by G.M. Shephard

Tension is running high amongst HPD which results in a mistaken identity and officer involved shooting. Desperate to end the deadly manhunt, warrants are issued for Broderick's parents and Karen volunteers to be incarcerated in Dallas County Women's Detention Center in hopes of learning Seth's whereabouts. Meanwhile, Megan and Gene's relationship blossoms as they spend their first day together since his return to the U.S.

Angel S:2 E:6

By G.M. Shephard

Copyright © 2014

Edited by: jeffusually

—

The sound of gunfire below pierced my ears. Two officers were barricaded behind their cruiser’s doors, unloading their magazines into the blue Ford F-150. I watched the scene unfold below, trying to ascertain the situation and devise an appropriate response. Two additional cruisers arrived on scene, the officers exiting their vehicles and opening fire on the Ford.

“Angel, what’s happening?”

“Police have him pinned down. They’re riddling his truck.”

“Any casualties?”

“Negative, no officers down, thermal shows him crouching on the passenger side. He’s not returning fire.” As I spoke, the whole scene below seemed out of place. The tough vengeful son of a bitch Broderick was, was suddenly reduced to a pussy, curled up in the fetal position in the front seat. Something wasn’t right.

“Screw it,” I said, accelerating toward the truck below.

“What are you doing?” Ignoring Reid, I hit the ground hard, shattering the pavement next to the passenger door and triggering a break in the gunfire. As the officers on scene began approaching the vehicle, weapons raised, I heard the faint cry of an infant from within the truck.

“Oh shit,” I said as one of the officers sighted the driver and called out his position in the passenger seat. Another barrage of gunfire erupted, piercing the back cab of the pickup. Without care of being seen, I dashed, placing my body between the cops and the passenger seat, blocking the gunfire with my invincible, yet cloaked body, appearing only as a blur.

“Angel, what’s going on?” Reid demanded as I deflected as many rounds as I could with my hands, my slender body an ineffective shield against a large target.

“Call off the attack.” Just as I called out, Reid barreled through the debris, pulling his car to a skidding halt behind the truck. He leapt out of the vehicle flailing his arms.

“Cease fire goddamn it,” Reid commanded, pulling his new rank on the responding officers. One at a time, they stopped firing, ejecting their spent magazines and reloading.

I used the brief distraction to take flight and hover above the scene.

“Jim, there’s a kid in the front seat.”

There was a brief pause as Reid, weapon trained on the front of the vehicle, moved to the rear of the truck.

“Police, I wanna see your hands. Place them outside the window where I can see them.”

“Don’t shoot goddamn it. I’m not armed.”

“Hands through the window, do it now and keep your mouth shut.” I watched as two hands appeared through the window. An officer approached Reid and handed him a bullhorn. Reid pushed him away, continuing with his normal voice. “Right hand, slowly open the door and push it open. Then I want to see those hands.”

The driver complied, opening the door as instructed, then presenting his wide spread hands to the police.

“Driver, slowly exit the vehicle and keep your hands where I can see them.”

“What about my son?”

“You first. Out of the truck.”

Below, a white man in his late thirties emerged. He wasn’t the large muscular man Broderick was, rather built but a smaller frame. His muscles appeared to be the product of hard labor vs someone hitting the gym every day.

“Driver, face forward and with one hand lift your shirt.” The driver lifted his blue flannel shirt, revealing a bare back. He slowly rotated, proving to Reid he was unarmed. He continued following instructions, kneeling down and crossing his legs.

“Passenger, exit the vehicle, keep your hands where we can seen them.”

“He’s a fucking toddler you assholes.”

“Jim, he’s not lying,” I said through the radio, hovering fifty feet above the car.

As another officer repeated Reid’s instructions, Jim inched forward, his .45 trained on the truck.

“Sergeant, what are you doing?” one of the cops asked as the sound of a child crying flooded the area.

“Clear,” Jim called out before handcuffing the driver.

—

“No sir, it was the same make and model, but not our boy’s truck,” Jim reported to his captain through the mobile phone.

“Son of a bitch. Is the driver okay?”

“Light injuries sir, some scratches from the glass. We roughed him up a little as I secured the vehicle, other than that he’s okay. Mistaken identity, a farmer in town visiting family for the holidays. He was really shaken up that we could have killed his kid.”

“There was a child in the car?”

“Yes, a two year old in a car seat up front. Kid’s okay, no injuries. The driver’s threatening a lawsuit.”

“He’s not fucking threatening, he will sue the shit out of us.”

“Captain, I’m afraid we have a problem. A civi caught the incident on his VHS camera. Press has it already.”

“Fucking assholes,” Jim heard as Brownly directed his voice to someone in the office with him.

“Gus, get those two broke dicks in here immediately. Oh Christ, this guy’s probably already lawyered up and is going to suck us dry,” Brownly yelled into the handset, not bothering to move it away as he barked orders to Ferguson. Reid moved the portable phone away just as Brownly slammed his fist on the desk.

“Captain, I think everyone is on edge in light of Miller,” Reid said.

“That’s no fucking excuse Reid. We don’t panic and open fire just because it’s the same blue Ford pickup. Hell, a pickup truck is the official vehicle of Texas. We need to stop being a bunch of pussies, afraid of taking fire. Shit, if we had killed an innocent kid, God help us.”

“Sir with all due respect, this isn’t the military, and even then, fear is a natural reaction.”

“Reid, shut the fuck up. I don’t give two shits. We are all sworn to protect the innocent, even if that means sacrificing ourselves in the process. I want each of my men to go home at the end of their tour, but, I’m not going to stand for civilian casualties because we’re stupid or afraid. The goddamn media’s gonna give me a colonoscopy. Gonna shove some of those big ass cameras right up my ass.”

“What do you need from me right now?” Reid said, not sure how to respond directly to Brownly’s comments.

“Ferguson is en route. Take charge until he arrives to relieve you then help with the investigation.”

Jim looked at his watch. It was 1pm, plenty of time to wrap this up, head back to the station, file the report and still make it to dinner with everyone tonight.

—

Ashley stood mesmerized by the tank of live lobsters, watching them as they lived out their final moments on Earth.

“You like lobster Ashley?” Megan asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had it before.”

“Well, tonight you can have anything you want, of course if it’s okay with your mommy,” Megan said, looking up at Liz for her approval.

“I don’t think she will like it, but if she wants, it’s okay with me as long as she eats it,” Liz said, taking a seat at the lounge table and carefully setting three glasses down. She divided them up, handing Ashley her Shirley Temple, then placing Megan’s martini in front of her. Ashley quickly grabbed the skewer of cherries and drew one off with her teeth.

“You did get in touch with them right?”

“Yeah, they will be here, they’re probably almost here.”

The three toasted, then took a sip of their drinks.

“You look like a very pretty young lady, I love your dress,” Megan said, complimenting Ashley’s long floral on white dress.

“Thank you Megan.” Liz gave her a look of displeasure.

“Liz, if it’s okay with you, I told her she can drop the doctor off my name.”

“She needs to respect adults.”

“And she does to a T. But we are friends and Doctor feels too formal for me.”

“Fair enough.”

A cold breeze blew in as the front door opened. Liz turned her head to see James limping through the crowd wearing a normal suit and tie. Karen’s puffy blond wavy hair peeked out from behind his equally tall frame.

“Hi, sorry we are late. We got tied up downtown.”

“Everything okay?” Megan asked

“Not really, but I’m willing to forget about it for a few hours.”

“Jeez, anyone hurt?”

“No, no casualties thank God.”

“I’m glad you are alright Jim.” Liz said.

“Liz, good to see you again,” he said, reaching out to hug her. “How have you been?”

“Been okay. Thanks for asking. Congratulations on your promotion, we’re really happy for you.”

“Thank you. Kind of a surprise since I just had one earlier in the year.”

“Well, you deserve it.” Jim turned and greeted Megan before finally facing Ashley. She froze in place, her counseling suddenly forgotten and her fear returned. She scooted off the stool and hid behind her mother, increasing the gap between her and Jim.

“Ashley, say hello to Mr. Reid.”

She shook her head in defiance, refusing to listen. Megan watched her reaction, carefully studying her movements as she tried to avoid Jim.

“Hey Ash,” Karen said, squatting down to Ashley’s level and taking her into her arms. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Of Jim? Jim’s a good friend of mine. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t find you and your mom. He got in a lot of trouble because he wouldn’t stop helping me look for you. He’s a good man, just like your daddy. I promise you, nothing bad will happen to you. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then go say hi.”

Slowly Ashley emerged from her safety net. Still afraid to approach, she remained brave enough to let him come closer.

“Hi there young lady. I brought you something Ashley. A gift. Will you accept it?” Megan watched as Ashley’s intrigue over the small wrapped box got the better of her.

“Ash, be polite and say hello before taking the gift, sweetie,” Karen said, drawing a look from Liz. After a few attempts, Ashley managed to formulate her greeting.

“That a girl,” Jim said, holding his hand out to shake.

—

“What can I get you Ma’am?”

“Manhattan with JD and a Rusty Nail.”

“Sure thing. Just need some ID.” I handed the bartender my license as Megan snuck in behind me.

“Hey you.”

“What’s up Doc?”

“Looks like that went well.”

“We’ll see, Ash can do amazing things when you bribe her. Let’s see how long it lasts.” Megan reached out and handed the bartender a twenty for the drinks before I had a chance to pay, insisting it was on her. He continued shaking my cocktail while keeping his eyes on Megan.

“You know, Liz was asking if you liked the clothes. I think she’s a little put off you came dressed like that.”

“Like what? It’s a suit, the way I always dress and appropriate for fine dining.”

“I know, it’s just. It’s just, I think Ashley was looking forward to seeing you dressed up.”

“Oh come on. I don’t want to go out feeling bare. Besides, I don’t have any shoes that match.”

“Look, do what you want. You know me, I’m not pushing you.”

“But you are, you are going to guilt me into it. Fine. Bring my drink to the table and tell them I will be back in five minutes.”

“Where are you going?”

“To change, where else?” I took my drink and gulped it, setting it back on the bar. “Never mind that, get me another and take that to the table,” I said, hurrying out.

“Karen,” Megan called out. As I turned she tossed her keys. “Top shelf of my closet on the left, there’s a red box with a pair of shoes that will fit you. Have at them, they will go with the red gown.”

—-

“She’s kidding” I said aloud, standing up in the heels. My ankles wobbled as I took my first step, hating everything I was doing. If I could sweat, I would be drenched right now from the fear of going out in public dressed for display.

Slowly, I took a step forward, careful not to put my weight on the heel, remembering the last attempt in Liz’s shoes. It was easier walking on my toes, allowing me to walk with fewer difficulties. Still, every several steps my feet gave out from under me. My ankle twisted and folded under me.

“Screw this,” I said, lifting my leg to remove the shoe, holding my balance by defying gravity. I had the buckle half way undone when it came to me. I refastened the buckle and stood straight, applying just enough lift to take the weight off the shoes. Lighter on my feet, I walked the length of my bedroom with greater fluidity.

“Okay Michael, you can do this. Only tonight, suck it up for Ash and your beautiful wife.” After tying my hair back, I donned my black overcoat, scanning the surrounding apartments for body heat. The area clear, I stepped out back and lifted off, streaking high into the sky.

—-

“Megan, where’s Aunt Karen?”

“She had to go home real quick. She will be back any minute. Did you decide what you wanted?”

“I can’t decide.”

“She has been gone a while. What did she need to go home for?” Liz asked, a little annoyed.

“Here she is,” Reid said, spying her as she walked in through the front door fidgeting with her hair. She wandered the restaurant a moment until Reid heard Megan say in a quiet normal table voice.

“Turn to your left Karen.” Reid caught on and reached his arm out waving to her. A waiter intercepted her just as she turned and saw Reid’s hand, and escorted her to the table.

“So sorry to keep you waiting. How long have you been at the table?’

“Just a couple minutes,” Jim said, lying.

“Can I take your coat Ma’am?”

Megan smiled as Karen stood as if confused for a moment.

“Yeah, sure,” she finally said, fumbling with the sash and buttons on her coat. Megan watched Ashley’s eyes widen as the bright red dress became visible and the coat fell into the hands of the waiter who was caught in a trance staring at Karen’s figure.

“Oh wow Aunt Karen, you are really cute in that.” Megan and Liz erupted in laughter while Reid simply chuckled and stood to let his friend in.

“Why thank you Ash.”

“Did you go home to change?”

“I did. I didn’t realize how dirty my suit was, so I ran home. You like it?”

“Of course, I picked it out just for you.”

“I know you did, and an excellent job, you know what I like.”

“So now that we are all here, why not have a toast?” Liz said, raising her glass

—

“You two assholes get the fuck in my office right now,” Brownly screamed, tossing objects off his desk. He marched over to the door, slamming it shut. Officer Cruz and Officer Lenard jumped as they stood at attention. Brownly walked up to Cruz, planting his face inches away.

“How long you been a cop Cruz?”

“Sir, fifteen years.”

“You mind telling me at what point in that fifteen years we introduced a shoot first ask questions later policy?”

“Captain—”

“—Shut your fucking hole you stupid shit. You have any idea what you just did to this department? I have a media circus outside wanting to take a bite out of my ass and that of Chief Gormley’s. So, let’s hear it, what in God’s name was rolling through those shit for brains heads of yours?”

“Sir,” Lenard started, stuttering from the menacing presence Brownly had, knowing the man was about to devour him and spit him out. “The suspect’s truck—”

“—He’s not a suspect, he’s an innocent bystander who is going to make a killing when the department lawyers settle with him.”

“Yes Sir.”

“Captain, we observed the vehicle fail to stop at a red light heading southwest on Walker and make a hard right turn onto Travis. He nearly caused a collision in the intersection and sped down Travis at approximately 45mph. We simply thought it was our boy in flight.”

“So you two thought you would be heroes? Was it not made clear enough to you how dangerous this man is. He can seriously fuck you up before you even know what hit you. You dumb fucks were given specific instructions to call for backup. But no, you two had to pull this Lone Ranger crap. Worse, you endangered the life of a two year old. That kid and his father are damn lucky you can’t shoot for shit. As much as I need every man on duty hunting this asshole, I have no choice. The Mayor himself is receiving a shit storm from the public. Orders came straight from him, you two are on suspension pending a formal hearing. IAD will contact you regarding the investigation. Give me your shields and get the fuck out of my sight.

The two officers handed over their badges, then cowered out the door, passing the other officers who arrived as their backup.

“You four get in here.”

—

“Need help Ash?” I asked as she poked at the lobster, wondering where to start.

“I don’t think I want to eat this.”

“Ashley Rene. You are going to eat it. You insisted on ordering that. We don’t waste food, you know that.”

“But it looks gross.”

“It does doesn’t it?” I said, agreeing with her while lifting the lobster and wiggling it, raising my voice so that is was even squeakier than it already was. “But I taste really good. Eat me, eat me.” Ashley giggled at my crustacean reanimation. With the small fork, I pointed to the claw. “This right here is the best part. Let me get the meat for you.”

I took the claw in one hand, pinching at the base with my still painted nails. The lobster’s armor plating was outmatched against my strength. I effortlessly popped the arm off, then crushed the main claw. I peeled the shell away, dropping the claw meat on the plate in front of her.

“Dip that in the butter and try it. You’ll like it.”

Ashley took a mouthful sucking on the dripping butter. Her face lit up, enjoying the flavor as she began chewing on the soft meat.

“You like?”

With her mouth full, Ash simply held up her right thumb indicating her approval. I cracked the other claw, then prepared the tail before starting on my steak.

“You know there’s this place in Amarillo where you can order a 96 oz steak. Thing is this big.” Reid held his hands out to show the size. “They load your plate with lots of fixins. If you can finish the whole meal, everyone at the table eats for free.”

“My dad and I went there. He only made it half way through. Doesn’t some pro ball player have the record of 9 minutes?” Megan said, joining in the conversation. Bet you can put the whole meal away Karen.”

“Sounds pretty awesome, when do you guys wanna go?”

“Jim, you are a Texas native like Megan right?” Liz said, interrupting and diverting the conversation.

“That’s right. Was born in Abilene. Small dump of a town. Folks moved to San Antonio in ’58 and opened a Texas BBQ pit near the base.

“Kelly?” I asked.

“That’s right. Did a pretty good business. He and my mom moved to Houston in ’65. I stayed and ran the restaurant into the ground while they opened a couple locations in Houston. In ’67, I joined the police academy and worked for the first three years in San Antonio before transferring to Houston.

“What’s the restaurant’s name”

“Cranky Hanks.”

“Cranky Hanks? Your family owned that?” I said without thinking. Megan kicked me under the table.

“You’ve heard of it? My pop, Hank Reid, sold the last one five years ago to some foreigners who destroyed it overnight.”

“Oh, just heard a lot of people raving about it, upset it was sold,” I said, quickly thinking my way out.

“Michael and I were devastated when it sold. You’re right, the new owners had no idea how to run a business. A crying shame,” Liz chimed in.

“Well, I will have to invite you all over for a family BBQ sometime. Dad’s old and tired, but once a week, he fires up the smoker.”

“Would love that,” Liz said.

“How about you Liz, where are you from?”

“Grew up in Florida. Nothing special.

“She met my daddy in Florida.”

“Well I would say that’s special,” Jim said, changing his voice. “Have you seen where your mommy grew up?”

Ashley nodded her head yes while taking a sip of her Shirley Temple.

“We went back there for Michael’s launch,” Liz explained. “We spent the last few weeks with him. After he, Megan and the rest of the crew transferred to the Deliverance and were safely on their way, I took Ashley to Disney World and brought her to see my old home, her father’s old Air Force Base and the restaurant I met him at.”

“I don’t think I ever heard that story Liz, how you and Michael met,” Megan said. I sat there simply listening with my arm wrapped around my daughter. The conversation was full of topics I wanted to take part in, but couldn’t. Instead I silently repeated to myself to keep my mouth shut, that saying something could give me away.

“Understandable Megan. Michael and I had several moments we kept to ourselves.”

“Not even how you met?”

“Nope. Even our engagement story is just for us.”

“Never heard of that before. Well the guys at least don’t talk about any of that stuff, but you Liz?”

“I know, strange, but that’s the way we are.”

“It’s not strange. I think it’s rather cute. Makes the moment much more intimate. Everyone heard my engagement story with dirtbag. But, now it’s all but forgotten.” Megan said.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, resuming our feast. Ashley found the tail to be a little tougher to eat and resorted to poking at it before Liz scolded her and demanded she finish what she ordered. There was a time I would have fought her as well, instilling some uncomfortable parenting, instead I traded meals. She took a liking to the softer crab while my impervious teeth ground up the tough lobster without resistance.

“Ash,” I said, “you didn’t show me what Mr. Reid bought you.”

She set her fork down and lifted the small black box off the seat next to her. Her little hands struggled with the box a moment before she finally lifted the lid. Inside was a small black leather wallet. My first instinct was Jim had a thing for giving wallets until Ash lifted it out and opened it, revealing 3/4 scale police badge.

“Oh wow Ash, that’s pretty cool.” On the top it had her first initial and last name engraved. Along the lower portion it read “Jr. Detective.”

“Mr. Reid says I’m a Jr. Cop.”

“You are? You think you might want to be a real policewoman when you get older?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know Ashley, Aunt Karen helps me solve crimes by using her brain. Your mother tells me you are pretty smart too. We need smart people to help us catch bad guys.”

In my peripheral vision I saw Liz’s face change. She reached out and took a large gulp of her cocktail. As I kicked Jim’s leg, signaling him to stop the conversation, Megan jumped in, also catching Liz’s reaction.

“You know Ash, I met with a girl scout troop the other day and told them about my time as an astronaut. You ever think about being a girl scout? They do lots of fun activities and help out the community.”

“Actually Megan, that’s a great idea,” Liz said, snapping out of her funk. “Ashley needs to interact with other girls her age. How about it honey, you wanna join?”

“I guess.”

“I loved the boy scouts when I was a kid. My dad went with me on many camping trips and field trips. The scouts is a great organization, all kids should get involved.”

The conversation dwindled as the waiter arrived with the dessert tray. Ash as usual couldn’t make up her mind and spent several minutes deciding between the ice cream sundae and the chocolate cake, eventually settling on the cake. Her reasoning, she could get a sundae anytime, but cake was for special occasions. The conversation was just starting to resume when Jim’s pager went off.

—

Reid thumbed through the report, quickly studying facts he anticipated. The sets of fingerprints lifted off the van indeed belonged to Broderick. He wasn’t trying at all to hide his activities, but proudly leaving his signature after each attack.

“How the hell did he drive from Dallas to Houston in that beat up van and not manage to get pulled over?” Brownly asked.

“We checked the vehicle out, all the lights worked, registration was up to date, tires not worn out. If he drove the speed limit, there would be little reason to pull him over. The van on the highway gets about 19 mpg with a 15 gallon tank. Could easily make the trip without stopping,” Ferguson said. “Personally, if I saw the vehicle roll into town I might have found a reason to pull him over, but let’s face it Captain, we weren’t looking for a VDub and certainly weren’t worried at the time about some stoners coming to town.”

“Okay, I will give you that, we had bigger fish to fry. But now we know, this guy is planning some elaborate attacks.”

“Sir,” I said, pausing for permission to speak.

“Yes, you have something to add Ms. Guest?”

“He’s been very dramatic so far. Mercury Savings, blowing his own house, hitting a parked police car in broad daylight with a grenade launcher, then he suddenly takes to silent long range sniping. Why the sudden change in tactics?”

“Geez, that’s easy. He likely knows we are on to him and now he’s being careful,” Ferguson answered.

“At first that’s a good analysis, but I would think he would start being careful after we tossed his house and launched the manhunt after the bombing. No, Miller was a very personal hit. He had to know Miller’s patrol and set up that vehicle right in his crosshairs.”

“Ms. Guest and I are trying to find a connection. So far we have several incidents, nothing substantial. With your permission, I would like to question other officers who worked with them while they were partnered up. See if we can uncover any other incidents we might not be aware of,” Reid said, backing my analysis up.

“Done, get on it.”

“What about Mrs. Miller? Maybe an affair?” I asked.

“Good. Very unlikely she would leave one asshole for another, but I’ve encountered stranger affairs in my time,” the Captain replied.

I felt proud of myself actually being invited as a civilian with no credentials to take part in the meeting with the upper ranks. My whole adult life revolved around aviation. I studied aerodynamic engineering, physics, foreign languages, escape and evasion, survival, self defense and eventually became an astronaut. Yet here I was working with local law enforcement trying to catch a murderer. My only tools were Kaaren’s brain and body. With her mental capability I could expand my knowledge as fast as I could read and boy could I turn the pages.

Still, I wasn’t operating at her full potential. There was much I’d mastered of her capabilities, but I knew there was so much more. How I wish I had access to Kaaren’s knowledge. Knowledge she backed up for my use, knowing it would transfer to my body. Even my remote viewing was useless with Broderick’s belongings destroyed.

“Brennan, how are the warrants coming along?”

“Judge O’Connor is reviewing them as we speak, should have a green light in an hour. I have travel arrangements on standby and my boys in Dallas are ready to greet us.”

“Wait, warrants?” Reid asked.

“Sorry Jim, we are taking Mr. and Mrs. Broderick into custody They’ve been harboring a known fugitive and that’s enough to take them in.”

“How so?”

“The call to Seth’s house originated from their guest house,” Brennan said.

“It’s possible he snuck in and they were unaware,” I added.

“I don’t give a shit, it’s time he faced the fact his son’s a vile piece of shit and was held accountable for bringing him into existence,” Brownly barked.

“Jim, Captain and I think we can put the pressure up by taking them in and charging them. Either the parents crack, or he will.”

“Captain, Karen and I were talking about her getting close to the mother.”

“Not a chance, we are taking them in, I don’t have time to play games. Ms. Guest, your insight was been very helpful, but you don’t have any experience in undercover work. I’m not about to hold this operation up.”

“Fair enough,” I said, agreeing. Jim cocked his head, staring at the ceiling.

“Got something Reid?”

“I do. Instead of holding up the show with Karen, maybe we can use her after the arrest?”

“Go on,” Brownly said, intrigued.

“Karen,” he said, looking at me with an evil looking grin, “ever spent time behind bars?”

—

“Jim, be quiet. There’s no fucking way I’m going to sit in lockup dressed like a slut.”

“Karen, come on, we—”

“I’m walking then. It’s simply not going to happen.”

“Why are you so against this. Women dress like this all the time.”

“Not me.”

“Well, this isn’t going to work then.”

“Yes it will, but under my conditions, not yours. I go dressed like a student instead of a hooker. I’m in the tank for DWI. Seriously Jim, what a stupid idea. You think a sophisticated woman like Mrs. Broderick is going to strike up a conversation with a prostitute?”

Jim was silent as he calmed down and thought things through.

“Point taken.” He stood silent a moment, deep in thought. He pointed his finger at me, shaking it several times as he began laying out his new plan. “I have an idea how to play this that will have you two friends in no time.”

“Okay, share.”

“That’s the plan. Bring your overcoat, the one you had on at dinner.”

“Why?”

“Trust me. Dress however you want, preferably something comfortable that you don’t mind getting dirty and bring that coat.

“If you are screwing with me, I’ll knock down the jailhouse wall.”

“Hey, have some faith.”

“Okay. So, when do I go in?”

“Before the raid. It would look less suspicious if you are already in there.”

“No I won’t, she won’t even be thinking I’m undercover. She’s going to be scared out of her wits. When I was a teen, my dad had me locked up for a night. He was friends with a cop, picked me up for no reason. I was crying like a little girl when I got out. Trust me, she’s never been in jail.”

“That’s a great idea. Remind me if I ever have a kid to try that. It work?”

“Yes, cleaned my act up.”

“Very cool. I like your dad. Tell me more about him sometime.”

“Can they put me in later, I wanna run backup on your op in case there’s a fight.”

“Highly doubtful he’s there. The house has been under surveillance. We have Dallas SWAT going in along with some of our guys. There’s nothing you can do. Even with your camouflage, there’s too many eyes. I need you to get through to her when we deliver her.”

“Okay, but have someone ready to pull me out of there immediately, otherwise the walls are coming down.

“Fair enough.”

—

Megan pressed the button closing the garage door just as her phone inside began ringing. She cussed, looking at her watch and realizing it was nearly 11:30 pm. After Michael and Jim said their goodbyes, she drove Liz and Ashley home and ended up staying a couple of hours keeping Liz company after Ashley fell into a food coma and passed out on the couch.

The answering machine kicked in before she could make it to the kitchen. Relieved, she let the machine run its course as she stripped off her coat then kicked off her heels. As she reached for the rear zipper on her dress, the machine began recording.

“Hi Megan, it’s Eugene. Sorry for calling so late, but it’s still daytime for me and I’m wide awake. Thought you would still be up, but I guess you hit the sack early—”

Megan smiled, lifting the receiver of her portable, and fell back on her sofa like a teenage girl, her legs hanging over the armrest while her head sunk low on the soft cushion.

“—Hey you.”

“Oh you are awake. Screening your calls I see?”

“I just got home, was out for dinner.”

“Yeah, you go out with your folks?”

“Actually I was out with the Owens.”

“Really? How’s she doing? I heard the story about her. Broke my heart when I learned the details.”

“Well they’re doing just fine. I told Liz you were coming here. She said she would like to see you.

“That would be nice, I would like to pay my respects. How’s Michael’s daughter, Amy is it?

“Ashley. She’s quite well. She’s a lot of fun, full of energy. So how was your trip? You enjoying being back home?”

“Flight was rough, but hey, been through worse flights right?”

“That’s the truth. Turbulence on an airliner is nothing after you’ve been blasted into orbit.”

“Listen, I want nothing more than reminiscing over dinner with you tomorrow. I had a slight change of plans. Instead of dinner in the city, I thought we could get together earlier and head down to the ocean. Maybe spend the day in Galveston. What do you think?”

“Thought you were canceling on me at first.”

“Sorry, no I was just thinking of something different.”

“I thought we could go somewhere you’ve been craving the most.”

“Nah, nothing here worthwhile. Let’s go for a drive, I miss that the most. No checkpoints, no papers, no endless inquiries as to my purpose for traveling.”

“Sure Gene. It’s your welcome home party. Anything you desire,” Megan said. The freedom Gene spoke of was indeed worth coming home for. The months she spent in Russia, being restricted in her travels did create an element of claustrophobia. You feel like a prisoner in your own city, a criminal with a past whose every movement was called into question by men carrying automatic weapons.

It wasn’t freedom that Gene wanted, Megan suspected. Her instincts told her Gene’s motives to get out of Dodge were driven by an old ghost returning to regain control over his emotions.

“I just have one small request.”

“Sure Gene, what’s up?”

“Can you drive?”

—

“Don’t like flying?” I asked Jim, his face green. The other cops racked up a story for the books after Jim tossed what was left of his dinner from last night into all the available barf bags in the row. Some are born and bred to live in the sky, while others like Jim were destined to have both feet permanently planted on the ground. This was my first time in a plane since my whole world changed. It felt strange, taking an hour to fly from Houston to Dallas when I could orbit the planet a hundred times in that hour. The private Lear jet Brennan chartered was comfortable and roomy. I hated flying as a passenger, sitting in uncomfortable seats far away from the flight deck. The only control I had over the aircraft was the recline button on the seat and the service toggle near the ceiling light; that made me feel very out of control.

“Hate it. If God intended for us to fly, he would have given us wings.”

“I don’t have wings.”

“Cute Karen.”

“Relax Jim This is the fun part.”

Jim’s fingers were digging into the leather wrapped around the armrest of his seat as the plane began descending. I sat back in the chair reading a magazine without a care in the world.

“What’s that noise?”

“We’re going to die … ahhhhh,” I said, perhaps a little too loud.

“Screw you.”

“Lighten up Jim, it’s just the flaps, it’s completely normal, the pilot is lowering them to give the plane—.”

“—I don’t care what they are for, just tell me if we are going to die or not.”

“We?” I said out loud before leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I’ll be the first one off this plane if it goes down.” He gave me the dirty look I was expecting. “Relax, if anything happens, I’ll make sure we land safely. You think I would let anything happen to you?”

Still tense, he relaxed a bit as he thought about the security I brought to air travel. Jim leaned forward and gazed out the window, watching the ground grow larger as the plane descended on final approach.

—-

The Captain sat reviewing the reports piled up on his desk. He bit into the last of his sandwich while keeping his eyes glued to Lenard’s testimony regarding the shooting. Exactly as he described verbally the night before, the truck plowed through the stoplight and sped down the street. The stop was justified, and his officers did react on instinct. Reid was right, they were on edge and deep down he didn’t blame them. Brownly thought to himself as Ferguson knocked on the door that he would have likely opened fire as well.

“Terrence, just wanted to let you know, the team touched down about ten minutes ago. DPD is taking them to site, ETA thirty minutes.”

“Thanks Gus. You got a few minutes?”

“Was just about to leave, but I can stay. What’s up?” he said, closing the door.”

“Instinctually, what’s your take on this fuck up yesterday?”

“Procedurally, it’s a total cluster.”

“Right, but if you were on the beat?”

“I would have shot if that door opened.”

“Why?”

“He could have changed the plates.”

“Lots of Ford Pickups out there in blue.”

“Sure, but less F-150’s with similar aftermarket lifts and roll bars. I’ve driven in Broderick’s truck, and I saw this up close. At a quick glance, they looked a lot alike.”

“The VIN’s are different. Can change a plate, but not its serial.”

“No sir. Truck’s registered to Samuel Dodd. Has a cattle rancher out in Kimble County.”

“Explains the lifts on the truck.”

“Personally, we’re going to get raped by the public, but IAD will clear our guys. If it’s anything, I think we should tone down our disapproval of their actions. It’s more dangerous to civilians if they second guess their instincts out of fear of reprimand. We are short on manpower and I need my officers sharp.”

“Couldn’t have said it better. Been on the fence with this and I would have shot too when that door opened.”

“How do you want me to handle it?”

“First of all, we don’t make any solo stops. Lenard and Cruz fucked up by going after them alone. We get eyes on the target and call it in. Our senior field officer will coordinate.”

“I will remind them. How long you expect me to be two down?”

“That’s out of my hands. Chief and I have a friendly little meeting tomorrow with the Mayor. This might be my time to cash out and retire.”

“Sir, with Whithers and Miller down, we’ve lost a few in the command ranks, we can use another senior officer on the streets.”

“Can’t promote anyone for that now. Need someone who can lead out there.”

“Understood, that’s why I’m volunteering.”

“Didn’t see this coming, I thought you were done out there?”

“I was sir; we need to get this guy.”

“Nolan’s the only one I would put in your job; I’d just as soon keep things the way they are.”

“What if I can get you a solid replacement and fill one of our holes at the same time?”

“Don’t have anyone.”

“Sir, what if I give Mendoza my job. She passed her Sergeant’s exam six months ago.”

“You think she can do your job?”

“No one better. Give her a good safe job to come back to, might be just the ticket to get her back.”

“How soon can you get her up to speed.”

“Figure a week. She’s covered for me before.”

“The rest going to listen to a woman telling them what to do?”

“I’ll take care of that if it comes up.”

“Okay, easy sale. I’ll talk to Gormley in the morning and pass the paperwork through, make sure you can sway her. Have Jim help you if you need.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.”

“Speaking of, you see Jim when he gets back, have him redo this report from Christmas Eve. It’s so vague, I might use it for toilet paper. Something about a juvenile welfare check.”

“Don’t remember. What was the outcome?”

“Just said it was a false call, but no details. Tell him to rewrite it and have it on my desk ASAP.”

___

“Karen, this is Deputy Moretti. She will be hauling you off to jail and making sure you are looked after while you are incarcerated,” Jim said as we parked next to her cruiser, his door next to hers. We exited the vehicle, parked in a vacant strip mall off the main highway.

“Hi Karen, nice to meet you. Sergeant Reid here gave me the rundown on what you will be doing under my watch.”

“Deputy, nice to meet you,” I said, thinking to myself how much I hated the idea. No prison could restrain me and no inmate could hurt me, still, the idea of voluntarily going to jail bothered me.

“So, here’s what to expect. We are going to put you directly into the Bond Out tank. This is the place where those who have been bailed out are separated from those about to have a long stay with us. Usually it’s drunks and disorderly conduct visitors, so not much to worry about. Still, this is a county lockup, so things can get rough. If anything crazy happens, we are on it and will shut it down. Any questions?”

“I’m not too worried.”

“Good. You will do just fine. Sergeant, we doing the full treatment, or are we just taking her to the holding cell?”

“We talked earlier, I doubt the subject is going to be suspicious, so I will leave it up to Karen here.”

“Can we just do the handcuffs and a simple pat down, that enough realism?”

“Good enough for me.”

“How much time do I have Jim?”

“We are going in around 7am. Catch them when they are waking up. It’s 6am, so you have about an hour till we go in. Say about thirty to forty minutes holding them on site, about an hour for processing. After that we will sweat her out a bit in the main tank, them move her down the line to you. Deputy, why don’t you and Karen here go get some morning grub, get a few drinks in her, then book her.”

—

“Bravo team, standing by at location, awaiting orders,” Lockwood radioed in, crouching beside the door to the guest house along the east side of the two acre property. The guest house was a single story two bedroom home between the pool and the main property.

“I didn’t know this bastard was this wealthy?” Hernandez whispered.

“Quiet. Ready on my mark.”

“Alpha Team. Outside perimeter secure, we’re ready to go in,” Sergeant Townsend of Dallas’ SWAT team called in. Lockwood, taking point as always, was leading a small detachment of his team, securing the guest house, while Dallas PD took the main house. Eyes on the property reported no activity in the house for the last several days, but that did little to ease Lockwood’s anxiety. Broderick was a professional soldier possessing a deadly suite of skills taught by the US Army. He was tough and planned well. It wouldn’t surprise Lockwood if Seth spent the last several days laying down on the floor of the house with a rifle pointed at the front door, waiting for the breach.

Lockwood sprang to life the second the green light order poured through the radio. An officer on loan from Dallas smashed the front door in with a battering ram, trailed seconds later by Hernandez tossing the flash bang through the opening. The grenade hit the floor with a definitive clink, signaling Lockwood to charge in. He knew Broderick was well versed in raiding buildings. Seth would anticipate a flash bang, shielding his eyes from the blinding blast. As a counter tactic, Lockwood, didn’t pull the pin and gambled on the target staying concealed in the first seconds after the door was defeated.

He rushed through the door with a powerful light attached to the end of his carbine lighting up the room, bathing the entryway in bright light as he stepped aside to allow the rest of his team to enter. Hernandez hung a right, clearing the adjacent living room of threats. The sound of glass shattering toward the rear and sides alerted him the rest of the team had entered at different points.

“Donald,” Hernandez shouted toward the beam of light cutting through the faintly lit dining room.

“Duck.” His team member called back the other half of the code, “section 3 clear.”

“Entry Clear,” another voice called out.

“Alpha Team taking fire,” Lockwood heard through the radio as he approached a door in the kitchen. The house so far was as he expected, empty with no signs of recent activity. Still, he resisted the urge to charge to the main house without completing the sweep of his assignment, trusting his Dallas counterparts were as good at their job as he was.

“Looks like a basement door,” a voice said over his shoulder. Lockwood turned, signaling using hand signals for his bomb expert Romero. Seconds later a team member donning thick heavily padded bomb resistant armor approached, kneeling at the door and examining the frame just as Alpha Team reported in that all subjects were in custody with no casualties. Lockwood, relieved the main operation was a success, motioned for one of his team to report while he remained with his bomb technician. If Broderick was below, or left a surprise, it would be here, when the team’s confidence in their success was high and their guard lowered.

“Sergeant, this is a standard door handle. The other side cold be rigged with a variety of triggers. We could blow the door remotely from safety or I can drill through the door and use CCTV fiber optic imaging to see inside.”

“The latter.”

Romero went to work, withdrawing a power drill with a 1.5″ auger bit attached. He quickly drilled a series of holes around the hinges and door handle before another technician knelt beside him with a long tube shaped device with a light at the end. The technician inserted the tube while Romero worked a pair of small joysticks as if playing an arcade game. Next to the handheld controller was a portable monochrome CCTV monitor. Lockwood watched as the illuminated end of the snake returned an image to the monitor showing no devices were attached to the top door hinge.

“Pretty neat device isn’t it Sarge? Compliments of NASA technology. I hear they based this off cameras used on the mission.”

“Funny how Houston forgot to give us one. Gonna raise hell when I get home.”

“Wait, they are making a 1/2″ snake that will fit under most doorways. Won’t have to drill through the door.”

Minutes passed before Romero concluded the door wasn’t rigged and the base of the stairs was clear of contacts. Lockwood lifted a flash bang off Hernandez’s vest, this time pulling the pin. Romero pulled the door open.

“Seth Broderick, Dallas Police, we have a warrant for your arrest. You are surrounded. I want to see you at the base of the stairs, shirt off and hands interlocked on your head. You know the drill.”

Lockwood repeated the message several more times as Romero ran the snake down the stairs, scanning the basement. Confident their boy wasn’t down there, he tossed the stun grenade for extra insurance, waiting for the blinding flash to pass before rushing down the stairs trailed by his team. He panned the room soaking in the display before someone finally spoke his mind.

“Mother of God.”

—

“I’m going to fucking sue each and everyone of you sorry sons a bitches. You have any idea who I am?” Mr. Broderick screamed as the EMT’s finished securing him to the gurney. A large blood stain soaked through the dressing taped to his shoulder.

“Good luck with that asshole. What fucking part of ‘Police, we have a warrant’ didn’t you understand?” Brennan said as he was wheeled out escorted by four officers assigned watch as he was taken to the emergency.

Reid watched Mrs. Broderick, her face a teary eyed mess as she sat, handcuffed, in the back of the cruiser watching her husband being rolled past her. Mr. Broderick’s injury, he thought, just might help push her over the edge, driving her to cooperate, had he surrendered peacefully. Instead, the father was looking at heavy charges for firing on peace officers in the service of a warrant. Sure, he was rudely awakened, disoriented and armed. Under normal circumstances, he might draw sympathy from a jury, but in light of his son’s crimes, he would be hung out to dry. It was the bargaining leverage he needed to get them to give up Seth’s whereabouts.

“Sergeant. I received word from county. An inmate expired in the cell they had arranged for our operation. Your undercover has been moved to tank two until they can clear up the mess. Might be a couple hours.”

“She okay?”

“So far.”

“She should be fine. Let them know our subject will be en route in about ten minutes.”

“Yes Sergeant.”

Reid was still trying to get used to being called Sergeant along with the authority his rank had. Still far down the totem pole, he enjoyed the feeling of achievement. Now matter how much guilt he felt rising in rank from Karen’s involvement in his cases, it was him and him alone that found Liz. He found her using his own skill and not relying on Karen’s supernatural abilities. It was the resolution of the case involving the kidnapped wife and daughter of the international hero that led to the unanimous decision to promote him.

A much as he gloated about his achievement, Reid wanted desperately to cheat, wishing he could see through Broderick’s eyes. The detective wanted nothing more than to see just what was going through the man’s mind.

“Hey Reid,” Brennan yelled out. “Let’s go, Lockwood found something.”

—

“Welcome Ma’am, are you checking in today?” the valet asked while opening the door. He offered his hand, helping Megan out of her BMW.

“Thank you, but no, I am just picking someone up.”

“I see, here is your claim check then.”

“Actually, you mind leaving my car here while I gather my friend?”

“Ma’am I need to keep this driveway clear.” Megan reached into her purse, not wishing to give the valet a detailed explanation regarding Gene’s handicap, instead hoping a stiff tip would be sufficient. The kid held his hand out waiting for his bonus when a man in a suit walked up and pushed the bills back toward Megan.

“Many thanks Ma’am, but please put your money away, you go ahead and leave your car here as long as you like.”

“Why thank you. I should only be twenty minutes.”

“Take all day if you like. I’ll keep an eye on it for you.”

Megan thanked the manager and walked away as he smacked the kid upside the head, scolding him for not recognizing who she is. As much as she disliked the recognition, the favors, the free meals and beverages wherever she went, Megan found it easier to simply accept it and thank her grateful admirers rather than uselessly trying to convince them she didn’t need their gratitude. Instead, she made it a point to take her savings and pay it forward; helping people in need was a better use of her fame.

“Doc!” Megan heard a voice call out from the bar. She turned to see Gene at a table with a cup of coffee and a newspaper. He set the newspaper down, then reached over to the seat next to him.

“Gene.” Megan tried to contain her excitement and walked up instead of running over to him, in fear she would come across too enthusiastic.

“You are looking quite lovely Megan.”

She reached down to hug her friend for a long moment before releasing.

“Thank you Gene, you are looking quite well yourself. I’m so happy you are finally home.”

“Good to be home. Here, these are for you,” he said, withdrawing a bouquet of flowers he had placed next to his bag and holding them out to her. It wasn’t some cheap bouquet available in the gift shop for men looking for a last minute gift in hopes of a meaningless score; rather they were an expertly arranged assortments of flowers, hand selected and wrapped by a passionate florist, one that knows how to sweep a girl off her feet. The pleasant fragrance of the roses melted any reservations Megan had about her reunion.

“They are absolutely gorgeous Gene. Where did you find these?”

“Oh, they have a vending machine in the laundry room.”

“I bet.”

“Seriously, I had them delivered just for you.”

“Well thank you very much. Mind if I stop home and put them in water?”

“We have the whole day.”

Megan sat down, placing the bouquet on the table, and slung her purse around the chair next to her. She studied Gene’s features. His hair was longer, the back reaching down to his shoulders. He was clean shaven, his mustache and goatee gone, revealing the face he had before they launched. He was still in good shape, but she noticed he had gained a little weight.

“You want to get some coffee and sit a few, or would you like to get going?”

“I’ll wait on the coffee, but please, finish yours.”

Gene lifted his mug and sucked down what was left of his morning joe, then reached for his bag, placing it on his lap. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a wad of bills, tossing a ten on the table.

“Why waste time here in a hotel, let’s get going.”

—

The jail my dad had me stay a night in was quite different. It was a small sheriff’s station in the south area near where he was stationed. I was simply out late, past curfew, when the deputy picked me up. I wasn’t doing anything mischievous other than ignoring my parents’ rules and not returning by sundown. My father called his friend to keep an eye out for me and eventually found my friend and I playing near an abandoned house.

At first I thought we were going to take a simple ride home when the deputy received a call, forcing him to return to the station. My dad confessed years later that when he received the call that they’d found me, he asked his friend to lock me up for the night, making up a false charge of trespassing and telling me I would need to appear before the judge in the morning.

There were only three tiny jail cells, large metal cages a stone’s throw away from the deputies’ desks, like an old western sheriff’s office with a few modern perks added over the years. I was separated by a cell length from a loudmouthed thief who had been caught breaking into cars. He spent the better part of the night swearing at the deputies and verbally attacking them before they roughed him up, rendering him silent.

Dallas’ county criminal processing center was different. It was a large facility secured with perimeter fencing around the entry. We arrived with me handcuffed in the rear seat. My long slender legs had trouble getting comfortable in the narrow space between the center partition and the seat. Deputy Moretti explained en route to the jail that handcuffs and the back of police cars aren’t designed for prisoner comfort.

There was a strong overwhelming feeling of captivity from the moment the ratchets locked home around my wrists and the cruiser door slammed shut. After passing through the main gate, she drove her cruiser through the parking lot and parked in a small enclosure about the length of a bus, then waited for the gate to close. Once secure, and another level of the prisoner’s freedom taken away, she gently helped me out of the vehicle.

“How are you doing, you okay?”

“Fine,” I replied, looking around checking my surroundings. We passed through two more levels of security before coming to a stop. There were two women sitting on a bench half naked, overseen by three deputies. One held a bra in her hand, feeling the padding, searching it for drugs, weapons and anything that could be used to escape. Another deputy did the same with the woman’s shoes, examining them inside and out before returning them.

I sat on the bench for what seamed like an eternity until the prisoners’ searches were through and they were escorted to the processing center.

“Okay, let’s take those off of you.”

Moretti withdrew her keys and unlocked the cuffs, freeing my hands. If only she knew how effortlessly I could have removed them and escaped her custody. The Russian handcuffs were thicker and heavier, yet my fingers cut through the chains and twisted the steel as if it were made of paper.

“Inmates are expected to follow all commands given to them without question. Answer yes Ma’am no Ma’am or deputy. Walk with your hands behind your back, and do not deviate from the yellow lines panted on the floor. Follow the same rules while we are here and no one should suspect things are out of place.”

“Yes Deputy. Are you going to strip search me?”

“No, but I will pat you down. I don’t want you to lose anything that can be picked up by another inmate. I’ll give it back to you later.”

The search was a bit uncomfortable, no territory off limits. She was thorough, but quick and gentle, something others likely didn’t receive.

“Okay Ms. Guest, you ready to be an honorary guest for a while?”

She escorted me, holding my upper arm. We passed through the final gate, taking me into the main holding area. Instead of the large steel cages, the tanks appeared to be just that. Like giant aquariums, with large solid plexiglass walls, allowing an unimpeded view of the group cell.

A dozen and a half women of varying ages were sitting or laying on cold looking concrete protrusions at the base of each wall. The common assumption that there were rows of cots to sleep on appeared to be false. There were no blankets or bedding, just cold cement slabs.

Several of the girls had bundled together, holding each other for warmth instead of fighting. Another misnomer, the notion jail was this duke fest where all the inmates were beating each other senseless. What I found was that each of them kept to themselves, each afraid of the rest.

I performed my stumbling drunk routine as we walked by, the inmates pausing to catch a glimpse of me, the tall attractive blond. I simply watched them out of the corner of my eye as we passed the cell door. Moretti stopped me at the second tank, which fewer women occupied. She withdrew an obnoxiously large key and opened the glass door, gently pushing me in. A wave of terrible odors flooded my sensitive sense of smell. I turned as Moretti sealed the door, locking me in my new smelly prison. As quick as I could blink I counted nine inmates, all staring at me as I pretended to be drunk and stumbled to the first available slab.

“Can’t sit there, that’s taken,” a woman in her fifties said through her brown rotting teeth. Her voice was deep and raspy, her skin was dark and terribly wrinkled, her clothing reeked of cigarette smoke. It was a foul smell, but preferable to the stench of the toilet in the corner.

Shit, I thought to myself, something I didn’t expect but should have. It was a disgusting looking contraption, brushed stainless steel with no hinged seat. It was a single solid bowl with no seat covers and a partially soaked roll of toilet paper.

“Hey bitch, you deaf? You can’t sit there. I’m saving that for my boyfriend when he gets here.

“Shut the fuck up, there’s not a man in the world desperate enough to screw that filthy hole of yours,” a young woman in a flashy tight dress and long furry coat said. Her legs were encased in tight fishnet stockings and she wore knee high boots with long heels that lifted her high on her toes.

“Who’s got the dirty hole you whore?” the older woman barked back.

“Shut up, all of you, I can’t take it.” The girl, apparently in her early twenties, sporting a fresh shiner and a split lip, was peeking out through a bandage. She was curled up in the corner, her knees to her face, and she held her hands around her ears, hoping to silence the madness.

I stumbled over to another empty spot and took a seat. The old woman barked again that my new choice of seating was also reserved. I ignored her after the hooker called out, “Just sit down, she thinks she owns the place.”

“Thanks,” I said, leaning back against the wall and lifting my legs, trying to get comfortable while secretly wishing this was my day of the week I could sleep. Instead I was wide awake, thinking this was a mistake. I should have backed out the moment I was informed the original plan would have to be postponed pending the cleanup of a body in the next tank over.

Good job Michael, great mess you’re in, I thought to myself as the first drops of the booze found their way through my system.

—

“Sergeant, you wanted to see me?” Trish said, peeking into Ferguson’s office.

“Mendoza, have a seat if you don’t mind.”

“Sir?” she said, sitting down and adjusting her skirt, dressed in casual attire.

“You’re looking good. How have you been holding up?”

“Better the last couple of days. Head’s clearer.”

“Good. You know we miss you. Won’t lie, I could use you.”

“I know sir, I’m just not ready to hit the streets again.”

“What if you didn’t have to go back out there? What if I were to offer you a new job that will keep you indoors?”

“Thank you sir, but I don’t want to be a desk jockey. I signed up for something more, and now I really don’t want it anymore.”

“Don’t think pushing papers is a noble job for a police officer? You know what I do?”

“Sir I do.”

“You think all I do is push papers? I interact with my officers, watching out for them, making sure you know what to expect when you leave my roll call and hit those streets. Very few can do this job. This is why I think you would be perfect to replace me.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Trish, you have 18 years on the job. You are one of my senior officers with lots of field experience. You know the streets, you know the community, and best of all you are a good people person. What do you say, take a promotion, get you off the streets, but still active?”

“What about you sir?”

“Going back out onto the streets.”

“The streets?”

“Not going to lie Trish. We are in a tough situation, we just lost two more on a mandatory suspension. Fortunately we have some experienced transfers to fill in our losses, but we still need senior officers to get them up to speed on our streets. I know you aren’t up for it, so I’m going and was hoping you could take my job.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I was talking with my daughter about retiring.”

“When this is over, I’m hanging everything up as well, but I’m not going to leave my men high and dry. Now I can’t tell you what to do, but you are one of my best, and right now we’re desperate for officers with lots of street experience.”

Trish remained silent, thinking the proposition through. She loved being a cop; from her first day as a rookie, she suffered through all the torment because wearing the uniform and serving her community fueled her. She had a rocky start, made a bunch of mistakes, but the Sergeant before Gus saw something in her. Every time she reported to his office, her stomach knotted up, fearing they were going to give her the boot. Instead, the Sergeant turned each failure into a learning experience and spent personal time molding her imperfections. In six months, she had her own shop. It was the greatest feeling in the world, driving her own unit out of the garage, patrolling on her own.

She and Gus worked well together and spent time after their tour socializing. Trish felt honored that Gus not only was confident she was shift sergeant material, but he was willing to put himself into the thick of action in order to free up the position. It would be difficult for her to turn down such an offer.

“Come on Trish, you’re too young. You are gonna take a pay cut on your pension if you quit now. Tell you what, take the promotion, give the job a few months while we take this guy down. If you don’t like it I’ll take the job off your hands and give it to Nolan.”

“Thank you Gus. It means a lot coming from you. You’re the last person I want to let down. Let me talk this through with Steph and I will get back to you in the morning. Fair enough?”

“Okay, you decide yes, you think you can suit up tomorrow?”

“Uniform’s pressed and ready. What’s the time frame for the change up?”

“You will shadow me for a couple of days, get used to being back while I get you up to speed. After that, we’ll make the announcement, and I’ll shadow you in the mornings, then hit the streets.”

“Okay. Wasn’t expecting this when you called me in.”

“No, but it’s something you wanted before the shit hit the fan. Now it’s yours if you want it.”

“What about everyone else? You think they will accept me?”

“If they don’t, I’ll kick their ass. Now get home, get some rest, and say hi to Steph for me.

“Thanks again Gus.”

“I’ll reply to that when I see you suited up tomorrow.”

“Deal. Say, have you seen Jim?”

“He’s in Dallas right now. Should be back later today.”

—

Reid pushed on the railings, lifting himself up off his leg as he maneuvered the narrow basement stairs. It was a mistake he knew, putting so much demand on his leg without sufficient time to rest. The brace he wore under his pants helped ease the stress, but the body has a way of telling you it can’t take much more.

As he hit the last step he reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing a small metallic case. He opened it and took two small pills, popping them in his mouth and swallowing without water. It would take about twenty minutes for the meds to circulate through his bloodstream and get to work easing the pain.

He wished he could have a moment with Dwayne, alone in a cage match, not just for payback for his leg, but for the pain he caused Liz. If only that shotgun were loaded when he fired into his chest. It would have been a good clean shooting. One he could have walked away from and felt no guilt.

If only Michael knew what his wife and daughter went through and were still going through. How they desperately needed him. Instead the bastard’s traveling to another world unaware of the pain his loved ones were in. A noble deed, giving up your family so that an entire civilization wouldn’t go extinct. Two civilizations for that matter, Earth, and whatever planet Karen was supposedly from. Still it bothered Reid that a loving husband and father could leave such a beautiful family behind, uncertain whether or not he would return. Uncertain if they were even safe.

“Reid, you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. What’s going on Lieutenant?”

“Take a look.” Brennan pointed to the collection of photos on the wall. Reid scanned them, magazine photos, newspaper clippings and a large 8×10 color photo. The detective immediately recognized the face.

“This bastard really slipped this far off the deep end?”

“It appears so. We have one seriously dangerous and now completely crazy fuck on the loose.”

“Why, why go after him? What’s killing that kid going to prove?” Reid asked, reading the headlines of the Keller case. Timothy’s life was spread on the wall. Articles covering his heroics in Vietnam, painting him as an American tragedy, a good kid ruined during The Conflict and returned home to a country rejecting him. Other articles focused on his short-lived post war career flying a news helicopter in Los Angeles, only to have been found flying under the influence and let go after the FAA revoked his license. His marriage finally dissolved and he had trouble making ends meet to the point he wound up living on the streets, finding himself in and out of trouble.

Reid continued reading newspaper clippings, articles detailing his run-ins with the law. He had numerous drug possession violations and several assault charges that were thrown out or reduced to lesser charges based on his Congressional Medal of Honor.

“There has to be a bigger connection between these two. Lieutenant, I just can’t see Broderick simply wanting to finish his beating.”

“I agree. Wonder if your friend could think of something. I’ve been through his case file a hundred times. They had a few interactions prior to the May 5th incident, but nothing that would warrant beating him nearly to death, then returning two years later in a murderous rampage, wanting to finish the job.”

“Well it’s obvious these two are mental, so let’s take a psychological approach to this,” Reid said, trying to channel his limited experience with behavioral science. These guys are both combat-injured veterans. Keller in Vietnam during the last couple years of the war, while Broderick was injured during Operation Fury.”

“You mean Furry?” Brennan said, laughing. “Listened to the tape of your interrogation of Florez, almost pissed myself laughing; what a dumb fuck.”

“Lucky you, I had to hold it till the interview was finished.”

“Okay, back on track. You have the background on Keller’s tour?”

“Just that he was a Huey pilot. Risked life and limb going into a hot LZ to pick up a bunch of doctors trapped in an overrun firebase in ’73. Took an RPG and managed to keep the chopper airborne long enough to clear the area. Was severely injured in the crash, lost his co-pilot and one of the doctors.”

“That’s what got him the CMOH.”

“That it did.”

“Never heard that story, just that he was a little punk.”

“We had our share of issues with him, but nothing major. Was usually when provoked he would give us a fight.”

“Like I said, a punk. Shouldn’t have been screwing up to the point we get a call. That’s probably why our boy walked away without going to trial. Sounds like Keller just got what was coming to him.”

Reid ignored Brennan’s statement. He had run into Keller several times, most of which were without incident. He was a nice guy, troubled but nice. Would often get money from his father, then turn around and give it away to other vagrants, keeping little for himself. Reid on several occasions reached out, buying him goods instead of arresting him for petty crimes. His approach to dealing with him earned the kid’s respect. Keller was quick to cooperate, but equally quick to resist when confronted with aggression.

“Lieutenant, how about this? Broderick was an Army Ranger, destined for a long military career. Takes what might be considered a bad luck wound that scars him and ends his service. In a fit of self loathing, he joins the Police in order to make up for his loss, only he keeps running into a real decorated war hero who, also due to self loathing, takes to a life of mischief.”

“Thin, but I see where you are going. Let’s get a psych profile updated on him with that input when we get back to Houston.”

“Lieutenant, Reid, we found some more weapons and a little contraption on his phone. Think you might want to take a look.”

Reid reached under his coat and withdrew the canister he clipped to his belt.

“Lockwood, this yours? Almost tripped over it on the way in.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, I think they work better when you pull the pin.”

“Not against this guy. I hoped I could gain a couple of seconds as he hid his eyes from the flash.”

“Good thinking Lockwood. Glad you came up with us,” Brennan said.

“Tactics; don’t forget Sir, this guy has superior combat training and knows police tactics. He would expect a flash bang on entry. Just remember, I’m damn good at what I do too.”

—

I curled up in to a fetal position, my face buried into my knees, my legs drawn tight against my body as the sound of jingling keys approached the door. Her whimpering signaled that my contact was standing outside, about to be delivered.

“You two behave in here.”

It was my cue that Mrs. Broderick had finally arrived and Reid was likely listening. I quickly mustered up some fake tears and resumed my intoxicated act before slowly raising my head.

“I want to speak with my lawyer damn it,” she yelled out as Moretti closed the door and locked it. The mother, still quite attractive in her mid to late 50′s, banged on the plexiglass, yelling at the deputies.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I said.

“I don’t give a shit, I’m going to sue the hell out of these people. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You mind, I have a headache,” I said, pretending to be uninterested in her problems.

“Well that’s your fault now isn’t it? Me, I’m not supposed to be here. My lawyer will have me out of here—”

“—Please, I finally got some sleep and now you are waking me up. Now shut up, or they are going to come in here. You don’t want that to happen.”

Silently she took a seat on the concrete block opposite me and curled up into her own ball. She was dressed in her nightgown, a long cotton gown with long sleeves, colored baby blue with little pink roses. Her feet were covered with thin socks and furry pink slippers. She rubbed her arms, the first chill hitting her as the heat her body produced faded from the loss of excitement.

Through the glass Moretti and another female deputy sat chatting. I listened as her partner explained every detail of her date the night before while crocheting a purple scarf. A cruel ploy no doubt, turn the AC down low, chill the inmates into submission while casually knitting warm weather clothing within their view.

All I had to go on was a slight vapor emitting from my mouth as I exhaled. That and her body as it began to shake. Through my wide peripheral vision, I watched as she pulled her arms inside her gown. She squirmed and shifted, but couldn’t get comfortable. I turned my head as she stood and marched to the glass, banging on the window. Moretti stood and rushed over, withdrawing her baton.

“You will stop hitting my window right now,” she said in an assertive voice, pointing at Mrs. Broderick. “Don’t make me come in there.”

“Please, I need a blanket, I’m freezing.”

“Aww, want me to call housekeeping, maybe get you a pillow too? How about a little space heater?” For a brief moment, she had a look of hope until Moretti began laughing. “Go sit down and be quiet. Next time dress warmly.”

“Please, you can’t do this too me. At least turn—”

“—I said, shut up.” Moretti reached for her keys and drew closer to the door, her partner dropping her project to assist. I stood on cue to save the day.

“Come on,” I said, putting my arm around her. “You really don’t want to piss them off. Sit next to me.” Moretti replaced her baton as Mrs. Broderick withdrew into submission, gravitating to my care. I led her back to my spot, away from the AC vent, and removed my overcoat.

“Here, put this on.” She looked back at me in disbelief, unsure whether or not I was serious.

“What about you?”

“I’ll be okay, I still have my sweater, but you will catch hypothermia in that. They didn’t let you get dressed?”

“No, I was still sleeping when they broke in.”

“Shit, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m innocent. They want my son, and they shot my husband,” she said, completely breaking down. I drew her close to me after wrapping my coat around her.

“It’s okay. Your lawyer will get you out, but it might take a while. What time is it by the way?”

“I don’t know, they took my watch.”

“What time was it the last time you looked?”

“Maybe 9am.”

“That long?” I said aloud, hanging my head in an award winning performance as one who was quite disappointed.

“Why, how long have you been here?”

“Oh since midnight.” She began sobbing more, realizing she was in for a long stretch.

“Here, put your arms in the coat. It’s wool, and very warm.” She was hesitant until a violent shudder came over her. Her teeth chattered as she leaned forward; the promise of warmth overcame her timidness toward touching a strange woman.

“So are you,” she said, surprised, her hands feeling my belly. Now it was my turn to feel uncomfortable. Over the course of the year since becoming Kaaren, I’d steadily grown comfortable with my new body, provided I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. Once my mind trailed off, thinking of my male body traversing the cosmos, piloted by the previous owner of this knockout of a bod, my dysphoria kicked in. Staring at the image in the mirror, or letting my hands wander, exploring every soft, sleek contour of my female body, instantly drove me from my comfort.

Aside from The Doc, no one touches me unless it’s a hug or pat on the shoulder. Men who’ve tried grabbing my ass were quickly given a fierce lesson in aikido. Mrs. Broderick’s touch sent tingles up my spine as she rubbed her hands, trying desperate to warm up. I directed my attention to the mission at hand, trying to cast out my insecurities. There were many times when my fear of failure haunted me throughout Operation THOR, but my calm, natural ability to lead others through impossible situations kicked in and overcame my worries.

This was no different. Inside I was the same man I always was. Calm and collected and on a difficult mission, but one with promise. Jim’s plan was perfect. He knew the cold temperatures the jails were kept at. My resistance to extreme temperatures made for the perfect bonding opportunity. Mrs. Broderick’s trembling hands were a testimony to her unknowing submission to me. She was reduced to putty in my hands in less than ten minutes.

“See, you will be fine. Just keep close to me.”

“Thank you. My name is Karen, Karen Broderick.”

“Well no kidding, I’m Karen as well.”

“Really?”

“If you don’t believe me, you can ask them.”

“No, I believe you. So, what are you doing in jail?”

“Bastard cops. I had too much to drink and was smart enough to know I shouldn’t drive. So I slept it off in my car. Asshole busts me for DUI anyway.” Sharing a false disdain for cops, hoping to have one more thing for her to find in common with her cellmate.

“And you weren’t even driving?”

“He said it didn’t matter, my keys were in the ignition.”

“Scumbags.”

“There goes college, my dad’s going to shit bricks when he finds out.” I allowed a pause and a show of despair to cross my face as I pretended to ponder my predicament. “Never mind, it’s only money, what about your husband? You said they shot him? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I will get lucky and he dies.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because then I would finally be free of him.”

It didn’t take much detective work to conclude from her confession that Seth was a chip off the old block. I had known many in my time, dads who would beat their kids senseless just for the hell of it. The unfortunate ones made sure to pass the misery on to their children and so on generation after generation.

My old man was a Marine, a tough old man, but fair. I learned early on to respect him and my mother. His disciplinary response was swift and painful, but never brutal. While it molded me, I decided early that my future children would never feel my hand. Ash never needed it. Like every kid who ever lived, she had a few days out of the year where her usually cheerful self failed to shine.

“Feeling warmer?” I asked, reminding her of my generosity before stepping into her personal space.

“Yes Karen, thank you. I’m very grateful. You sure you’re alright?”

“Fine, I’m used to colder than this. So what did you mean that you would be free of him?” I asked, pleading ignorance.

“I can’t say anything to him without him getting upset. It’s like I’m constantly walking on eggshells. Didn’t take long after we were married; I learned not to ever question him or criticize him for anything.”

“That’s not a marriage if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I know, but there’s nothing I can do. He won’t let me leave.”

“Control freak right? You try and leave and he cuts you off until you come crying back to him.”

She sat up straight and looked me in the eye.

“How do you know?”

“Mrs. Broderick, I’ve had friends with husbands just like him. You’re not the only one.”

Victoria Millbourne was one such woman, trapped in a life of constant abuse and powerless to do anything about it. The police were paid off by these rich jerks, leaving the woman utterly destitute with no hope of freedom.

“What did they do?”

“One of them got out. It was rough for a while, but she made it. Lived in shelters for a while, but once she broke her dependency on him, he no longer had power over her. She eventually remarried to a man who respects her,” I said, proud of my ability to rapidly improvise and make up stories loosely based on truth.

“What about the others?”

“Well another, believe it or not, her husband had an accident. It was enough to wake him up and get him to seek help. He’s a different man now.”

“Not my husband. That will never happen.”

“Likely true,” I said, rubbing my forehead. She reached up and began massaging my head with both hands.

“Hung over?”

“Yeah. Could use some water, but I dare not drink from that fountain,” I said, pointing to the dirty stainless steel toilet / sink combination in the corner with a small brick wall providing minimal discretion for inmates to relieve themselves.

“I love your hair. It’s so thick and soft.”

“You can have it.”

“If I could take you up on it I would. Between my husband and my son, I went grey way too soon.”

Bingo, she finally mentioned Seth. Treading carefully, I went for the kill.

“Can I ask what the police want with your son?”

“I take it you haven’t been following the news?”

“No, too busy with school to care about current events. Why?”

“My son used to be a police officer in Houston, now he’s killing the people he used to work with … or so they say.”

“Oh, right, I’ve heard people talking about that. That’s your son?”

“I don’t believe them. I’m sure you’ve heard parents all the time claim their kids are perfect. Seth may have his flaws, but I don’t believe he’s a killer. At least I hope not.”

“Can’t imagine being in your shoes.”

“It’s awful. The media won’t leave us alone. They’ve already ruined him and us. Jesus, I thought people were innocent until proven guilty.”

“Should be that way, but that’s for the courts, not reporters. Why don’t you think he would kill? Didn’t he beat up that kid?”

“He did. That, I am ashamed of. I taught him better than that. His father was rough with him, but I always made it clear as he was growing up that what his father did to him was wrong. Seth was a good kid, he tried to get away from his dad and enlisted in the Army. Sent him off an honorable man, but what I got back was something different. That conflict changed him for the worse. That poor kid didn’t deserve what Seth did to him. As much as I resent him for it, I never stopped loving him.”

“Of course, you’re his mother. Can’t imagine if one day one of my kids did anything to hurt someone else and found themselves on the wrong side of the law.”

—-

“She’s pretty convincing Reid,” Brennan said, watching the CCTV feed from the holding tank two doors down. They both sat holding half a headphone to their ears listening to the conversation between Karen and Mrs. Broderick.

“Damn women, put them together and all they do is yap, yap, yap. We need to close this deal up. See if you can get her to step up the game.”

Reid pressed the button on the gooseneck microphone sitting on the table they brought into the cell. The signal ran through a wireless transmitter that broadcast his voice to the small earpiece in Karen’s ear. Her thick head of hair was enough to conceal the small wireless speaker from view.

“Karen?” he said, then paused to wait for her. She feigned a headache, pausing the conversation to focus on his instructions.

“Good job so far, but we need to get this wrapped up.”

Karen played the hangover a moment, then resumed her questioning.

“Can I ask you Mrs. Broderick, why did the police arrest you? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, I didn’t do shit. It was my dumb ass husband who was shooting at them. Him and his stupid guns. Sleeps with them. Same with Seth. They both have enough guns to arm the Contra rebels.” Brennan laughed at her joke, Reid following with his own brief chuckle.

“Karen, ask her when was the last time she heard from Seth,” Reid instructed, before taking a bite of his Chinese food. Nothing was more satisfying than sitting outside the tanks with the aroma from their meal drifting through the holding cells while the inmates picked the inedible gristle out of their bologna sandwich. Locked behind the glass with no clock to keep time, filthy toilets, freezing cold cells, and terrible food. It was enough to knock some sense into some.

“When did you see your son last?”

“Oh, months ago. Before this all started. I really thought he was turning himself around. Coming to grips with his anger and letting go of his resentment toward the department.”

“Turning himself around how?”

“He got himself going to church about six months ago. Supposedly he was born again. I believed it. Nothing a mother wants to see more than their kid getting their act together. Guess it was a sham. I hope to God it’s not, but I can’t deny the facts. My boy fell pretty far.”

Reid jotted notes regarding the church and the time frame onto the notepad in shorthand. To be sure, he glanced at the tape recorder, checking for the tenth time that it was indeed recording.

“You a churchgoing person yourself?” Karen asked before Reid could chime in. He wanted to know what she knew about the church, but Karen was already going there.

“Yes. It’s been the only thing keeping me going through my marriage. My husband thinks it’s all a crutch for the weak, but then again, he has me so broken, I guess I need it. How about you?”

“To be honest, I haven’t given it a lot of thought. I was a teen last time I set foot in a church.”

“Well, if you would like to come with me sometime, I would be happy to have you as a guest.”

“Thank you. Maybe I will. I could use a little structure. What church do you go to?”

“Calvary Baptist on Hope St.”

“What does your pastor think of Seth’s conversion?”

“I don’t know. Seth found some other church. Met one of the pastors at a gun range. Never understood the association of Jesus and guns, but it worked, got him to check it out.”

“Did you ever go with him?”

“I did. They were all nice enough, but not my style. Twice was enough for me before I went back to my own parish. Seth, he liked the guys there and enjoyed their weekend getaways.”

“Did you see his attitude change after he started attending?”

“Yes, which is why this whole thing is so puzzling. I really thought he had changed for the better. Didn’t agree with all the church’s teachings over there, but whatever it was that spoke to my son, it seemed to have made a difference.” Reid watched as she turned her head away from Karen, sniffling, before she began speaking through the oncoming sobs. “Then he dropped off the face of the earth, and a week later… oh God, how could he do such a thing? His friends. He killed some of his best friends just because they betrayed him.”

“Well, sounds to me like the cops got it wrong. Bet you it’s all a mix-up.”

“Oh dear God I hope so, because if it’s true, this State will execute him.”

Brennan turned to Reid, swallowing his chow mien.

“She’s a bit rusty, but has good interview techniques. A little work and I might use her from time to time.”

“Sure, just ask her. So what do you think?”

“Got a feeling we aren’t going to get much else from her. Seems like she’s a fifth wheel in the house. Let’s investigate this church of his. See if she could weasel the name of the place out of her and let’s call it a day.”

—-

Moretti stood at the door tapping her foot impatiently as Mrs. Broderick and I hugged.

“Thank you so much for your kindness. Sorry for being a bitch in the beginning.”

“It’s jail. Does something to the best of people. I hope you post bail soon.

“You don’t mind me keeping the coat?”

“No, you go ahead. I’ll get another.”

“Karen that’s very sweet of you. Please give me a call in a couple of days, I want to take you out for lunch. I can give it back then.”

“I’d like that.”

“So would I. Sometimes I wish I had a daughter. Let me give you my number.”

She recited her personal number as Moretti forcefully grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the tank, putting on a nice show. The last thing I saw was Mrs. Broderick curling up under the coat trying to retain her body heat. We cleared the wall and Moretti let go of my arm and led me to the tank two doors down. Jim and Brennan were packing up their surveillance equipment, carefully placing the electronics back into hard cases with DPD stenciled on each of the six sides.

Moretti handed me a large envelope with the belongings I surrendered to her. I fished the items out and replaced them in their respective pockets; then plucked the earbud out of my ear and handed it to Jim. It wasn’t until we were secure in the administration area that they began talking.

“Good job Karen,” Brennan said first. “Did well asking questions without sounding like you had an agenda.”

“Yes, and I like how you left it open with her.”

“Thanks. You get what you need?”

“Not a lot, but we have a couple more leads than yesterday,” Brennan said.

“What about Mr. Broderick?” I asked

“He’s in recovery right now. Probably another hour or two before the doctors will let us in. I think we can grill him pretty hard and force him to talk, otherwise he’s going to prison on felony attempted murder of a police officer,” Brennan replied.

“I would talk if I were in his shoes,” Moretti said, giving her opinion as she opened the final door to the parking lot.

“Deputy, I appreciate your cooperation. You let your boss know I’ll be in touch to thank him as well.”

“My pleasure Lieutenant. Sergeant, Ms. Guest. Ya’ll have a great rest of the day now.”

—-

“You didn’t happen to find anything I can remote in with did you?” I asked as Jim cruised down the highway. He cranked up the heater in the cheap rental car, compensating for my refusal to close the window. The crisp and clean desert air was refreshing after several hours locked up in county, the foul stench of the cells having overstimulated my sensitive sense of smell. It was a memory I hoped to purge from my thoughts, instead my recollection of the odor lingered in the warm car.

“Shit. Totally forgot. We can go back after we check out this church.”

Jim had run through the details of the operation, bringing me up to speed on Broderick’s guest house. The list of targets was puzzling—troubling even. If Seth was a bit as remorseful as Mrs. Broderick made it sound, finishing off Keller was beyond bizarre. There was nothing to gain, unless of course the kid and Seth had deeper blood between them than previously thought.

“I can go back and check it out later. Will tell you if I see anything. What time’s the flight back to Houston?”

“Leaving at 7pm. I’ll be driving back.”

“Aww, scared of flying?”

“No, not at all. It’s just I’d rather drive and enjoy the scenery.”

“Like you can see anything after 7pm? Ladies and Gentlemen, if you look out your left window, you will see a whole lot of blackness.”

“Funny. You do that too well.”

“Come on, admit it, you’re afraid of flying. Nothing to be afraid of. You have a better chance of dying on the road, than from your plane crashing.”

“Doubt that.”

“How many fatalities do you record from car accidents each year?”

“Not sure, quite a few.”

“In the US, try over 35,000 per year. How many plane crashes do you hear about?”

“Not many I guess.”

“Know how many planes are flying overhead each day?”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Still, I don’t care to fly.

“I should take you up sometime, knock that fear out of you.”

“No thanks. Done that already and you almost killed me.”

“If I didn’t, they would have cleaned your body up with a mop.”

“Thanks for that vision Karen. You mind, I’m trying not to think about that.”

“Sorry.” I said.

We drove in silence for the next twenty minutes until we arrived at the destination. Jim eased the car into the visitor parking spot at the First Assembly of Christ. The white main building was anything but unique with its steep triangular roof. A square column, topped with a crucifix and containing a moderate sized brass bell, rose high above the main entrance . Across the main sanctuary, an assembly hall showed the only signs of life.

I followed Jim’s lead, walking through the open doors of the hall to find several men and women preparing for what looked like a pot luck. The men were rolling large round tables out onto the main floor while younger kids placed folding chairs around, breaking periodically to screw around. A long row of rectangular tables was partially covered in hot casserole dishes and buckets of fried chicken.

“You folks here for the community pot luck?” a friendly elderly woman said, stopping and giving us a look over.

“Sounds wonderful, but no. I was wondering if there was a pastor we can speak to,” Jim answered.

“You two looking for a new church?”

“Yes, we were wondering if there was someone we can talk to about finding a new community to fellowship with.”

“Well bless the Lord you found us. Is this your daughter?” she asked. I sensed a hesitation in asking the question as if she was afraid to ask if we were an item.

“Yes,” I said, not sure why Jim didn’t just identify himself. All other possibilities seemed out of place for a 40 year old man hanging with an attractive broad in her early twenties.

“You don’t look alike?”

“Adopted,” Jim blurted out, playing along.

“I see. Is there a Mrs?”

“No, bless her soul, it’s just us two.”

“And you two have names?”

“Oh, sorry ma’am, mighty rude of me. Name’s James, and this is Karen.”

“James, just like Jesus’ brother. Welcome, I’m Mrs. Williams. I’ve been going to this church since I was a little girl. Boy has the time flown by. Now I’m just an old broad, going to be 75 next week.”

“That so? I would have pegged you for being in your fifties,” I said, trying a little flattery.”

“Oh isn’t she cute. We are going to get along just fine Ms. Karen. You two must stay for the pot luck. Lots of great food, and you can meet the other parishioners.”

I turned my head to Jim, “Please daddy?” I said with little puppy dog eyes. My body gains most of its energy from the sun but I still needed food. Although my stomach never growls, begging to be filled, my brain was still human, and hardwired to identify meal times and boy did I love being able to enjoy food without guilt for once in my life.

“I suppose so, when do the festivities begin?”

“Oh people will be arriving in 45 minutes. Let me see if I can find Reverend Samuels.”

“Daddy?”

“Improvising for your BS story. What’s with the cover?”

“Tact my dear daughter. The congregation doesn’t need to know why we are here. These places are gossip central. Trust me the pastor will be grateful for keeping it quiet.”

We sat a moment, watching as more people slowly flocked in the door, anxious to arrive early in hopes of landing the table closest to the food table. Mrs. Broderick’s description of the church seemed off. I wondered how she drew the conclusion they were cult like. There were no uniforms or dress code. The men and women freely chatted while the kids ran through the hall playing.

“Welcome you two,” a tall man said, appearing from behind. “I’m Reverend Jesiah Samuels, senior minister here.” Jim stood and greeted the Reverend as I took up position behind him. He turned his attention toward me as I rose a few inches taller than him.

“James Reid, Reverend, this is Karen.”

“The Lord is good. I always enjoy the new children he sends my way. Mrs. Williams said you were looking for a new church, you two I take it have already been cleansed by the Lord’s redemptive work on that cross.”

“Indeed I am.” Jim’s failure to include me in the reply caused a curious look.

“And you as well my dear sister?”

“His little angel.”

“Angel? Why we humans are better than angels. Maybe not now, but when the Lord returns and glorifies us, we will be risen higher than the mightiest angel.”

“Reverend, is there some place we can talk?”

“Absolutely. I do have to be back here in—” he paused, checking his watch, “about thirty minutes. Is that enough time?”

He led us to his office within the main church building. It was a small office in the front of the church tucked away toward the side of the building. Through the window he could look out on the courtyard, assembly hall and part of the parking lot. He took a seat in an expensive looking leather chair behind a large oak desk with fancy carvings along the trim. Behind him were bookcases filled with Bibles, books on theology, VHS tapes, and audio cassettes.

“So, how did you hear about us?” he said, getting the conversation going.

“Reverend, I do need to apologize, we are not here to join your church,” Jim said, withdrawing his badge. “I’m a detective with Houston PD.”

“Little far from home aren’t we detective. What’s with the charades?”

“Courtesy Reverend. No sense stirring up the pot with your flock without talking with the shepherd first.”

“Well I appreciate that. And you Miss, you a detective too?”

“No sir, I’m just tagging along learning what I can.”

“Ahh, so you are his daughter, planning on following in his footsteps, is that right?”

“Yes Sir,” I said, keeping my role hidden. Jim didn’t flinch and went along with it.

“So, how can I help you Detective? One of my flock step out of line?”

“Perhaps,” he said, reaching into his tan blazer’s pocket and withdrawing a photograph.

“I’m sure you’ve read about this man?”

“Indeed I have. So this is what this is about?”

“I have reason to believe he attended this church a while back. I take it, this is correct?”

“Yes, it is. And thank you for keeping it quiet,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “See, I’ve been praying a while as to whether or not I should come forward.”

“Reverend, this man has been killing many of my brothers.”

“Allegedly? We are still innocent until proven guilty are we not?”

“Yes, of course. We do have a lot of threats and direct evidence linking him to these crimes. There is little doubt as to his guilt, but you are correct, forgive me.”

I groaned silently, finding it absurd that one could excuse this piece of trash. He was beyond guilty and I couldn’t wait to bring him down and put the fear of God into him.

“So, Mr. Broderick has allegedly killed many police officers and is still at large. I understand with all the media attention, the last thing you need is word getting out that he attended this church.”

“Mr. Broderick did come by for about a month or two, even brought his mother along, but he didn’t stay.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Oh, let’s see, it’s January now? I would say it was last September, near the end of the month.”

“Did he mention he was unhappy here? That he was leaving?”

“No, not a thing. In fact he was supposed to go on a weekend getaway with one of the guys here, but apparently he never showed up. After that, never saw him again. A few weeks later, the shootings started.”

“Reverend, can you tell me what your impression of him was?”

“Can’t say I had a lot of interaction with him. We spoke a little in private once for about twenty minutes.”

“What did you two talk about?”

“Detective, surely you are aware of the priest-penitent privilege?”

“I am, but I’m not really interested in any confessions he may have disclosed to you. This was before the shootings and he was cleared in his altercation with Mr. Keller. I do have reports that he was remorseful and working toward a path of redemption, or was he simply lying to everyone? Don’t forget, that privilege doesn’t protect you if he declared his intent to commit future felonies.”

“No, heavens no. I will say, he tried to change in the short time that I knew him. Lots of anger, but absolutely at no time did he mention some kind of vengeance. I tell you most of this based on observation and not on private conversation.”

“Did he show aggression toward anyone in your congregation?”

“Nothing physical. He was quite colorful, but would often retract after a rant.”

“Who did he converse with mostly?”

“Well, the man you should talk to is Jack Hollingsworth. He brought Mr. Broderick into the fold and mentored him.”

“He the one Seth met on the firing range?”

“You’re quite informed. Yes. Jack has a little shooting ministry here. Kind of a cocky fellow, but a nice guy and very generous. About once a month he takes the men and some of the ladies out to the range. The two hit it off instantly. Between Seth’s guns, Jack’s and some of the other guys, they could start a war.”

“Well, allegedly, one of them has. That’s why I need to find Broderick. Reverend, is Mr. Hollingsworth going to be here tonight?”

“I’m afraid not. Jack is still active with the military and is deployed right now. Been overseas for a few months.”

“That so? What branch?”

“Army I believe. Was some kind of communications tech.”

“You know where he’s stationed?”

“Afraid I don’t. If I hear from him, you have a card, I can have him call you?”

“I would appreciate that Reverend.” Reid dug into his wallet and withdrew a crumpled business card. He stood and handed it to the minister, citing the time.

“Thank you detective, I wasn’t paying attention to the clock. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Yes, do you have the name of the range this Mr. Hollingsworth held these shooting excursions at?”

“Let me see,” he said, ruffling through a stack of papers on his desk. He thumbed through several dozen pages before coming to a stack of old bulletins. The Reverend skimmed through the dates, stopping occasionally to look inside before finally finding the one he was looking for. Inside was a full page flier for the event.

“Here you are Detective.”

I glanced at the page as he handed it to Jim, memorizing the contents before Jim could read the first line. On the top of the page was a circle with crosshairs resembling a rifle scope. The crosshairs were off center and thickened in the inner section where the two lines intersected, giving it the unmistakable appearance of a cross. Wrapped around the top of the circle was the text, “In His Sights.”

“Cute name.” Jim said just as I came to the same conclusion. Mixing guns and religion was anything but cute, rather sickening.

“Hidden Valley Gun Club? You know how far that is from here?”

“I don’t know, the Word of God is my sword, never had an interest in guns.”

“You have a phone book we can barrow?

“Why of course,” he said, opening one of his desk drawers and withdrawing the large yellow book. Jim handed it to me and asked politely if I could look up the location. Texas loves their 2nd Amendment rights, and I found several pages worth of gun stores and shooting ranges. I spent a second on each page before homing in on Hidden Valley Gun Club, finding three locations.

“I think that will be enough Reverend, you have a pot luck to attend,”Jim said as I handed the minister’s phone directory back to him.

“Well thank you for stopping by. It was the Lord’s will, His answer to my prayers. Glad I was able to get this off my chest even though it’s not very much.”

“Might seem insignificant, but each piece adds up. Eventually we will put the puzzle together.”

“Well I sure hope so. Damn shame, wish this troubled soul could have found what he was looking for instead of reverting back to doing the devil’s work.”

The Reverend insisted we stay and eat, but Jim was in a rush to report in. Jim waited until we had eased out of the parking lot before dialing Brennan’s mobile phone.

—

“I forgot how much I miss the ocean. My family and I used to come down here in June every year and spend a few days soaking up the sun,” Eugene said as he and Megan sat at the waterfront dining area. The heaters removed the chill from the air, making their dining experience comfortable despite the brisk winter weather. Even without the heaters, they were comfortable. Their time in the harsh Russian weather toughened them up. Houston’s nastiest weather was now easily tolerable. Braving the outdoors was rewarding in that few patrons were willing to spend the duration of their meal outside. Megan and Eugene were relatively alone, the others well out of earshot.

“My dad was never a beach kinda person unless it had a good golf course. I do love the ocean though. I was thinking of getting my open water certification. It was great fun diving in the NBL.” Megan paused as she spoke about her diving aspirations.

“The days in the pool were absolute hell. I hated every minute of it. The Icarus was better with less gravity, but it was still difficult work cutting through that rock in those suits. Still, looking back, I wouldn’t mind being weightless again.

“You know Gene, maybe you should go diving with me.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“I’m not. In fact one of my professors is a certified SCUBA instructor and specializes in taking paraplegic veterans diving. Being neutrally buoyant in the water gave them a sense of freedom and supposedly helped them physically and mentally.”

“I don’t know. What if I panic?”

“Baby steps Gene. Take it a little at a time, get used to it. I’m sure everyone will have a partner in case of an emergency.”

“This professor even still around?”

“I can make a couple calls and find out. It will be good for you. You’ve been cooped up in your lab for so long, why not get out and explore a little. Everything on land isn’t wheelchair friendly, but below the ocean is an endless visual feast. It would help with your anxiety and stress.”

“It might, but not as much as just being here with you.”

“That’s sweet of you to say. I’m glad we could be together.”

“Funny, there was a time you didn’t like me much?”

Megan paused, uncertain as to how to answer him. She couldn’t lie, the Gene before the shooting was an asshole with his good side peeking through on occasion. It was in those rare moments that Gene’s secret attraction for Megan made itself known. By then she was knee deep in her relationship with Brad. He was the dream catch. A well built guy, very handsome and most of all, gentlemanly. Brad was nearly Michael’s clone, but looking back, it was all for show. His integrity was a sham. Throughout the months following Gene’s injury, Megan finally allowed herself to face the painful breakup. Having dated only a few times growing up, Megan found herself lost in love, and lowered her guard instead of applying all her professional experience dealing with the human condition. Looking back, Brad displayed many warning signs, signs many of her patients described in their boyfriends or girlfriends. Megan had been blinded, swept off her feet by Brad’s charm and didn’t see the problem until he dumped it on her in the hotel room that night.

Gene was anything but charming. At 44 years old, he was the oldest of the crew and was eight years older than Megan. He was attractive, but a little rough around the edges. A life of stress and hard work greyed his hair in his late thirties.

He changed drastically after the shooting. Before he was arrogant and carried an attitude that would turn casual conversations amongst the crew into a hot debate. Never with anything mission critical, but discussions about life, politics, religion always had to end in his favor.

Everything changed when they returned to Earth. Gene had been out cold most of the flight home, waking up en route to the hospital. He was so certain death was upon him, it took an hour for doctors and NASA staff to convince him he was home and the crisis was averted.

For Gene, it was a new lease on life and the miracles he had spent his life trying to discredit, he now found belief in a higher power to be credible. His bitterness toward the chaos the world had to offer melted away, leaving behind a man at peace, enjoying for the first time the pleasures life had to offer.

Megan knew well enough, this higher power had used that moment to prepare him for the greatest challenge yet. Had the old Gene lost his legs, he would have fallen into despair as the world around him collapsed for the last time. She knew he would have ended his life rather than remain confined to a wheelchair.

Here they were, over a year since their return, together with the sparks of romance ignited into a small flame. Megan would have never guessed years ago, she would be sitting here, like a girl in love.

“I still don’t, but that man doesn’t exist anymore. You’ve been reborn, and the man sitting across from me has a lot to be desired.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, your courage and I’m not talking about you taking a bullet for me. I’m talking about you having the courage to see the person you were and be bold enough to reinvent yourself, even if it meant admitting to those around you that the old Gene needed to go away.”

“Interesting perspective.”

“You know, after finishing my Doctorate in psychology, I began seeing patients. Everything from relationships, sex, substance abuse, family problems, you name it. Of all my patients, you know how many turned their life around?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Not many. Most of them, it was all talk.”

“I never talked about it. Never admitted I needed to change, and when I did, I never asked for help. Just woke up one day and decided I was going to approach life with a new set of eyes.”

“Near death experiences can do that to people. So what about me?”

“You mean, what do I like about you? Well, can I let you in on a secret?”

“I’m all ears.” Megan said leaning forward.

“I’ve had this thing for you since the day we met. Doubtful, that’s much of a secret to a professional shrink such as yourself.”

“I had my suspicions. How come you never said anything?”

“You where with Carter. Also, we were two of the most needed crew members. There were solid backups for the others, but you and I, slim pickings based on our specialties. If we were an item, it wouldn’t have worked.”

“No, definitely not,” she said as their dinner arrived. They ate in silence for a few before inquiring about the other’s meal. After the first several bites began satisfying their hunger pangs, they resumed conversing.

“I’m glad you agreed to let me take you here. I’ve always heard great things about this place. Makes it even more special to try it with you.”

“I’m very happy to be here with you as well.”

“Good, I was worried I would upset you for changing our plans.”

“Gene, I’m sorry, that was my fault. I should have thought to warn you about what’s been happening lately here in Houston.”

“What do you mean?”

“The violence that’s been happening. It’s why you wanted to get out of the city, right?”

“Nah, just found it boring. Wanted to take you somewhere different.”

“It’s okay Gene, I understand. It’s been hard for me too.”

“Doc, I said it’s not the reason, so drop it okay?” Gene froze as Megan turned away from his outburst.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“—Megs, don’t apologize. I’m the one that was out of line. Yes, you are right, I just don’t want to admit it. I was a chicken shit up in space, then I toughened up for you. Now, I feel like a coward again, afraid of a guy running around killing cops. I don’t want to be scared, but I am. You don’t know what it’s like, holding your stomach, desperately trying to keep your life from escaping through the hole. I kept waiting for my time to come, but it never did.”

Megan reached over, taking Gene’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze as her guilt slowly crept back into her. She saw his dead legs through the frosted glass of the table, recalling her terror, watching the Russian slowly pull the trigger back. Just as she started to close her eyes, the blur of Gene’s body leapt before her.

“Gene, I will never forget your courage. No matter what you feel now, know that because of your sacrifice, we can be together.”

“I would do it all over again for you.”

“Well, I hope to never cause a need for you to, ever again.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t remember this. Maybe a little, but Sean had to bring it up. Just after I was shot, and the Russian turned back to you, you said something, yelled something in fact. Said you were calling for Michael.” Megan paused, stunned by the sudden question. She was on the spot, and couldn’t think of a way out that wouldn’t compromise the secret she kept.

“You okay? I didn’t mean anything by the question.”

“Gene, I don’t really remember,” Megan said after a moment’s pause. “I was terrified, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You miss him don’t you? I know you two were close and you practically shut him out of your life after his death. It’s okay to talk about him though.”

“I’m okay with it Gene. I’ve done my healing.”

“Have you? Come on Megan, I know that’s not true. We’ve all taken our turns talking about what happened up there, you’re the only one who refuses to talk about it. You can’t keep him hidden in that closet forever. I just hope you can find safety in confiding with me. The best shrinks need someone to talk to as well.”

“Gene, I have to face him every day. You don’t know how much pain there is between his wife, daughter and I. At some point, maybe I will open up, but for now can we simply talk about something other than that goddamn rock?”

“Sure. Okay, happy thoughts it is.” He paused a moment, looking out into the harbor with his finger to his mouth as if in deep thought. “I have one. It’s wonderful and I think you will like it, but I confess, it will require a brief discussion about the Icarus. I promise, you’ll like it. Is that okay?”

Megan agreed as Gene dug his hand into his side pouch hanging off the left arm rest of his chair, withdrawing a small wrapped green box with a white bow.

To Be Continued....Episode 7

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