by Kathryn Shay
They talked some, until Paul joined them with soup, too, and sat down.
Ronan said, “Welcome to the family.”
“Thanks, new cousin. Hey, you’re both that now.”
The men chuckled.
“Is the human tracking task force you were on still searching for victims in New York?” Paul asked Derek.
“Yep. But not at City College. We’re pretty much done there since my cover was blown.”
“Did they get anyone else recovered from the college?” Ronan asked.
“Two more. Now, my boss and the team are moving into other locations.”
“Like your new job?”
“I do. I always hated the adage Those who can, do, those who can’t teach. I teach others how and it’s rewarding.”
“And safe.” Alessia joined them with a plate heaping with salads and meat. She kissed Ronan’s cheek, then took a seat.
“How much longer for school, Ali?” he asked.
“Really? There’s something you don’t know?”
He laughed.
“We started again mid-January. I’ll be done at the end of summer.”
One by one, the whole group filed in. Carmella and Judd sat close together at a table across the way, smiling at each other. For god’s sake, Ronan had to stop envying the people he loved so much.
“I got you a plate.” Hayley handed him food. “Eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Their time together was warm and friendly until Gideon’s phone buzzed. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” He went into the kitchen.
Carmella gripped Judd’s arm. “Oh, dear.” Mama was worried about her cub.
He returned soon, wearing his wool coat, with a scarf to chase away the cold. “I gotta go. Right now. Task force emergency.” He fished in his pocket for his keys. “Mama, can you and Judd spend the night? I may not get back and I don’t want them alone. And try to reassure them that I’m going to be all right.”
“I will, dear. Stay safe.”
“Sorry everybody. I gotta book.” And he was out the door.
Ronan watched him go. He knew what Gideon was going through, as he’d had detailed reports on the task force, thanks to his contacts in the HCPD.
His aunt was right to be worried.
* * *
As he drove to the city from the lake, the snow had stopped but slush spit up at the window. He punched in Anabelle’s phone number in case she was heading there. No answer. He tried the others. Must be they were there. He put his bubble on the roof and sped up. A few times he skidded, but damn, he needed to be there.
When he got to the scene, he saw right away what was happening. The area was well-lit by streetlamps. This time, two groups of girls were squaring off. He’d donned his Kevlar vest before he started over, and leaping out, he grabbed his gun from the glove compartment and stuck it in the back of his pants. It was bitchin’ cold, as he threaded his way through a crowd that uniformed officers were trying to disperse. Puffs of air came from his mouth and everyone else’s.
Anabelle stood on the sidelines, holding a megaphone, trying to diffuse the situation. “Put your weapons down.”
“No way, bitch.”
“Go screw yourself.”
One comment from each side. He recognized the Savage Sisters, but the girls in red and black jackets were new.
Brolin and Radford stood behind Anabelle, their hands on their weapons, and TJ was next to her, poised to go in. Gideon recalled then the gang expert from New York, who’d come out to train them. Never rush in between two gangs ready to clash. They’ll kill you first then go on to fight each other. Wait for SWAT. They’re equipped for this kind of maneuver.
“No Good Girls on our streets, cunts,” one of the Savage Sisters yelled out. We’re gonna e-rase you.”
Anabelle fired into the ground, the pop of the gun startling. “I’m serious. Put your weapons down.”
Instead, the first girl lurched forward. The rest rushed in behind her. They connected.
TJ started forward, and Anabelle held her back. “No! Wait for SWAT.”
The teams arrived a few seconds later, and eight men and women hurled themselves out of their armored jeeps, fully protected with helmets, suits and shields. Anabelle shouted, “We gotta disarm them all.”
A SWAT guy rolled a can of tear gas in the midst of the deadly fight. Clouds of gas filled the air. A lot of coughing replaced the shouts and the clatter of weapons. SWAT rushed in. The task force had to step back to avoid the acid cloud.
Shouts.
Gunshots.
Screaming.
In minutes the scene went silent, except for the low moans of suffering.
Two sets of EMT’s waited for the smoke to clear, then rushed forward. TJ went in with them.
“What’s she doing?” Radford asked.
“She has advanced EMT certification. She’s helping.”
“They’re all down,” the SWAT guy called over the radio. We need the uniforms and the task force now.”
With only a light haze around them, Anabelle, Gideon, Radford and Brolin circulated the area and picked up guns and knives. Some of the gang members laid motionless on the ground. Others tried to get up and swore while the uniformed officers handcuffed them first, yanked them up and lead them away.
“Help over here,” a firefighter yelled. “I need somebody fast.”
Anabelle and Gideon and Radford hurried to him. Grady O’Connor straddled a victim and pressed a bloody gauze pad on her chest. Gideon asked, “What can we do?”
“Somebody get a blanket to keep her warm.” Radford raced away.
“Anabelle get more pads from his bag and hand them to me.”
She retrieved them, but instead of grabbing them from her, Grady said, “Gideon, take my spot and put these over the wound.” They exchanged places. “Hold the compress and press hard. I already checked and there’s nothing in the wound. But she’s cold and clammy.”
Which meant she was in shock.
Straddling the girl, Gideon pressed down then glanced at her face, which was obscured by a scarf. One he recognized. “Oh, God, no, no. Anabelle.”
Anabelle dropped to her knees and pulled back the scarf. “Oh…no…no….”
Radford, who’d tucked a blanket around her, let out an animal-like yelp.
The victim was TJ Masters.
She’d been knifed.
* * *
After they helped SWAT secure the scene and posted officers on the street corner, Anabelle and her team headed for the hospital. Worry ate away at her as her hands froze on the wheel. TJ had been deathly pale and blood stained the ground. She knew the loss of 40% was fatal. Pushing away the thought, she drove into the emergency parking lot just as the others did. The four climbed out of their cars and made their way inside.
They found an empty section of the waiting room. Radford dropped down in a chair and put his head in his hands. Brolin kicked a wall. Gideon paced. She said, “Come sit, Buck, Gid.”
They dragged the chairs in a circle. Peripherally, she saw other gurneys come in through Emergency doors. How many of those young girls had gotten badly wounded or killed?
“What the hell happened?” Brolin asked, his voice raw.
Anabelle had to pull herself together for them. She’d fall apart later. “We followed protocol. We were called when the confrontation was in progress. Even SWAT didn’t get there to prevent the clash.”
“We didn’t even try to intervene.”
“If we did, we’d all be in surgery, like TJ. We were outnumbered. We talked about this in training with the New York guy. He explained it all to us.”
No response.
“Yeah, guys, my brother said firefighters don’t go into hopeless situations.” Gideon was trying to be logical. “They don’t sacrifice their lives when they know they’ll be killed before they can help.”
Silence. For a while, they were lost in their own thoughts.
“Hey, guys.” Grady had co
me up to them. He’d ridden in the ambulance with the EMT’s for TJ’s trip to the hospital. His complexion was gray and his eyes haunted, making Anabelle grow cold.
“Pull up a chair.” Anabelle kept her voice calm. “How was she in the ambulance?”
“Touch and go. She coded once, but we got her back. She, um, lost a lot of blood.”
“Think she’ll make it?” Buck asked.
“I shouldn’t predict—”
“But you know.” Anabelle. “Tell us.”
Grady scanned them all. “I’m sorry to say this, but in my opinion, no, I don’t think she’ll live through her injuries.”
A pall fell over them. They were immobilized.
Then, later…
“Sergeant Sanders?” A man had put a hand on her shoulder.
She stood and turned.
“I’m Linc Roberts. I’m afraid I have bad news. I’m sorry, TJ didn’t make it.”
* * *
The Task Force floor was crowded with police officers. They’d come for the team. Everybody quieted and Chief Jaspers approached them stone-faced. “This is hard. I know. You should all go home.”
They stared at him. Buck finally spoke. His voice was gravelly. “There weren’t enough of us to intervene.”
“You’re not supposed to intervene. That’s the job of SWAT. You work with other forces. Homicide. Social Services and the fire department. And you don’t try to do their jobs.”
“Bullshit.”
Jaspers’ jaw pulsed. “I’m going to ignore that. You’re all raw. Go home, get some sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow. Try to get here by eleven.”
“We need more members.” This from Radford.
“That may be so. We’ll decide that when everybody’s saner.”
Anabelle stepped up. Her hands were clenched and her shoulders stiff. “The chief’s right,” she said with a voice like death. “Brolin, Radford, Casella. Go home, that’s an order.”
Reluctantly, they headed out.
Gideon heard Jaspers say, “You too, Sanders.”
“I—”
“Anabelle, go home, please.” He didn’t raise his voice. It was tender. That made the order worse.
The team waited at the door. Gideon grasped her arm. “Come on, we’ll see you out.”
Snow had started to fall again, and they left the building and trudged to their cars. They had nothing more to say to each other.
Gideon backed his SUV out and noticed Anabelle staring at her vehicle, her arms wrapped around each other across her chest. He stopped. Rolled down the window. “Anabelle, it’s freezing cold out there.”
She turned her head and stared at him. He got out, circled the hood and slid an arm around her. She was shivering badly. “You’re coming with me.”
She didn’t resist, which told him she was in very bad shape.
“Do you want to talk?” he asked as they drove. Reality was sinking in and he had to push it back in order to get them home.
“Can’t.”
“You can cry. I-I feel like bawling.”
“No. Be quiet and get me away from here.”
Her apartment wasn’t far from the station. Thankfully, this was Hidden Cove and not New York, so he found a space on the street.
Hurrying to the passenger side, he opened her door, reached in, undid her seatbelt and helped her out. She was trembling badly now, though the heater had blasted warmth on the way here. He secured her against him and moved them slowly to the building entrance.
The doorman frowned. “Sergeant? What’s wrong?”
“We lost someone.” Gideon struggled to keep his voice even.
“Go on up.”
At her apartment door, he asked, “Key, honey?”
Her face blanked.
He stuck his hand in her pocket. Found it and unlocked the door. She didn’t protest when he went into the apartment with her. They barely made it to the couch. They didn’t take off their coats, but sank down. He took her in his arms and drew her close.
Then, they both came apart.
Chapter 6
* * *
Anabelle came awake with a start. “No!!!!”
From beside her, a voice said, “Shh, you were dreaming.”
Her head snapped around. In the dim light coming from a lamp in the corner, she saw him. “Gid? What are you…?” She gasped and her hand clapped over her mouth briefly. “I remember. She’s dead, isn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
She scanned her bedroom, the same as always, but so different today. “I don’t…why are you here?”
“We were…are both destroyed. I drove you home and stayed.” His eyes were rimmed with red and his hair still damp.
“I remember sobbing in the living room.”
“Along with me.”
She gave him a wobbly smile, then searched for his hand on the mattress. When it came up to meet hers, she held it tightly.
“Lay back,” he whispered.
She did, then realized she’d been sleeping on his pillow. They were both in their clothes from last night sans shoes. He’d drawn up the red fleece throw at the bottom of the bed.
“We didn’t do…you know, have sex. We were too upset.”
“I’m not sure whether I’m happy or sad about that.”
“Huh.”
Her eyes filled without warning. She turned into him, and the scent of him was soothing. “Oh, Gideon. It was my fault.”
“You tried that line last night. The only fault here I can see is on the Savage Sisters and The Good Girls.”
“That’s who the other gang was?”
“I saw the news this morning on my phone. I’ve been up awhile. They’re a girl gang from over in Bayview. When they were driven out of there, they went to New York, but now they’re targeting Hidden Cove for their new home.”
She swallowed hard. “Who—who stabbed TJ?”
“Don’t know yet. SWAT’s giving a report today, but my guess is they don’t know how it went down either.”
“Poor TJ. She’d just met a guy, after all this time. She was happy and looking forward to the future.” Tears coursed down Anabelle’s cheeks. “I really liked her.”
“Everybody did. This is a big blow to all of us.”
“We need more people on the task force.”
“Maybe. But we shouldn’t make any big decisions in this emotional state.”
She cocked her head. “How come you’re so rational?”
“I wasn’t last night. Now I’m thinking more clearly.”
“What time is it?”
“Six.”
“What do you think will happen today?”
“There’s a meeting at eleven. The chief ordered everybody to stay home until then.”
Sliding down, she put her head on his chest. “Can we sleep more?”
“I hope so.”
She closed her eyes.
When she awoke, she found Gideon on the side of the bed, his hand on her arm. “Hey, sleepyhead, you have to get up now.”
She opened her eyes. And remembered. Again.
“It’s the worst time, isn’t it? The next morning when it hits you?”
“Yeah.”
“Sit up and have some coffee.”
She eased up to lean against the headboard. “You’re dressed.”
“Yeah. I went home in time to get the kids off to school. Mama said they didn’t know anything.”
“Did you leave it at that?”
“No, I told them that there was an incident last night in case they hear about it in school. I heard on the TV that the department hasn’t announced TJ’s death yet. The kids know I’m fine.”
She sipped her coffee. It was dark and bitter and suited her.
“But, you gotta shower.” He leaned in and kissed her nose. “You smell like I did.”
“I guess.”
“I’ll make breakfast.”
“No, I couldn’t eat.”
“That’s the worst thing we can do. We ha
ve to take care of ourselves so we can sort this out and deal with our feelings.”
“All right.”
He stood. She pulled his head down. Kissed him on the lips. Then said, “I know, my breath.”
He chuckled. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
* * *
Coffee and donuts awaited them in the conference room. Brolin and Radford took cups of java, but no one touched the sweets. Chief Jaspers and Mayor Daniels sat with them. The chief wouldn’t be complimenting them today.
“Hi, everybody. I hope you got sleep.” This from Jaspers. His voice was crisp and no nonsense but his face was taut, his shoulders stiff.
The mayor leaned forward and made eye contact with each of them. “Anabelle, Gideon, Andy, Buck, I’m so sorry about your colleague.”
They nodded out of respect.
“Do you know how TJ got hurt?” Anabelle asked.
“SWAT thinks that one of the gang members on the ground had a knife in her boot,” the chief said sadly. “The girl got TJ when she went in with the EMT’s and tried to help the injured.”
Gideon’s hands fisted. “Unbelievable.”
“What I want to do today is debrief about the incident. I’m not going to say mistakes because nobody made one except the girls who fought.”
“We didn’t have enough people.” Radford’s face was drawn, and he slumped back in the chair.
“Let’s address that. If you had more members, what would you have done differently?”
“We could have intervened in the fight. Tried to disarm them,” Buck retorted.
“You’d try to disarm two groups of gang members who were high on adrenaline and who knows what else? With no protective equipment.”
His stark answer landed on its targets.
“Listen, I can get you more people if you need them. Or even another task force. But know right now, if you honestly think you should have gone, without protection and equipment like SWAT, into the middle of that melee, I’m going to ask you to resign from the task force and the department.”
No one spoke. Finally, Anabelle sat forward. “I know we shouldn’t have gone in. We didn’t. We did some right things.”
“We all had guns.” This from Buck. “Should we have used them?”