Badge of Betrayal

I turned around and started walking away when someone caught my eye. I looked over at the edge of the police line and saw a beautiful young woman in blue medical scrubs standing there. It was Shannon Sullivan. She had a huge smile on her face and slowly shook her head as I approached her.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," I said, beaming from ear to ear.

"And aren't you just the knight in shining armor," she replied.

"What on earth brought you down here?" I asked.

"I knew that you would be in on this as soon as I heard it on the news. I worked an extra shift today and got off work at three. I only live a few blocks from here. Plus, I wanted to see you succeed and see you in your moment of triumph. And so, here I am!"

Wow, I thought. Someone who actually believed in me. What I wouldn't give -- no, I put that thought out of my mind. If only my wife saw me the way Shannon did. We spoke for a few more minutes and then I could sense that some of the TV cameras and newspaper photographers were staring at us and beginning to take pictures. I knew exactly what they would do next, which was to tie me in with Shannon and tie Shannon in with this standoff.

"I would love to chat longer, but I've still got a mountain of paperwork to go through and I'll probably be here most of the night."

"I totally understand," she said. "Congratulations on a job well done, Patrick! You'll always be my hero," she said tenderly with that amazing smile of hers. I reached out and took her hand and squeezed it, smiled and then turned to go. I didn't want to. I would easily spend the rest of the night talking to Shannon, but I couldn't.

Back at the command post Colton Rigby was getting frisked and shook down one final time before being hauled off to jail. Brian Keller asked for and received the honor of giving Rigby a ride to the county jail and getting him booked in. Before he left, though, Rigby had a few choice words for me.

"You didn't have to fuckin' taze me, asshole!"

"You were reaching for a loaded shotgun," I replied calmly. "You're lucky you didn't get shot a dozen times."

"Yeah? I'm gonna beat the rap on whatever charge you throw against me, pig! And when I'm out, I'm gonna come lookin' for you and get me an evil on your ass, bitch!"

"Whatever charge? Jesus, Colton. You make it sound like you're only going to get charged with one! If you're gonna come after me, you gotta beat all of 'em. And that includes the federal charges! Right now you're looking at a MINIMUM of twenty years, dude!"

"Bullshit! I know how it goes. You're gonna try to get me to roll and I'll only do maybe three to five at the most."

"You make a shitty jailhouse lawyer, Colton. You're forgetting one thing -- there's no parole allowed in the federal system. If the judge gives you twenty years, you're going to serve every last day. And truthfully? You offer us absolutely nothing as an incentive to reduce your charges in the least bit. I know Lane Danielson, the US Attorney for this area. He has a 97% conviction rate. You will be absolutely no challenge for him to put away. Your daughter will damned near be old enough to be a grandmother by the time your ass gets out of prison."

The smirk Colton had been wearing while he was talking tough to me disappeared. The look of street-tough determination was replaced with a look of fear as Brian Kelly shoved Rigby in the back of his cruiser. I distinctly remember seeing a tear stream down his face as the cruiser pulled away and headed for the county jail.

I couldn't really concentrate on my duties the rest of the night. I wasn't sure what I was feeling most -- an adrenaline high from an incredibly successful rescue, or the high that I felt from seeing and talking to Shannon.

I didn't get off the crime scene until almost midnight. As much as I wanted to go home and see my boys, they would have been in bed for hours at that point. Instead, we turned over official control of the scene to the state Bureau of Criminal Investigation and I called it a night. Even the drive back to my rat's nest of a motel didn't bother me and I didn't need a drop of alcohol to fall into a deep and dream-filled sleep. I didn't dream of crack houses, meth heads or any other scum. Instead, I dreamed of Shannon.

The next morning I arrived for work fashionably late, strolling into my office around 10:30 or so. Bud was waiting outside his office as I strolled in.

"Jesus," he said. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever gonna show up at all."

"I figured I earned a little comp time from yesterday," I replied.

"Don't get cocky, Patrick. And don't get too liberal with the comp time, either. You're still expected to put in a full day like the rest of us," he snorted.

"Oh, oh, oh. I see. Kind of like the full day you put in yesterday at the hostage standoff. Yeah, right. If I didn't know better, I'd think that Chief Banks and ol' Pete Sturgeon genuinely missed you yesterday. Your absence was decidedly noticed!"

Bud's voice lowered considerably. "I'm warning you, Patrick," he growled. "Don't fuck with me!"

"Or what?" I dared.

"Or you know exactly what!" he hissed. "This can still end really, really, really bad for you Patrick. You may not be Chief Deputy for as long as you think. You're still just a little junk yard dog on a chain and I'll yank that fucking chain and strangle you with it!"

I looked around the office. Fortunately, none of the deputies or other office personnel seemed to notice our little side bar conversation.

"Oh, yeah, Bud? Just exactly what do you think you're gonna do, anyway?"

Bud straightened up and a wicked smile crept across his mouth. "Like I said before, Patrick, let's just agree on the fact that whatever I decide to do is inevitable. Hmm?"

"You know, Bud? I'm not so sure. I think maybe I'm starting to feel a little momentum shift here. After all, I'm the guy who just saved the life of yet another little girl from a deranged lunatic. That's two in the last six months. Impressive, huh?" I smirked.

"You know, Patrick," Bud said, smiling like a fox, "I'm gonna let you have this little victory. Go ahead. Enjoy it. Hell, I'll even admit that you deserve it. But in the end, nothing's changed. This still ends the way I decide it ends. So go ahead and pat yourself on the back. I'm still the head motherfucker in charge. And don't forget it." He turned and went into his office.

All I could do was just grit my teeth and head into my own office. I really wanted to punch him in the throat right now. Somehow, my thoughts returned to something I had said about him not being at the hostage standoff yesterday. Wow. If he was, by some chance, stepping out of the office to bang my wife while I was going after a lunatic meth head holding his own daughter hostage, I would have MORE than enough to totally fuck over Bud and my soon-to-be-ex-wife. The only problem was how I would go about it.

I didn't have time for that right now. I still had to get my notes and thoughts together for the press conference and details of the standoff.

The press conference started at 2 p.m. and ran almost a full hour. During that time Bud rattled off some of the details of the event and Chief Banks got up and spoke, as well. Both of them played politician for the event big time. But about 20 minutes into the press conference, just as Bud had opened the event for questions from the press corps, one of the TV reports asked Bud if they could please hear from me, instead. Bud couldn't really say no and said that he would allow me to answer "a few" questions. Much to his immense chagrin, the press conference had me pinned down with question after question for the rest of the hour. Finally at 3 p.m. Bud had to call an end to the conference. They hadn't asked him a damned thing, which was unfortunate. I wish like hell one of them would have asked, "Where were you, Sheriff Roberts, during this whole standoff?" It would have been a real treat to see him try and wriggle his way out of that.

As we made our way back to our offices, it was easy to pick up Bud's vibe that he was extremely pissed about me taking over and monopolizing the Q & A session of the press conference. All of the questions asked of me were extremely flattering. They all did their best to make me look like the biggest hero since Audie Murphy. And I'm not the least bit ashamed to say that I ate it up entirely. I figured it would be a helluva lot harder for Bud to try and find an excuse to fire me next year and marry my wife if the entire county and state thought I was a hero.

At about 4 o'clock, I was getting ready to call it a day when I got a buzz from my secretary, Karen Landingham, on the phone intercom telling me I had a visitor. I told her to send in him or her and I quickly straightened up my office the best I could, not that it was overly messy to begin with. I hadn't been in it long enough to really make much of a mess. My predecessor, Floyd Franklin, had always been neat as a pin.

"Patrick!" It was the voice of an angel.

"Shannon! My gosh! Two days in a row I've gotten to see you! It must be because you're Irish. Your luck is starting to rub off on me!" We met and embraced briefly, though I still felt as though my body could have melted into hers. "Please. Sit down for a while."

"Okay," she said, "but I can't stay long. Bridget is at home with my Mom and she can't stay past 4:30."

"I understand. It's just such a pleasure. I'll take whatever time you can give me." I was on the verge of gushing but I'd let her stay all night if she wanted to.

"Well, I stopped by because I wanted to see if I could get you to let Bridget and I thank you for real by inviting you over for dinner some time this week."

"You certainly don't have to do that. You more than thanked me enough by going above and beyond to take care of me when I was hurt."

"Yes," she said, "but you also got hurt protecting my little girl. Inviting you and your family over for dinner is the least we can do."

I couldn't help but sigh heavily and look away when she said that.

"Oh, my gosh! Did I say something wrong, Patrick?"

"No, no, no, Shannon, not at all. It's just that.....well.....things are pretty strained in my house right now. I wish they were better, but they're not."

Shannon's total demeanor immediately went into "nurse mode". "I'm so sorry, Patrick. I had no idea. I can't even imagine how this whole ordeal must have affected your family."

"Well, to be truthful," I said, "it has been building for a long time, even before the shooting. In fact, I ended up moving out of the house. I'm hoping it's temporary but I'm prepared in case it isn't." I couldn't understand why I was telling this all to Shannon. She just seemed to bring it out of me. There didn't seem to be any way that I could keep anything from her.

"God! I had no idea. I'm so sorry you have to go through this. Listen, even if your family can't come along, the offer is still open. Bridget would dearly love to see you again. She talks about you so much and she is really hoping that you will come for dinner."

"Thank you, Shannon. That is really kind of you both." She could sense that I was going to turn her down and was obviously crestfallen. "I just think that now is not a good time....." I stopped. What the hell? I still needed to eat, right? And why not do so in the company of two people that I immensely enjoyed being around? "Actually, Shannon, on second thought, dinner with you and Bridget sounds absolutely amazing. I would be delighted to be your guest."

Shannon suddenly looked as though she was going to burst with joy. "Oh, that is so awesome! You won't regret it, Patrick! I make an amazing rack of lamb! Gosh! I can't wait to tell Bridget! She'll be so thrilled!"

"I'll have to bring some flowers or some other gift to thank her for her hospitality," I said.

"Oh, my! If you do that, she'll never want to let you leave!" Suddenly, I could sense that Shannon felt awkward for that comment, but I didn't care.

"Well, if you're as good of a cook as you say, maybe I won't want to, either!"

"Six o'clock Friday night work okay for you?"

"That would be perfect."

I stood to see her out of my office. There was an awkward pause where normally I would have shaken hands with whoever had come to see me. Instead, Shannon reached forth and hugged me. This one was much longer than the initial hug and again made me feel as though our bodies were going to melt into one another. Every scent of her filled my nostrils and I could feel my own heart pounding inside my chest yet again. God! Why did this woman have such an affect on me? As we continued to hug, I could see a couple of deputies out in the main office area looking in on us. Much as I didn't want to, we slowly eased from our embrace.

"I'll see you Friday night then."

"Six o'clock sharp," she said. "Don't be late or Bridget will never let you hear the end of it," she giggled.

I watched Shannon exit my office and head down the hall toward the elevator. As she passed by, even the two deputies had to sneak a peak and watch her from behind. When the elevator door closed, the two deputies looked at each other and mouthed the word 'wow' simultaneously.

I was on cloud nine when I got home that night. I hadn't seen my boys for two days and they both wanted to know all about the hostage standoff and how the SOG team and I had rescued the little girl. Clarissa actually made a decent dinner that night, no doubt to help keep up the façade of life being normal for the boys' sake.

I stayed up and played video games with the boys until it was time for them to go to bed, much to Clarissa's chagrin. She hated video games with a passion and thought the boys played them too much instead of spending more time outside. And of all the games, she hated "Call of Duty" most of all. So the boys and I played for about three hours straight just to piss her off.

Once the boys were tucked in for the night, I was getting ready to leave for the motel when Clarissa approached me wanting to talk.

"Patrick, I need you to do me a favor and spend the weekend with the boys out here on the farm."

"From when to when?" I asked.

"I'll be leaving Friday afternoon and heading to the cities with some of my girlfriends for a weekend getaway," she said coolly.

"Absolutely not."

"What?" she said, indignant. "Are trying to tell me I can't go?"

"No, I'm not. But I can't stay with the boys Friday. I already have a previous engagement that night that I absolutely cannot and will not break."

"You have to, Patrick. I really need this time for myself."

"Oh, bullshit, Clarissa. At least be honest with me for God's sake. You're planning on sneaking away with Bud. We both know it. Why try to pretend otherwise?"

"Your sister can't have them over at her place and they're too young to look after themselves. Which leaves only you. They need you to do this, Patrick."

"Don't do that," I hissed.

"Do what?"

"Don't use the boys against me to try and coerce me into enabling a weekend getaway and fuck session for you and Bud. Now I already told you. I have plans for Friday and I am not going to break them. Your little lovers retreat is gonna have to wait." I stormed out of the house before she could even answer me.

When I showed up at the office the next morning, Bud was standing outside his office giving me the old 'stink eye'. He was obviously pissed that I wouldn't take the boys off Clarissa's hands so he could spend the weekend fucking my wife in Minneapolis. Oh, well. Fuck him. And fuck Clarissa, too. Bud was going to do whatever Bud was going to do, just as he said. Maybe I was powerless to stop it. But then again, maybe I wasn't.

The more I had thought about it, the more I had begun to wonder about Bud's whereabouts during the hostage crisis. It would really be something if Bud had been out at my house fucking my wife on company time, in the middle of a crisis, while the husband of the woman he was sticking his dick into was actually risking his own life to save a little girl. I needed to make that a priority to try and find out and be able to prove it.

The rest of the week seemed to drag in slow motion as I was filled with anticipation of dinner with Shannon and Bridget on Friday night. But Friday arrived nonetheless. I actually ducked out of work early Friday afternoon and burned up a little comp time. I made sure to file the necessary paperwork indicating that I was doing so, just so Bud couldn't come back and fuck me over for it for screwing up his weekend plans. And I also wanted to get out of there early enough that he couldn't find me at the last minute and stick me with some bullshit task that would make me late for dinner. I even made sure the battery on my cell phone had bled dry for added measure. Tonight, Bridget and Shannon would have my undivided attention.

I arrived at their front doorstep precisely at 5:58 p.m. according to my watch. I had previously had enough time to head back to the motel and freshen up with a shower and fresh set of casual clothes. There was a fresh layer of snow on the ground from earlier in the week and the town sledding hill was within walking distance from Shannon and Bridget's house. So I decided to surprise Bridget with a brand new toboggan as a thank you for inviting me to dinner. I also brought a small, tasteful bouquet of flowers for a centerpiece and a bottle of pinot noir from a winery in Minnesota.

Bridget was absolutely ecstatic with the sled and insisted that we make a date for an afternoon at the sledding hill. Shannon took the small bouquet of flowers from me and was impressed by the bottle of wine. She wore a simple print sun dress with a beautiful hand-woven shawl wrap. The house was a single story bungalow very similar to the one at the hostage standoff earlier in the week. It was very simply but elegantly appointed. Shannon and Bridget had already been decorating the home in anticipation of Christmas, complete with Bridget's letter to Santa on the refrigerator door waiting to be mailed to the North Pole.

Shannon had indeed outdone herself with her preparation of the rack of lamb, a dish I had never eaten but one that smelled absolutely divine. She finished off the meal with a fruit salad, fresh asparagus and red-skinned mashed potatoes with garlic and butter.

Shannon and Bridget both seemed to absolutely glow in the warm soft light of the two candles that were lit and burning brightly as the sole source of light for our meal. The ambience couldn't have been finer at the very best five star restaurants and I couldn't imagine two more splendid ladies to spend the evening with. Bridget had even done the lion's share of the work, with much motherly supervision, in preparing a pan of homemade brownies with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge for dessert.

It was tempting to want seconds on just about everything they had prepared but I didn't want to seem like a glutton. Against Shannon's protests, I insisted on helping to clear the table to wash the dishes, since she didn't have an automatic dishwasher.

We settled into the evening with a raucous game of Monopoly, with Bridget becoming a real estate magnate and pretty much taking over the whole board. By the time she had finished purchasing the B&O Railroad and buying a hotel for Marvin Gardens, it was pretty obvious that Bridget was getting close to her bed time and she was yawning constantly. We agreed that we would count up all of our money and whoever had the most would be declared the winner. Bridget ended up with almost three times as much as Shannon and I combined. As such, she marched victoriously to her bedroom to change into pajamas before brushing her teeth, saying her prayers and crawling into bed.