"Briefing starts in twenty minutes. Be ready every day fifteen minutes prior to the start of shift. For rooks like you, I would suggest thirty minutes. Your FTO will want you in line for a car before they’re returned.”
Kevin was no stranger to the phrase, “Yes, sir.” He used it here every other sentence.
Kevin listened attentively to the sergeant’s every word.
Kevin tracked his gaze as he called out to another officer walking down the main corridor.
"Stone,” the sergeant bellowed, “got a newbie for you.”
Kevin hadn’t seen or heard from him in ten years. It could have been fifty, but Kevin would have known that walk, that smile, anywhere.
Peter’s smile grew in size the closer he got to the pair.
Peter put both arms around Kevin and pulled him in. “The soldier returns.”
Kevin returned the hug and exclaimed, “Holy shit, I guess they’ll let anyone work here.”
The sergeant shifted, and remarked, “You too know each other?”
“God damn, it’s good to see you.” Peter made no attempt to disguise his excitement at seeing his old friend.
Peter spoke to Sgt. Sanser never taking his eyes off of Kevin. “Sergeant, this is Kevin Anderson.”
The sergeant looked at Kevin as if for the first time.
“The Kevin Anderson, the one you’re always waxing poetic about during some cold ass grave shift?”
“The one and only.”
Sanser looked to Kevin, an expression of mild reflection on his face. “Kid, according to Stone here, you’re the baddest motherfucker on the planet.”
Kevin felt himself blush, was annoyed he was without a clever retort.
"All right guys, I’ll see you in briefing.” With that, the sergeant was gone.
Peter was still looking Kevin over. “Why didn’t you call?” Peter’s inflection was some of sorrow for a long ago friend. Ten years had passed. Kevin was hardly the same man.
"I don’t know man; I was everywhere all the time, head up my ass I suppose.”
Peter smiled the smile of the kid that had trampled his ass on the obstacle course sixteen years earlier. Same innocent gape with the tint of cockiness.
“Sure pal, head up the ass I can believe.”
Kevin laughed. Peter continued looking him over.
Peter led Kevin to the briefing room. They were the first ones in. With the passing minutes, the rest of B Squad walked in and took their seats.
Kevin was seated at the front of the room; the guys with the senior most rank were at the back. There were thirty patrol officers and four sergeants.
Sgt. Sanser stepped to the front of the room where an oak finished podium awaited him. In place, Sanser swept the room with a mid-length glance taking mental note of tonight’s team.
Following that, he gave out beat assignments, checked for any bitches or gripes, no one had any, then introduced Kevin. Kevin was greeted with cat calls of “FNG” and “Rook.”
With the initial and customary verbal hazing in the books, Kevin stood and introduced himself.
“I’m Kevin Anderson, 28 years old, and I’m just happy to be here.”
From the crowd, “Fucking right you are new guy.”
Kevin sat down and was immediately ordered to stand. Sanser informed Kevin it was customary for the senior officers to do a little first night grilling. Kevin was told to stand at the podium. An officer about Kevin’s size, maybe two or three years older, spoke first.
“Twenty-eight? What the fuck you been doing the last six years rook?”
Kevin cleared his throat, “I served in the Marines.”
The smallest officer in the room let out the familiar cry, “Uhhh-rahhh! I knew I smelled perfection in the air.”
To that, a number of grunts and “Christ’s!” rang out.
Of the police ranks, there were more than just a few Marines in the pack. The questions and answers played out for several minutes. The shift was informed of several in progress calls, the briefing room emptied.
Peter and Kevin drove to the worst part of town.
It was Kevin’s first time in a police car, or “unit” as it was called.
Peter was driving and quickly showed Kevin how to use all of the gadgets inside.
There was silence, and then there wasn’t.
"Christ, man, Kevin Anderson and Peter Stone back together again. What the fuck were the odds of that shit?”
Kevin figured Peter had gone on to do something far more glamorous than this. “You did graduate college, right?”
Peter nodded, “Yea, I graduated.”
"What got you into this?”
"What do you mean?”
"I thought you would have gone on to med school, or engineering, some high paying, thought provoking system of payment.”
"All right, I’ll take your jab and right back at you. What brought you to the dirty end of the field?”
"Seemed like a natural transition. Saving people is saving people, right?”
"That what you did in the corps? Save people?”
Kevin’s memory of the last ten years played a sound bite.
“I did a little of everything. Saving, protecting, cleaning up, you know.”
Peter noticed the scar earlier but suppressed the urge to ask. It seemed an appropriate time. “The hibbidy on your face there, what happened?”
Kevin recalled Peter’s fondness for calling everyday things, hibbidy, bibbidy, shibbidy, whatever rolled off the tongue at the moment. Kevin reflexively rubbed the two inch length of thickened tissue on his left cheek. A gift from Will during a training exercise where Will went left as fast as he always promised he could. “I had a cat.”
Peter laughed, “A fucking cat did that, huh?”
"It was a big cat.”
"Whatever, Kev, you tell me another time.”
"Sure.”
One night turned into the next. Kevin’s transition into police work was not complicated. Talking to strangers, dealing with shitbirds, listening to bullshit, it all came to him as natural as warm water in a bath.
Peter felt comfortable with Kevin at his side. Peter had already been doing the job five years.
In his time on the force, he had seen officers come, and leave, with little influence on anything. Kevin would be known out here, to that, Peter had no doubt. It was their last shift together of the four day cycle, one more twelve hour stint, before four off. Kevin had shared what he could with Peter. The unofficial stuff remained closed. Peter asked questions till there were no more to ask. Peter had found his old sounding board a welcome relief. He told Kevin of his college romance resulting in his son, Ethan. He told Kevin of Ethan’s mother’s meltdown and subsequent departure from their lives. All in all, Peter had given Kevin the last ten years of his life in three twelve hour shifts. Kevin couldn’t believe Peter had a son of his own. He was six years old and was ready to meet his uncle Kevin.
Peter was still driving, as was standard practice for the first week of a new hire’s training. It was 0144 hours when Peter called off on the traffic stop. The lowered black Honda pulled to the right and stopped. Peter looked to Kevin, “You up to making contact on this one?” Kevin nodded in the affirmative and headed to the passenger side of the vehicle.
The windows were tinted in the same color as night. Kevin shined his flashlight into the back and passenger-side windows with little vantage.
Kevin called out, “Roll down your windows.”
The passenger window crept down. Kevin noted two occupants. From just behind the passenger, Kevin lit up the vehicle’s compartment. He ordered both subjects to place their hands on the dash while he spoke with them. The driver was Hispanic, the passenger white. Both were young, maybe 19, 20, at most. Both had tattoos visible on their arms and necks. Kevin had already guessed they were not on the dean’s list at any school nearby. Kevin took I.D. from both individuals and walked back to the patrol unit. After running their names with dispatch, Kevin was adv
ised the driver had a warrant for domestic violence. Peter gave Kevin brief instruction prior to Kevin’s removing the driver from the vehicle. Kevin and Peter walked back to the vehicle together.
Both subjects were ordered to exit the vehicle, driver first, then passenger. While Kevin dealt with the driver, Peter kept eyes on the passenger.
Kevin walked the driver to the curbside. “You have a warrant for your arrest, turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
The young man said something to the effect of “fucking bullshit” but complied nonetheless.
Handcuffed, searched, and placed in the backseat of the unit, Kevin walked to where Peter was standing and ordered the passenger out.
"Your friend had a warrant, and you don’t have a license. We’re towing the car, you can get going.”
The man looked to the police car. “Warrant for what?”
Peter interrupted; spoke sharply, “You his fucking lawyer? Get the fuck out of here.”
The passenger looked pissed, but thought better of responding.
When the passenger walked away, Kevin remarked, “Jesus, you a fucking tough guy now?”
Peter grinned. “Fucking dirtbags, all wanna play street lawyer, talk their fucking nonsense. I have zero patience for that bullshit anymore.”
Peter and Kevin were driving their new friend to jail when they received a message over the MDT. It was the new guy’s turn to buy the sergeant coffee. Peter pointed at the screen, “That’s for you, buddy.” Kevin typed back, requesting the sergeant’s exact order. Kevin read the sergeant’s response to Peter.
“Half caff, soy latte, with one sugar and a sprits of cinnamon. What am I, a fucking asshole? Coffee. Black. Hot….Jesus.”
Peter laughed out loud to this, “He likes you, Kev.
I can tell.”
Peter pulled into the 7-11 on Grand Ave., parked, and asked Kevin if he’d be alright obtaining the sergeant’s drink order. Kevin smirked and then walked inside. The clerk looked wide awake. Coffee must be good, he thought.
Kevin placed the large black coffee on the counter while he fished out his wallet for a couple of ones. The clerk smiled. “It’s on the house, officer.”
Kevin knew not to accept gratuities, even as menial as a cup of Joe.
“Can’t take it partner, how much?”
The clerk hesitated a second too long. Kevin heard the muffled grunt coming from the floor beneath him.
Kevin moved as the first round ripped past him.
Kevin drew and fired without ever having the thought of doing so. A second muzzle flash, followed by silence.
The man who had entered the store minutes before Kevin, the one who had just finished taping the store employee’s hands and mouth seconds before Kevin entered, was now dead, a bent heap on the clerk’s workstation, a liberal amount of blood and cerebral fluid loosened from a large hole in the back of his head.
Peter had witnessed the scene from the driver’s seat.
His view had been partially blocked by an advertisement for Coor’s light. Peter saw Kevin sit down a cup of coffee, pull out his wallet, drop the wallet, move laterally while drawing and firing his duty weapon, then scan for other threats. The action had unfolded faster than Peter could exit the patrol vehicle.
Peter was inside now, his weapon up.
Kevin was moving while giving commands. “Cover the clerk while I clear the store.” Peter was going to say something, didn’t.
Kevin was back moments later. “Bad guy was alone.”
Peter holstered his weapon and checked on the store employee. The employee was unharmed. He’d pissed himself, but other than that was fine.
Kevin holstered his weapon, “You alright Pete?”
That was all Kevin said. Peter had seen men die before. He himself had never taken life, but he had witnessed it passing before his eyes, another’s senseless crime, or the passing of an elderly soul.
This was not like the other times. Kevin moved different. Not like any man he had seen, too perfect, too natural. He would remember to ask about it later.
Shooting someone in the world where rules applied was a new experience for Kevin. The guy shot at him, he shot back. The guy doing wrong was killed as it should be. It was not so simple he found out later.
Kevin was driven to the main office, placed in a room; his weapon was taken from him and dismantled. His ammunition was counted, the items on his duty belt inventoried. He was interviewed by a detective in the department, and the district attorney.
Kevin was let go approximately eight hours after the shooting occurred.
He was told he would be on paid administrative leave until the findings were back from the investigation of his shooting.
Kevin found it hard to believe it was this convoluted. Fortunately for him, the store had just installed the latest gadget in mini-store security. A surveillance camera had recorded the entire event. Peter had had a chance to review it, as well as the sergeant responsible for Kevin that night.
Peter met with Kevin the next day at his residence. He wanted to go over some things before having him to his house.
“The shooting was perfect,” Peter said.
Kevin had killed people where he felt sick afterward, many times. He didn’t feel that way this time around. He knew the guy he killed in that store was going to kill that clerk, and he did his best to kill him. It was just. Kevin had no regrets, and felt odd at the procedure following an on-duty shooting; it was as if he were the criminal.
“I watched the video of the shooting. You were fast, Kevin, really fast. They teach you that in the Marines?”
Kevin answered honestly, “Yes, they did.”
“Good, you did real good. I have no doubt we will be using that video to train recruits in the academy of the dangers out there, and how to deal with it professionally.”
Kevin laughed, “Professionally? I like that.”
“Seriously, Kevin, you’re going to be all right. Back to work in a couple days. You need anything; you want to talk about it?”
Where was Peter eight years ago? “No buddy, I’m good.”
“Good, well do you feel like meeting my son?”
Kevin and Peter drove to a single family home in the foothills. It was away from the clutter and noise of the city. It was probably the closest thing Peter could afford to the ranch where they spent so much time as boys.
Still in the city limits, this place resembled the home of Kevin’s childhood. A single curving block to itself, lots of kids running around, neighbors that knew each other’s names. Kevin parked in the driveway next to Peter. Once inside, Peter spoke briefly with a middle aged woman, obviously his son’s babysitter then called Kevin forward. The lady passed Kevin in the hall. She reminded him of the pleasant faced house mother on Facts of Life. She smiled and was gone. Kevin walked the short hallway which led to the main living area. It was definitely an all boys’ club here. There were pictures in frames of Peter in various uniforms of the profession, a wall devoted to the adventures of Peter and his son.
Spaced in appropriate spots were a television as large as the projection screen in a theatre and a large leather sofa and two recliners. Kevin remained standing until the little man came down the hall.
He was a good looking kid, slender, a growth of spiky blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a walk just like his father’s.
“Kevin, this is my son, Ethan.” Peter’s face took on a new direction in the presence of his son; it was apparent he loved the boy deeply. His pride was filling the space around all three of them.
Kevin took a knee, “Hi Ethan, I’m Kevin.”
Kevin put out his hand for Ethan to shake; Ethan bypassed the handshake and hugged Kevin. Kevin had never been around children, the gesture felt strange. Ethan pulled back and spoke.
“My dad told me all about when you and him were kids. He said you’re the closest thing he ever had to a brother, besides his brother, and that I should call you Uncle Kevin. Is that alright?”
Peter laughed, “I know, he’s something. Tell him how old you are, son.”
“I’m six and a half.”
Kevin looked to Peter, “Ah, yes, the halves. Do you remember when we thought older was better, my friend?”
Kevin redirected his gaze to Ethan. “Yes, Ethan, you can call me Uncle Kevin, or whatever else you come up with.”
Ethan seemed pleased with that and smiled, “You want to go outside and play catch?”
Kevin told Ethan he would enjoy that very much. The three moved the introduction effortlessly into the backyard where Ethan found the nerf football his father had bought him. An hour passed with the three of them passing a foam football, laughing, and thinking nothing could be better at this time and place than the simplicity of it all.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Kevin returned to work the following week, he was greeted with new found respect. No one called him the new guy any longer. His shooting had developed into something of mythic proportions. You would have believed he had slain five armed men instead of one.
At some points it was disconcerting. Kevin had never been comfortable with killing people. Now, in his new life with a false history following him, it was only slightly better - knowing firsthand what the dead man had been about and what his intentions for Kevin had been. Still, this new status amongst his peers left him feeling as if he’d cured cancer instead of eliminating an outcast of society.
Kevin had proven himself time and again as an Officer every other officer could count on. Through the days, weeks, and months, he had quickly become a favorite within his department.
It was for this reason he had been extended an opportunity to try out for the department’s full-time SWAT team following his successful completion of his probationary phase.
Peter had also been selected for testing; however, his test came four years later than Kevin’s. The old high school rivalries seemed to find them in adult life.
On the morning of the tests, Kevin woke early, his stomach a buzz with what lay ahead. He felt at home here. He felt this next step in his profession the right one for him. He met the guys on the team, fine men all of them. Every one of them fit, tactically sound, proven operators. In the end, they were guys you could count on when the shit hit the fan.
OBLIGATION Page 18