Lost Honor (Cole and Hudson Series Book 1)

by D. Humphries

  “I want to see your hands. Put them up.”

  Connor stepped aggressively forward, giving no regard to the rest of the scene. It was up to Olivia. She recalled how the Commissioner so readily delegated her to keeping Connor in check.

  She understood now. It wasn’t just his perspective on the boy killer case that was skewed, but his entire philosophy on how to be a cop. She’d only known him for a few hours, but the kind of man who would smile and greet someone the way he did would never behave this way in the field.

  Olivia quickly scouted the rest of the yard. No one in sight except for the perp and no standard escape routes except for the fence gate. She did a quick sweep of the windows and back door but it did not appear that anyone was lurking behind the curtains or blinds. Content that civilian casualties wouldn’t be an issue, she stepped forward to join Connor.

  The trespasser still hadn’t brought his hands into plain view, and Connor’s grip on his pistol tightened. He drew it from the holster.

  “Did you hear me? I said hands up!”

  Getting a good angle proved difficult, but as far as Olivia could tell, the man’s arms were folded behind his back with his hands locked around his forearms. How could he possibly be carrying a gun in that position? “Connor, wait. I don’t think he’s armed.”

  He turned to her briefly, “Like hell he’s not.”

  Then back to the trespasser, “Don’t give me a reason to pull the trigger. Hands up. NOW!”

  In return, all the perp gave was that continued glassy stare. He wasn’t moving, he wasn’t speaking. He was entirely docile. Olivia refused to let Connor tarnish his record by making the wrong call.

  “Do not shoot. He’s unarmed and he’s not hostile. Don’t do this to him or to yourself.”

  “I’m not giving him the chance to hurt anyone, so he’d better show me his hands if he wants to get out of this unharmed.”

  “Look around, Connor. There’s no one here. He has no one to hurt. And you’re one bad decision away from ending your career.”

  It was hearing the word “career” that triggered something. Connor lowered his gun just enough. The anger in his eyes washed away, and behind us came the footsteps of the other two officers.

  “He’s unarmed,” Olivia shouted towards them before Connor had a chance to infect them with his gung-ho attitude.

  They watched the other officers approach slowly and arrest the man. Connor watched anxiously the whole time, up until they put the man in cuffs, revealing that Olivia had been right all along.

  “I need a breather,” he gasped and hurried back to the car.

  Chapter 3

  IT TURNED OUT THAT THE WIFE HAD BEEN THE ONE who called the police to remove her trespassing husband. She’d kicked him out a few days prior but since she had no legal basis to have him removed from the premises, and he’d been completely non-violent, there wasn’t anything the police could do to help her.

  Nonetheless, the circumstances of it all still frustrated Olivia. How could two people treat each other like that? It made her think of herself and Connor. In a sense, they were in a union, but the whole drive back to the station carried on in silence. It wasn’t until they finally got back that he commanded her into his office and began his assault.

  “Maybe he wasn’t armed. I don’t care anymore. What I won’t deal with is you tagging along on scene to contradict everything I do. I do what I do to save lives. Protecting criminals isn’t part of that deal.”

  “You were on the verge of brutalizing him! Last I checked that’s not what police exist for.”

  “If by brutalizing, you mean taking every step necessary to prevent unnecessary casualties, then yes. I’ll gladly brutalize him and anyone else.”

  “That’s my point!” Olivia’s olive cheeks flush red. “The only casualty there could have been at that scene was a husband and father when you shot him down because—because for some reason, you think killing somehow equates to justice.”

  “Oh, what do you know about justice? Big detective from the city, what do you know? You might be the type who’s content with letting killers run loose, but I’m not.” His sturdy chest began to breathe heavy. He filled his shirt like an overstretched balloon. It was sure to pop at any moment.

  “So that’s what all this grandstanding is about. You let one guy get away and it ruins you.”

  “My best friend is dead—he’s dead!—because I made the wrong call.” Connor threw himself against the far wall. His chair collapsed from the force of him rising.

  Vibrations rumbled from where his fists pounded the wall and shook the floor where Olivia stood. She thought she heard a sniffle from him but knew better than to throw that angle at him. That wasn’t how she conducted herself, and she refused to let anything transform her into a lesser person.

  “I read about it in the papers. They make you out to be a hero. They say he would have done worse but you held your ground to fight him off. And when you walk out on that floor, I see how other officers look at you.”

  “You don’t know the first thing about me, Olivia.” Connor’s voice trembled. He struggled just to keep himself together, but Olivia didn’t stop pressing.

  “I’ve got a kid at home, you know. A five-year-old boy. Raising him all by myself so he’s got no one else to show him right from wrong. The person I read about in the papers, that’s the kind of person I’d be proud to let him admire. Not the person I saw today. Whatever you think about me, we’re partners, and that means more than just sharing a car.”

  “Too bad.” Connor is composed now and steady. “That’s all I’ve got to share with you. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”

  Of course he’d say that. Olivia knew enough about depression and stress that solitude would not absolve him of the thoughts that plagued him. He needed comfort, not isolation.

  The death of his partners was having more of an effect on him that he could deal with alone. “Just help me to understand what you’re going through,” she offered. She took one tentative step forward, but Connor lunged and slammed down on the desk.

  “Out! Now!”

  She didn’t need to be told again. Without another word, she departed the room.

  Chapter 4

  SHORTLY AFTER LEAVING HERSELF, Olivia heard heavy footsteps behind her. Her heart began to pound in her chest. He’s going to hit me, she thought, but she didn’t dare make a scene.

  She kept walking, albeit a bit faster. And then Connor passed. The Commissioner Casey saw him rushing madly for the front door and stepped between him and the exit.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I need a breather. I’ll be back.” For a moment, it seemed as though a confrontation was imminent. Luckily, nothing like that happened. The Commissioner stepped aside for a fuming Connor to step out.

  He went straight for his personal car, jumped in, and didn’t even bother putting on a seatbelt before starting the ignition.

  It had been three days since the incident. Since then, he refused to return. Connor heard Olivia’s voice on repeat, chastising him over and over again. He knew she was right, even if only a little. But perhaps it was time he at least tried to bury some of his demons.

  The plaza where the shooting occurred was about five miles from the station. The closer Connor got, the more he remembered from the drive there on that fateful night.

  The seat next to him had been occupied by a smiling goofball. He’d always been the life of the station; he always knew how to pull everyone out of a slump. Now that he was gone, Connor felt the weight of the world crushing him.

  Up at the plaza, police tape still cordoned off the area. Officers came out every day since the shooting to comb the area for more evidence. No such luck. Considering there were no other cars there, Connor assumed they’d given it up. That was better for him because it made slipping into the area easier.

  Something up on the staircase immediately caught his attention.

  First, he saw a vis
ion of the killer running from the top of those steps to duck behind a car which was no longer there.

  Then he saw the flowers and chocolate boxes, and the little, wrapped presents all bundled together at the bottom of the stairs. It was a monument to the fallen officers. All of this was right at the spot where Connor had shot the perp.

  Upon further inspection, he found photographs, handmade cards, and a number of letters. Two large pictures, one of each of the slain officers, were propped up by wire stands.

  Connor wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. His knees gave out. He fell forward, nearly toppling over the monument. Then he pulled out his personal phone and flipped through the pages of apps.

  He hadn’t touched social media at all since the shooting, but seeing how much effort had been put into remembrance of his dead friends, the selfishness of his decision became evident.

  He scrolled through dozens of messages from family and friends on Facebook and Twitter. Each message was filled with support and words of encouragement. Those were the words he needed to read on the night of the shooting.

  They were the same words he couldn’t bring himself to write, because reading them validated everything that happened. Acknowledging them meant that he could no longer run away from everything that happened.

  Tears were now coming on so strongly that it was pointless to bother wiping them away.

  Connor gave himself fifteen minutes to sit there and absorb the situation. If he could have, he would have stayed all day. But he had a job to do. He had to bring justice to the person who gave him a reason to cry.

  Before that, though, there was one more place he needed to see.

  Across the river and well into the residential area, Summit Springs boasted one of the finest school districts in the state. Connor pulled into the parent pickup of the local elementary school and put his car in park.

  No one was there. Olivia claimed she had a five-year-old son. He checked the time. They would be getting out by now and there were other cars in the pickup lane.

  There was a clicking sound and roughly half a dozen children rushed from the building towards the lined up parents. Then it struck Connor what was happening.

  Typically, everyone gathered outside and waited for their parent’s car to pull up. It couldn’t be a coincidence that mere days after a landmark shooting, the children were being kept indoors at the end of the school day.

  After all, the police still didn’t know where the killer was. Connor’s fists clenched around the steering wheel agonizing over that thought.

  Out of the school comes a boy with familiar hair: dark brown and wavy, halfway down to his shoulders. He recognized the child immediately as belonging to Olivia.

  He’d never given much time before to memorizing her features, but there was something completely distinctive about the boy that drew his gaze.

  Sure enough, he ran out to a car against which Olivia leaned. She beamed a wide smile at him and lifted the boy over her head. The boy giggled. Smiling wider now, Olivia dug her head into the boy’s stomach, smothering it in kisses.

  Chapter 5

  CONNOR MADE IT BACK TO THE STATION LONG BEFORE OLIVIA DID. Unlike him, she had to make a trip home before returning to work.

  He felt himself bubbling with envy. Outside of work, nothing ever quite caught his attention. Plenty of women came in and out of his life—enough that some of his peers even envied him—but none of it stuck.

  He failed to separate himself from policing for long enough to see much value in anything else. It didn’t bother him, at least it never had until he saw how happy Olivia was with her own son. She had a husband and a child to go home to every day.

  When Connor went home, he knew there’d be nothing awaiting him but his misery. No wife, no children…not even a dog.

  Olivia returned to the station looking flustered but upbeat. She wore the remnants of the smile shared with her son. Connor turned his head down.

  “Finally,” the Commissioner’s voice sounded from the central desk. “Olivia, we’ll have to make accommodations for you. Talk with me later about it. For now, we’ve got a warrant to search our killer’s house.

  We had a credible tip come in not long ago as you and Olivia were making your way back the station. A concerned citizen stepped up to the plate and called the Crime Tip line.

  The tip said to check out a Warren Simmons. Connor—up here please. You know him, I know him. Hell, who doesn’t know him? Long time ago, I worked with his father.”

  The Commissioner paused there and scowled. “He’ll be on the run, so chances are you won’t be seeing him there. Gather evidence. That’s what I need from the two of you. Clear?”

  “Clear,” Olivia and Connor said together.

  “Here,” as he handed over the case file to Olivia. “It’s everything we’ve got. Look it over on your way there.”

  Getting into the car was nothing short of awkward. Olivia had convinced herself that Connor would never open up. It came as an utter shock that they’d scarcely hit the road before he started up.

  “Being an officer is the only thing I’m good at.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “No, I listened to you and I’ve done some thinking today. You were right. If we’re going to be partners, it’s not just about sharing duties.” He sighed.

  “I played football throughout college, but I never made it professionally. I was arrogant, in hindsight. Picked a stupid major. The force seemed my only option, either that or military. This is what I picked.”

  They drove halfway there in silence. Olivia went over the case file until the pages were seared into memory.

  She then began turning over the new information regarding Connor which he had shared. More pieces fit themselves together. It made sense that his failure would weigh him down so much if he felt he had nothing else to live for.

  “You’re not the only one dealing with issues,” Olivia blurted out. “The reason I moved here is because I wanted a better place to raise my son. I’m all he’s got, so I have to make sure he grows up in an environment where he can be nurtured.”

  “You’re not married?” Connor didn’t bother hiding the surprise in his voice. It leaked out of him like saliva from a drooling baby.

  That tone, both accusatory and astonished, sent a chill down Olivia’s spine. She remembered their earlier conversation about guns and decided it best to leave the issue as brief as possible.

  “Divorced.”

  Awkwardness returned to the drive. It was back to staring out an open window and taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the city. Luckily, they weren’t far from their destination.

  Connor pulled into a pristine driveway. Like every driveway in the subdivision, it failed to distinguish itself from any other.

  Olivia was taking it all in but this suburb, like a lot of the other suburbs, looked to her like a thousand clones ready to attack. Certainly, there was an edginess to the place, but that was natural. There was a killer on the loose.

  “Here,” Connor pointed to the mailbox. SIMMONS was etched into the black-painted steel.

  “Single story houses. The type of thing a twenty-five year veteran police officer could afford. Come on.”

  He hurried up the driveway with Olivia at his heels. He gave two knocks at the door. “Police!”

  No answer. He gave it two more knocks. “Police! We have a warrant to search your home.”

  When no one responded after the second knock, Connor finally found an avenue towards which to direct his anger. He reared backwards and thrust his foot against the door. Wood splintered at the handle, flying inwards.

  “I’m going to assume there wasn’t a subtler way to go about that,” asked Olivia.

  “You wouldn’t be wrong.”

  Connor drew his pistol and proceeded slowly through the house.

  “If he was in here, he would have scrambled for an exit by now.”

  “Unless he’s gunning for cops.”

  The
idea never occurred to Olivia. Connor’s personal vendetta aside, he posed a relevant point. The only people he killed that night were cops which was odd considering it seemed his objective had been the murder of a particular store owner: an old employer.

  Everything in the house was a mess. Newspapers were strewn across the floor, couches, and dining table. Also on the dining table were several NRA magazines, a cold cup of coffee, and numerous diagrams.

  Olivia looked over them only briefly, but none of them indicated that the attack at the plaza was pre-meditated. The television was on but muted. Local news currently played.

  “Do you think he saw himself get coverage and left?” Olivia offered.

  Connor shook his head. “Why would he mute the TV instead of turning it off? Doesn’t make sense, but doesn’t seem all that important either. The guy clearly lived like a slob.”

  He gestured towards a door. “Here. Bedroom.”

  The two made a slow approach.

  Connor, took point, readying his pistol against the door. Olivia turned the handle slowly and threw it open for Connor to rush in and clear the room. He swept across the room efficiently.

  This gave Olivia another reason to re-evaluate her perspective on his competence as a policeman. Take away the lust for revenge, and his procedural execution was top-notch. Once he gave the sign that the room was clear, she followed him in, grinning.

  “What’s the smile for?”

  “It’s nothing. The computer.” She pointed to a heavily modified desktop computer. “What do you suppose he needs two monitors for?” Olivia’s detective background and skills picked up on things others might not see.

  “I’d rather not think about it.” Connor returned his gun to its holster and leaned over the workstation.

  Warren kept it surprisingly clean, even dusted it down. Or maybe he’d only recently left. It was hard to tell. But when Connor jiggled the mouse and the screens lit up, it became apparent that the latter was more likely.