SECRETS: Passion, Deceit, And Revenge (Beauty 0f Life Book 8)

by Laura Acton

  Assuming her seat, Lexa pulled two water bottles to her from the center of the table. Twisting off the cap of one, she slid the opened bottle to Dan with a glare, communicating he better consume the entire contents. After uncapping the second bottle, she took a long drink as she waited for Boss to start.

  Nick smiled at Loki and Dan. “Happy you both are looking better today. We’ll begin with the inspector’s questions. Once finished, Alpha Team will debrief the Kolff call.” Peering at Echo’s officers, he said, “Gentlemen, you can put a little time in on the gun range. Inspector, the floor is yours.”

  Trevor, Sean, Heath, Brett, and Noel all rose and left the room.

  Roman Pope eyed the injured officers. “I assume Sergeant Pastore told you about the copycat bomber and the heroin in the needle.”

  Dan and Loki both nodded.

  Pushing the grainy, partial face photo to Baldovino, Pope asked, “Do you recognize him?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you think of any reason someone would want to kill you?”

  Loki shrugged. They decided to keep everything about Narciso quiet, so he added, “I’m a cop. We take down bad guys. I might’ve ticked off someone enough they want me dead, but no names come to mind.”

  Turning to Broderick, Pope noted the braced wrist. “What about you? Perhaps they meant to attack you and got mixed up?”

  “Possible, but they would have to be blind. Loki’s got black hair and mine’s blond. Even in dim lighting, the difference would be easy to spot.”

  Pulling a folder to him, Pope opened it, displaying several highly blacked out pages. “I read the incident report from the church shooting this past summer. Well, what little isn’t redacted. Do you think this might be related to your time in the military?”

  The entire church incident and the impending court-martial had been cloaked in many layers of secrecy with a cover story of Plouffe coming unhinged when his nephew died, Murphy a soldier with PTSD who wanted to harm the general, and Merrill effectively swept under the rug and never named. Unable to discuss much, Dan only shrugged.

  Frustrated, Pope closed the folder. “Can either of you provide me anything which might help identify the attacker?”

  Loki shook his head, but Dan’s eyes became unfocused before they closed. He went slow motion from the point of realizing someone was in the room. Turn head, spot a man. Not hospital staff by the clothing … jeans, black jacket, red cap. Too dim to distinguish features. He’s pulling something from a pocket. Fear. Eyes locked on the needle. Launch myself at the man. The hand …

  “You okay?” Lexa lightly tapped Dan’s shoulder when she noted the change in him.

  Dan blinked. “Uh? What?” He turned to Lexa. “Yeah, only thinking.” Focusing on the inspector, Dan conveyed additional detail. “His hand. He had four red teardrops tattooed on the back of his right hand between his thumb and index finger.”

  Ray’s gut clenched. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” Dan answered Ray then addressed Pope, “Does that help?”

  Pope’s eyed widened. “A Blooddrop Crew member.”

  Jon rose and paced. “Dammit! This might be retaliation for the no-knock warrant we served on the gang on the fifth.”

  “Tell me about the warrant.”

  “Simple in and out, except one ran. Dan went after him.” Jon’s ire notched up, but he kept it in check with Pope here. “We arrested several members on drug charges. Loki and Dan need to review photos of known members.”

  Dan’s gaze locked with Loki’s, both men’s eyes displaying relief the attacker’s identity appeared not to be related to personal situations.

  No one caught the slight shift in Ray’s expression as his mind recalled the threats flung at him by Alonzo Nores when he put the man in a patrol car.

  Pope stood. “I’ll contact Guns and Gangs and arrange for someone to bring over photos. With any luck, we’ll identify our suspect.” He strode from the room as Tia entered.

  Nick grinned. “Yes?”

  “Commander Gambrill requests Dan in his office. Now,” Tia related.

  Dan pushed out of his chair, glad for the reprieve of debriefing but wondering why the commander wanted him. His hopes were dashed when Jon said, “We’ll hold debrief until you return. I have a whole lot to say to you about your choices during the call.”

  TRF HQ – Commander Gambrill’s Office

  Upon entering Dan came to attention based on the grim expression of his godfather. With the countenance presented, this meeting didn’t bode well for him. Military training kicked in. “Broderick reporting as ordered, sir.”

  Walter almost groaned at the soldier bearing. “Take a seat.” He waited until Dan sat … rigidly, and then cleared his throat. “I reviewed the transcripts of the Kolff call. Typically, I leave discipline to my sergeants. However, in this case, I must intervene. Let me be clear, this is not because you are my godson. I would take this same action for any one of my officers.

  “Dan, you must realize by now TRF is not Special Forces. What might’ve been viewed as acceptable and necessary at times in a war zone, is not by any stretch of the imagination tolerable here. You chose to move into a dangerous situation while knowingly injured.” His gaze moved to Dan’s wrist.

  “That action could’ve resulted in further injury to you, your death, or either of those to your teammate. Unacceptable. I understand and believe that you thought your upset stomach was due to bad food, but even that compromised your ability to perform your job and put yourself and Ray at risk.

  “I witnessed Ray when you were rolled out. You put the man through the wringer. I’m well aware you’ve seen team members die. Your choice almost made that a reality for Ray.

  “I won’t ask you to explain your reasons. Frankly, I don’t care at this point. Your rational is faulty if it allowed you to justify your need to apprehend the subject. This behavior cannot and will not continue. You will not keep sidestepping the regulations. Your duty is ensuring not only your team’s safety but your own as well. Do I make myself clear?”

  Walter tapped the folder on his desk. “And when you return, you will not be with Alpha Team.”

  Dan’s heart stopped and a lump formed in his throat preventing any sort of sound. Fate is screwing with me again. I just found a place to belong. I’m starting to trust them. I opened up, and now it is all going away.

  The devastation in Dan’s eyes made Walter realize he chose the wrong words. “What I mean is, while you are on light duty you’ll be temporarily reassigned. Until you’re one hundred percent, and Dr. Fraser indicates you are ready for full active duty, you will not be allowed to respond to critical calls. You have displayed a tendency to … well, circumvent the rules.

  “Therefore, you will be assisting with the yearly marksmanship evaluations for TRF and several Patrol Divisions. You will be tasked with identifying officers who require refresh training and those who might make decent candidates for a TRF training program I’m hoping to start later this year.”

  A surge of relief flooded Dan, and he smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  Walter maintained his solemn demeanor. “This is in addition to whatever Sergeant Pastore determines as appropriate discipline.”

  “Understood, sir.” Dan recalled what Bonomi conveyed, and he had yet to address it with either Boss or the commander. “Sir, I will be called to testify at some point during the court-martial. Lieutenant Colonel Bonomi indicated they would likely start in February. I don’t have a specific date, nor am I sure how long I’ll be required to stay. I comprehend this will make scheduling difficult.”

  Noting the worry, Walter cracked a small smile. “Dan, I want you with TRF. You are a real asset. If you are concerned about the time off, don’t be. Your spot is safe no matter the duration of your absence. It is no different than when any of you must testify for trials of subjects you apprehend. Once you obtain the details, inform me, and we’ll adjust as necessary.�
�

  Leaning back, Walter pointed to the wrist. “How are you doing?”

  “Okay. I heal fast.”

  “Like your father. I remember the summer he broke his wrist. Most people would be in a cast for six weeks. After two he was using his hand for almost everything and was out of the cast in four, like nothing ever happened. Damn glad you take after William in that respect.

  “Now, get out of here. You’re on medical leave for the remainder of the week. Go home and rest. When you return, come talk to me, and I’ll provide you more details on your temporary assignment.”

  Dan rose. “Thanks, sir. I must debrief with the team, then Loki and I are returning to his home.”

  “Excellent.” Walter watched Dan exit and wondered if his speech and decision would affect a change in his godson. One can only hope, but undoing years of ingrained training and eliminating his fear of failure and its misconceptions is a tall task for anyone. He bent his head and returned to drafting his proposal to build a TRF training program, wanting to have a group of candidates they could quickly pull from to cover at a moment’s notice without having to run trials.

  TRF HQ – Briefing Room – 3:10 p.m.

  Taking a deep breath, ready to face the wrath of Jon, Dan entered and resumed his seat. His reaction to the commander’s words knocked around his head, and he decided to use them to his advantage. “Before we start.”

  All eyes turned to Dan, each wondering why Gambrill wanted to speak with him, they waited.

  Dan sighed as he took a moment to assess his actions from their perspective. “Hindsight always illuminates issues. I acknowledge the logic I used, in this case, is a bit flawed. We controlled Smellie’s egress. However, we did not know if he presented a danger to any civilians and we needed to clear the building due to the bomb. The error I made is I should’ve informed you of my wrist injury before going in.”

  He turned his eyes to Ray. “I’m sorry I put you in an untenable situation, that wasn’t my intent.” Shifting his gaze back to Boss, Dan said, “Gambrill will not allow me to return to Alpha Team—”

  “What?!!” Loki yelled. “No, he can’t do that!”

  Dan chuckled. “If you let me finish, please.”

  Loki stopped his rant, but the thought of Dan not on the team made him angry.

  “Until Dr. Fraser signs off that I’m ready for regular duties with no restrictions, Gambrill decided to assign me to assist with yearly marksmanship evaluations. Once healed, I’ll resume my place in the field with you.”

  Nick suppressed a grin as he noted the self-satisfied expression on Jon’s face. Perhaps we won’t experience one of Jon’s and Dan’s hellish confrontations today—though often constructive, they are a bear to witness and the team doesn’t need the friction. “Well, shall we begin?” He pulled the transcript to him and his team launched into debrief.

  Exceptional Women

  17

  January 14

  Home of Marbella Ridgewater – Grand Salon – 1:30 p.m.

  Bella Ridgewater took a moment to survey the scene in her salon as a smile graced her refined features and she clasped her hands in front of her. The sparkle in her brown eyes added to the illusion of a much younger woman. At eighty years old, having celebrated the momentous occasion, at least to her family, on the fourth of January, Bella possessed the vim and vigor of a woman in her late fifties.

  Ann Broderick stopped next to Bella and remarked, “Yvonne will be extremely pleased. How did you ever manage to pull all these people together on such short notice?”

  “Oh, a little of this and a bit of that,” Bella answered.

  A small giggle bubbled out of Ann. “I forgot who I’m talking to. Do you think this will work?”

  “I do. Wonderful things happen when you bring the right group together.” Bella’s graceful smile grew as she noted the men and women of the City Council Budget Committee interacting with a hand-picked group of citizens.

  One advocate on the committee needed no persuading. Mrs. Birgit Reistad, the first woman ever selected for TRF, who changed careers upon learning she was pregnant and her spouse died in a car crash two days later. She recently retired from the Specialized Criminal Investigations Unit when elected to the council.

  Others though did require nudging in the appropriate direction, to increase the police department’s funding instead of cutting it. Hence the reason for this luncheon. After conversations on New Year’s Eve with Yvonne and Harriet Gambrill, they hatched a plan to bring together council members and people whose lives had been touched by the service of constables.

  Carol Bodhran, who beamed with pride claiming to have twelve outstanding boys after she and her husband, retired Major Bodhran, became the guardians of the Tabor-Kettle boys, now spoke with councilwoman Lorelei Ravenswood. Bella figured Ms. Ravenswood would be an easy sell. The raven-haired beauty appeared to have a soft spot for constables.

  Bella noted David Bayberry, CEO of Bayberry Incorporated and Caroline Bennett, Director of Mayfield Soup Kitchen conversed with one of those providing the staunchest opposition. Mr. Benedict Chudwell proposed severe cuts to the constabulary budget to increase funding of community outreach programs for those with mental illnesses. Caroline and David would set him straight on how reduced funds would affect the first responders and stress the need for increased training, so incidents with emotionally disturbed individuals ended on a positive note.

  “Who are the ladies speaking with Mrs. Harrods?” Ann asked.

  Shifting her gaze to the councilwoman, Bella replied, “Mrs. Priscilla Carlyle, wife of the Chief of Police, and Mrs. Josephine Hardy, chairwoman of the Fallen Officer’s Welfare Fund.”

  “Hardy? Is she any relation to Jon Hardy?”

  “Yes. She is his grandmother.” Catching sight of two of her guests making their way toward Mr. Chudwell, Bella said, “Ah, this will be interesting. Come with me.”

  Ann followed, bemused by Bella’s excitement. Arriving in the circle, she caught the last of Chudwell’s statement.

  “I disagree. In your case, you possess the resources to seek help for your wife. Most people don’t have access to your funds. And as Caroline will no doubt agree, many people suffering from mental illness become homeless and do not receive the care they require. We must cut police funding and shift the money to services which assist our citizens before they end up in the crosshairs of trigger-happy constables.” Benedict Chudwell eyed the newcomers.

  An unassuming woman, with average features and sad eyes, turned to the councilman. “What makes you believe constables are trigger-happy?”

  Taken aback at the woman’s question, Benedict became defensive and resorted to the few examples he paraded around for his cause. “First is the death of Mr. Lupton. I firmly believe Constable Fouquet fired without cause. Lupton’s parents called the police to assist them in taking their son to the mental hospital. He presented no danger, but the officer still shot him.

  “Then there is Corporal Digby’s death. He clearly experienced PTSD, or he wouldn’t have threatened his wife, unborn child, and best friend. Instead of receiving help, TRF killed him. I could go on listing examples, but you see my point. Proactive intervention is needed because when cops are involved, their solution is to shoot first. We need fewer cops and more health services.”

  Mrs. Guntram shook her head. “You, sir, are misinformed. My son Luther is alive today because well-trained members of TRF took the time to try to connect with him during a schizophrenic break. He stopped taking his meds, found a gun, and threatened many lives. Sergeant Pastore and his team went out of their way to end the incident peacefully without harming my boy.

  “It is my opinion funds for training should be increased, not decreased since our fine officers are the first ones called to handle dangerous situations. Sadly, not all constables receive the level of training TRF does. If they did, well, perhaps Mr. Lupton would still be alive.”

  Maude Renaudin nodded, and addressed Mr. Chudwell, “My daughter Lydia co
mmitted murder. She had a mental breakdown which went undiagnosed until after she killed a former boyfriend. She shot him with a crossbow.

  “She is only alive because a brave TRF officer chose to risk his life to disarm her before she could kill anyone else. Lydia is now receiving the help she needs. I too disagree with your statements. Do you know the TRF motto?”

  Benedict fought the urge to cross his arms. “No.”

  “Let me enlighten you. Talk Before Tactics. That is in addition to the police creed to protect and serve. Constables put their lives on the line every day so we can go about our lives. I think we, as the citizens protected by them, should ensure their training needs are funded properly, so that we, and them, can go home to our loved ones at the end of each day.”

  Ann listened with interest as the group continued to discuss the issue and noted when Mr. Chudwell’s body language shifted. She would enjoy sharing the outcome of today with Yvonne when her sister returned from the surprise vacation William took her on.

  Two weeks at Jade Mountain on St. Lucia. With no phones, televisions, or radios in any of the rooms, Yvonne and William could relax away from all stress and enjoy a second honeymoon of sorts. Goodness knows both of them deserved the time away after the events of last summer and fall … and for that matter, the past twenty years of their marriage.

  Wandering to the next gathering of people, Ann smiled at Harriet Gambrill. “Bella is a wonder, isn’t she?”

  “Most definitely. Walter will be happy. He worries so much over the impending cuts and the risk it poses to his officers.” A broad smile broke out on Harriet’s face as she lifted her wine glass toward Ann. “Here’s to success. With any luck the City Council will increase their budget and TRF can add a whole new team or the expanded training programs.”