by Randy Alcorn
“Not with me he doesn’t.”
“Did you ever have a partner who was as good as you?” Adam asked.
“Yeah. My first partner, thirty-five years ago. Ollie Chandler. Taught me how to put a guy down with a head-butt. We used to practice on each other.”
Adam touched his forehead and winced.
“You stay in touch with Chandler?”
“Not much. Lives in Oregon. At Christmas we exchange pictures of his dog, Mulch, and my Marciano. Three of the best friends I’ve ever had were dogs. Chandler’s the fourth.”
For a moment Adam saw the human side of Brad Bronson.
“I tell you, these academy punks got no class.”
It had been a short moment.
This guy wouldn’t know class if he stepped in it.
“You gotta be impressed with Brock Kelley,” Shane said.
“You think I want a high school football hero?” Bronson asked. “He’ll imagine he’s big stuff. Death crawl? Give me a break. He’ll be the death of someone. Well, not me.”
As Adam pulled out, Shane said, “Sarge, you and Diane Koos are like two goats in a pepper patch. You oughta ask her out for donuts.”
Bronson muttered something unintelligible.
Shane turned his head. “Considering you thought it was a waste of time to come today, you sure had a lot of advice for those recruits.”
“Won’t make any difference,” Bronson said. “Young is stupid.”
Shane looked in his mirror. He smiled and whispered to Adam, lower than before, “In that case, the sergeant’s definitely not stupid.”
Five seconds passed before Bronson said, “Fuller, it would take you three promotions to make stupid.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Adam, Nathan, David, Shane, and Javier all sat on Adam’s patio. Used paper plates and empty Coke cans littered the table.
“That was one juicy bird, Corporal Grillmaster,” Nathan said to Adam. “What’s the secret?”
“Oil the grill, keep the chicken uncovered, put it slightly off-center from the flame, and never put on the sauce till two minutes before you’re done cooking.”
“The burgers were great too,” David added.
Shane nodded. “If you’re going to be a real man, Rookie, you gotta get the best beef you can and watch them grind it. Not yesterday, not this morning, but while you wait.”
“My son,” Nathan said, “the key to steak is to salt it generously. Then, even if your meat isn’t faultless, the salt will break it in and hold its taste.”
David studied his elders and said, “You know, you guys are really something.”
“Thanks,” the three men said, almost in unison. David hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
“One day this young man will have his own family,” Nathan said. “And he’ll tell tales of afternoons spent in Mitchell’s yard, soaking in grilling wisdom. And when he takes his kids to a Falcons game, he’ll teach them how to tailgate. There’s no price you can put on that.”
Shane laughed. “With our salaries, who can afford to go to a Falcons game?”
“All right,” Adam said, trying to change the subject. “If everybody’s stuffed, I want to tell you guys why I had you over today. I need to ask you a favor.”
Adam gave each man a sheet of paper. Javier’s curiosity perked up.
Shane knew Adam had an agenda today, but he was surprised at what he saw.
Nathan looked at the sheet in his hands. “A resolution?”
“Yeah. I struggle with what kind of father I was to Emily and what kind of dad I’ve been to Dylan.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Shane said. “You’ve been a good enough father.”
“I don’t want to be a ‘good enough’ father. We have a few short years to influence our kids, and whatever patterns we set for them will likely pass on to their kids.”
The guys wondered where Adam was headed.
“We have the responsibility to mold lives. I don’t think that should be done casually. Half the fathers in this country are failing, probably way more. And with the time I’ve got left, I don’t want to be one of them.”
“Look,” Shane said, “I’m all for spending more time with your kids, but don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?”
“Shane, time with our kids should be a given. We need to act strategically. It’s our job to help them become the people God wants them to be—set the standards they can aim for.”
“What kind of standards?” David asked.
Adam paused. “Well, when did you first think of yourself as a man?”
Shane laughed. “I can’t believe we’re talkin’ about this.”
“No, guys, humor me a second. Think about it.”
Javier listened intently while Nathan finished quietly reading Adam’s resolution.
“Okay,” David said. “It was probably when I was first living on my own. Or maybe when I turned twenty-one. Toward the end of college.”
“So when you became legal. Okay, what about you, Shane?”
He sighed. “Maybe when I got my license or my first job. What does it matter?”
“Javy?”
Javier had known his answer instantly, the memory still vivid. “When my father told me I was.”
They all looked at him.
“When I was seventeen, he had to leave for three months for a job. He told me that he thought of me as a man—he wanted me to take care of my family. He asked me if I was ready. When I hesitated, he told me he knew I was ready.”
Adam said, “Look, guys, I’ve learned that God wants me to teach my son how to love Him and trust Him and that it’s my responsibility to call out the man in my son. I can’t be passive about that.”
“How did you come up with these?” Nathan asked, still intent on the sheet.
“I got them all from studying Scripture. This is a resolution of what kind of father I want to be. Each of you has permission to keep me accountable. In fact, I want you to hold me accountable.”
All the men joined Nathan in reading it.
Finally Javier said, “Could I sign this too?”
Shane said, “If you’re gonna sign it, Adam, maybe we all should.”
“No, no. I’m not asking you guys to sign anything. I’m doing this because I need it and my family needs it. If you think you should do this, at least take a couple of days to think about it.”
The head-butt from that giant Pillsbury Doughboy had hurt TJ. But what hurt worse was being humiliated in front of his minister of defense. TJ was mad. The Dougherty County brownies were now higher on his enemy list than the Albany city police—right up there with the Rollin’ Crips.
Antoine warned TJ, “You kill a cop, they put you away fo’ the rest o’ yo life.”
Cops might look the other way when it came to drugs. They wouldn’t look the other way when they knew the identity of someone hunting them.
But the commander in chief of the Gangster Nation had been dissed—one-upped one too many times.
That black cop had taken back the truck TJ stole and arrested his homeboy Clyde. He’d get him back some day. But the big white cop had knocked TJ flat on the ground, and that ate at his gut. And if he didn’t get some get-back, Antoine and the Gangster Nation might disrespect him. And for a gang leader, disrespect was the first step toward death.
He had to do this. And he wanted to.
You goin’ down, fat man.
After putting the kids to bed, Kayla leaned against the kitchen counter and perused the resolution. Nathan sat across from her, watching her expressions.
“Wow. You’re sayin’ you wanna do this too?”
“That’s what I’m sayin’. I’ve always thought I was good enough because I’m doing better than my father. But so what? Not like he set the standard high. That resolution hit me right between the eyes.”
Kayla smiled. “Baby, there are some days when I’m glad I married you. And there are other days when I’m really, really glad
I married you. And this is one of those days.”
“So it’s a really glad day?”
“Uh-huh. And when I see you do what only a good man does, it makes me want to bless you.” She reached out to her husband’s shoulder.
“You wanna bless me?” Nathan smiled.
“Oh yeah. But I’ve got a question. What does this resolution you’re going to sign look like?”
“What do you mean? You just read it.”
“I know what’s in it. But surely this isn’t what you’ll sign. This is computer paper. I mean they didn’t write the Declaration or the Constitution on scratch paper to sign it, did they?”
“I guess not.”
“I think this resolution is something a father should frame and post on the wall.”
“I don’t know if Adam thought that far ahead.”
“And how are you signing it? In blue jeans and a T-shirt? They swear in a mayor or a cop in a ceremony, right? And they’re not dressed in shorts, are they? Is committing to be the best husband and father any less important?”
“No.”
“I see a group of well-dressed men with their wives and children making this official. This is one of those important days, like a wedding or baptism.”
Nathan considered her words. Kayla leaned close to him; her dark eyes looked straight into his. “Baby, if you’re gonna do it, then do it right.”
Adam and Dylan jogged together after Sunday dinner had settled. As they continued running, Dylan picked up the pace. He breathed normally while Adam just pretended to.
“So how’s track?”
Adam asked this for two reasons. First, because a father should ask his son about what’s important to him. Second, because if Dylan talked, maybe he would slow down.
“Still don’t know what races Coach Kilian will let me run.”
“Which ones do you want to run?”
“I like running long distance, but I also want to do the 400.”
Dylan kept up his pace no problem, so Adam finally slowed to a walk.
Dylan checked his watch. “But we’ve only run three miles.”
“What do you mean only three? It’s going to take a while to catch up to you. Eventually my athletic genes will kick in. You’ll see. But for now, I need your help getting in shape to run down the bad guys.”
“Having a Taser helps, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, once you catch them.”
“If you catch me, you can tase me.”
“Yeah, right. Say that when I’m armed!”
“It wouldn’t matter. There’s no danger of you catching me.” Dylan smiled the biggest smile Adam remembered seeing for years.
Adam looked at Dylan and wagged his finger, then ran and very quickly slowed back to a walk. The joy of running hadn’t kicked in for Adam. Maybe it never would. But the joy of talking and laughing with his son far outweighed the pain.
Two days later Adam sat by a watercooler after his workout in the sheriff’s office gym. His time with Dylan made him want to get into shape. He thought he smelled something smoldering; then the sun went into eclipse.
“What’s up, Sarge?”
“I’m thinkin’ of taking out the Koos woman.”
“Well, I guess you’re both eligible, Sarge, but I don’t think a computer would match you up.”
“I don’t want to date her! I wanna take her out.”
“What did she do this time?”
“I got memos, one from the sheriff and another from the Koos. Seems one of the drug dealers I arrested wasn’t happy with my service.”
“What’d you do?”
“Just tweaked his nose when he smarted off.”
“Tweaked?”
“I do a pretty good tweak.”
“I can imagine.”
“So I’m told that if I get one more reprimand, I go on unpaid leave. Step one of firing me.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
“I’ve thought about just strangling the Koos, but one thing’s saving her.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d have to touch her to do it.”
“So you looked like you had something on your mind, Sarge. Was that it?”
“Got some news about Mike Hollis.”
Adam stiffened. “Is his trial over?”
“Not yet. But the prosecutor found something we didn’t know.”
“What’s that?”
“Turns out the blood tests showed not just alcohol but cocaine.”
“He was on coke?”
“Yeah. With the smell of booze all over him at the scene, nobody thought about anything else. The cocaine showed up in the tests, but somehow nobody noticed. But the DA’s office did. It’ll mean more prison time.”
“Alcohol is all it takes,” Adam said. “As far as Emily was concerned, I guess it doesn’t matter.”
“Except if it had only been alcohol, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. A drunk drives bad; a stoned drunk drives worse. I knew you’d hear about it. Might be tough to handle with other guys around.”
Adam nodded. “Thanks, Sarge. That was . . . kind of you.”
Bronson walked away uneasily. Adam wondered if anyone had ever accused him of being kind.
Chapter Twenty-two
At the sheriff’s department firing range, Nathan Hayes ran through a drill, shooting at targets as part of a live-fire obstacle course, while the range captain yelled commands about what to do next. Nathan successfully hit the great majority of his targets on the first shot. When he finished, the onlooking officers cheered.
David ran the same drill, firing into targets. Not bad for a while, but everyone groaned when he hit the target that said sheriff.
“Good work,” the captain told Nathan. “You’re still in the top three in the department.”
He turned to David and said, “Deputy Thomson, you need to focus, son. You shot the sheriff again.” He pointed to a cutout with a badge on it. “That’s gonna get you range detail, and I want it cleaned up. Come back for more practice. You’ve got to get it right.”
“They put that badge on a different target every time,” David complained to Nathan.
“That’s the idea.”
“Well, I know what the sheriff looks like, and I would not shoot him.”
As the training sergeant took down targets, Nathan and David cleaned their guns. Nathan tended to his Glock 22, a .40 caliber holding fifteen rounds, while David worked on his Glock 23, also .40 caliber and just as powerful but slightly smaller.
Nathan sensed something was on David’s mind. He decided to keep quiet and give David the opportunity to talk if and when he was ready.
Finally David spoke. “This resolution deal has gotten pretty big, huh?”
“We decided to make it official and memorable. Maybe it’ll stick with us more.”
David worked quietly, then asked Nathan, “Do you really feel like it messed up your childhood—not having a dad?”
“More than you know. A lot of your self-worth comes from what your father thinks of you. I struggled with who I was my whole childhood. Tried to prove myself. I almost got in a gang. If fathers did what they’re supposed to do, half the junk we face on the street wouldn’t exist.”
After a long pause, Nathan said, “David, something’s on your mind. What is it?”
David shrugged.
“Are you nervous about being a father one day?”
David hesitated. “I already am one.”
Nathan stared at David. “You’ve got a kid?”
“A girl. She’s four now.”
“My partner has a daughter and I didn’t know about it?”
“I hooked up with a cheerleader in college. She got pregnant. I told her to take care of it, but she wouldn’t do it. I got mad and left her to deal with it herself. She lives just thirty minutes away, but all these years I couldn’t bring myself to go see her.”
“And the ‘it’ she didn’t take care of was actually a ‘her’ that she’s been taking car
e of for four years, right?”
David stared at his hands.
“What’s her name? Your daughter.”
“Olivia.”
“What’s her mother’s name?”
“Amanda.”
“Did she ever get married?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“A friend who went to college with us. He checks up on her. On them.”
Nathan decided to hold back the questions and see if David would resume talking. After a minute, the silence became more awkward than speech.
“I never loved her. But listening to you guys talk about how dads not being there messes kids up . . . I don’t want to be one of those guys.”
“David, part of being a man is taking responsibility. Any fool can father a child, but it takes courage to be a child’s father. To be there for them.”
“I used to think I was a good guy. I’m just tired of feeling guilty.”
Nathan looked at him. “Let me break it to you: You are guilty.”
David sighed.
“Listen, one day you, me, and everyone else will stand before God. And He’s gonna do what good judges do.”
“Then I hope my good outweighs the bad.”
“That’s not how it works.” Nathan searched for an illustration. “Let me put it this way . . . Who’s the person you’re closest to?”
“Probably my mom.”
“Okay, suppose she was brutally attacked and murdered. The guy’s caught and put on trial. But he says, ‘Hey, Judge, I committed this crime, but I’ve done a lot of good in my life.’ Maybe he helped the homeless forty times, and he can prove it. Now, if the judge let him go free, would you say that’s a good judge or a bad judge?”
“A bad one.”
“That’s right. The Bible says God is a good judge. And He will punish the guilty, not for what they did right, obviously, but for what they did wrong. We’re all sinners, David. Part of being a sinner is not realizing how bad of a sinner you are.”
“Okay, I’m a sinner. How does knowing that help?”
“You need to realize how desperate you really are. A man who doesn’t think he’s drowning won’t reach for the life preserver when it’s thrown to him. Why bother when you think you’re fine?”
