The Last Storm

by Jack Hunt

  Danny nodded.

  Alaska Internal Affairs Department investigated incidents and suspicions of misconduct attributed to officers. This would be no different.

  Solomon continued, “People will want answers. Greg’s father will.”

  It was a close-knit community with less than two hundred people working in the town, which made it very hard for anyone to fly under the radar without someone knowing their business. How they had managed to get away with trafficking heroin this long without Greg opening his mouth was a miracle. Solomon continued asking him questions about what had happened but it just blurred together with the noise in his head. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience. He felt removed from the situation. He didn’t plan on killing him when he went in there. He thought Greg would understand. He thought Greg wanted to get out as much as he did — obviously not. Then there was Cayden Jones. He’d heard the rumors about him. The things he’d done to people who crossed him. The violence he’d inflicted on those who wanted to get out. Danny just figured he could talk his way out of it and use his position as a police officer to keep them at bay.

  As the cruiser came to a stop outside the gray and blue, three-story Public Safety Building that housed police, fire and city offices and council chambers, he was already running the conversation he’d have with Cayden in his head.

  Solomon turned in his seat.

  “Listen, Danny. Is there anything you need to tell me? Because if there is, now would be the time.”

  He shook his head. A part of him wanted to speak up, and come out with it but the repercussions were too great. Solomon waited a few seconds, nodded and pushed out of the cruiser. They headed in and he told him to write up a report detailing everything that happened and then change out of his uniform and hand over his firearm and magazines as they would be taken as evidence. He would conduct an initial interview before a follow-up would be done a few days later. Just like most cops who shot someone in the line of duty, he would be placed on administrative leave until they had deemed the use of force was appropriate, at which time he would be allowed to return to active duty. These things were never easy. Officers were often forced to feel like villains for doing their job but it was the protocol, and although the town was small, and his relationship with Solomon was solid, he would be treated no different.

  After filling out a short report, Danny passed by several administrative staff on the way to the locker room. They greeted him like it was just another day, but it wasn’t. Nothing would be the same. He pushed into the changing room and took a seat on a wooden bench for a few minutes. Staring into space, he removed his duty belt and then looked at his service weapon. He wasn’t thinking of Greg or what he would say to Solomon, or how he couldn’t deviate from his story. He was thinking about Cayden, the drugs stashed away inside apartment 1003 and what would happen when he didn’t make the drop.

  He fished into his pocket for his cell. Although he had a number for his point of contact, he’d left the conversation and dealings to Greg. The only reason he agreed to get involved was on the basis that he had minimal involvement.

  About to place the call, he heard a locker close and then saw an officer walk into view adjusting his duty belt.

  “Oh, hey Danny.”

  “Sam,” he replied.

  The door swung closed, a gust of wind kicked up dust as he exited. Danny got up and checked that he was alone before placing the call. It would be the last time he made it. Satisfied that no one was there he tapped in the number and waited as it rang. His pulse sped up. A few seconds and a man he only knew as Vic answered.

  “I need to speak to Cayden. It’s about the drop.”

  “Hold on.”

  He heard voices; the sound of drilling then muffled chatter on the other end. Danny looked around nervously. He’d never placed a call to him from the department. He’d always done it from the burner phone in his SUV. But this was urgent. He had no idea how this was going to play out but it couldn’t wait another day.

  “Hello?” Cayden’s grizzled voice answered.

  “We got a problem.”

  “How big?”

  “I can’t make the drop.”

  “What?”

  “Greg is dead. The cops are all over this. It’s too hot.”

  There was a pause, long enough to make Danny think Cayden had hung up.

  “Cayden.”

  A sigh. “They got my package?”

  “No. But it’s in a safe place inside the building.”

  “So bring it to me.”

  “I can’t,” Danny replied.

  There was a noise behind him like a door closing. Danny put his hand over the phone receiver and backed up looking down the metal lockers that were separated by long wooden benches and a few feet. There was no movement. No sound. He returned to the conversation.

  “Look, I need more time. I will get you the package but you’ll have to wait.”

  “Wait?” The tone of his voice changed, deepening. “Yeah, that’s not going to be good for business.”

  “It is what it is. Greg fucked up,” Danny said.

  “So clean up the mess and bring me my package, understood?”

  “I got it. I’ll bring it.”

  “Danny?” Solomon’s voice echoed behind him. A shot of cold fear went through him as he hung up. He turned to face him like everything was good.

  “Everything okay?” Solomon asked.

  Danny gave a nervous smile. “Yeah. I guess.”

  Solomon drew closer and gave a nod. “Who was that?”

  “What?”

  “On the phone.”

  Danny lifted the phone. “Oh, just a friend.”

  “Yeah?” Solomon folded his arms and leaned against the end of the locker. “And has this friend got a name?”

  Danny screwed up his face. “Look, I’ll be out in a minute.”

  He stared back expecting Solomon to nod and walk out but he didn’t. He remained there, stoic, unmoved and emotionless. “When is the drop happening?”

  “What?” Danny asked.

  “The package.”

  “That’s nothing. Just—”

  Solomon pushed away from the locker, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t bullshit me.”

  “Ed, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

  “I heard you. Don’t jerk me around.”

  “Look, chief. I mean, Ed.”

  Solomon put his hand out. “Hand over the phone.”

  “No. Why?”

  “Hand it over.”

  “I have rights.”

  “So did Greg Mitchell. Now hand it over.”

  He felt pushed into a corner. He could have refused but in light of all that had happened and the accusations against him, he knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He cursed under his breath as he handed it over. Solomon brought up the last number and redialed it. He never took his eyes off Danny for even a second. Although he didn’t hear what was said on the other end, he’d heard enough.

  “Hello?”

  “Who is this?” Solomon asked.

  The line went dead.

  Solomon let out a heavy sigh and shook his head.

  “How long have I known you, Danny?”

  Danny navel gazed then looked up at him. “A long time.”

  If disappointment could be seen in someone’s eyes, he saw it in Solomon’s that day.

  “Why, huh? Why would you do this?”

  Danny swallowed hard. There was no point lying any further. It was over. “Would it change anything if I told you?” he replied. Solomon clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared. “Ed, I didn’t mean to. It was Greg. He…”

  “Cut the shit,” Solomon said. “I expected more from you.”

  Danny didn’t reply.

  “You don’t deserve to wear that uniform.”

  “Ed, please. I…”

  “Take the uniform off. After, you’re going to show me where this package is.”

  “Then what?” Danny asked.


  “You already know,” Solomon said.

  Danny shook his head. “Please, Ed, I won’t last inside. You know what they do to cops. I’m begging you.”

  “Did Greg beg?”

  “He pulled a gun on me first,” Danny said.

  Solomon cocked his head in disbelief so Danny continued, “Whether you believe me or not. I know what happened.”

  “And you’ll get plenty of time to tell us. Now get out of that uniform.”

  “You think I can take a shower first?”

  “Get changed, Danny!” Solomon yelled.

  “It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” he said looking around. There were a few small windows higher up to let in air but not large enough for an adult to climb out. Solomon nodded and told him he would wait for him and to hurry it up. Danny walked back and scooped up a towel along with his service weapon that was partially covered. He headed to the back of the locker room and entered the showers.

  There he turned on the faucet and hot steam filled up the inside of the room and billowed out. Danny didn’t bother slipping out of his uniform. He carried the Glock into the shower area and stood there for a second, holding it as warm water poured over his face and body. Salty tears mingled with the water and he regretted everything.

  “You know, Ed, I’m really sorry I let you down.”

  There was no response. Hearing nothing was worse than the look of disappointment. It was over for him — his career, his reputation and his life, it was done.

  He wouldn’t survive a day inside the pen, and that’s exactly where he was going. Danny raised the Glock to his temple, hesitated for a second then pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 2

  Two weeks later

  Something didn’t feel right. It was close to eleven fifteen at night when the red Ford SUV came to a crawl outside the Anton Anderson Memorial Tunnel. The radio played quietly in the background relaying news on the recent weather changes throughout the United States and the world. Over the past year there had been all manner of disasters: a major hurricane hitting Florida, a tsunami overwhelming the coast of Japan, earthquakes and wildfires on the West Coast. Up ahead, two vehicles were bumper to bumper with a large amount of snow on their roofs when Alex Riley eased off the gas behind them. He flipped his high beams on for a second. Snowflakes hovered among the evergreens in front of a snow-capped mountain. He squinted into the distance toward the triangular entrance to the tunnel that ran two-and-a-half miles through Maynard Mountain’s rock. Steel shutters were down. It was closed? It couldn’t be. It had been open when he’d arrived for his interview with the Whittier Police Department, two weeks ago. He didn’t recall being told about a closure. Then again, thinking back to his fast-paced visit, it was all a bit of a blur. After doing three combat tours he’d returned to civilian life and had a hard time landing a job because he was infantry. He wasn’t sure why but it was probably something to do with the fact that the skills that had been taught to him by the military weren’t exactly transferrable. An employment specialist had told him he wasn’t the first ex-soldier to struggle. Unsure of what he was well suited for, he opted for a career in the police.

  Alex glanced at his family snuggled beneath blankets. The warmth of the vehicle had quickly lulled his wife and teenage kid into a slumber over the one-hour trip from Anchorage. He didn’t want to wake them so he was careful to not make a noise as he pushed out into the wintry cold. Alex cut a glance back towards the booth they’d passed. It was unmanned. If there had been a sign for scheduled times he hadn’t seen it. All he could recall from two weeks ago was them telling him that vehicles went through the single-lane passage every half an hour. Shivering, he stuck his hands into his puffy black jacket and jogged down to the car ahead of him. A thin layer of snow covered the windows. He looked inside and the driver appeared to be asleep. He tapped a few times on the window glass but he didn’t respond. He continued on to the second. It was a 4 x 4 black truck, and the driver was lying with his head against a pillow pressed against the window. The truck was idling and kicking out a large plume of exhaust smoke. Alex blew into his cupped hands trying to warm them up. His breath expelled from his body like a ghostly apparition. It had to be around twenty degrees Fahrenheit. A quick knock on the glass and the driver stirred. He turned, Alex smiled, and the driver squinted at him. He could just make out his blurred face under the glow of the lights. The driver sat up and cracked the window. The guy had to be in his early fifties, a hard jawline, stubble, a full head of dark hair with a large amount of salt and pepper throughout.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  Alex jerked his head towards the tunnel. “Yeah, you know when the tunnel opens?”

  “Five thirty in the morning.”

  “What?” He squinted. “But I’ve got to get into Whittier.”

  “You and me both. It closes at ten thirty every night.”

  “Why?”

  “People need to sleep.”

  Alex frowned. “Well there must be another way in?”

  “Yeah, by boat or plane. But I’m guessing you’ve got neither.”

  Alex blew into his hands. “This is insane.”

  The driver thumbed over his shoulder. “You should probably get back in your vehicle, sir. You’re liable to freeze out here.”

  “Yeah, no shit. I knocked on the window of the guy behind you. He didn’t respond.”

  “He’s probably dead.”

  “What?”

  “Happens all the time.”

  “All the time?”

  The driver snorted. “It’s a joke. Look, if you don’t want to sleep in your vehicle, you might find a hotel back in Girdwood.”

  “But that’s thirty minutes away,” Alex said.

  “It’s either that, sleep here or head to Anchorage.”

  “That’s where I just came from.” He sighed rubbing his hands and trying to stay warm. “This is nuts. You planning on staying here the night?”

  “Yep. Wouldn’t be the first,” the guy said.

  “This happen often?”

  “Yep.”

  Alex got a waft of his breath. He smelled like he’d been drinking.

  “I can’t believe they didn’t tell me.”

  The guy stared at him for a second. “All the times are on the site.”

  “If you know that how did you end up getting locked out?” Alex asked.

  “How do any of us get locked out?” the guy replied.

  He didn’t need to explain any further, and quite frankly Alex wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. It was freezing outside and he was just pissed that no one had told him.

  “It might help if they put up a sign or two.”

  “They have, you passed it back there.” He snorted. “By the way, I’m Ed Solomon.”

  “The chief?”

  Solomon nodded. “That’d be me.”

  “Alex Riley.”

  He burst out laughing. “Oh, the new hire. Right. Well that explains everything. Hold on, Debbie didn’t tell you about the tunnel times?”

  Now he felt like a complete fool. It wasn’t even his first day on the job and he was already showing a lack of attention to details. He didn’t want to throw anyone under the bus as there was a very good chance she told him in the middle of the hundreds of other things she conveyed. “Um. Maybe she did. To be honest I can’t remember.”

  “Well at least you’re honest. That goes a long way around these parts. Believe me.”

  Alex blew again into his hands. Solomon looked back at him.

  “Listen, finding a room this late at night might be tough. I know the owner of one of the log cabins in Girdwood. He’ll give me a good price, that is, if you folks are okay with sharing.”

  Alex tossed up a hand. “Oh, I don’t want to put you out. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Okay, but if you choose to stay in your vehicle, I would advise leaving the engine on for a while. You don’t want to join dead guy back there,” he said before chuckling
and bringing up the window. Alex jogged back to his vehicle and hopped in. By now Jessica was awake.

  “Are we here?” she asked.

  He groaned. “Not exactly. Look, the tunnel is closed for the night.”

  “Closed?”

  “I know. I know.”

  “Alex, we just drove an hour. We can’t sleep out here, we’ll freeze to death.”

  He thumbed forward. “They’re doing it.”

  She glared.

  He tossed his hands up. “Okay!”

  He looked on towards the chief’s truck and scratched his head. At that moment his sixteen-year-old daughter Hayley woke up, looked out and then rolled back over again. Alex hopped out and hurried back to the truck and tapped on the window. Solomon brought it down.

  “Change your mind or did the missus do that for you?”

  Alex smirked. “If the offer is still open. We’d appreciate that.”

  “Not a problem. Follow me.”

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Alex’s senses kicked into high gear with a strong coffee. Nursing his cup he glanced out the living room window and saw Solomon leaning against the front porch railing speaking on his cell. It was a little after seven. Beyond him, eight-foot snowdrifts had formed overnight, and the weather didn’t appear to be letting up. The sky was overcast and a strong wind was picking up needles of snow and blowing it against the pane of glass. Both the truck and SUV had been swallowed by snow. They’d stayed the previous night in a gorgeous log cabin with a loft that held two beds, and a futon in the living room. It offered more than enough space, and with the wood-burning stove roaring away, it certainly beat sleeping in their vehicle at below-zero temperatures.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of feet. Jess emerged with a solid gray blanket wrapped around her, and thick red socks.

  “Hey, darling, you want some coffee?” he asked.

  She pawed at her eyes. “Sounds good.”

  Alex went back into the kitchen and poured out a cup while Jess took a seat at a table that looked as if it had been carved out of a redwood. Not long after he gave her a cup Hayley trudged in and plunked herself into a chair, pulling up her knees and wrapping her legs around her. Jess reached over and ran a thumb down her cheek. “You sleep okay?”