stint that saw them heading over to Afghanistan and Iraq. They had come home, or rather they had come to New York, which was Kevin’s home and had joined the police department. Blake’s rise had been meteoric to say the least and Kevin had risen right along with him.
They were both detectives working Homicide and neither of them were quite thirty yet. They went to work every day to battle the bad guys but there they stood, staring down at the dead body of a drug dealer and talking about planting a weapon.
Blake knew that this moment had been a long time coming. The whole department was rotten with corruption, the Vice cops were battling against dealers who got tip offs from people right there in the squad, the cops all looked after each other rather than the people they were supposed to be protecting and serving and most of the honest cops had been run off to either other departments or retirement.
They had gotten to this moment because the dealer lying on the ground in front of his feet had owed a hunk of money to the Vice cop that offered up his ‘protection’ to the street dealers. The dealer had said no thank you, and kept working.
That had not only not set well with the cop; it had set off a chain reaction from the streets. The dealer in question was a cocky seventeen year old, the nephew of a man doing hard time and others had followed his lead. Soon the cops were really busting dealers, and they retaliated by bailing out instead of paying protection fees, setting up a complex warning system and jumping on the cops they had once paid—beating two until they had required major hospitalization.
It had become an all-out war and there had been only one solution, kill the leader. Blake knew all of that, then, but he had not known it at the start of the night. He could not believe what Kevin had just told him, nor could he believe he was being asked to go along with it, to condone it and help cover it all up.
“He’s just a kid.” His words were hoarse.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking but you have to look at it this way: we had to put a stop to this. Now that he is gone the streets will cool out and decent people can rest easy again.”
Blake shook his head. “We have to do the right thing.”
“This is the right thing,” Kevin said. “Put the gun down beside him.”
Blake sat up, his heart pounding and his head slowly clearing. The dream haunted him, and always had since that night. He knew there was only once cure for that but that cure was not one he was willing to take on.
Coward , he told himself as he got up and brewed coffee. You are so eager to put other people in jail… he closed his eyes, trying not to see a young man sprawled across gray asphalt, his life blood leaking away from the hole in his chest and his palm facing up to the sky.
He had walked away that night. He had handed the gun back to Kevin and walked away. What he should have done was go to the Internal Affairs and tell them the whole of it. Instead he had resigned and walked away.
That act was the single largest regret of his life. He had not just walked away from the force, he had walked away from the justice that that kid had deserved.
He sighed and pulled a cup out of the cabinet then poured himself a large shot of coffee. Spiking it liberally with cream and sugar. He looked in his refrigerator and found a sack of oranges, a dozen eggs and a hell of bread.
“I definitely have to go to the diner,” he muttered.
The idea depressed him. Lately a lot of things did. He would wake up in his large bed and roll over into the cool sheets and reach for someone who was not there. He had poured himself into his job, into building a company and making it profitable. He had buried himself, if not his remorse for his actions that night and what did he have to show for it all?
A profitable company and an empty bed.
Somehow it felt like an empty trade.
* * * *
Jenna had no idea that Blake was feeling many of the same things
They were both detectives working Homicide and neither of them were quite thirty yet. They went to work every day to battle the bad guys but there they stood, staring down at the dead body of a drug dealer and talking about planting a weapon.
Blake knew that this moment had been a long time coming. The whole department was rotten with corruption, the Vice cops were battling against dealers who got tip offs from people right there in the squad, the cops all looked after each other rather than the people they were supposed to be protecting and serving and most of the honest cops had been run off to either other departments or retirement.
They had gotten to this moment because the dealer lying on the ground in front of his feet had owed a hunk of money to the Vice cop that offered up his ‘protection’ to the street dealers. The dealer had said no thank you, and kept working.
That had not only not set well with the cop; it had set off a chain reaction from the streets. The dealer in question was a cocky seventeen year old, the nephew of a man doing hard time and others had followed his lead. Soon the cops were really busting dealers, and they retaliated by bailing out instead of paying protection fees, setting up a complex warning system and jumping on the cops they had once paid—beating two until they had required major hospitalization.
It had become an all-out war and there had been only one solution, kill the leader. Blake knew all of that, then, but he had not known it at the start of the night. He could not believe what Kevin had just told him, nor could he believe he was being asked to go along with it, to condone it and help cover it all up.
“He’s just a kid.” His words were hoarse.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking but you have to look at it this way: we had to put a stop to this. Now that he is gone the streets will cool out and decent people can rest easy again.”
Blake shook his head. “We have to do the right thing.”
“This is the right thing,” Kevin said. “Put the gun down beside him.”
Blake sat up, his heart pounding and his head slowly clearing. The dream haunted him, and always had since that night. He knew there was only once cure for that but that cure was not one he was willing to take on.
Coward , he told himself as he got up and brewed coffee. You are so eager to put other people in jail… he closed his eyes, trying not to see a young man sprawled across gray asphalt, his life blood leaking away from the hole in his chest and his palm facing up to the sky.
He had walked away that night. He had handed the gun back to Kevin and walked away. What he should have done was go to the Internal Affairs and tell them the whole of it. Instead he had resigned and walked away.
That act was the single largest regret of his life. He had not just walked away from the force, he had walked away from the justice that that kid had deserved.
He sighed and pulled a cup out of the cabinet then poured himself a large shot of coffee. Spiking it liberally with cream and sugar. He looked in his refrigerator and found a sack of oranges, a dozen eggs and a hell of bread.
“I definitely have to go to the diner,” he muttered.
The idea depressed him. Lately a lot of things did. He would wake up in his large bed and roll over into the cool sheets and reach for someone who was not there. He had poured himself into his job, into building a company and making it profitable. He had buried himself, if not his remorse for his actions that night and what did he have to show for it all?
A profitable company and an empty bed.
Somehow it felt like an empty trade.
* * * *
Jenna had no idea that Blake was feeling many of the same things
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