by Lexi Ostrow
“So, you really aren’t going to do it again?” Ashley asked as they started walking towards Marcus.
“No, I’m really not going to do it again. He made it perfectly clear that we couldn’t, and that I wasn’t ever supposed to tell anyone. So we can’t keep talking about it.”
She was annoyed, more at herself for still wanting to talk to Jeremy than at Ashley for poking her nose in.
“I don’t think there’s any harm in a little bed play. It’s not as if anyone would question your abilities physically, even after only a week. He wants you. I watch him watching you in training, and I’d bet anything everyone except stupid Marcus does. So just talk to him.”
She shook her head. “The last time we spoke, I stalked off. He read me the riot act, he didn’t ask me my opinion on the issue. I’m not here to find a guy anyway. I’m here to prove to myself that I can honor my father by following in his footsteps.”
She crossed her arms and stopped at an end cap in front of the TVs, standing off to the side of the games aisle Marcus was casually strolling down.
“Breaking News - word of an attack on the Santa Barbra Police Department has just been confirmed. Three officers have been shot, and one is on his way to the emergency room. More information will be reported as we receive it.”
Bridget’s blood ran cold. Her eyes rose to the wall of TV’s just as the blonde anchorwoman was replaced by a weather map. Her eyes darted from screen to screen as if one of the screens could possibly be a little bit behind the others. Unfortunately, they weren’t.
“Did you . . . ?” Her throat felt dry and scratchy as she forced the words from her mouth.
“I couldn’t have.”
Bridget tilted her head and saw Ashley staring wide-eyed at the screens as well. Police stations were supposed to be safe. Despite everything that walked through the doors, it was supposed to be safe inside. Which meant that either a drive-by had occurred, or someone had walked inside and changed that fact.
“Do you think this will affect anything? I mean, if an officer, let alone three, has been attacked, they’ll have to put everyone they can on it, won’t they?” Ashley’s voice sounded much like a little girl’s, and Bridget was having trouble hearing her.
The phone call she’d received several months ago rushed back at her. The monotone voice on the other end–her mother’s–telling her that her father had been shot, rang in her mind.
Bridget’s breathing hitched in pace and she felt her body begin to tremble as fear and nausea raced a path through her entire body.
“Your father. Your father was shot, Bridget. I can’t tell you anymore over the phone.”
The resounding way her mother’s voice had cracked on a sob was the same sound that tore past her lips as she stood in the middle of the store.
“Bridget? Bridget, are you ok?”
She couldn’t process who was speaking to her as images of the police photos of her father, blood streaking down his chest, popped into her mind. Bile burned at the back of her throat. Bridget gagged, but forced it down.
Fingertips poked into her shoulders. Without thinking, she lashed her arms out, her fists in balls. Her balled fists connected with the soft flesh of a cheek, and Bridget heard the sound of a feminine cry at the same time as she felt someone grab her hands together.
Tears wet her face and she could feel how wet her cheeks were even as the images of her father and the sounds of her mother’s sobs slowly started to fade. Bridget’s eyes refocused and she looked down to see one of Marcus’ large hands wrapped around hers. Ashley stood a bit back; her hand rubbing over her cheek.
A small crowd had gathered around them. Bridget’s vision wavered slightly as the last of her tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. She blinked to clear them as she dropped her arms, showing Marcus that she no longer fought his sudden restraint.
“I’m sorry. I’m fine.”
Heat licked a path up her cheeks, an indication of just how red the color blossoming against her pale skin would be. She didn’t blush often, but there was no mistaking the sensation now. Marcus didn’t release her hands. His honey brown eyes stared into hers, a mixture of sympathy and questioning shining in their depths.
“Are you certain?”
She took a deep breath and exhaled so slowly that she could feel every trickle of air leave her body. Bridget pursed her lips and she tried not to look at the crowd gathered around her.
“Yes. The news story brought unwanted memories. I’ll be all right, though I’m wondering if we shouldn’t forget everything and go study. Something tells me tomorrow will be a rough day.”
Marcus’s eyes never left hers as he slowly uncurled his fingers from around her hands. Once he let go, she reacted on instinct and pulled them down, rolling each wrist in a circle to feel for damage.
“We’re going to talk about this on the way back,” he said.
He walked away from her and made his way over to Ashley, who still hadn’t looked Bridget in the eyes. The two started walking towards the front door.
Pain stung like a knife bite. Bridget pushed it back. She had only known these people for a week; she wasn’t ready to tell them what had occurred with her father. However, She knew that after a display like this one, it was either share, or be on her own. She forced herself to take several deep breaths a few times, to try and force the news bulletin from her mind before she walked out of the store.
Bridget kept her head down once her feet finally began to move towards the door. Embarrassment was new to her. She hated the way she wished she had someone to walk out with like Ashley had. Someone named Jeremy with a scintillating southern accent and the smile of a football star.
She stopped as her feet touched the front tire of Ashley’s Jeep. Bridget looked up to find the two of them staring at her.
“I’m sorry, Ashley. It was an accident.”
Ashley nodded. Marcus spoke up, catching her by surprise.
“Rule 101, trust your partner. We’re a team now and you need to let us in the loop. We have to know what we’re dealing with to keep us all safe.”
The comment was like a sucker punch to the gut. The air tore from her body again as very briefly, the image of her father being lowered into the ground flashed through her mind.
“You both know my father was a cop. One of the best beat cops there was. He’d had the shot to be more, but he’d always insisted on staying on the streets. It’s because of him that I’m here. When I was growing up, he would tell me all the crazy stories and heroic moments. He was, without a doubt, my hero. We’d fought on more than one occasion about me joining up. Thirteen weeks ago, my mother called me. He was shot. No suspects. Just a handful of retired cops as witnesses, and nothing to go off on thirteen weeks later.” She could hear her voice wavering as she put her hand on the door. “Can we just go? I’ll answer anything you want in the car. I just don’t want to be out on a sidewalk right now. It doesn’t feel right.”
Ashley opened the door. Marcus rubbed his hand up and down her arm before jumping in the back.
“I know you didn’t mean it, but shit, let’s make sure you hit the right people from now on. For being so boney, you have one hell of a right hook.”
Some of the tension broke, and she was able to smile as Ashley pulled out of the parking spot. The fear and panic caused by the newscast hadn’t disappeared completely, however.
“Marcus, did you hear it?”
Her eyes met his as she looked into the rear-view mirror and she watched as he swallowed hard.
“Kind of hard not to. And while we’re talking about it, I don’t blame your freak out, but you may want to get that under control. Cops get shot all the time. If you go into meltdown mode every time, your partner is going to wind up dead, too.”
She gasped at the words, even if there was nothing but kindness in his tone, she would have sworn he had slapped her. But he wasn’t wrong. In fact, he really couldn’t be more right. She shut down in the store. Bridget knew she woul
dn’t be of any use if that kept up.
The silence grew thick around them, and the tension level amped back up. She pressed her head against the door and closed her eyes, trying to think of the one thing she knew that could make her forget about the news – Jeremy’s hands on her body.
He could feel himself grinning like a fool. Trevor’s body hummed with satisfaction as he kicked open the door to the hovel he had rented to store things. It was nothing more than a shack in Compton, but it did the trick. It had been a storage shack at one point for a little furniture store, but they’d gone under. He’d found the place during the time he’d spent locked up, and was paying in cash with the measly amount he made playing fast food cook.
This was a necessity. His parole officer could drop by for a chat or a search any damned time he wanted. So this was his private solace, his criminal outlet.
“Nothing will ever feel that good.” Trevor said to himself gleefully
Glee filled his voice as he reached up and pulled on the string to turn on the dim light bulb. It buzzed in the silence of the afternoon; even Compton could be safe and quiet, at times. His eyes adjusted as the mid darkness gained faded to a dull yellow glow.
“Except the next time you do it.”
He slung his backpack off his shoulder and let it drop to the dirt floor with a thunk. The gun probably should have been handled with better care, but aside from shooting them, Trevor didn’t know much about guns.
“Until today, Trevor. Until today.”
His grin spread over his face as another wave of satisfaction washed over. He dropped onto the tiny metal chair and let his eyes roll up the wall he’d spent the past five days setting up.
The back wall of the shack had a map of Southern California, one he’d bought from a bookstore with those giant atlases. He’d placed a giant red dot on every county name where the police had been involved in the arrest. The group he ran with had hit banks all over, so the cops been allowed to collaborate to bring them in was his guess.
Every county–San Diego, Santa Barbra, Santa Cruz, Ventura, and Los Angeles–had angry red dots on them. Plus a number written in black, one through six, indicating what order he would take them down.
He stretched his arms above his head and rolled his shoulders. The cracking of his bones made him sigh. Trevor stood up and grabbed the red marker. He put a giant “X” through Santa Barbara.
He’d hit the station there today.
Shooting the police had been a rush unlike any he’d ever experienced. Not even waving guns around to scare people while looting banks compared. His whole body had felt alive, on fire with excitement even. He couldn’t even be certain as to how many he’d shot at.
He’d been in the parking garage about seven hundred feet away looking through a scope. Only when he’d fired the first round and hit a cop, had he gotten so giddy that he’d lost focus and took a few random shots. Staying and seeing what he’d done hadn’t been an option. Thirty seconds after the shots were fired, he would have had cops all over his ass if he hadn’t moved.
He’d calmly walked to the car and gotten in, zipping the gun inside the backpack before driving out. A few other cars had already been on the way down, some had stopped mid-drive, while others kept going. Trevor had forced his body to stop singing with excitement, and focused on keeping his eyes straight ahead.
He’d pulled out of the garage just in time to see the cops start chasing on foot after all the cars that had left. Trevor had bit his lip and sped off, unconcerned as to whether they’d seen him, since he’d removed the plates from the car and it wasn’t his own. It now sat conveniently off to the side of the 101 with a popped tire. Someone from his old group had been waiting for him, just as they’d devised when they’d thought up the plan so long ago while he sat incarcerated for only part of a crime he committed.
Part of him had died sitting inside that cell. He’d answered to others, pretending to be fucking upstanding and moral, when all he’d wanted was some drugs and a way out. Now, he’d make part of the police force die. County by county
Bridget absentmindedly chewed on the tip of the number two pencil. It was a nasty habit from high school, but some how nibbling on the eraser calmed her down. They’d only been in the room for about eighteen minutes, and the chatter about the shooting around her was enough to send her into a meltdown. Ashley had placed her hand on Bridget’s arm when the talking first began, but she’d shaken her friend off. While she was happy that the tension from the day before had washed out, she didn’t need anyone questioning her. The less people that knew she was a cop’s daughter, and that he’d been shot a few months ago, the better.
“Did you even think something like that was possible?” Jasper Candant, another recruit, asked the recruit to his left.
Bridget couldn’t see whom he was talking to and she was too queasy to turn her head.
“I mean, right out of a parking garage, and then they randomly found the car on the 101. I wonder what they’re going to say. I mean, this stuff happens,” Margaret something-or-other said from behind Bridget.
“It’s going to be ok. You heard the rest of the report. It was nothing like your dad’s death.” Ashley whispered the words, but the room was so loud, Bridget didn’t think she had to.
Marcus pulled open the room door, strolling in with his hands in his pockets like he wasn’t even late. His eyes landed on hers and she lowered her head. She and Ashley had spoken after they’d dropped him off, but she and Marcus had left things on a very strange note.
Hands appeared in her line of sight on her desk and she sighed as she pulled her head up. Marcus’s honey brown eyes were softer than the day before. Bridget saw him cringe as another comment was brought up about what it’s like to be shot as a cop.
“Hey, about yesterday–” he paused and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Not cool how I handled it. You’re still young and losing a parent is about the most painful thing in the world. I meant what I said about needing to get your head around it, but how and when you do it is on your terms. Just make sure you let someone know when they’re your partner.”
She gave him a weak smile and he nodded. There wasn’t time for them to say anything else on the matter as a stern voice cut through the room.
“That’ll be enough of that.” Captain Danver’s stern voice boomed throughout the small room, and as directed, everyone shut up.
Marcus shuffled to the side and took the seat next to her like he had been doing since they’d met last week. She noticed Captain Danvers wasn’t alone. Lieutenant Chase was with him, as well as a woman in a more business look. She certainly wasn’t a detective, based on the lack of a holster or pockets for a badge. Her heels were also a good indication of that as well. The lead ball that had been sitting in her stomach all morning doubled in size and her nausea grew.
“I know you all want to talk about the incident yesterday. It would be impossible not to. However, being a police officer is a dangerous job. Your lives can and will be on the line more times than you’ll hopefully be able to remember – because those aren’t memories anyone needs to have.”
Captain Danver’s voice commanded the same respect it had when she’d heard him speak to her father on multiple occasions. He was younger then, but still just as impressive.
Murmurs rippled throughout the room. A well-timed eyebrow raise from the captain ceased the talking. They’d all met him last Monday, everyone knew he was the one in charge, and none were stupid enough to cross him.
“That being said, we do not talk about it. We do not aid in the spreading of rumors of what goes on amongst our own. If the media outlets approach you, you decline. If you have a microphone shoved in your face, you politely take a step back. You do not discuss a police tragedy. You honor the fallen officers by letting them have their privacy. Myself, or another officer, will deal with the public.”
Captain Danvers took a step back and nodded at Lieutenant Chase, giving him back his control over his recruits. The younger
man nodded back and stepped forward, along with the polished brunette.
“This is Annalisse. She’s the therapist here at the precinct and available to you should you need to talk. No one will think less of you for it. Mental stability amongst officers saves lives.” The smaller woman stepped forward and gave a small wave and smile before lining back up with Chase. “We will be pushing forward. This is a tragedy, but stopping our lives for it won’t help. Getting you ready to test and enter the force, that will. So, from this moment on, there’s no more talking about it. No more whispers or notes passed like a bunch of high-schoolers. You want to talk, then you go to Annalisse.”
Bridget watched as heads around the room nodded, and she felt hers nod as well.
“Very good. Lieutenant, take it as hard as ever today. Good luck to you all.”
Captain Danvers and Annalisse walked out of the room. The door closed and it sounded a little louder than it had before in the abject silence.
A part of her wanted to scream with happiness that the topic was taboo. She wasn’t ready to admit she needed Annalisse, not that she ever would. But Bridget would do what Marcus said if it was time to complete the course and she was still unstable. Her father wouldn’t want it any other way. But for now, she was going to try and would handle this on her own.
Then there was the other half of her, the half that implicitly understood what it was like to lose someone to a shooting. She wondered just how hard it would be for everyone in the room to remain silent on the matter.
“Ok. Open up the packets we’ve been working on, and no one groan. You’re adults,” Chase’s voice snapped at them.
For the past three days, they had been learning about police scanner codes. There were enough of them that even Bridget mixed a few up, despite her background in criminal studies.