Flowers for All Occasions

I turned around to face her. As always, it is an earth-shattering experience just looking at her magnificent body in the nude. She was wet from head to toe and looked absolutely stunning as she ran her fingers through her hair. I watched intently as the water dripped from her perked nipples and the way it streaked down her tummy and that sexy bump above her pubic area. All I could do was just soak in the sight and feel a brief rush of terror at the thought of never being able to see Shannon in her magnificent glory again.

Without warning, a wave of emotion and lust washed over me and I almost instantly started sporting a rock hard erection. Shannon must have felt the same emotions, too, because she reached down and gripped my manhood while at the same time my fingers reached her labia and found wetness that wasn't from the shower. She stood there and lightly massaged my penis while I continued to stroke her lips and her clit as she adjusted her stance wider to allow me more access.

Suddenly, her breathing quickened to short gasps for air and she closed her eyes for a moment. She was on the brink of orgasm but stopped short. She quickly reached behind me to shut off the shower, exited the stall and handed me my terry cloth robe while she quickly donned hers. I was somewhat disappointed as I quickly dried off, using the robe and a towel. Shannon returned to me, however, and kissed me deeply and passionately while stroking my shaft again.

She turned and led me by the hand back to our bed, which was already turned down. She forced me down on the bed and quickly opened my robe, fully exposing me. Then, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, she dropped her own robe and straddled me, leaning forward to kiss me deeply again. Effortlessly, she slid her own hips back and expertly guided my rock hard penis into her moist, velvety vagina in one smooth motion.

She lay forward on my chest, grabbing both sides of my face with her hands and kissing me with abandon while I wrapped my arms completely around her and held her so tight a tornado could not take her from me. We quickly established a rhythm where she would slide her hips backwards as I thrust upward. Slow and rock steady; we both savored the passion of our kisses and the exquisite sensations of her warm, tight and soaking-wet pussy gliding effortlessly up and down my rock hard shaft. Soon, we broke our kiss and lay there grinding one another cheek-to-cheek as our breathing picked up quickly. Both of us relished the building of our respective orgasms.

I could feel her vaginal walls tighten like a vice as her relief approached. I could feel the building tension in my big, heavy testicles as the fluid prepared to launch its release.

"Oh, God, Patrick!" she whispered, clutching my hair. "Oh, you make me feel so good! Oh, God, it feels so good!"

I began grunting and soon a shock wave of intense sensation rocketed from my groin to the tip of my penis as I began shooting every last drop deep inside of her. Shannon quickly sat straight up and began grinding and squeezing for all she was worth, willing every last bit of my seed into her womb as her own orgasm washed over her. Wave after wave consumed her and she viciously reached back and dug her fingernails into my thighs, which added to the ferocity of my own cumming. Her body visibly trembled as she savored every last sensation. The room was heavy with the scent of our sex, which only prolonged our shared bliss.

Finally, after a good minute or two, Shannon collapsed back on top of me and we again embraced each other as though for the last time. Before I knew it, she was softly crying again, which eventually built into all-out sobbing. Her body was wracked with spasms as she cried profusely. The sense of finality and mortality - that moments like we had just had while making love could come to a permanent end - was suddenly a stark reality.

"Oh, Patrick," she sobbed. "I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," I said, stroking her hair and back. "I'm not going to let anything happen to me. I promise."

We laid there for a good 15 or 20 minutes before we finally settled into a spoon position and pulled a sheet over us. Almost immediately both of us crashed hard into a deep sleep, the stress and insanity of the day finally taking its toll on us.

It was not a blissful sleep as both Shannon and I woke several times during the night from horrific dreams. She dreamt that it was me who was killed defending her that day instead of Tristan and Miriam. As for me, I dreamt several times of slamming my Expedition into the side of that Mercedes - only this time, I didn't have a ballistic windshield and the bullets tore into the Expo, shredding both me and Billy Shoemaker.

Neither Shannon nor I were in a lively mood the next morning after having been robbed of so much sleep. Even the comfort of sleeping next to her nude body didn't have the sedating effect it normally did. And so, Shannon called in to Holy Family and took an unscheduled personal day, which no one at the hospital even balked at. Her supervisor, the Director of Nursing for the entire hospital, basically told Shannon to come back when she was ready and that they would cover for her no matter how long she needed. I was grateful for that.

I hadn't set the alarm and we ended up sleeping past eight o'clock, when we both finally reached a point where we could actually get back to sleep from the nightmares. I called into the office and told my secretary, Karen Landingham, that I would probably be in around 10 o'clock. She seemed genuinely surprised that I was coming in at all but I knew things around the office would be chaotic if I didn't.

When I was finally dressed, ready and had a couple cups of coffee in me, I kissed Shannon good-bye and she hugged me as though it was for the last time. It wasn't, I promised, and I told her that I would try to get home early just to prove it. She watched me like a hawk as I pulled out of the driveway in my Ford F-150 Crew Cab and didn't stop watching until I was out of sight. I know because I watched her just as close in my rear view mirrors. She was going to leave soon, anyway, to go pick up the kids from Jack and Suzanne's. So I felt better knowing that she was at least going to have something to do and be around people she loved and trusted.

Sure enough, there was an absolute media circus surrounding the courthouse when I arrived at work. TV trucks and vans from as far away as Minneapolis, Des Moines, Omaha, Denver, Cheyenne, Billings and everywhere in between were camped out in front of the building. Trucks with huge satellite uplink dishes were beaming reports all across the country and around the globe. Just as Mitch feared, it was getting blown up from a cultural family dispute to a domestic terrorism incident.

I broke my own rules and decided to park my personal vehicle in the Sally Port, which is a two-stall garage where prisoners are brought into for processing into our old, cramped county jail. Only a few more months until the opening of our new public safety center that will house a new jail, sheriff's offices, police department, fire station, National Guard armory, YMCA and a host of other city and government offices. The whole north end of Red River Falls was getting a makeover because of the project with a litany of new retail stores and multiple unit apartment buildings. A new Double Tree hotel and small convention center, which the area desperately needed, were also on the plan for revitalization of the area, thanks to my brain child.

Even the building that housed Tonya Fulbright-Hayes' computer repair/music store was going away to make room for the project. So was the adult book store next door, which pissed off a sizeable group of people who frequented it. The city and county were only required to pay fair market value for the properties (which paid Tonya about $10,000 more than she bought it for!) and then also zoned the book store out of city limits. That meant the adult book store would have probably had to build a store, due to new codes and ordinances severely restricting sexually-themed businesses, and the owner couldn't afford it. So he took the payoff and ran. The building, with its nasty arcade and glory holes, were torn down a week later.

I took the elevator to the top floor of the courthouse, which is where the Sheriff's Office currently is. Stepping into the main office area I was greeted by my secretary, Karen Landingham, who said nothing and just hugged me. I wasn't used to this from her as she is generally very quiet and reserved.

"Oh, Sheriff," she said through her tears, "I just don't know what to say."

"None of us do, Karen," I said, trying to be comforting. I was failing.

When she finally let go she wiped her eyes with a tissue and said, "Some men are here to see you. They're in Captain Villanueva's office."

"Okay, thank you, Karen." I made my way towards Ben's office but was greeted with hugs and handshakes by everyone in the entire office along the way. By the time I got to Ben's office, I could see him in there along with Chris Hayes and three men in suits. Feds.

"Ah, Sheriff," Ben said, standing. "Sheriff, these gentlemen are with the Bureau from the Minneapolis office." All three of the men stood as I entered Ben's office.

"Sheriff, my name is Special Agent Bryce Cooper, FBI. I'm the Agent-in-Charge that will be assisting with the BCI's investigation of yesterday's events." Cooper reached out and we shook hands. "Along with me are Special Agent Miles Pender and Special Agent Hiram Fleischman." We all shook hands as well.

"It's great to have you all here helping out," I said.

"Our pleasure," Cooper replied. "Sheriff, I wonder if we might step into your office for a bit."

"Sure thing," I said, leading the way. I got to my office door and unlocked it and gestured to an empty seat in front of my desk as I closed the door behind us. "What can I help you with, Agent Cooper?"

"First of all, Sheriff," Cooper said taking a seat, "I want to extend the condolences of everyone in the Bureau for your department's loss."

"Thank you. We truly appreciate that."

"It's never easy losing our own in the line of duty. We're all in awe of everything your deputy did in the last few moments of his life to help catch his own killers. Truly the stuff of legend. He must've been a helluva deputy."

"He was all that and so much more, thank you."

"I'm sure you probably have some questions about the whole incident that you probably want answers to, especially about the Hammadis."

"I don't have so many questions about the Hammadis. I understand it is some sort of twisted cultural thing, not a religious thing. What I do have a question about, though, is how in the hell a bunch of fully automatic weapons made their way into my county."

"I thought you might ask," Cooper said, opening up a small laptop. "We have reason to believe that the weapons in question came from a group called the Minutemen Militia."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "The Minutemen Militia? Seriously?"

"The Federal government takes militias quite seriously, Sheriff."

"I'm sure they do. But where in the hell did the Minutemen Militia come from? The last I knew, they just called themselves The Minutemen and were some fringe offshoot from the Tea Party. They were a political entity. When did they graduate to a militia?"

"The government considers them a militia group, Sheriff. We have for quite some time. And they have been a lot more than just politically active. Many of their members are Civil War, World War II, Korea and Vietnam re-enactors. We believe their re-enactment activities are just a cover for more clandestine private military training."

"You can't be serious," I said, still grinning.

"We are absolutely serious, Sheriff," Cooper said, annoyed that I found him incredulous. "We have numerous statements from them indicating possible threats against Congressman Ben Reynolds and Governor Jane Reynolds. Along with that, more than a few members of their group are former military and several others have previous weapons charges on their records."

"Any of them ever been convicted of any weapons charges?"

"Not yet," Cooper said, somewhat dejected. "But it is just a matter of time before we get the evidence we need. And we will be charging them with terrorism when we do. The weapons we believe they acquired and subsequently sold to the Hammadis are just the tip of the ice berg. The government has a case. And we will see it to its logical conclusion."

"I'm sure you will, Agent Cooper. I don't mean any offense, I really don't. But I happen to know a few people associated with the Minutemen and I just have a hard time seeing them dressed up in camouflage and running around somebody's farm or ranch playing Army, ya know?"

"Lots of people make the mistake of underestimating these people, Quinn. You aren't the first." I noticed he dropped the Sheriff title and just called me by my last name only as a slight. So he was going to be like that.

"Well, Agent," I said standing and signaling his time with me was up, "I'm sure you'll have more info when the time comes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm sure you can see we're pretty swamped here and I need to get to work."

"Sure thing," he said, trying to cover the fact that he was annoyed. "We'll let you know the minute we have any new developments for you. I hope you don't think we're stepping on your toes, Quinn, but the Bureau is asking me to take a fairly active role in this investigation. I'll share what we find out and I'll expect the same courtesy from your department, as well."

"Absolutely," I said, extending my hand. "It was great meeting you and I look forward to working with you," I lied.

"Likewise," he said, equally full of shit. "Gentlemen?" he said, nodding to Pender and Fleischman. They gathered up and started walking towards the elevator. I watched them until they were all in and the door closed.

"What an asshole," I muttered as I returned to my office. I no sooner got sat back down in my office chair when Mitch Monahan showed up at my door.

"Pat? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Uh, being the Sheriff?"

"Jesus, Pat!" he said, having a seat. "You're supposed to be gone. It's department policy any time a deputy is involved in a shooting that they get 30 days of administrative leave. You have no business being here right now!"

"First of all, Mitch, I'm not a deputy. I'm the actual Sheriff."

"I know that, Pat. But you know what I mean!"

"Secondly, I'm already down three deputies as it is. Tristan is gone and both Brian Kelly and Billy Shoemaker are already on administrative leave. And, technically, I wasn't involved in a shooting. I slammed a full-size SUV into the Hammadi kid, I didn't shoot him."

"Again, you know damned well what I mean, Pat," Mitch said, kinda pissed.

I held my hands up in truce. "I know, I know. But you gotta understand things from my viewpoint. I'm down three deputies and everyone else's workload just increased. I need to be here for a lot of reasons, as well as just to be seen. I can't afford to be seen as non-existent around here, considering what this entire department is going through."

"I admire your desire to lead from the front, Pat. But I also need to know that you're taking care of yourself, too."

"I have a phenomenal support network at home in my wife-to-be. She'll see to it that I'm taking care of myself or she'll damned well do it for me. One of the benefits to marrying a nurse," I chuckled. It was a fake chuckle and Mitch could tell as he just smirked out of courtesy.

"I'm gonna keep an eye on you, Pat. We need you but we need you whole. If I think for one second that you're anything less than 100%, I'm going to order you to stay away from the courthouse and your office. And don't think for one second that the Supervisors won't back me up, either."

"Fair enough, Mitch. I appreciate you looking out for me."

Just then, Karen Landingham buzzed my desk phone.

"Sheriff? You have a phone call on line 2."

"Thank you, Karen," I replied. I picked up the receiver and punched the button for line 2. "This is Sheriff Quinn. To whom am I speaking?" For some reason, Mitch Monahan was still sitting there. I didn't mind. It wasn't like I had anything to keep secret from him.

"Sheriff? My name is Major Del Harrison. I'm with the State Patrol, Commander of the Southeast District."

"Yes, Major. What can I help you with?"

"First of all, Sheriff, I want to personally extend my sympathies to you and your entire department on your loss. It's my understanding that Deputy Tristan Embegwe was a superb law enforcement officer."

"Those are very warm sentiments, Major. Deputy Embegwe was, indeed, a consummate professional."

"Secondly," he hesitated, "it is my sad and unfortunate duty to inform you that Trooper Marvin Rockney died of his injuries this morning."

I immediately stood up as though I got an electrical shock. I could feel the color drain from my face and a wave of nausea washed over me. I quickly glanced to my right just to make sure that my office waste basket was nearby. It was.

Mitch could tell something was wrong and he stood with me, a look of fear and concern across his face.

"How...I mean...when?" I stuttered.

"Trooper Rockney succumbed to his injuries about 45 minutes ago. It's believed that he developed a blood clot near the point where his right leg was amputated. Most likely it traveled to his lungs. He was on a ventilator following surgery. Had he been awake, he might have been able to say he was in pain or having trouble breathing. As it was, it was too late by the time he went into cardiac arrest."

I just stood there, unable to process Trooper Rockney's death. By the time I went home last night, the prognosis for him sounded so promising. But now, to find out they had to amputate and there were complications...I couldn't seem to wrap my thick skull around it.

"Sheriff? Sheriff, are you still there?"

"Yes...yes, I am. I'm sorry. I'm just...flabbergasted. I really don't know what to say other than I'm deeply sorry for his family's loss as well as the entire State Patrol. Please extend my regards to his family and let us know if there is anything we can do for them."

"I'll do that, Sheriff. His wife was the one who asked me to contact you. She and the children are there, of course, but the rest of Trooper Rockney's extended family has yet to be notified."

"Thank you, Major. I appreciate the courtesy."

"Take care, Sheriff. I'm sure we will talk soon."

I was staring off into space as I put the receiver back down.

Mitch closed my office door. "Jesus, Pat," he half-whispered. "Did I hear what I thought I just heard? Trooper Rockney?"

"Yeah," I answered, still stunned. "He...he died...about 45 minutes ago."

"How? I mean, last night they said he was doing well after surgery."

"They, uh...they had to...amputate...his right leg. They think he, uh...developed a blood clot...and it probably traveled to his heart and lungs. He was sedated and didn't even know what was happening to him."

Mitch and I just stood there, trying to figure out what to say or do. Finally, I walked to my office door and opened it, walking out into the main office floor where almost the entire department was congregating. Many were talking with BCI agents who were still working on reports. But many of my deputies just decided to hang around work just to be around each other.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" I half-shouted above all the noise and conversations. Ben Villanueva came out of his office, as well, along with Deputy Lieutenant Chris Hayes. Quickly, the din quieted down and everyone looked at me. "I'm afraid I have some sad news, everyone," I said, trying to steel myself. "I just got off the phone with Major Del Harrison from the State Patrol. I'm sorry to report that Trooper Marvin Rockney passed away this morning."