by Laura Acton
“I deserved it. Bye, Duke.” Lexa turned on her heel and raced out to her Jeep as tears flowed yet again. Dan screwed up her emotional controls. She hopped in, turned the ignition, and roared away before Duke could stop her.
TRF HQ – Briefing Room – 8:30 a.m.
Nick strode in, surprised by the text he received a half-hour ago from Commander Gambrill, which instructed him to be here by half-past eight but provided no further details. He canceled plans with Christiana and barely made it here on time. He noted Jon and Bram sitting in their usual places, and Gambrill stood at the front with Inspector Pope. The reason became apparent to him, the investigation concluded, and the results would be communicated.
“Commander, Inspector,” Nick said as he approached both men.
“Morning, Nick, sorry about the short notice.” Walter was still a little miffed at Pope’s insistence Alpha Team be paged at eight this morning and only given thirty minutes to arrive.
“No worries. I assume you want to inform us of the findings.” Nick stopped near his chair but refused to sit for the moment.
“Yes, and I don’t have much time. I’m a busy man.” Pope glanced at his wristwatch and noted it was now after the time he specified. “Where is the rest of your team?”
“Most likely on their way.” Bram swiveled to peer at Pope. His plans to take his girls to the craft shop to give Kellie a break had to be put on hold when he got paged.
Lexa hurried into the room, cranky after a sleepless night of crying. She arriving with red-rimmed eyes, though eyedrops eliminated the redness in the whites of her eyes. She hoped they weren’t needed for a critical situation, because frankly, she was not up to par today. She spent the night beating herself up for the way she treated both Dan and Duke. It reinforced her belief she must guard her heart to prevent herself from wounding someone else.
“Boss, sorry I’m a little late, wasn’t expecting to come in and stopped for gas.” Lexa took her seat, and only then did she note Ray’s, Loki’s, and Dan’s chairs remained empty.
Nick frowned as he studied Lexa. She didn’t appear well-rested. “Relax. You’re not the last in.”
After five more minutes of waiting, Pope became impatient. “Where are they? Do they believe they can ignore pages?”
“Well, they are on administra—” Nick started, but Pope cut him off.
“No excuse. Police are expected to respond to all pages, twenty-four seven.”
Lexa winced, not wanting to tattle on them, but she discerned the probable reason for their delay in responding. Upon reflection, she realized the guys had been pretty much three sheets to the wind. “Um, I saw them all at Muerte por Chiles late last night, and from what I could tell, they imbibed perhaps a little more than usual or advisable. They might be sleeping it off and not heard their phones.”
Jon’s concern shot through the roof. None of them should be getting drunk, particularly not after that damned call, and with Dan also taking a lethal shot. Hell, they all knew his rule about excessive alcohol. Not allowed after a bad call or neutralizing a subject. That is why everyone always carried cell phones with them … to be available if anyone needed to talk. He peered at Lexa. “Are you saying they’re hungover?”
Lexa shrugged and bit her lower lip, not happy about ratting them out. She tried to assuage her guilt. “I think they were only out having a good time. They were wearing these silly sombreros. And Jon, it’s been almost a week since the Whitehall call, so …”
Ray wandered in, dark sunglasses still on. He noted all conversation ceased upon his entry. “Sorry I’m late.” He didn’t offer an excuse as he read Jon’s glare. His sunglasses more than gave away his less than stellar condition.
Not long after, Loki shuffled in, his eyes squinting against the bright sunlight streaming in through the windows. He appeared like something the cat dragged in, with the shock of black hair which often flopped in his eyes, sticking straight up like a unicorn’s horn.
Bram started chuckling when he spotted Loki had put his shirt on inside out and backward, and he wore two different shoes. “Have a little trouble dressing today, Loki?”
Groaning, Loki found his chair. “Yeah, yeah … don’t yell … please.”
About to ask if Loki needed an aspirin, Nick halted as Dan entered. Of the three hungover men, Dan appeared to be the most put together, but the dark circles under his blood-shot eyes stood out like beacons. Jon is going to go off the deep end with these three. To ward off Jon’s tirade, not wanting Pope to witness the dress down Jon would mete out, he turned to Gambrill. “Sir, we’re all here now. We can begin.”
Dan kept his gaze on Boss. He didn’t dare glance in Jon’s direction for fear of the man taking him to task in front of Pope. Nor did Dan want to read the worry in Bram’s eyes. And Lexa, he couldn’t and didn’t want to glimpse any pain he caused her last night.
After a short huff, Pope joined them at the table and opened his laptop as Gambrill took a seat. Roman hoped for a smoking gun, but his men found nothing to pin on them. He drew in a breath and launched into his report. “My detectives went through all evidence with a fine-toothed comb. I will start by informing you we found no breaks in procedure. Internal Affairs will not be brought in to investigate further.”
Though his head pounded and concentrating proved a bit difficult when all he wanted to do was crawl into a darkened room and sleep, Loki couldn’t hold back his question. He must know if he missed something. “Did you figure out how the bomb went off?”
“If you will hold your questions, I will explain our findings.” Although Pope didn’t care for TRF, and specifically this team, they were police officers, and he recognized they’d want to understand what happened. He connected the laptop to the overhead projector to display items on the screen.
“Appearances can be deceiving, as the reality of this situation proved to be not as clear cut as first thought.” Pope displayed three photos. “These are your hostages.” He pointed to the first one. “Lewis Downing.”
“Yeah, we’re aware of who they are,” Lexa sniped. Peering at their faces created a sense of extreme failure in her, and she understood each of her team would experience the same.
“Please don’t interrupt again, McKenna. I’m not showing them to you to indicate a failure on this team’s part, and my reasoning will become clear.” Returning the red dot of the laser pointer to the man, Pope said, “Downing, thirty-two years old. Husband and father of two young boys. After speaking with his captain, we determined the broken leg was the result of a deliberate act on his part.
“Downing began taking risks while fighting fires. Initially, his colleagues attributed his actions to bravado, but further investigation revealed he suffered PTSD. Ghosts of past calls, in particular, the deaths of four children six months ago, haunted him. Many of his buddies think he reached a breaking point, but being a family man, he wanted to take care of his wife and sons.
“We believe he attempted to use his last outing to fulfill both needs, a service connection, and suicide-by-duty. Three weeks ago, Downing claimed to hear children upstairs and disobeyed his captain’s direct order to stand down as he rushed up a fully engulfed stairwell. No children were present at the warehouse fire, but if Downing had died from an on-the-job injury, his family would’ve received extra compensation.”
Roman moved to the second picture. “Farshad Virk emigrated from Pakistan five years ago with his teenage daughter. About a month ago, he took out a huge life insurance policy, not unusual for a single parent, but his daughter told us he had been ill, so we spoke to his doctors. The physician diagnosed him with terminal cancer and said Farshad feared his decline would put undue emotional stress on his child, who witnessed her mother’s death before coming to Canada. Turns out there is a clause in the policy which disallows payout if the insured opted for legal, voluntary medical assistance in dying.”
Pointing to the ex-soldier, Pope sighed. “Brant Sullivan lost both legs and one arm to an IED. His father indicat
ed his son struggled profoundly upon his return. Brant was a marathon runner before joining and now believed himself to be useless and a financial burden. Especially after discovering his dad planned to wipe out his life savings and take out a second mortgage using his business as collateral to retrofit their home to be wheelchair accessible.”
Nick caught the drift as did everyone in the room. “They were all suicidal.”
“Yes, but not only them.” Pope changed the image, which now showed one female and two males. “These are your subjects. Evangeline Mitchell, a young woman, dealing with depression after losing her baby to SIDS.
“Beau Reese recently turned nineteen. On his birthday two months ago, he drove while intoxicated and crashed his car. He survived, but the accident claimed the lives of his three childhood friends and his older brother.
“And lastly, Constable Deacon Wright. He struggled on the job for over two years. His ex-wife said he tried counseling, but nothing ever helped rid him of the guilt he carried.” Pope halted to let his words soak in for a moment before relaying information which connected them to Wright.
“Guilt for what?” Nick asked as the whole scenario began to piece together in his mind, now grasping why nothing he did appeared to connect or steered the incident to a successful outcome.
“During the Central Bank diamond heist, Wright was the patrol officer designated to keep an eye on the two men who ran out of the building after the explosion and claimed to be hostages. He became focused on the bank instead of doing his duty. He blamed himself for the Barton brothers escaping and all the deaths they’ve caused since.”
“Whoa!” Bram gaped at the inspector at the bombshell.
“Impressive work, Pope. Are you saying they all planned to commit suicide?” Walter stared at the photos.
“Yes. Though not obvious at first, my men worked hard to put all the pieces together. There were no connections between them or at least observable ones. We eventually determined each one visited an online chat room that discusses various methods of suicide.
“We’ll never know precisely how they came up with this idea, but Sullivan served as an explosive ordnance disposal tech in the military, he and Downing both drew on their experiences to provide knowledge of blast patterns, and Wright would be aware of many of the heist details and police protocols.”
Lexa nodded. “And the three who posed as hostages would have insurance paid out if they died as victims of a crime.”
“Exactly.” Pope turned to Baldovino. “As for the explosives. We found a remote device.”
“Which subject held it?” Jon asked as Loki paled.
“Not a subject, a hostage held the trigger. Brant Sullivan initiated the detonation with a switch rigged to his wheelchair joystick. As far as my men and I can determine, the escalation appeared to be planned because Wright understood what would cause you to take lethal action. However, when your team neutralized Mitchell, Wright, and Reese, before they could shoot, Sullivan used their failsafe to ensure they all died.
“The one item they didn’t plan on was a change in the lobby’s layout the day before. If the area had not been reconfigured, the explosion would’ve killed them instantly instead of deflecting the blast and engulfing them in flames.”
Loki bowed his head, both saddened and relieved. His voice came out in a whisper, mostly in deference to his headache, “I didn’t miss a dead man’s switch.” Lifting his head, he asked, “What about their life insurance?”
Pope shrugged. “Not my area of expertise. That is for insurance companies and lawyers to determine.” After shutting the laptop and disconnecting the plug, Pope rose. “Alpha Team is cleared and may return to active duty when Commander Gambrill deems appropriate. Good day.”
Once Pope left, Jon turned to Gambrill. “We’re not prepared to be on duty today, I have three officers who need a strong reminder about my rules for excessive drinking.”
Gambrill eyed Dan, Loki, and Ray, almost feeling sorry for them … almost. He agreed entirely with Jon. As TRF officers, even on administrative leave, they could’ve been called in to deal with an all-hands-on-deck situation such as the gang war last year. “Understood. Broderick, Palomo, and Baldovino, you will consider today a training day under the direction of Hardy. The rest of you are free to go. Alpha will be on-shift at seven a.m. tomorrow.”
He stood and addressed Nick, “A moment of your time before you leave. Please join me in my office.”
“Sure.” As Nick passed Jon, he patted him on his shoulder and whispered, “Remember to listen.”
Bram grimaced at what the three would be subjected to, but they comprehended Jon’s rules and the price to be paid for breaking them. “Catch you tomorrow.” He hurried out with mixed emotions. Relieved to be cleared, sad six people wanted to end their lives, and happy for the opportunity to spend the day with his girls. Their innocence would help him compartmentalize the terrible tragedy which took place at Whitehall Financial.
As she pushed out of her chair, Lexa almost apologized for ratting on them but realized even if she had not, Jon would’ve recognized their hungover condition. Her eyes landed on Dan and noticed he wouldn’t look at her. She sighed but steeled herself and tried to act normal. “Later, boys.”
Jon rubbed his hands together as he studied his three errant teammates. “So, before you grab a pack and run the stairs of the shoot house, who wants to explain why you ignored my rules?”
Three men answered simultaneously, “It’s my fault,” causing them all to gape at one another as Jon chuckled.
“Well, you’re all correct.” Jon launched into his lecture as he ushered them to the tactical room to put on the fifty-pound backpacks. He would be running their asses off, and hopefully, they wouldn’t make this mistake ever again.
In the back of his mind, Jon decided to be somewhat lenient as he realized Loki began his efforts to befriend Dan after he returned from Kandahar, and they waited until Dan had been medically cleared for alcohol before going to the Mexican karaoke bar. The reason didn’t appear on the surface to be any of them trying to drown their sorrows, but rather a planned night of fun.
However, the dark circles under Dan’s eyes indicated he must keep a closer eye on their sniper. Dan might possess exceptional coping skills, but he had been through the grinder in the past five months. Jon owed it to Dan to be less reactive and more supportive after the way he handled the situation with Lexa. He refused to continue making the same mistakes. He needed to become more creative in his approach with Dan.
Gambrill’s Office
Both taking a seat, Walter drew in a breath. “Wanted to check in with you privately before your team returns. First, are you alright? This was a tough situation.”
Nick nodded. “Yes, it was. I did question where I failed to connect, but Pope’s investigation shed light on why I couldn’t. Some people are beyond our reach. All six went to great lengths to plan their death. This was not a spur of the moment decision. As sad as the outcome is, we don’t get to win them all, and I’m able to put this one to bed.”
“And the rest of the team? Loki appeared disconcerted regarding the explosives.” Gambrill waited for Nick’s assessment.
“Loki is thorough, not that we all aren’t, but the details bug him if he believes he missed something he shouldn’t. He’ll be alright now. Undoubtedly, Loki will review the video one more time to study the joystick so he will know what to look for if a situation like this ever presents itself again.”
Before Gambrill could make his next inquiry, one he likely wanted to ask first but didn’t to avoid the appearance of favoritism, Nick said, “Yes, I noted Dan’s state today. Rough week for him with the call, the laundromat, and motorcycle crash. We’ll be keeping a close eye on him. We won’t let him down, sir. Dan is family.”
Walter nodded. “Thank you.”
Safety Nets
7
October 5
TRF HQ - Briefing Room – 6:55 a.m.
Over the past five days,
Ray thought about how to approach the problem he perceived. He desired to be a friend to both Dan and Lexa, but his efforts would turn towards Lexa now since many eyes were already on Dan. Jon partnered with their youngest member after returning from administrative leave five days ago and convinced Dan to go to the support group tonight.
Well, Jon actually more or less ordered Dan because the outward signs of Dan’s inability to cope as well as everyone hoped became unmistakable. It galled Ray to realize Dan’s current appearance matched how he looked when he first joined the team. Back then, they had all been too wrapped up in their anger over an ex-soldier being foisted upon them to notice his deteriorating health. However, that was not the case now.
Dan might believe them to be mother-hens and balk at their efforts, but they claimed him as family and would never let one of their own slip through the cracks, which is why he would focus on Lexa. Outwardly, she didn’t present Dan’s level of distress, but having known her for five years, Ray recognized she struggled with the end of the relationship almost as much as Dan.
Boss probably did too, but Lexa would likely not confide in their sergeant, given the source of her stress. She would worry about losing her position on the team, something she fought hard to achieve and valued. So, Ray hurried through changing after workout, wanting to speak with Boss alone before the morning briefing. Spying Nick at the table, he approached and spoke softly, “Boss, need to ask you something.”
Nick glanced up. “Shoot.”
“Would you partner me with Lexa today?”
Not opposed, but Nick hoped to garner insight, so asked, “Why?”
Glancing behind him to ensure they were still alone, Ray said, “Not something we should discuss here, but I want to talk with her. I think she’s floundering, though her signs aren’t as visible as Dan’s.”
Nick leaned back as he nodded. “I noticed. Okay, but remember our deal.”
