Cop Tales an Anthology for a Cause

by T. R. Cupak

  Murphy laughed along with him, then stopped almost instantly. “Yeah . . . well, one of their brothers is missing, so they need to get the hell up.”

  “I’ll try Cory again.”

  Beau pulled out his phone and called his little brother once more. When the phone started ringing, Beau heard an echo of the sound.

  “Do you hear that?” He turned to look at Murphy.

  “Yeah, it’s ringing inside of the house,” Murphy replied.

  The call went to voicemail, so Beau called it again.

  Murphy pounded on the door. “He’s got to be right there if we can hear the phone.” Murphy continued to knock. “What college-aged kid doesn’t have his phone in his hand?”

  Finally, there were sounds. There was movement behind the door. Rustling. Groans. Footsteps. Drawing nearer to the door. The ringing of the phone grew louder. The door began to open.

  “What’s up, bro?” Beau had a huge smile on his face as the door flung all the way open.

  It wasn’t his brother standing at the door. It was another frat boy with blonde hair wearing a vomit stained shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” Beau interjected. “I thought you were my brother.”

  “Ah. Nah, man. Sorry.” The boy’s voice was groggy and sleep-laced.

  Beau looked down at the young man’s hands. “That’s my brother’s phone though.”

  “Is it?” the student asked as he started to hand it to Beau.

  Beau shook his head. “I don’t need it. He lives here. I’m sure he’ll be looking for it later.”

  “Your brother’s a Theta?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Cory Callahan.”

  “I don’t know him, bro.” The young man looked up and his eyes opened wide as if he had been asleep the whole time he was standing in the doorway. He jolted. “I mean, sir.”

  Beau and Murphy smirked.

  “Do you know a Nick or a Mikey?” Murphy asked.

  “Who’s asking?” Another voice sounded from behind the door.

  A second young man rounded the corner. With brown curly hair and stark green eyes, he appeared next to the guy who had opened the door. He stood up straighter when he realized two officers were standing in front of him.

  “Do you know either of them?” Murphy repeated gruffly.

  “I’m Mikey.”

  Beau looked down. He noticed Mikey’s finger twitch. Mikey stared at his nameplate and Beau noticed his eyes widen and his chest begin to move rapidly.

  “Do you know a Nick?” Murphy continued.

  “There are, uh, a couple of Nicks in our fraternity.” His lip twitched slightly. “Why? Is everything okay?”

  “How many have Nick as their middle name and not their actual--”

  “Hey, Corporal?” Beau pulled the department camera out of his pocket.

  Murphy turned his head to Beau. “Yeah? What is it?”

  “Can you show me something on this camera real quick?”

  “What?” Murphy asked, confused.

  “I want to take pictures of the building number so we can have it for the report.”

  “Write it down, Rook,” Murphy grumbled and turned back to the boys in the doorway.

  “I must have dropped my notebook earlier. I can’t find it.” Beau patted his breast pockets.

  Murphy looked at the students and shrugged his shoulders. “Trainee.” He shook his head. “Excuse me for a minute.” Murphy stepped off the front porch, visibly annoyed.

  “What in the actual fuck are you doing, Rook?”

  “Something’s not right,” Beau spoke softly.

  “No shit, Callahan. That’s why we’re here to figure it out. Now why in the hell do you need to take pictures right now?”

  “I don’t.”

  Murphy looked confused.

  “I’ve got a gut feeling that something bad has happened to Nick and I think Nick might be my brother.”

  “What?” Murphy asked. “I thought you said your brother’s name is Cory.”

  “It is. Cory Nicholas Callahan. I didn’t put two and two together earlier. I had no reason to. To my knowledge, Cory has never gone by Nick.” Beau combed his fingers through his hair. “Did Tristan give you Nick’s phone number?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got it right here in my notepad.” Murphy pulled out his notepad and handed it to Beau.

  Beau recognized the number almost immediately. His breath caught in his throat and he immediately wanted to vomit.

  “Son of a bitch,” he choked on the words under his breath.

  “What is it?” Murphy asked.

  “As soon as he saw me, he thought he recognized me, I could tell. It was like he had seen a ghost. And when he saw my last name”—Beau patted his nameplate— “he knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “That Cory, or rather, Nick, is my brother.” Beau dialed the number scrawled out in Murphy’s notepad.

  Cory’s name popped up on the screen and Beau placed the phone up to his ear. He looked up at Mikey standing in the doorway. The phone in the other man’s hand started to ring.

  “Dude. Why does this phone keep ringing?” he asked as he began to hand the phone off to Mikey.

  Mikey stared into Beau’s eyes only a second longer before he turned and darted through the house. Beau raced up the stairs after him.

  “Stop!” he yelled.

  “Rook?” Murphy huffed as he quickly followed after Beau.

  “276, University,” rang out over the radio.

  “Go ahead, 276,” dispatch replied.

  “Can we get forensics over to this location 223 called out on the radio earlier? We believe we’ve got some blood here.”

  “Goddamnit,” Murphy cursed. He was still chasing Beau who was running after Mikey.

  They rounded tables, jumped over passed out bodies, and made it through the kitchen to the back door. Beau had just about grabbed onto Mikey’s collar when he tripped over something . . . or someone. He landed face first on the ground, his foot still caught on the large thing that caused him to fall.

  Beau lifted his head and watched as his corporal grabbed Mikey and tackled him to the ground.

  “252, University. Failed to advise foot pursuit. We’ve apprehended the individual. Show one in investigative detention.”

  “10-4, 252.”

  “Why the hell did you run?” Murphy asked Mikey, out of breath, as he placed him in handcuffs.

  Mikey didn’t answer. He was watching Beau. Murphy looked up to see what had caught Mikey’s attention. That’s when he saw his trainee, covered in blood.

  Why was there that much blood? He had fallen on grass.

  Beau began to open a black trash bag behind him. Murphy looked from Beau to Mikey. A tear ran down Mikey’s cheek. “No. No. No. Don’t open it. No,” Mikey stuttered under his breath.

  Murphy looked back to Beau from Mikey. He was struggling with the knot. The plastic was slipping between his blood-covered fingers. That’s when it hit Murphy. He dropped his hold on Mikey. “No! Callahan! Don’t open that!” He ran toward Beau.

  But it was too late.

  Beau had gotten the trash bag open. Staring back at him were two clear blue eyes. Cory’s eyes. His brother.

  Chapter Five

  Present

  Beau sat still at the kitchen bar. He’d never forget the day he found his brother in that bag. Killed over a woman. Murdered by a drunken, enraged boyfriend. When he looked into his brother’s eyes that day, he saw blue. And then he saw black.

  His hands shook as he picked up his wine glass. A guttural moan escaped his lips before liquid filled his mouth.

  Raven stepped back over toward him and embraced him in the warmest hug she could muster. He had lived through his nightmare again, but he was here now. Here with her. In the present. Out of the nightmare that haunted him every time he caught a really bad case.

  “Hey, baby.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’m here. You’re here.” She started rocking him as he sobbed.

&nbs
p; “I love you,” he spoke softly through his tears.

  “I love you too.” She pulled away slightly and kissed his forehead gently and then looked into his eyes. “You gonna be okay?” she asked.

  Beau nodded and rubbed his chest where, underneath his shirt, his brother’s name was tattooed.

  “Okay. You ready to eat?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Raven.”

  Raven smiled and turned to grab two plates off of the counter.

  The doorbell rang.

  Beau stood from the bar stool and walked toward the front door. “You expecting someone?” he hollered behind him to his wife.

  “No,” she answered.

  Beau opened the door and before him stood a teenage boy he didn’t recognize. He looked familiar, but Beau couldn’t quite place him. The boy stared at him with vacant eyes and a visible frown. Beau tilted his head slightly. “Can I help you?” he asked.

  The boy nodded. “I think so.” He started fumbling with his fingers. “Were you at the house on Prim Street? The one where that kid was killed?”

  Beau arched his eyebrow and his lips thinned.

  How did this kid find out where he lived?

  “I’m sorry. Did I speak with you at the crime scene?” Beau asked, still trying to figure out why the kid looked so familiar.

  “No.” The boy’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “Look. I’m sorry. I can’t speak with you about an open investigation.” Beau was about to close the door.

  “Wait.” The boy put his hands up.

  That’s when Beau realized why the boy looked so familiar. His heart stopped and his hands shook.

  Was he seeing a ghost?

  “Please help me.” The young boy’s voice cracked. “I’m scared. Liam was my twin brother and I think whoever killed him is gonna come after me.”

  Brother.

  About Shay Cole

  Thank you so much for reading Brother. I hope you enjoyed getting a little insight into Beau’s story before he became a part of Brookston. Want more of Beau? Be sure to check out The Brookston Housewives Series (Sin in Suburbia; Secrets on Sapphire; and Skeletons Amongst Sycamores)

  email authorscole@gmail.com

  XOXO,

  Shay Cole

  HOLLYWOOD | Martha Sweeney

  Chapter One

  Officer Saige McCullin

  “We’ve lucked out so far, Hollywood,” Alex states. “But, it’ll all start happening within a day or two.”

  “Stop calling me that,” I groan. “You promised.”

  “Sorry,” he laughs. “It slipped.”

  “Yeah, right,” I scoff.

  “I swear,” he claims with a chuckle. “You’ll get a new nickname at some point.”

  “Not soon enough,” I whine. “I’ve been here for almost ten months.”

  “Not all nicknames are the same,” he challenges. “It took Murphy five years to finally stop being called Squeaks.”

  “It’s still better than Hollywood,” I quip.

  “Not if you knew how he got the name,” Alex chuckles. “And, it was during this time of year. Most nicknames come from something weird happening during the holiday season.”

  “I’ve had several incidences to warrant a new name,” I challenge.

  “Nah,” he counters with a dismissive hand gesture. “They weren’t really anything significant.”

  My eyes roll as I peer out the window alongside our booth.

  “Here yah go,” a female’s voice sings.

  My attention shifts to the voice and I smile, recognizing our waitress. “Thanks.”

  Her eyes stay fixated on Alex who offers her a boyish grin. When she leans in, hovering just enough over our table where she’s encroaching on our space, I kick him in the shin.

  “Fuck, Hollywood,” he spits with a heated glare.

  “What?” I reply, acting innocent. “It was an accident. My leg spasmed from the seat.”

  The waitress backs up just a few, small inches. “Let me know if you need anything,” she coos, still keeping her attention riveted on Alex.

  “Will do, darling,” he hums.

  “I could use some ketchup,” I say, interrupting their silent undressing of each other.

  She barely glances at me, correcting herself when I point to the badge on my chest. “Sure thing,” she says through a fake smile.

  When the waitress is far enough away, I remind Alex, “You’re married.”

  “I can still look.”

  “I doubt Hannah would agree,” I snicker.

  “I'm allowed to look,” he insists while shoving several fries into his mouth.

  “Since when?” I quip.

  “Since I caught her eyeing some actor in a movie we watched,” he mentions.

  “A movie doesn’t count,” I argue.

  Alex regards me. “And, her Pilates instructor.”

  “He’s gay,” I laugh.

  “Still looking,” he debates. “Besides, we’ve agreed that looking is okay.”

  My head shakes in disbelief.

  “Like you don’t look?” he counters.

  “I’m not married,” I remind him. “Nor am I in a relationship.”

  “How do you know I wasn’t getting us a free meal?” he inquires ruefully.

  “You’ve yet to get us a free meal since we became partners,” I jab.

  His expression alters to a more serious tone. “I can make Hollywood be your lifelong name.”

  “Whatever,” I sigh, popping a french fry into my mouth.

  “Besides, we’re partners. You’re supposed to have my back.”

  “I do,” I laugh. “Except for when it means you’re eyeing other women. I like Hannah and we women always stick together.”

  Alex raises a brow. “The woman code doesn’t trump partner code.”

  I smirk. “It can. Especially when a partner is being a dick.”

  Something hits me in the forehead. My eyes lower when it lands on the table.

  “Really?” I laugh, holding up the slice of pickle.

  “It slipped,” Alex retorts.

  Too hungry to continue the conversation, I stuff a large bite of my burger in my mouth. My stomach groans more, eager to be filled. We’ve been working for the past six hours straight, barely getting the chance to take a pee break due to a holiday gala—the first of many to come.

  “Hey, Williams…Hollywood,” Officer Baxter greets us.

  I grunt and take another bite.

  “Hey, Baxter and Donovan,” Alex returns. “What’s up?”

  “Just grabbing some coffee,” Baxter replies as Donovan makes his way to the counter. “Missing the warmth yet, Hollywood?”

  I offer a fake smile and stuff more food in my mouth.

  “I don’t know, Williams,” Baxter muses, looking at Alex. “I didn’t know Hollywood could put so much in her mouth like that. We might have to call her DT.”

  After swallowing, I say, “You can’t…your mom’s already got that name.”

  A bellow of a laugh escapes Alex instantly as Baxter turns red in the face.

  “What’s going on?” Donovan inquires as he walks over holding two large to-go cups.

  “You haven’t been here long enough to crack any mom jokes, Hollywood,” Baxter states heatedly.

  “The name is McCullin,” I inform him. “And, I think I have, Biff.”

  “Excuse me?” Baxter asks.

  “Ha, good one, Hollywood,” Donovan cheers.

  “Easy, McCullin,” Alex warns.

  “He’s definitely a Biff,” Donovan affirms. “God, it’s been ages since I’ve seen those movies. I gotta show them to my kids this weekend.”

  “Another reason why we call you Hollywood, Hollywood,” Baxter continues. “You and your stupid movie references.”

  “I’m not from Hollywood,” I remind for them millionth time. “I worked in Beverly Hills for four years.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Baxter apologizes sarcastically. “I forgot that writing tic
kets to people who let their dogs shit on the sidewalk was serving the public.”

  My jaw clenches slightly. “No different than you scraping gum off of the subway rails.”

  “Watching Police Academy movies was probably a key staple in your training, wasn’t it, Hollywood?” Baxter questions snidely.

  “I’m sorry. I didn't get that. I don't speak donkey,” I jab.

  Baxter takes a step towards me, but Donovan blocks him. “Easy, man,” he encourages. “Let the lady be.”

  “We’ve all been roasted once or twice,” Alex reminds him. “It’s all in good fun. Besides, we all have it coming to us. McCullin has taken a lot of shit from the department with that name.”

  “Hollywood isn’t as bad as Zip,” Donovan snickers.

  Alex and I wince at the same time. I only heard the story about how Officer Evan Gills got his junk caught in his pants zipper while the three men before me were present. You don’t need a cock to know it’s painful.

  “Watch yourself, Hollywood,” Baxter advises, pointing at me.

  I smile and take another bite, watching them leave just a few seconds later. Several quiet minutes of just us eating pass and I revel in it. Alex is a good partner, but even I’m sick of his bullshit since he teases me like the rest of the department. Even as long as I've been on the force, none of them see a female officer as equal. It takes years to build trust and respect and even then, I’m still not ever going to be one of the boys even if I almost die for one of them just because I don’t have a pecker between my legs.

  There are four other female officers in the department, two of them are behind a desk all day and the other two are in the field like me. Sherry Goldstein is a new recruit, only three months serving, who’s been called Hooks on occasion after the character from Police Academy. The other female officer, Sergeant Callahan, has been called “The Bride” after the Uma Thurman character in, Kill Bill, which describes her personality accurately.

  “You’re not going to make any friends if you keep that shit up,” Alex warns.

  “I’ve got you,” I say sarcastically with a widening smile.

  “Don’t remind me,” he huffs.