Execution Style (Code 11-KPD SWAT 4)

My parents were the shit like that.

I, of course, got the coolest name.

I looked over at him to see him leaning against the wall, much like I was doing.

“I’ve been standing here for nearly five hours. I don’t have a fuckin’ clue. Does this normally take his long?” I asked worriedly.

Trance shrugged and placed his foot against the wall, causing the dog at his feet, Kosher, to grumble at being moved.

Kosher was Trance’s K-9 partner.

I never saw Trance without Kosher.

A pang of sadness hit me as I remembered a time where it used to be another dog.

Trance’s retired K-9 partner, Radar, had died in a training exercise when Trance was attempting to teach the Kilgore SWAT team how to handle their own K-9. One that Trance had supplied them with.

Since Trance lived nearly an hour and a half away, he’d thought it’d be good to bring Radar with him to give him a chance to show off his skills. It was never meant to be anything more than a show and tell, but it’d turned into a violent bloodbath, leaving an officer shot and Radar killed.

Since then, Trance had acted differently. He was a little moodier and justifiably angry.

His wife, Viddy, had been distraught, as she should be.

Hell, I was distraught. The entire police force, in both cities, as well as all the citizens of both towns, were distraught.

Radar was a hero, and he didn’t deserve to die like that.

But he had, and now we had to live with it.

“Hours,” a rumbled voice from my side said.

I turned to find Cleo, the SANE nurse’s husband, walking down the hall.

He was carrying a bag of clothes, new ones, if the tags hanging out of the shopping bag were anything to go by.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “The longest one I’ve heard about was twelve hours.”

I just shook my head.

I’d wait here however long it took.

She’d asked me to, and for some reason, I didn’t want to leave.

Especially not after the pleading I’d seen in her eyes as the doors closed behind her.

I was stuck where I was, literally, until she came out.

My feet hadn’t let me move in five hours and, I looked at my watch, six minutes.

My bladder was screaming, yet here I stood.

And when the door opened, emitting a very exhausted looking Rue, Cleo’s wife, I finally breathed deeply for the first time in hours.

I really didn’t know why I was affected in this way, but I was, and I couldn’t help it. Something inside of me was ravaged at having witnessed that act of violence.

And I didn’t feel so much as responsible for her, as just plain caring how she was doing.

“You got the clothes?”

Rue’s question was geared towards Cleo rather than anyone else in the hallway.

Her brown eyes lit briefly on me before she nodded her head and said, “You can come in.”

I blinked in surprise, but nonetheless went in and closed the door as Rue walked across the room.

She knocked softly on the door that I assumed was the bathroom and said, “I’m hanging the clothes on the doorknob just inside the door.”

With no answer, Rue knocked again, and a quiet, “Thank you,” followed the knock.

Rue sighed and turned around, gathering up papers as she spoke. “She wants you to take her back home. But I was hoping to talk to you before she got out.”

I blinked. “She doesn’t want me in here?”

I started backing towards the door before she even got the quick, “Yes,” out of her mouth.

I stopped with my back against the door and waited for her to proceed.

She didn’t disappoint.

“She’s acting like everything’s fine, but I think once she gets home and is alone, she’s going to break. I want you to be aware, and possibly go check on her,” she said softly.

I nodded. “Okay.”

I would, too.

“I have some pamphlets for her to take home, and I think it would be beneficial for her to go speak with someone,” Rue continued.

I nodded again and took the pamphlets she held out. “Okay.”

As she kept talking, I just kept wondering why.

Why did she want me?

I wasn’t a very nice guy.

I didn’t treat women right.

I loved ‘em and left ‘em.

She’d probably hate me in real life if I hadn’t saved her.

“The last thing I need to show you is this. I need you to convince her to take it,” she said softly.

The shower turned off, and I could hear Mercy moving around, tags being ripped from the clothes, and the distinct sound of cotton against skin.

“What is it?” I rumbled quietly, looking down at her hand and a pill wrapped in a plastic package.

“It’s plan B,” Rue said softly. “The man didn’t use protection. It’s possible that she could be pregnant. This is to counteract that, and must be taken within the first forty eight hours after unprotected sex.”

I blinked. “Why are you telling me this?”

I didn’t want that responsibility.

I wasn’t responsible!

“Because I asked her to,” Mercy said softly. “I know that you don’t know me, but you’re all I have right now. You’re the only one who has a sound mind. Mine is in turmoil and my family’s probably is, too. I need someone that has a rational brain in their skull to try to convince me, because right now I don’t think I can take that.”

She indicated the pill with a nod, and I shook my head. “I’m really not understanding what you think I can do.”

She came fully out of the bathroom in a pair of black yoga pants and a Mickey Mouse shirt. A pair of pink house slippers donned her feet, and her long brown hair was up in a messy bun on the top of her head.

“Please,” she said softly.

I sighed and took the pill that Rue was still offering me.

“Okay,” I said finally. “Are you ready to go?”

She nodded in confirmation and turned to stare at the door in trepidation.

Not knowing if my touch would be helpful or not, I walked towards her, offering her my arm for support.