by Laura Acton
Bram kept up with Jon’s quick stride as he said hotly under his breath, “Jon, you must stop doing that if you don’t want to lose your position as tactical leader or within TRF altogether. You’re too harsh and it isn’t helping.”
“He ran off without backup. You think I should give him a lollipop and say good boy? No! Protocol must be followed.” Jon glared at Bram.
Bram sighed. If Jon didn’t change, they would be losing him. Bram wished his friend could recognize how he behaved and change before it was too late.
Reinserting his earpiece, Dan jogged to catch up, which jarred his sore shoulder. He rubbed tender spot on the way back to the trucks. Neither man asked him about it, so apparently, they didn’t notice.
Fine with me. I’m used to dealing with injuries on my own. Almost every time he went with other units, he covered his own ass. Following orders, also drilled into his head from his earliest memory, he simply obeyed when the general ordered him to go with another unit, he went whether he liked it or not.
Patch usually chewed him out when he returned but there was nothing he could do about the situation and Patch knew it too. Dan understood Patch’s diatribes stemmed from concern for him. The unit medic only vented his frustration at the lack of care the units showed him.
A pang of loss hit Dan as he thought about Patch. He had been well-cared for once upon a time—killing Brody changed everything. During the six years with his unit, Patch kept him alive. He would’ve died several times without his brother’s help. Patch also taught him the basics for self-assessment.
With his knowledge, Dan performed a self-check as he strode behind Bram and Hardy. Luckily his shoulder didn’t pop out of joint. He hated dislocated shoulders, particularly putting them back into the socket. Dan determined nothing was broken, only bruised. His muscles would ache for a few days, but he could handle the discomfort.
SUV En Route to TRF HQ
Bram rode with Jon back to headquarters. He decided not to repeat the mistakes he made for several months. He considered Jon’s words about Dan not following protocol, Jon was wrong. Both had muted their headsets so he spoke candidly to his friend. “Your remarks were uncalled for back there. Dan did nothing wrong. He followed protocol.”
“Wrong! He ran off without backup.” Still upset, Jon struggled to keep a handle on his reactions and to deal with Broderick differently. But goddammit, Broderick still pissed him off. Every time he looked at him he saw Burl or Alejandro in his actions. Jon could envision his career dissolving in front of him if he allowed Broderick to be injured again. Obviously, the ex-soldier became Gambrill’s pet project. Clear as day, Jon understood he would be leaving if anything happened.
Bram shook his head. “Listen to yourself. He informed us of his location. How is that breaking protocol. You and I would’ve done the same thing in this situation. Lighten up on him before it’s too late. Open your eyes … Dan’s changed in the past few weeks.”
Yeah, he’s changed alright. Jon’s ever-present anger boiled below the surface. Broderick lorded over them his privileged status and failed to perform except for the barest minimum. Surely aware of Gambrill’s ultimatum, Broderick did all in his power to break up the team. The rookie shunned every attempt to engage with him. He became more soldier-like every day. His ‘Yes, sir,’ and ‘No, sir,’ answers grated on him. More frustrating and irksome than when Broderick had been cocky and yelled. At least then there was emotion.
Knowing Bram waited for him to respond, Jon considered his words not wanting to get into a full-scale argument with his friend again. “I’m conscious of the difference, but as tactical lead it is my duty to ensure the team follows protocols. Lives depend on following them.”
Unsure how to take Jon’s answer, Bram hoped to elicit a hint of compassion from Jon for their new teammate, he said, “The shift in Dan’s personality is not a positive one. I think Dan has shut down.”
Jon reached his point of frustration with Bram. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to keep his tone even. “Highly doubtful. And I will not abdicate my responsibilities just because a privileged rookie is giving others the silent treatment and pouting like a spoiled brat. Bottom-line, Broderick broke protocol and ran off without backup. I must address performance issues. Now quit harping on me like an old biddy.”
I’m talking to a friggin’ brick wall. Bram grit his teeth and turned stare out the window to avoid saying something he would later regret. If Jon doesn’t ease up and come to his senses soon, TRF might lose two officers … Jon and Dan.
In the last few weeks Bram began noticing similarities between Dan and Jon. Both are exceedingly stubborn alpha males. Perhaps that is part of the problem. Maybe Jon recognizes things in Broderick he doesn’t like about himself and is overreacting. Though Jon’s comment about Dan ignoring them, made him think. Is Dan deliberately being difficult by remaining quiet?
As Boss predicted, Dan rejected every overture of friendship made. Last night, after work outside headquarters he invited Dan to his home for Thanksgiving. Taken aback when he registered a brief flash of undisguised intense hatred in Dan’s eyes. The rookie responded with a clipped ‘No, thank you’ before he took off running. As he stood, a bit stunned and observing Dan’s smooth strides, he wondered what prompted his display of emotion.
Bram’s mind shifted realizing Dan never drove to work. He had no clue where Dan lived, but his place must be close to headquarters if he jogged to and from work. What amazed him was Dan possessed enough stamina after some of their days to hoof it home. Sometimes all Bram could do was stagger to his own car and drive home.
As they pulled into the parking structure of headquarters, Bram said, “Be patient, Jon. You can correct him without yelling. Mentor him as you did the rest of us.” Jon shot him a look which didn’t bode well. Christ, another intense debrief is coming.
TRF HQ – Briefing Room
Debriefing about the call started out relatively tame. Nothing too much of note since all had gone as well as could be expected. Everyone went home, safe. Well, except for Mrs. Bayberry. She went safely to lockup.
Tia popped in for a moment to give them an update. She smiled as she shared, “Mr. Vickers, the owner of Arriba’s, offered Mrs. Paulson a job as a cashier at the store. He also provided her with all the necessary food to have a wonderful Thanksgiving meal with her children.”
After Tia returned to her desk, Ray shared information he learned from the subject’s husband. “According to Mrs. Bayberry’s husband, she was recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder and they’re still determining the correct dosage of her medication to control her manic episodes. Distraught by his wife’s actions, he offered to pay Mrs. Paulson’s back rent, as well as paying for the next six months to prevent eviction.”
Lexa smiled. “Awesome.”
Nick commented, “The information on her mental illness would’ve been useful in dealing with the woman. We need to make sure to glean that type of detail early on so we’re better prepared.”
Everyone nodded.
“Dan needs a lesson on being prepared too. He should’ve gotten the Remi out instead of goldbricking.” As soon as the snarky remark left her lips, Lexa wished to recall the words. Crud! Why am I being antagonistic? He did nothing wrong. There was no Zulu position.
About to apologize to Dan, Lexa whipped her head to gape at Jon when he snickered then vehemently laid into Dan for running off after the thief and not waiting for backup. His tangent veered off into every possible error Dan made today, and a declaration the rookie’s conduct put the team at risk. Lexa’s stomach soured, feeling even worse about her stupid comment.
Jon paused his rant as he strode to the back of the room. After grabbing a book off the shelf, he returned to stand next to Broderick’s chair. Slamming the protocol guide down on the table in front of him, Jon said in an unyielding tone, “Broderick, you better damn well memorize this and follow procedures from now on or I will write you up for every infraction.”
Sitting stiffly
at attention during the entire dress down, Dan didn’t bother to defend his actions or enlighten Hardy to the fact he had lots of experience going after people with no backup. Hell, that was the norm when he was in the Fourteenth and when he was with many units. No point in highlighting the obvious … the team was close by, and he did have backup. Dan also didn’t share with him a baby wouldn’t go hungry because he acted. He was sure Hardy would either not listen or turn it on him some way.
So, Dan remained mute and held himself rigid, causing his right shoulder to ache more, though he refused to show his pain. The tactical lead would likely lay into him about that too as an example of why he shouldn’t run after a subject. When the verbal thrashing ended, Dan responded in a flat monotone, “Yes, sir. Won’t happen again, sir.”
Nick was not thrilled with Jon’s haranguing of Dan. He would speak privately with him, again. Nor did Lexa’s snide remark please him—time for a chat with her too. Based on this debrief, things didn’t appear to have improved, but he still maintained hope.
The first week back had been tremendously awkward for everyone. No one quite knew how to respond to the rookie. He noted Dan altered his behavior which put a wrench in the works. None of them predicted this new ultra-quiet Dan, especially after two months of the cocky attitude and constant tactical suggestions from him.
Dan became self-contained—more than before. All answers came out clipped and typically tagged with a sir. He no longer offered any input. Nick couldn’t decide which was worse, the previous hard tactical solution suggestions or none at all—neither was ideal. Still unable to read Dan, figuring out how to move the team forward challenged him. His bag of tricks didn’t contain the necessary tools to connect with the ex-soldier.
Nick attempted many things to establish a connection with Dan. Hard to do when the other party disengaged completely. Dan gave him nothing to work with. He came in, did his job, and left. When the team discussed personal items, Dan never joined in.
Their rookie was here, but yet not here. Almost like having a ghost on the team. It didn’t sit well with him, and for the first time ever, Nick remained at a loss to find a path forward.
He reviewed Dan’s personnel file multiple times hoping for insight—an unproductive effort. Only the most basic details were visible. His military service read like a cryptic novel with all the blacked-out text. All he gleaned from the pages was he served for nine years, two as a military policeman and six years in Special Forces as a sniper. Well, actually the records never indicated Special Forces, he found that out from Gambrill’s introduction. He assumed the remaining year of service Dan spent in some form of training.
The only other military tidbit revealed Dan had been honorably discharged five days before showing up on their doorstep, which formed a few more questions. Why was he hired so fast? Why did Gambrill favor retaining Dan over proven officers if they failed to integrate him into the team? Could he still be a soldier and only placed with TRF for some covert mission?
Over the Thanksgiving break he would spend time pondering many questions. They had tomorrow and the day after off. Perhaps he could find a commonality which would help everyone come together as a team. He needed to formulate a solution soon—time was running out to meet the ultimatum.
Thanksgiving would give him the opportunity to have a heart-to-heart discussion with Jon. He acknowledged Jon made an attempt, but his effort was half-hearted at best. Nick must get to the root of the problem and help his stubborn tactical lead make adjustments—a tall task.
Nick sighed knowing he had his work cut out for him. He checked the clock and announced, “Only thirty minutes left on shift. All calls will be going to other teams. Finish your reports so we can all head home on-time for a change. We’re lucky this year to have both Thanksgiving and the following day fall on our normal days off. So, let’s wrap things up and get out of here.”
The team began joking around and discussing their plans for tomorrow as they worked on their reports. That is all except Dan. He sat filling out his paperwork and listening to Sarge and Hardy discussing all the things Hardy’s wife, Jennifer, planned to make.
He listened as Lexa joked with Hardy about all the pies Jennifer would make to suit all their tastes. Apple pie for the tactical leader. His thirteen-year-old son Kent loved cherry pie while four-year-old Joey wanted blueberry. Sarge favored pumpkin. Jennifer adored pecan pie. Sarge said he would bring his famous carrots and onion casserole.
Dan kept his eyes on his forms as he learned, Lexa would be going to Bram’s home. She and Bram discussed what time she should arrive. Bram told her his eldest, Leslie, made Lexa a placemat at school when they were making them for their families.
Loki became animated raving about his mother’s fresh baked rolls and finalizing arrangements with Ray for their double Thanksgiving. The feasting would start with the meal at the Baldovino’s at one. The Palomo family scheduled dinner for five because one of Ray’s sisters was flying in from Regina. They decided to do a blind taste testing at Ray’s to determine whether Mrs. Baldovino or Mrs. Palomo made the best pumpkin pie.
As they all discussed and made these plans, Dan remained silent. No one bothered to ask what he planned to do tomorrow. Not that he wanted them to ask, but it was another piece of evidence that none of them gave a rat’s ass about him. Dan stifled a sigh as he finished his report and conceded his last thought was not entirely accurate.
Yesterday, Bram extended an offer to join him for Thanksgiving. Unfortunately, Bram’s expression when he invited him had been too close to pity, causing bile to rise in his throat. He almost punched Bram as a surge of rage washed over him. Pity still drove him to extremes. Fighting to contain his fury, he rapidly declined and sprinted away as the malevolent sounds of The One’s laughter chased him.
Now Dan had a reason for declining. Lexa would be spending the day there. He wouldn’t be able to withstand the proximity to Lexa, but not because he disliked her. No, quite the opposite. Still very much attracted to her, he needed to keep her at arm’s length. Getting attached to anyone was too risky. Everyone he ever cared about died or abandoned him. He didn’t want Lexa to die and being forsaken again might be the impetus to break his oath to Brody and finally pull the trigger. So, Lexa must be kept at a distance.
Nick checked the clock. Five minutes before shift ends. He noted everyone appeared to be finished with their paperwork, so he smiled and said, “Go. Enjoy your Thanksgiving.”
Everyone except Dan pushed back their chairs, and filed out of the room, wishing each other a happy Thanksgiving.
Dan held back not wanting to change with the guys. His shoulder would be showing bruising by now. He didn’t want to report a trivial injury and be forced to be examined at the hospital. By next shift, it would be healed anyway. Putting up with a bunch of crap over a simple bruised shoulder was not in the cards.
Nick paused on his way out. “Time to go, Dan.”
Dan glanced up at Sarge. “Just completing my report, sir. I’ll leave as soon as I’m done.” A deflection, his statement only required his signature, but Sarge didn’t need to be made aware of that minor detail.
As Dan bent his head concentrating on his papers, Nick studied the rookie. Something niggled in the back of Nick’s mind, but he just couldn’t lay a finger on what bothered him. After several moments, he said, “Alright, don’t take too long.” Nick ambled out in the direction of the locker room letting his thoughts turn to his grocery list for the casserole.
Waiting two minutes after Sarge left, Dan signed his form, stood, exited, and placed his report on the stack with the others on the dispatch desk. He strode to the stairwell and ran up the stairs two at a time.
TRF HQ – Rooftop
Dan reached the roof in record time. He strolled to his favorite spot. His place of refuge by the air handler. The peacefulness here calmed his mind. No bombs, no automatic weapons fire, no targets to kill, no Hardy’s raging voice, and no masks needed.
Rubbing his sore should
er as he gazed out at the clouds, Dan allowed the coiled tension in his muscles to ebb away. The crisp October wind gently caressed his face and ruffled his hair. High places always soothed him. Even as a child he sought high ground when he needed a sanctuary. He spent several minutes focusing on breathing, striving to achieve inner peace.
After gradually releasing a breath, Dan leaned his back on the cold metal ventilation box. “Brody, I kept a baby from going hungry today. Hardy was pissed at me for going after the purse-snatcher. I guess the adage no good deed goes unpunished is true.”
Bushed after an arduous day of dealing with Hardy’s demands, Dan sank down by the handler to pass the time until the team all departed. He shut his eyes and concentrated on the whirring of the machine, trying to block out thoughts that tomorrow would be the first Thanksgiving without Brody and his brothers. Before long, the rhythmic sound lulled him into a light sleep.
Voices woke Dan. He glanced at his watch and noted he had been up here for forty minutes. Pushing himself up, he saw Sergeant Winter and his tactical lead Carl Buckner. He only waved, not wanting to speak to anyone, as he made a quick retreat to the door.
Crispin Winter watched Dan until he disappeared in the stairwell, then turned a quizzical eye to Carl. “Wonder why he was up here?”
“Jon reamed him again for breaking the rules. I swear if Jon doesn’t pull his head out of his ass soon …” Carl trailed off not voicing his desire to punch the shit out Jon.
“Yeah, right there with you.” Crispin blew out a breath. “Wish Gambrill would transfer him to our team. The guy is a wreck. Dan needs help, not the crap they’re dishing out. Never seen Pastore’s team this screwed up.”
Happy Thanksgiving
28
October 10 – Canadian Thanksgiving Day
Dan’s Apartment – Bedroom
Dan’s eyes flicked rapidly behind closed lids as sweat beaded on his forehead. His breathing came in short gasps as his body twitched and his white-knuckled grip twisted the bedsheet, hanging on for dear life. Trapped in the throes of another relentless nightmare plaguing his sleep. A chilling dream based on reality repeatedly played every night tearing at his heart and soul, leaving him drained and reaching for the pistol when he woke.
