“I owe all three of you apologies—individual apologies—and I’m going to do that, but I wanted to get you all together first.
“I know that I haven’t done much to show it in the past few days, but the fact is that I love all of you very much. You are the greatest kids that any father could ever have, and I am very happy and very proud to be your dad.”
Tara watched as Jenna’s head bowed and her shoulders began to quake. The sight of it caused a spontaneous smile to form on her lips and a slight misting in her eyes.
“Not one of you has done anything in my eyes that has been wrong over the past couple of days. But, then, that’s probably only because I wasn’t paying attention.” Brent paused. “Okay, that was supposed to be at least a little bit funny.”
Jamie shrugged his shoulders, obviously not getting the attempt at humor.
Brent feigned a grimace and trudged on. “I’m hoping that all three of you will forgive me for being a rotten dad over the past several days. I am going to start doing a better job. I promise. If I hurt—”
Jenna got up off the couch, cutting off her dad, making it very clear in that moment that she didn’t care to hear another word. Tara held her breath. It appeared that her oldest was going to leave the room. But, instead, Jenna walked around the coffee table and over to her dad. She literally collapsed into his arms. Tears were released without restraint.
Brent held his daughter without a sound, though Tara saw him wince at the sudden pressure that had come down upon his chest. His other two children advanced upon him, as well. His grimace made it painfully apparent that he was doing his very best to hold them tightly while making everything that had been wrong right again.
It was beautiful. And, yes, Tara had heard it all.
Several minutes later, it became Tara’s turn to receive, and her heart was stitched up rather nicely by the man in uniform.
Now she lay with her head in her husband’s lap in an otherwise vacant living room as they communed on the couch. He played with the full length of her hair. She loved that. It was soothing and so much more.
Neither spoke for several minutes. Her contented smile and his gentle caresses were conversation enough for both of them.
“Thank you,” she finally offered in a whisper.
“For?”
“For being you again.”
Tracy Larkin walked into Brent’s office at a fast clip. “Got a minute?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
Tracy held up the half page of cryptic letters and numbers that they had been trying to decipher.
“What if they’re 10 codes?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Connor’s handwritten numbers. What if they’re 10 codes?
Brent sat up straight and reached to his shrinking pile of alphabet-soup-on-paper, grabbed one and looked at it. He hadn’t even considered the possibility.
“Okay…” But as Brent thought about the meanings of the codes, they didn’t seem to hold a lot of promise except, maybe the ‘-18’. “Well, 10-18 would seem to make a lot of sense.”
“‘Assignment Completed,’” interpreted Tracy. “It being at the bottom of what may be a list of things to get done.” He let his sentence hang.
“A 10-50 doesn’t make much sense, unless we’re missing something.”
“Brent, a 50 that means ‘Cancel Message’ to us, could mean something altogether different at Pittston P.D. It’s not like the codes are uniform across jurisdictions.”
“Very true!” said Brent as he pulled out his personal cell phone. He pulled up John Eldredge’s cell number and pressed ‘Send’. His call went straight to voice mail. “John, it’s Brent. Call me as soon as you get this. We may have gotten a break.”
He ended the call and looked at Larkin. “We could be wrong. That ‘18’ could mean ‘Chasing a Streaker’ over there in Pittston.”
“Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about that code,” said the corporal with a smile. “We’ll know soon enough.”
“I think it’s time for lunch,” suggested Brent. “Can I buy you a slice of Angie’s pizza while we wait on John’s call?”
“You’re on.”
ELDREDGE’S CALL DIDN’T take place until 4:07 p.m. after they were both already off duty. Brent picked his cell phone off of the passenger seat of the police cruiser, answering on the first ring.
“Lawton.”
“Brent, it’s John. First, my apology. I always have my personal phone turned off during duty hours. Sorry I hadn’t given you my duty cell.”
Brent disregarded the apology. “The numbers on our sheet of clues; the ones written by Connor. Could they be 10 codes?”
There was a moment of silence while John considered the question. “A ‘50’ here is a ‘Vehicle Accident with Fatalities’. ‘18’ is ‘Assignment Complete.’”
“John, can you be at my place in an hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Bring a laptop.”
Brent ended the call, then dialed through his contacts and found Tracy Larkin’s cell.
“Larkin.”
“Tracy, it’s Brent. The ‘18’ is the same, but the ‘50’ means a vehicle accident with fatalities. Can you be at my place in an hour?”
“See you at five o’clock.”
Brent made a final call home to prep Tara on the impromptu gathering that was about to take place.
“Hon, we may have gotten the break we needed in this case. John Eldredge and Tracy Larkin will be coming over at five o’clock. We’re going to crack this thing tonight if it kills…” Brent stopped before finishing with something stupid. Don’t go there. “Anyway … will you order us some pizzas or something? Call Mom and Dad and ask them if they’d be willing to come pick up the kids. It’s your decision on whether Jenna stays or not. But, personally, I think her sharp mind would be a benefit to us. I’ve got to…”
“Brent! Take a breath!” responded Tara. He could hear in her voice that his spontaneous, high-speed checklist needed to be paused. “I’ll call Mom and Dad. I’ll ask Jenna to stay. What kind of pizza?”
Even with his adrenaline spiked he had to laugh. “Get a few pepperonis, one with banana peppers and whatever you and Jenna want.”
“Got it. So, what’s the break?”
“Hon, I’ll tell you once I’ve gotten there. First I’ve got to turn around and go back to the police station for something.”
“Okay. See you in a few.”
“Oh! Tara, call Karen. Find out if she can fit us into her evening schedule. If she has a webcam we can do a video conference with her and tie all of us in at the house.”
Brent pressed ‘End Call’ without hearing Tara hang up and without a goodbye. Forgive me, Hon.
Two minutes later Brent was back at the police station and walking through the front doors. On his way to one of the office’s supply rooms, he heard his name called out from his left.
“Sergeant Lawton.”
It was his captain.
Not now.
Brent stopped, momentarily squeezed his eyes shut, and stepped back to see that the captain was walking toward him from an adjoining hallway.
“Yes, sir?”
“Just wondering what brought you back to the office in such a rush.”
As the captain reached Brent, he considered lying about his reason for coming back, but he’d been crossing that line too many times as of late. “Heading to the supply room. Picking up a whiteboard.”
“For official business?”
“No. Personal. If that’s okay with the department,” he added.
“Not if it’s personal and unofficial police business. That would make it not okay.”
Good forehand swing, Captain, Brent conceded. Ball’s in my court now.
Brent stared into the man’s eyes for just a couple of seconds before he turned around to head back to his cruiser, tail tucked between his legs. But he didn’t make it two steps.
“Lawton. My office. Now.”
&nbs
p; Brent stopped and closed his eyes again. Opening them, he turned and followed his superior.
Once inside his boss’s office with the door closed, the captain began. “Are you going to tell me, or are you going to be difficult?”
“Sir, the gloves have come off. That Picti group attacked my family and me Friday night.” He saw his captain’s mouth begin to open in response. Brent intercepted the dialogue. “And before you ask, I didn’t report it because there is no physical proof that it was them. But you and I both know that these people know who I am, they know what I do, and they know my wife.”
“Your broken rib. It didn’t come from falling off a chair. Did it?”
One of those lies he’d told was now coming back to bite him in the butt.
“No, sir.”
The captain just stood looking at Brent for several seconds before relaxing his posture a little bit. “Brent, I want you to lodge, and personally log, a formal criminal complaint with the department. Whatever happened at your home… whether it can be attributed to these cult members and that Pittston police chief doesn’t matter. You know that someone attacked and injured you. Someone hurt your family. Let this department launch a formal investigation. I’ll have Detective Lewis drop whatever he’s doing and make your family a priority.”
Brent didn’t expect this… this benevolence from his captain. Maybe he was finally getting to the place where he believed his Pittston acquaintance was riding off the reservation. It made no difference, of course, since they still could not legally cross into that jurisdiction without proof of criminal malfeasance. Even then, they would need a warrant and the backing of the county sheriff and state police before they could cross city lines.
“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate it. But I can’t. There is no physical proof. On top of that, without any proof, my lie about falling off a chair and breaking a rib is going to look to be just as valid a reason for my injury as this new claim. Lewis won’t have any viable leads that he can follow.” Brent probably shouldn’t have pushed forward, but he said. “Not legally.”
“That’s right. Lewis is restricted to Millsville. We do have a mutual-aid agreement with Pittston, but I seriously doubt that Chief Connor, over there, is going to invite you in or provide a jurisdiction grantor.
“Now, look me in the eyes, Brent, and tell me that you’re not going to cross any jurisdictional lines. Tell me, and I’ll believe you. I’ll even pretend that I didn’t see you walk back into this station.”
Captain Anthony Morelli had just offered Brent his out. He searched the eyes of his superior and saw within them a plea to just say the magic words ‘I won’t cross.’ But in those few moments of silence, Brent found himself. If nothing else, he was going to be a man of integrity.
“Sir, I can’t tell you that.”
Disappointment crossed his captain’s eyes as he reached out his right hand, palm up.
“I’m going to need your badge, Brent. And your firearm if it’s not your personal weapon.”
Brent felt like he’d just been stabbed. He opened his mouth to object, but his now-former boss interjected.
“Don’t, Brent,” he said softly. “It won’t make a difference. I can’t take the chance of having the Millsville Police Department’s name come under fire because of a disobeyed order. It’s better for all of us, you included in my opinion, that we cut ties before that happens.”
Brent had only seconds to resign himself to his fate. He reached up with both hands to his badge to unclasp the pin that held it in place. He pulled it out of his shirt, re-clasped the pin, and placed it into Morelli’s hand.
“I’m sorry I disappointed you, Captain,” intoned Brent with an underpinning of true grief.
“I’m not disappointed in you, Brent. I’m disappointed in the situation. You can turn in your uniform tomorrow morning. I’ll have your discharge paperwork ready when you arrive.”
Captain Morelli did something, then, that would stay with Brent for years to come. He transferred Brent’s sergeant badge into his left hand, then extended his right to him again; this time offering Brent to take it into his own.
Brent did.
“You’re a good man, Brent. I’m sorry things worked out like this. Now, go do what needs to be done to protect your family.”
Brent, in that moment, was a man without words. He could but nod and turn around.
On his way out of the office, he walked up to the dispatch window and knocked. Ron Goodlow turned around, saw Brent and gave him his customary big smile. Brent waved him over.
Sliding a glass partition, Ron asked, “Hello, Sergeant. What can…” That’s when he noticed the missing badge. His question became another. “What happened?”
“I’m going to miss your friendly smile, Ron.” Brent reached into his right pocket and grabbed his key chain. Taking the keys to his cruiser, the back entrance to the station, and the storage lockers off of it, he handed them to Ron. “Not going to need these any longer.”
“Brent, I’m really stuck for words here. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go stop some bad guys. God bless you, my friend.”
Brent extended his hand and Ron shook it.
BRENT OPENED THE front passenger door of the Dodge Charger and grabbed his cell phone and Millsville Police Department duffel. He quickly scanned the car for any other personal belongings and then closed the door.
He looked at his cell phone. The mental debate as to whether or not he should make this next call was short-lived.
“This is Larkin.”
“Tracy, would you mind stopping by the police station on the way to my place and picking up a large dry-erase whiteboard and an easel? Oh, and you may want to make sure the captain is gone before you do.”
“Will do. See you shortly.”
Larkin disconnected the call.
Brent walked home.
Of course the news shocked Tara. How could it not? Her husband had just been kicked off the police force!
They stood before one another in the kitchen.
“He knows me! Us! Our kids!” Tara responded in a stammer. “He knows us!”
“Hon, he does not know us that well. Relax. It’s all going to work out. Don’t worry about it.”
“Worry? Who’s worried? I’m mad! That man just got rid of the best police officer this stupid city has ever had!”
Brent laughed, and Tara didn’t like it. She hit him in the chest with the flat of her hand. “Stop laughing at me!”
His hard wince reminded her of what it was that she should never do; hit another human being’s broken ribs.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Brent leaned forward ever so slightly, trying to find that position that would exhibit the least amount of pain. He raised his right hand as a sign that it was okay. He coughed a couple of times which intensified the pinch in his chest.
Tara was beside herself. She wanted to touch him. Lessen the pain. Anything! But she stood back, watching as her husband found the will to look her in the eyes again.
“Wow, if I had seen that coming…”
“I know. I’m so sorry,” Tara lamented. She bit her lower lip, her face a portrait of sympathetic pain.
“I’m okay, Tara. But, man,” he grimaced again, “this rib is obviously not destined to heal.”
“What can I do to fix this? I so need to restart my angry rant.”
Brent stared at her with a look that said, ‘Really?’
She smiled, then shrugged, then sighed. “I’m sorry, man of mine.”
“I know that. How about a couple Aleve?”
“I’m on it,” she said, as if she were the nerdy high school girl who had just been asked for a pencil by the school hunk.
She went to the cabinet in the kitchen where they kept their vitamins, supplements, and over the counter medications and withdrew the plastic bottle. A moment later she walked back to Brent with the two blue tablets and a bottle of water from the fridge.<
br />
Brent swallowed the pain relievers, then said, “How do we stand with the pizzas and sleeping arrangements for the kids?”
“You’re not serious. You’re going to do this even though you’re not a cop anymore?”
Tara was momentarily stunned. She had just somehow figured that the loss of his job equated to the end of his ability to do something about what was happening.
“Tara, I’m a free man. I’m not tied down by jurisdictional laws anymore. I’ll let the guys know when they get here. They can make their own decisions as to whether they still want to continue with this.”
Tara looked at him blankly for a moment, allowing the logic to slip into the proper drawers of her mind. Of course he couldn’t stop. This had nothing to do with it being criminal activity. It had to do with the safety of their family and the prevention of something very evil that was on its way.
“I made all of the calls right after we talked. Pizza, Mom and Dad, and Karen. It’s all worked out.”
“Good. We’re going to need to clear this table. The dining room and this area of the kitchen are going to become our ops center, provided that John and Tracy are still in.
“Can you grab our laptops and tell Jenna to bring hers down, as well? Let’s start setting things up so we can jump right in when the guys get here. While you’re doing that, I’m going to call Pastor Jonathan so that I don’t get rebuked again.”
Tara flitted off through the living room, then up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She checked first to make sure that Amy and Jamie had gotten together items that were probably going to be needed for an overnight with Nana and Papa. Then she went to Jenna’s room.
“Jenna, you and your laptop would be greatly appreciated downstairs in the ‘Ops Center.’”
A twinge of excitement was visible in Jenna’s face. She jumped up off her bed where she had already been using her laptop and started getting things together.
Tara then went to the master bedroom and unplugged her laptop that was leaned up against her nightstand. Grabbing it, she went into Brent’s den—his man cave—and snatched his, as well.
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