just he, Agent Stevens, and Commander Gambrill remained in the waiting room. Gambrill made a phone call and a short time later Reed Caldwell, the Director of NRB, had arrived.
Gambrill and Stevens expressed concerns over Donner’s behavior today. Stevens said she’d reviewed all his interviews with Broderick and they were completely out of line. Caldwell had confirmed he’d been having concerns after a lawyer named Gibbons had reported several incidents to him.
Dale Gibbons had indicated he didn’t understand the hostility that Agent Donner always displayed towards Constable Broderick. Gibbons had shared with Caldwell that since his first encounter with the guy—when he found how far off protocol Donner had gone with Broderick—he’d made sure he was always there before Broderick arrived if the agent in charge was Donner.
The lawyer had told Caldwell that Donner seemed to go out of his way to make Dan review every grotesque element in excruciating detail multiple times even when they were irrelevant to determining if it was a good shoot. Stevens corroborated that when she had reviewed the interview transcripts.
Stevens had stated that a TRF officer’s job was hard enough, especially when forced to end a life, that they didn’t need to be interrogated by the likes of Donner. Caldwell had agreed—he believed that TRF officers were men and women who wanted to save people and it hurt them when they couldn’t. The interview process was necessary to maintain accountability, but shouldn’t be used as a weapon to inflict more pain on the officer.
Caldwell, Gambrill, and Stevens had discussed what could be done about the situation. Donner hadn’t done anything illegal—pushed protocol, yes—but nothing that would warrant any legal or official action like dismissal. Stevens voiced her concern that after the altercation tonight that Donner would probably do something to Broderick while he was vulnerable. She said Donner had become unstable over the past few weeks and he would often rant in the office about a ‘cocky son of a bitch’. Donner had never said a name, but she now believed he was speaking about Broderick.
They devised a plan. Fargusson would’ve preferred it to include Broderick’s teammates, but Gambrill rightly insisted that they were too exhausted and too personally involved to stay objective. He also indicated that Donner would recognize any TRF officer so they had to use normal officers in plain clothes so as to not tip him off if he showed up. They needed to let it play out fully, well not quite fully, if the intention was deadly. Donner’s behavior indicated to them they were dealing with an irrational issue but had no clue what it was.
So Fargusson had alerted the others via the agreed upon signal, rolling his head and rubbing his neck, that he thought something was in play when he tasted the coffee. He was pretty sure the janitor was just an opportune tool used by Donner, but the others would detain him and investigate to be sure. He had pretended to take another drink of the coffee, set the cup on the floor, then leaned back, relaxed, and closed his eyes as if he was nodding off.
He was in fact fully alert. It had taken forty-five minutes after getting the coffee before Donner made his move and entered Dan’s room. Marc was now listening intently and he knew others were watching to see what would happen.
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Inside Room A – 3:00 a.m.
Donner was happy the opportunity had presented itself for him to easily get around the guard on Dan’s room. He’d slipped the sleeping powder into the coffee as the janitor turned to get the sugar—so easy. The guard would be out for hours and he could take his time with the cocky son of a bitch.
Richard would bring Dan down fully this time, torture him with emotions, and he’d finish him off the best way he knew. All those interview questions had a purpose—they showed him how to hurt him the most. Dan would pay for what he’d done all those years ago. Donner laughed softly and maliciously as he watched the SOB sleep. He was going to enjoy this—all he needed now was for Dan to wake.
Senses instantly alert—danger, his gut was telling him—someone was in the room with him. Breathing kept steady to not alert whoever it was that he was awake. Dan heard a quiet laugh that unnerved him. Who was it?
Better to remain as is and gather his strength and wits. Damned good thing he could think now—the pain meds had worn off enough. He hadn’t surveyed the room when he woke earlier. Not that it would’ve helped—he’d been too loopy before to even recognize if there was anything close he could use to protect himself.
Dan admitted to himself that he wasn’t doing so great physically right now—in pain, but it was manageable. He was physically and mentally exhausted. Hand-to-hand combat would be near impossible to do in his current state—he was too weak. Dan hoped it didn’t come to that. Let them make the first move, he thought. So he waited.
“Guess I’m just gonna have to wake this bastard up,” Donner sneered after ten minutes in the room. He threw his empty paper coffee cup at Dan’s head and said, “Wake up, asshole.”
Damn, okay maybe I should’ve opened my eyes sooner, Dan thought as he allowed his eyes to open and adjust to the dim light in the room. “Ow, what the hell?” he said aloud as he turned to look at the person who threw something.
“Naptime is over, Broderick,” Donner answered. Yes, he’d read the transcripts of today’s calls and thought the nap jokes were stupid.
“Donner, what the hell? Why are you here?” Dan retorted.
“Well, I’d like to get some sleep, too. You were the subject officer in six kills today including the murder of an officer under your comm
and. I need information and I’m not waiting any longer,” Donner replied with a snarl.
“Five lethal actions, not six. I know NRB protocol now, Donner. This can wait until I’m released. Don’t you read your own protocol manual? Or do you just like interviewing me while I’m undressed?” Dan replied irritated. He couldn’t help adding the last comment. Not the best idea to antagonize him right now, but Dan hurt and he didn’t want to put up with the man’s shit tonight—he didn’t have the stamina.
Donner just glared at him.
Tired of the staring contest, Dan said firmly, “You’ve been on my case since the first time we met. I don’t know what your problem is with me. But for now, you need to get out and let me rest.”
Damn that display of bravado had used up most of his strength, Dan realized. It was a stupid thing to do. Crap, he was so tired right now. He carefully scanned the area. He noticed the patrol officer outside his door leaning back in a chair. Why? Then he recalled that protection was protocol for injured subject officers until after the interview. Good, backup if needed. He relaxed a bit, but stared directly at Donner and waited for him to leave.
He saw hatred and something else disturbing flare in Donner’s eyes. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. The guy was on a razor’s edge. Dan was just about to call out to the patrol officer to remove Donner when the man took a menacing step toward him. Dan tensed.
Donner ranted, “You’re a destroyer. You ruin everything in your path. You always have. There’s nothing in your life left untainted. Today, in the span of thirteen hours you murdered six people! But that’s only a small portion of the blood you have on your hands. You’re not worthy! You destroy families! You should’ve died years ago! Why didn’t you die? If you would’ve just died people would be safe.”
Taking another step towards Dan, Donner taunted with malice in his voice, “Your best friend Brody would still be alive. How many more friends have you murdered? How many heads have you blown off from long distance and watched as their bodies fell—blood splattering everywhere?
“You’re a killer, that’s all you’ve ever been. That’s all you’ll ever be. Killer! Murderer! You can’t save anyone. Everyone you care about dies because of you. No one’s safe with you. You should just die,” Donner taunted.
Dan reeled from the onslaught with no shields to protect himself. His walls hadn’t been refortified yet. He lay wide open to attack. Venom laced words entered his bloodstream—the poison rapidly pulsed toward his heart.
Donner continued to slash into his soul. “Six! Six, Broderick! Do you hear me? Six people you killed today! Without a second thought. In cold blood. You murdered six people!
“You’re so sure of yourself, so cocky, too fast on the trigger. Your badge isn’t a license to kill. You murdered Aaron—you’re a murderer. Even if you didn’t pull the trigger, you killed him. How can you even believe you’re fit to be a TRF officer? You put your team at risk every time. With every person you kill, you put blood on their hands too!”
Dan fixated on one word ‘murderer’. I was just doing my job. Am I a murderer? White-hot pain perforated his soul and it started to bleed.
Vile words continued to spew from Donner’s mouth. “You should just die and save the world from all the harm you cause. You say you want to protect, but all you do is kill. I know how many people you have murdered. You’re worse than any serial killer ever known. You deserve to die. You don’t deserve to be safe. Murderer!”
Slammed hard, powerless to make him stop, thoughts swirled in Dan’s head. He had killed so many. Every single one created a rip in his soul—it was almost completely shredded. So much blood on his hands and now his soul bled and he couldn’t staunch the wound. Emotional pain so visceral engulfed him as he turned and vomited violently.
A horrifying gleeful look entered Donner’s eyes as he could see he was having the impact he wanted on Dan. The lost, hurt, and self-loathing look that appeared on Dan’s face just before he hurled delighted Donner. He would make him hurt, repayment for all the hurt Dan had caused. Richard watched as Dan vomited several times until nothing was left, but dry heaves.
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Outside Room A – 3:05 a.m.
Officer Fargusson had been itching to go in and put a stop to it after the first few comments. Caldwell kept saying no, they didn’t have anything they could charge him with—saying hurtful thing wasn’t illegal. Now the kid was retching. How much could he take? No one could stay objective hearing this. The guy would be dead already if Alpha Team was here.
Gambrill was on the brink and about to pull the plug, the ability to charge the asshole with anything be damned. He couldn’t put his godson through anymore of this. Dan had suffered too much for one person to bear. Walter could see Dan starting to drown in the cruelty of the words spewed forth.
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Inside Room A – 3:05 a.m.
Survival instinct tried to kick in. Dan puked again then gagged out, “Why? Why are you doing this?”
Entirely lost to his psychosis, Donner lashed out, “You killed my family. You murdered my dad. I was just thirteen and you killed him. You didn’t pull Sara out of the way. You let her get hit. You killed my dad!”
“How did I kill your dad?” Dan moaned as his stomach rolled again, not able to comprehend.
“You didn’t save Sara. You looked at my dad with your sad, lost eyes. You made him commit suicide. You destroyed my family. You killed him!”
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Outside Room A – 3:06 a.m.
Gut-wrenching understanding hit Gambrill. He gasped out, “My God, he’s the son of the driver that killed Sara. The driver committed suicide a week later. Couldn’t live with the fact he killed a little girl. Dan doesn’t know anything about that. We never told him.”
Caldwell and Stevens stared at Gambrill.
Everyone’s attention was drawn back to the room as Donner started to hysterically laugh.
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Inside Room A – 3:06 a.m.
Rocking back and forth on his heels, Richard shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
Dan was reaching the end of his physical endurance as he retched again then turned to Donner with sad and confused eyes.
Donner screeched, “Now I kill you!” as he ripped a gun from his jacket and aimed at Dan’s head.
BANG!
Chapter Twenty-Nine
July 16
St. Michael Hospital – ICU – Inside Room A – 3:10 a.m.
All hell broke loose in Dan’s ICU room as people ran in to help. Donner’s dead body lay on the floor of the room. One second the gun had been pointed at Dan’s head. A fraction of a second later, Donner turned the gun on himself and blew his brains out.
Blood pooled on the floor. Donner was so close to Dan when he did it that Dan was now covered in Donner’s blood and brain matter. It splattered across his face and chest, dripped from his arms and hair, and covered his hands. It was a gruesome sight.
Dan’s mind seemed to be lost at sea. It was floating somewhere off the coast of eternity. He held his breath as he thought, I’m always at the wrong place at the wrong time. How many moments until my next wrong time? Dan simply stared. His gaze riveted to his hands. How appropriate, my hands are now literally and figuratively covered in blood.
Everyone stopped instantaneously and listened keenly when they heard Dan speak with a very fragile voice. “Brody, I’m losing my fucking mind. Don’t let me disappear—help me. Brody, I’m falling. Please hold on to me. Nothing’s left, Brody. My safe place is in ruins—help me rebuild the walls. I’ll hear your voice always. Help me, Brody—help me.”
Dan heard Brody, “Hey, Danny, I’m here. Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go.”
A small chuckle emitted from Dan.
“Brody, wait for me. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
Dan’s face paled, vision narrowed, and muscles slackened as he drifted away into a sea of nothingness.
Walter leaned in c
lose to his unconscious godson and spoke in an urgent whisper for Dan’s ears only, “Don’t break. Be strong. I’m here for you.”
“Sir … Sir …. Sir!” Gambrill finally registered someone spoke to him. He turned his head and saw a young nurse and several others. “Sir, we need to take care of him now.” He nodded and shifted so they could do their work.
They needed to quickly clean Dan up and get him moved to another room away from the memories and bloody mess in this room. A nurse came over with a cloth, ready to wash Dan, as an Inspector stepped into her path.
“Hold. We need to get photos first for the files,” Inspector Davis said formally.
The nurse looked at him aghast.
Walter was angry and he wouldn’t allow it. He wanted no tangible images of Dan like this. It hurt too much and if they ever found their way to the media he’d be dead. He wouldn’t allow images of Dan in distress ever to be released again. William would be sure he died painfully if he allowed that to happen again—not that he didn’t deserve it after tonight’s fiasco.
In a commanding voice, Gambrill stated, “Hell no! No pictures will be taken of Constable Broderick in this state. The General wouldn’t allow it.”
“It’s procedure Commander. What does a General have to do with this anyway? It’s a police matter,” Davis retorted.
How did he let that comment slip out? Walter had to think quickly to make up something plausible. “Constable Broderick is former Special Forces, son of General Broderick. The images, if ever leaked, could compromise security. There are enough witnesses to gather statements from so photos of Broderick aren’t necessary and none will be taken. Nurse, please proceed quickly. Get that damned man’s blood off my godson!” Gambrill demanded.
Inspector Davis gave him a quizzical look. ‘General’? ‘Godson’? He decided to accept the flimsy, hastily formed reason. His skill told him there was way more to this. But the TRF Commander was right, there were enough witnesses and he would let this go.