Brad’s eyes widened.
“Yup. Who’s your real best friend? Not only did my team disprove the ballistics, I’m the first one to bring you authentic food. You need to let it thaw so you don’t pop out your jaw sucking on the thick milkshake.”
Brad reached for the container. Annie pulled it away. “Weren’t you listening? Jeez.”
Briscoe stood. “I gotta get home to Elaine and the kids. Too many days since I’ve seen them, and I’m out of beer. Not that the boys care if their pops is there or not.” Briscoe winked. “Take care, rookie.”
“Wait for me,” Annie said.
“Wha … ’bout … ’obo?” Brad asked.
“He gets to do a sleepover,” Briscoe said.
“The nurses will have a fit,” Sturgeon said.
Briscoe nodded toward the door. “I’ve got guys posted outside all night. When Lobo needs a walk, they’ll take him out. You owe me.”
Briscoe and Annie left.
Brad stared at Sturgeon. “Ball … ist … ics.”
“Ah, yes.” Sturgeon grinned. “You want to know about my team’s brilliance. You already knew the other evidence was circumstantial and weak. Nothing you’d ever be convicted with. But the ballistics was another matter. With the ballistics match, all the other evidence supported you as a killer.”
“Not … my … gun.”
Sturgeon cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Yes, and no. It was your gun frame, just not your barrel.”
“Re …” Brad swallowed with difficulty. “Replaced.”
“Yup. I remember that.” Sturgeon set a photo of two gun barrels on the table in front of Brad. He pointed at the top barrel. “Some replacement barrels don’t have a serial number. Yours didn’t.”
“Barrel … switched.”
Sturgeon sat back with a smug grin. “You’ve got it.”
“Toscana.”
Sturgeon’s eyes widened. “How did you figure that out?”
“Only ti … me didn’t have.”
“Ah. The one time your gun was out of your possession. But how did Toscana get at it?”
“Range.”
Sturgeon nodded. “Anyway, the way Gayle and Angie figured it out was that the gun cleaning solution on the barrel differed from your other gun, and the frame. Yesterday when we tested Toscana’s gun, the cleaning solutions matched.”
Brad nodded, gave a thumbs-up, and eyed the milkshake.
Sturgeon figured that was as close to a thank-you as he’d get.
Brad awoke with a start in darkness. He felt something around his arms but realized he could still move them. A faint light glowed from his right. He tried to call out, but his mouth wouldn’t move. A wave of panic flashed over him. He could barely breathe. Where was he? He remembered fighting with Toscana—Dice. She shot, he shot. He was sure she missed. Did he miss? Did she still have him captive? What about Michael?
“Brad. Are you okay?”
Brad’s vision was blurred. A priest hovered over him. I’m dying. But why a priest? I’m not Catholic. But, hey, if it’s my time, might as well do all I can to get to the right place.
“Brad. It’s John Branton.”
Branton? Not a priest. Preacher or reverend or something.
“Bran … ton.”
Branton smiled. “Ah, you’re awake. I was worried for a while. You were having flashbacks or nightmares. I was about to call my friend, a priest, so he could do an exorcism.”
Brad’s chest heaved as he contained a laugh. “Saw … the …movie. Scared … me.”
“I hope they didn’t serve you pea soup.”
Brad held up a hand.
“Right,” Branton said. “I won’t tell any further jokes. I won’t stay long. It’s well past visiting hours, but my dark suit and collar get me free access in the hospital. I wanted you to know I enjoyed our talk, and you know where to find me.”
Brad blinked. The one part of his face that didn’t hurt, despite the swelling.
Branton clasped one of Brad’s hands in both of his. “Is it okay if I say a prayer?”
Brad nodded and closed his eyes. As Branton prayed, Brad felt the burdens that had been weighing him down lift away. Then he slipped into the deepest sleep he’d had in over six months.
Brad’s eyes popped open. He struggled to sit up. A hand pressed gently on his chest. “It’s okay. Lie back. You’re in the hospital.”
Brad blinked a couple of times and his eyes adjusted to the dim room. The light from the corner backlit the face peering down at him. A soft hand stroked his cheek, then came to rest on his hand.
“Sadie?”
“I’m going to put the oxygen back on your nose. I know it’s hard to breathe, and I know it’s hard for you to understand, but the oxygen canula you keep knocking off is helping you. Leave it alone.”
“Nose.”
“Yes, your nose was broken. They’ve straightened is as best they could. You’ll have a cute hook to it now. But the blood is cleaned out, so don’t breathe through your mouth, only your nose.”
Paws pounced onto the other side of the bed and Lobo’s head popped up.
“He’s barely left your side since last night. The cops had to drag him out to pee.”
“Las … night?”
“This is your third day in the hospital. Annie and Briscoe smuggled him in yesterday.”
Brad remembered that, now. Lobo lay on the bed for hours, edging Brad toward the floor. The nurses were not impressed with Lobo barking every time they came into the room. He got particularly angry when around needles.
“Time?”
Sadie yawned. “About four in the morning.”
“How … long … you … here?”
“I came after my last show at ten.”
“All night?”
“Yup. You’ve been out cold since I got here. I slept for an hour. Then listened to you snore, wheeze and whistle. I read a novel. Briscoe told me about it. He said I’d get an insight into cops.” She held up the book. “The Choirboys by Joseph Wambaugh.”
Brad tried to grin. It hurt. “Favorite.”
“So I’m told. It’s, um, interesting reading. Especially the choir practices. Briscoe said where they found you has been used for choir practice.”
Brad glanced away.
“I figured so,” Sadie said.
Brad chewed his lip for a moment. “Desk. Saw … papers.”
Sadie nodded then stared out the window at the shadows of the downtown skyline. “I wondered if you had. My whole desk was messed up. And all without a search warrant.” She tried to laugh, but instead sniffled.
“Sorry.”
“That part of my life is over.” She shrugged. “Now’s not the time to talk about it. I don’t want to, and you can’t talk.”
“You … okay?”
She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes. “I’m better than you.” She forced a smile. “You should sleep.”
“Not … tired.” Lobo’s head lifted. He stared at the door and growled.
Then a nurse strode into the room. “You don’t scare me, Lobo.” She scratched behind his ears and he rolled his head toward her. “You’re a baby.” She gave him a digestive biscuit.
She checked Brad’s blood pressure, replaced an IV bag, and withdrew medication into a syringe. “We’d like you to sleep a few hours longer.” She injected the medication and patted his hand. “Nighty night.”
Brad’s eyes grew heavy, fluttered, then closed. Brad rolled onto his side up against the bed rail. Sadie grabbed her red coat, black gloves, and white wool hat. She stood over him. “Sleep tight.”
Then Sadie set the coat back on the chair and removed her knee-high boots. She climbed onto the bed and curled next to Brad. Lobo shifted and positioned his head across Sadie’s ankles as he kept watch on the door, daring any nurse to interrupt.
To The Reader
T
13 Days of Terror is my second novel released this year. Perhaps there will be three or four novel releases next
year!
* * *
Credits:
I have an exceptional team ...
Valerie West
Valerie has supported my writing right from when we met. She’s always my first Beta Reader and provides just the right amount of critique and encouragement. When I hide out in my writing cave, she understands that I am in the zone. Or she thinks I am! I might not make it out of my office for hours and sometimes I will write late into the night. I’d be so lost without her love and support.
Jonas Saul
Jonas and I have been friends for 2 ½ years. We met at the Creative Ink Festival in Burnaby, B.C. Jonas is an outstanding thriller writer and New York Times bestselling author of the Sarah Roberts series. Jonas is a prolific writer and by Christmas will have written nine novels and published seven this year. I am no where near the production of Jonas, but he is continually pushing me to work harder and meet daily goals. I’m not as consistent as his 5,000 words a day, but I have had a few 6,000++ word days and can easily write 2500 to 3,000 words in a day. As I write this in October 2020, I am writing my seventh novel, with eight and nine in the early stages as well. Thank you, Jonas, for mentorship and friendship.
Taija Morgan
Taija is a huge part of my writing success. Her edits are so well thought out, suggestions are bang on, and she takes the opportunity to teach me. The fact I don’t always catch on. is on me! My goal is to have her say “I didn’t see that coming.” Or “Nice twist.” And especially, “I laughed out loud.”
At times, well, often, I think she knows the story better than I do. She is excellent at noting times where I have forgotten a detail from a previous novel. Thank you, Taija, for your awesome edits, but also for teaching me to be a better writer.
Travis Miles, ProbookCovers
Travis created all my book covers. Before anyone gets to my writing, they have seen Travis’ work and are impressed. His designs are outstanding and stand out form other novels. He has created a vision for both the Coulter and Speargrass series.
Bill Sturgeon
My good friend Bill Sturgeon was a classmate of mine at the police academy. For reasons neither of us understand, we became friends. Sergeant Bill Sturgeon of the Identification Bureau made his first appearance in OutlawMC. He assists Brad in Wolfman is Back. And while he isn’t getting his own series, he play a key role in the next two Coulter novels.
Sheila Clayden—Mom
My mom is my biggest fan. My fondest memories were of her reading to me, then teaching me to read. I’ve had a book or seven in line for reading since I discovered the Hardy Boys. I don’t know if it was natural progression, but she had prepared me for writing by sharing her love of reading. She has a copy of the first draft of Crisis Point. She hopes someday it will be worth a lot of money.
Jennifer Cockton, Online for Writers
Jennifer keeps the web page up to date, manages all things social media, and reminds me when the newsletter is due.
Mickey Mikkelsen of Creative Edge Client Group handles my publicity.
Beta Readers
I have a great group of Beta readers that give me early feedback on the plot and characters. Each provide their unique perspective, which collectively gives me the direction I need.
Bill and Susan Sturgeon—Bill, a retired Calgary Police Sergeant, and Susan, retired RCMP, provide feedback on policing. Susan, as well, provides advice on Brad’s love life and with each novel threatens me if I do something she doesn’t like. (There were many threats after Wolfman is Back!) Of course, I make sure to add those to the novel. Susan is my second biggest fan and shouts out to everyone she knows (and some she doesn’t) that they should buy my novels.
Craig Ilott, as always, pointed out plot errors and out-of-character character responses to situations. I’d be lying if I said his comments didn’t make me cry. He’d tell me suck it up and make the changes.
Bob Modray, has been a Coulter fan right from Crisis Point. He offered to read an early version of 13 Days of Terror and offered outstanding suggestions.
Rod Fradette, good friend and golfing buddy, allowed me to use his name as a rescuer coming to the aid of a gunshot victim.
A Final Note to My Readers
This summer I attended several Farmer’s Markets and Fairs. It was such a thrill to have readers who bought novels from me last year, track me down to either pick up the latest in the Brad Coulter series, or Speargrass—Opioid.
At one fair, a lady was a hard sell. I spent a lot of time trying to convince her she’d like the novels. We made a deal. She would buy Crisis Point, on the condition that if she liked it she could come back and get the deal I was offering that day, for all three novels. I agreed and as she left, I said, “See you in two weeks.” She smirked.
Two weeks later as the market opened, there she was, back for OutlawMC and Wolfman is Back.
A guy was flying past my booth, on a mission of some kind, then came to a screeching halt. He said, “I bought two books from you last year. Do you have new ones?”
I said, “I have two new ones.”
He said, “I’ll take them.” Then rushed off.
Experiences like that are so thrilling. I am overwhelmed and touched that you like my novels and how enthusiastic you are in your emails. I even like the pressure you put on me to get the next novel out. At times, I’m obsessed with writing.
On days when the words aren’t cooperating, an email from you reminds me why I’m doing this, and I forge on.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are awesome!
About the Author
Dwayne Clayden combines his knowledge and experience as a police officer and paramedic to write realistic crime thrillers.
His first novel, Crisis Point, was a finalist for the 2015 Crime Writers of Canada Arthur Ellis awards.
The Brad Coulter Thriller Series includes Crisis Point, OutlawMC , Wolfman is Back, 13 Days of Terror and Goddess of Justice .
In 2022,The Brad Coulter Thriller Series continues with Bonded Labor.
Dwayne released the first novel in a new Modern Western Thriller Series, Speargrass-Opioid. If you like Longmire, you’ll love Speargrass-Opioid. The second novel in the series, Speargrass-Vengeance will be released in Fall 2021.
Dwayne’s short story, Hell Hath No Fury, was published in AB Negative, an anthology of short stories from Alberta Crime Writers.
His vast experience working with emergency services spans over 40 years and includes work as a police officer, paramedic, tactical paramedic, firefighter, emergency medical services (EMS) chief, educator, and academic chair.
Dwayne is a popular speaker at writing conferences and for writing groups, providing police and medical procedures advice and editing to authors and screenwriters. The co-author of four paramedic textbooks, he has spoken internationally at EMS conferences for the past three decades.
DwayneClayden.com
[email protected]
Goddess of Justice Page 31
