FORSAKEN: On The Edge 0f Oblivion (Beauty 0f Life Book 1)

by Laura Acton

  His breaths came in gulps as Dan stared down the scope at his kills. The pandemonium in the room with children screaming and covered in blood splatters and brain matter was lost on Dan. He heard nothing but his own erratic breathing. His first kill shots since the friendly fire accident which took Brody.

  Dan rolled to his back as his heart pounded so hard his chest hurt. He closed his eyes, but images of the last time he saw his brother flashed in his head. He opened them and stared at the clouds. He had no idea how long he stared up into the sky before a voice penetrated his fog.

  Richard Donner glared at the man. “Constable Broderick … Broderick!”

  Dan blinked and shifted his gaze, landing on a man standing above him holding plastic bags and wearing a windbreaker emblazoned with the man’s service unit in large letters and name in smaller ones. Unfortunately, Dan was facing his first NRB inquisition with Agent R. Donner.

  His heart still beating irregularly, Dan sat up, feeling a bit light headed. Killing was never easy for him, no matter how many lives he ended. Each one ripped at his soul and their eyes seared into his mind.

  “Constable, you are a subject officer. Turn off your headset. You are sequestered and not allowed to speak to anyone until after interviewed by NRB. You will hand over your weapons and come with me,” Agent Donner declared.

  Dan stood, still trying to normalize his breathing as he turned off his headset as instructed, handed over his Glock and Remi, which Donner put in individual plastic evidence bags. His kit and the two shell casings were also bagged by others as he was led away by the agent.

  Paint Me the Picture

  15

  August 4

  NRB Office – Interview Room – 4:15 p.m.

  Briskly escorted into a small windowless room with only a metal table and three uncomfortable looking chairs, Dan stood silent, wondering what would happen next. He had no idea what to expect.

  On scene, an NRB agent confiscated his weapons and led him down the stairs. Donner repeated the directive he was prohibited from speaking to anyone. As he exited the building, the utter chaos of the scene outside of the daycare appeared to him through a slow-motion fog.

  News reporters talked over each other. Photographers took pictures. Parents screamed for their children as the kids were carried out splattered with blood, thankfully not theirs. Kids sobbed or remained silent, all pale and in shock. Surely traumatized by witnessing three people killed before their very eyes and covered in the evidence of the horror they viewed.

  The agent escorted him to a patrol car and put him in the back seat like a criminal. On the long ride to the NRB office, Dan managed to gain control of his breathing and slow his erratic heartbeat. Although, he couldn’t stop the flashes of Brody’s eyes haunting him. Never had he reacted like this after a shot. He puked like crazy after his first kill, but he learned to deal with the negative emotions, mostly—every kill ripped at his soul. Taking a life, even one of a dirtbag terrorist, still remained difficult.

  Richard Donner stared at Constable Broderick with disdain and ordered, “Strip to your boxers.”

  Dan turned to the man. His stolid expression changed to one of shock as his eyes widened, brows raised, and his mouth gaped open slightly. “What?”

  “I told you to strip down. Standard procedure. Your uniform is evidence.” Donner sneered at Broderick.

  Disbelief still running across his features, Dan began to remove his vest and uniform in front of Donner and a young constable. The constable’s name badge read S. Getty. The man held several large plastic bags. Getty seemed uncomfortable as he started to bag and tag his articles of clothing as evidence.

  Dan never expected to be required to disrobe, let alone with an audience. Not that he had any shyness after being in the military, but it did take him by surprise. Though relieved he wore boxers today, unlike yesterday. Now aware stripping down to his undergarments was part of this process Dan decided never to go commando at work again.

  When he got to his undershirt, he steeled himself for their reactions to his scars. He heard a small gasp from Getty, but Donner only stared at him with an odd sneer. Strange.

  Cold and a little shaky in the chilly room, Dan handed over his t-shirt and wrapped his arms around his chest, rubbing his hands vigorously up and down to warm up. Either someone turned the air conditioning down, or this is an abnormal reaction to my adrenaline drop.

  “Socks too,” Donner said.

  Dan reached down and pulled off his socks and handed them to Getty. The ice-cold of the floor seeped in chilling him further.

  “Sit.” Donner pointed to a chair. Tossing a file folder on the table, he pulled out the chair on the opposite side.

  As Getty left with all the bags and closed the door, Dan sat in the plastic chair. He shot upright in the seat after his bare back touched the cold chair. Definitely freezing in here. This isn’t just an adrenaline crash. He shivered as the agent took a seat across from him.

  Thirsty and hungry, having eaten nothing since the power bar and water he consumed after workout this morning, Dan asked, “Can I get some water?”

  Donner ignored the request and opened his file. “I’m Agent Richard Donner, and I will be conducting this interview. Constable Broderick, you are the subject officer in the death of Mr. Maurice Hanno and Mr. Johnnie McFarland. Did you take lethal action and kill these two citizens?”

  “Yes, after I received the order to take action.” Dan rubbed his arms, realizing he wouldn’t be getting any water.

  “Constable, describe for me in detail what occurred and why you felt compelled to use lethal force.” Donner started to take notes.

  “I waited in the sniper perch. When the target killed a friendly, Sergeant Pastore cleared me to fire. I acquired my target, fired a single round, and noticed the second target begin to raise his gun to kill another friendly. I fired another round. Two kills confirmed,” Dan reported only the facts in monotone.

  Donner stared at Broderick. He is a killer. He’s been one for a long time. “Your terms indicate that you intended to slay them all along.”

  Dan closed his eyes. Crap. I need to convert my language. “No, sir. Let me restate. I maintained a Zulu One position as Pastore negotiated for approximately five hours. When the subject rapidly escalated and killed the female hostage without warning, per protocol, the sergeant authorized the use of lethal means on an active shooter. I had the solution and fired once. When a second subject raised his weapon and aimed at the male hostage, who knelt on the ground, I shot again to prevent the death of a civilian. Both subjects were neutralized.”

  “So, in your opinion, you had no other option except to shoot down two innocent men.”

  “Sir, I don’t report opinions. Only facts. I fired as ordered. Active shooters a more direct action is required to save the lives of the hostages.”

  Donner leaned back, trying hard to hide his grin noting the shivering constable. Broderick needed to suffer. “Paint me the entire picture.”

  “What?” Dan squinted his eyes, and his brows pulled together in disbelief.

  “Be more descriptive. When you took the first shot, what happened?”

  “The bullet entered his temple, and he dropped. Is that what you mean?”

  “Provide me more details so I can determine if your action is justified.”

  Confused, by the bizarre request, Dan only stared. Every after-action report only required the facts … location, number identified, unidentified, and number of confirmed kills. “I don’t know what more you want. I can give you the angles and the weather conditions of my shot.”

  “How far did blood spatter?”

  “What!” Dan exclaimed.

  “Tell me the distance blood splashed.” Donner restated calmly.

  Dan’s stomach turned. “I don’t know. How is that relevant?”

  “If you can calculate shots, you should be able to provide details of the aftereffects of your shots,” Donner said scornfully.

  Estimating t
he radius and spread, Dan reluctantly answered the question. Donner continued to ask for more and more descriptive words to be used to ‘paint the picture.’ Was there any blood on the subject’s face or on the children’s faces? How fast did the subject fall? Was he still when he hit the ground or did he twitch? How did the children react? How much brain matter splashed on the kid’s faces? What did he think when he viewed their reactions? What type of nightmares would the kids experience after witnessing him kill two men in front of them?

  Donner asked questions Dan couldn’t even begin to see how they pertained to determining if his shots were legal. The agent repeated his questions until Dan responded with an answer. The interrogation mentally exhausted him and created so many horrible images in Dan’s mind as he used words describing what he witnessed.

  The grilling went on for a long time as Dan shivered and his thirst increased. Several hours passed, but with no windows or clock, Dan had no idea how many. He wished his wristwatch had not been taken along with his TRF ID and phone. Growing aggravated by the repeated inquiries, he wondered if this is what Bram and Ray went through yesterday. The process of making him relive the deaths in gruesome detail sucked.

  Dan studied Donner’s face as he answered. He decided Agent Richard Donner was a Dick instead of a Rich and Dick got his jollies by hearing the sickening details. “Please, I need some water,” Dan requested for the fifth time, as his need for liquid increased.

  Before Donner could ignore his request, the door to the room slammed open. A middle-aged man with graying hair and hazel eyes stormed in wearing stonewashed blue jeans, a blue blazer, a mint green shirt unbuttoned at the top, and a tie hung loosely at his neck. The deep scowl on his face indicated he was furious. The man exploded in a barely chained fury at Agent Donner. “Why didn’t you contact me sooner?”

  Donner stiffened. “Broderick didn’t indicate he wanted a lawyer present.”

  Lawyer? Dan blinked surprised by the outburst and response.

  Gibbson turned and scanned the young blond constable wearing only his underwear. The room was ice-cold, and the constable visibly shivered. The scars on his chest shocked the hell out of him, but he gazed into the blue eyes. Dale noted weariness and something else, pain or anguish. In his line of work, he witnessed that look in officers’ eyes after they ended a life. For those sworn to serve and protect, using lethal force ran against their grain. “I’m Dale Gibbson, your TRF appointed lawyer. How long have you been in here, with no clothing?”

  Shrugging, Dan attempted to wet his cottony dry mouth before answering, “A while. May I have something to drink?”

  Gibbson turned back to Donner. “When did this interview begin?”

  Donner checked his notes. “Shortly after we arrived.”

  “And when was that?” Gibbson demanded.

  “Around four fifteen or four thirty.”

  Gibbson slammed his palm onto the table as he glared at the agent. “You’re telling me you began the interview without representation and my client has been sitting in this frigid room with nothing but his boxers for three hours?”

  “Hmm, has it been that long? Guess I lost track of time.”

  Turning to Broderick, Dale inquired, “Did you call your family?”

  Dan shook his head. Not that he had a family to call, but he had not been aware he could. “I was told I couldn’t speak to anyone except NRB until after I’m interviewed. I could use some water. I haven’t had anything to drink since seven this morning.”

  Gibbson’s glare intensified as his eyes sought out Donner. “What in the blue blazes are you thinking Agent Donner? You failed to provide him with water? You’ve broken so many protocols, I’m going to ensure you hang from the yardarm. You’re an utter disgrace. I’ll be lodging a formal complaint. Your actions are contemptible. Now move your rear and bring this constable water and something to wear!”

  Donner scooted his chair back slowly. “Not my job. He doesn’t have a go bag of clothing here to change into.”

  Turning to Broderick, Gibbson softened his tone, “Is this your first lethal action?”

  “With TRF, yes,” Dan answered wondering when and if he would ever get a drink.

  “How long have you been with them?”

  “Three weeks.”

  “Did your sergeant or tactical lead explain the NRB process to you?”

  Dan shook his head. “We didn’t have a chance to review the process yet.” He wasn’t about to air the team’s dirty laundry. Dan realized he was partly at fault, he should’ve asked about the procedure.

  Gibbson turned on Donner, his voice reverting back to hard. “Why are you still in here? I said to get this man some clothes and water. Don’t tell me it isn’t your job again. Go now, before I think of more charges to levy at you.”

  Donner stalked out, fuming at Gibbson’s chewing out.

  Dale sat down. “Constable Broderick, first let me—”

  Rubbing his arms trying to warm up, Dan interrupted. “Just call me Dan, please.”

  “In that case, I’m just Dale.” Removing his blazer, Dale draped the fabric over Dan’s shoulders. “I’m sorry this happened. Frankly, I’m appalled by Donner’s actions. This isn’t how interviews are to be conducted. I will be filing a complaint against him. His actions today are cruel.

  “You should’ve been given clothing as soon as you removed your uniform. You have the right to call family before the interview. Also to representation and don’t need to answer any of their questions. You can choose to speak through me. You shouldn’t have been denied water. What types of questions did he ask you?”

  His shivering lessened with the warmth of the blazer. Dan took an instant liking to this man. The first man, other than his godfather, to treat him with any respect and show him kindness since he arrived in Toronto. As he informed Dale of the questions Donner asked, Dan noted the lawyer turned bright red, and he thought he might blow a gasket. When Agent Dick returned with a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt, socks, his boots, and a bottle of water, Dale unleashed a hurricane of words which would’ve done Winds proud.

  While Dale raged at the agent, Dan grabbed the water bottle and greedily drank the entire contents then dressed quickly, finally staving off the chill. He asked for more water, and five bottles were brought in by a female NRB agent who smiled at him and glared at Donner. The woman also brought him a candy bar and bag of chips. Dan thanked her and then consumed the candy and two water bottles before Dale finished his tirade.

  The interview ended swiftly after, only a few questions which made much more sense in determining justifiable lethal force. Donner showed him a use of force chart and asked to indicate the subject’s action category. In each case, he pointed to the assaultive, serious bodily harm, or death as the category for the subjects. Before they left, Dale Gibbson arranged for his phone, watch, and ID to be returned to him.

  Dale sighed and handed Dan a business card. “This will never happen again, Dan. I want you to put my number in your contacts list. You call me on the way to NRB if you are ever involved in another lethal action. I will be here regardless of the time of day. You will not be mistreated again. Count on me to have your back.”

  Dan took the card and nodded. “Thanks, Dale. I appreciate everything.”

  “I wish I had been contacted by Commander Gambrill sooner.”

  “The commander contacted you?”

  Dale nodded. “He said one of his new officers had taken a fatal shot today and NRB had not contacted him requesting representation. So, he asked if I would come over and check things out. Damn glad he called.”

  “Thanks again.” Dan stood and held out his hand to shake Dale’s.

  Gibbson’s grip firm, they shook hands. “My pleasure. Oh, one last thing I didn’t cover earlier. NRB will provide you a ride, usually via a patrol car, back to TRF headquarters. There should be one outside for you now.”

  “Good to know,” Dan said as he left the frigid room with Dale. It was nice to know he had an ally when
dealing with the NRB.

  TRF HQ – 8:25 p.m.

  Dan entered the headquarters and strode directly to the briefing room. He had no idea if the team was waiting for him to debrief or not. When he looked in, it was empty, being nearly an hour and a half past the end of shift, so it didn’t surprise him.

  He pivoted and headed for the locker room to retrieve his clothes. He wouldn’t bother to shower here, only change to his soft boots. As he approached his locker, Dan sensed someone in the room. Finding Bram sitting on the bench down their aisle did take him by surprise. His mask dropped into place and firmly affixed.

  Bram peered up at Dan. He told the team he would wait and check on Dan when he returned from NRB. Though he wouldn’t say anything to the others, he was somewhat disappointed with Jon and Boss when they didn’t stay like they would for everyone else. Especially since this was Broderick’s first lethal. It was not right and not how they treated teammates.

  Although, only a trifle upset with Boss. He understood Boss needed time to deal with his own emotional turmoil. Today hit too close to home for Nick since his wife and young son had been killed outside of a daycare center in a senseless drive-by shooting almost ten years ago. The result of a gang initiation where the gang picked their victims at random. Janie had just picked up little Martin and exited the daycare on their way home one afternoon. So today brought horrible memories of their deaths back for Boss.

  However, Jon possessed no such excuse not to stay and offer support to their newest member. They remained at loggerheads regarding Jon’s behavior, due to Jon’s uncharacteristic unfair manner and failure to mentor Broderick. Bram wished Jon would recognize that how Dan joined was not Dan’s fault, but his best friend could be a stubborn ass sometimes. Jon believed something until he didn’t, and Jon held the notion Dan didn’t belong on this team. Bram worried this spelled disaster for all of them.

  As Dan approached, Bram asked, “How’d it go?”

  “Fine.”

  “Rough call. You doing okay?”

  Dan opened his locker then began to change his boots. “I’m fine. All the kids got out safe.”