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Prologue ::
Chapter 1 ::
Chapter 2 ::
Chapter 3 ::
Chapter 4 ::
Chapter 5 ::
Chapter 6 ::
Chapter 7 ::
Chapter 8 ::
Chapter 9 ::
Chapter 10 ::
Chapter 11
“Zito! Come on! Let’s go!” Officer Stan Switek’s loud,
jarring voice boomed from across the room.
His partner, Larry
Zito was not happy.
“This coffee
tastes yuk,” he grumbled bitterly under his breath and dumping the cold coffee
into the wastebasket by his desk. “Wait
up, Stan! Slow down, will ya!”
Stan barreled
through the swinging doors, narrowly missing a dark haired stranger passing
through.
“Excuse me…” the
man began. “I would like to know where…”
Stan paused long
enough to look the man up and down, wondering silently to himself what kind of
jerk would dress in black in ninety-five degree temperatures…
Unless of course, the idiot was on his
way to a funeral…
“Sorry, pal!” he answered aloud, dodging
impatiently around the puzzled stranger.
The rudeness
didn’t seem to bother the man. He turned to Zito.
“Where can I
find…?”
“Yeah…right here!”
Zito growled back angrily.
And nodding toward
the back of the squad room, he too shouldered his way through the heavy
swinging doors.
Two more officers
ignored his question.
Sighing softly,
the man walked into the middle of the room and stood still, lowering his eyes
to the floor.
Secretaries loaded
down with armfuls of files hurried back and forth, one dodging around another
detective as he dashed for his desk to answer the phone. A bald headed cop chewing
on an unlit cigar was yapping loudly into a phone while a squirming prisoner was banging his shackled
wrist angrily against a metal chair. Two uniformed officers sauntered past
discussing a hot date from the night before while a rowdy bunch swarmed out into the
corridor in a mad rush to get on with the shift.
He had seen
enough.
Slipping his hands
into his pockets and tilting his head back, the man whistled shrilly. As
effective as a gunshot, everyone froze.
Cringing,
a few put their hands over their ears. A lovely young woman with soft brown eyes stopped what she was
doing, gazing over at him in astonishment. He nodded to her with a smile and
then looked around the room calmly.
“I’m Lieutenant
Castillo, your new boss,” he announced. “Can someone tell me where my office
is?”
There was stunned
silence.
Several seconds
ticked by until finally, the brown-eyed woman he had first encountered regained
her composure.
“Ah…in the
corner,” she told him.
“Thank you,” he
said, walking past each of them with a cool smile.
Some gaped. Others examined him suspiciously. One young woman with raven black hair, her dark eyes sparkling with humor, smiled warmly as he approached, and recognizing a genuine sign of welcome, he paused long enough to commit her features to memory.
It was at that moment that a sandy-haired detective in a pink tee shirt sauntered into the office, a Styrofoam cup of coffee dangling dangerously from his hand. Surprised by the squad room's silence and caught off guard by this stranger's probing stare, the younger man back-pedaled, his green eyes widening with curiosity as he watched the newcomer go into the Lieutenant's office.
Sonny Crockett
glanced over at his partner, Ricardo Tubbs, a handsome black detective who had
been watching everything from the safety of his desk in the corner. They
exchanged puzzled looks while two of the female detectives from the squad began
a conversation, sizing up the new boss.
“Check out the
look. Forty-two? Mean, huh?” Gina Calabrese, the black
haired beauty asked her partner.
“Oh, I don’t know
about that…”
Trudy Joplin, the
detective who had first guided the new lieutenant to his office, seemed to have
fully recovered from her initial shock.
“That the new lieutenant?”
Sonny asked.
“Kinda cute, don’t
you think?” Trudy was asking Gina.
“Not my type,” Sonny laughed jokingly. “So, what’s he like?” he asked
Rico.
“Charles Bronson, by way of
Sonny’s face darkened. “Dead-end. She won’t sign out a complaint
against Rusack.”
“Can you blame
her?” Rico muttered, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear
after Rusack had bounced him down a steep flight of stairs like a soccer ball
A deep voice rumbled from the back of the room, making Sonny pause and turn his head curiously. It was the new lieutenant. Sonny heard him speak again… and something clicked in the young detective’s mind… something darkly familiar that left him feeling restless and uneasy…
…just the fringes of a memory… a memory full of pain that was better forgotten and left buried in his soul…
Sonny’s mind raced, searching for an explanation…and for just a moment,
he held the answer…but then, it slipped away suddenly, and then it was gone.
He took a deep breath.
“Lieutenant Castillo?” he called out, offering him his hand. “Sonny Crockett.”
“How’re you doing, Sonny?”
The two men shook hands while eyeing each other quickly.
“Oh, by the way, Sonny,” Martin began carefully. “Did you file a report on yesterday’s arrest?”
Sonny’s eyebrow arched slightly.
He’s kidding, right?
“Well, no…not yet,” he answered, trying hard to remember the last time he had been reprimanded by a superior for not following procedure. Both men’s eyes locked; Sonny defiantly refusing to look away, Castillo coldly determined to make a point. Then, nodding dismissively, the new lieutenant continued on to his office, leaving the room behind him with an unfamiliar chill.
“Charming!” Sonny
commented dryly.
“Like I said,”
Rico muttered. “Charles Bronson, or should I say, Attila the
Hun.”
But Crockett was
quiet as he shifted through the papers on his desk. “I know him,” he said softly.
“But I can’t remember where…”
Rico snorted.
“Probably in some nightmare you were having!”
“Could
be.” Sonny grinned back.
“Certainly not a ‘Lou Rodriguez’ now, is he.”
“You can say that
again,” Rico sighed ruefully. “Not even close.”