I’ve been interning with my college’s campus police department and I think my roommate’s girlfriend is involved with a recent bombing. Let me start from the beginning…
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“Hey Alex,” Sergeant Jenkins greeted me as I entered the roll call room.
“Hi Sarge. How’s it going?” I asked as I sat in one of the front row chairs.
“Same old, same old. Anyone you want to ride with in particular today?” he asked.
Yes. But I can’t tell him that I want to ride with Officer Locke. Rumors are already stirring that Brian Locke had taken a liking to the department’s intern and I wasn’t about to help stir the pot. I offered a quick glance around the room. “Nope. Whoever is willing to take me.”
Officer Don Herbert grinned and leaned back in his chair. The sound of the crackling plastic cause me to genuinely worry if he’s about to snap that chair in half. Don played for Penn State University’s football team back in the late 1980s. He might be one of the oldest on the department, but he’s also the largest. He’s bragged about his 5% body fat on more than one occasion. “I’ll take Miss Hough,” he offers.
I cringe when I hear my last name used like that. Don may be a sweet father-like guy with good intentions, but as soon as I hear Miss Hough my mind is immediately taken back to high school when the boys in my school called me Miss Hough, but what they insinuated was Miss Hoe. Not much the teachers could do about it since they were technically articulating my name properly.
“Alright. Alex, you got Don today,” Sergeant Jenkins announced.
Sergeant Jenkins went through the usual roll call process- summarizing earlier calls, advising who was to patrol what areas, and gave out a few look outs that the City Police gave them. He’s just about finished when he added, “Listen guys, there’s one more thing. Dean Kutz has brought to my attention that the college’s crime statistics are up from last year and asked that we push more calls to the city.”
I’ve heard the guys tell me about this before, it isn’t a new issue. The school takes pride in being one of the “safest” campuses in the state. Rather than making it safe by increasing police presence and utilizing proactive policing, they choose to simply push the statistics onto the city.
“I’ll get right on that,” Officer Locke responded. He leaned over and began to pet Rudy, shoveling a pile of black fur onto the floor in the process. “Next time there’s a bomb threat I’ll just let the city guys use their own noses to sniff it out.”
Officer Locke was well-liked, but it was no secret that the favorite and most-loved officer on this department was Officer Rudy- Brian’s assigned K9 who is a bomb detection black lab. Officer Locke led the department in most overtime because of all of the call-outs he got from the city to bring Rudy out and help them. They only had one bomb dog of their own, and the handler was on the verge of retirement and liked to use as much vacation time as possible.
Sergeant Jenkins rolled his eyes and said, “I know. I’m not going to breathe down anyone’s neck here but it’s something I’m required to share with you all. Just use common sense. If the crime occurred off campus, call the city. If it occurred on campus, take it. Don’t let those city guys try to stick you with the paperwork if you back them up. Simple as that.” Sergeant Jenkins then directed his eyes to Officer Locke. “Keep backing them up, but don’t take any of the paperwork. If I recall, paperwork was listed on your allergy sheet, Locke.”
His comment gave everyone a good laugh.
“Alright Alex, let’s see what we can get into today,” Don said as he opened the rear door for me and we headed toward his cruiser. “How long you with us tonight?” He asked.
“Eight,” I replied.
Don smirked. “You working seventeen hours straight?”
It took me a moment, but I realized what he was trying to say. “I mean until twenty-hundred hours. Five-hour shift for me tonight.” They only use military time. So, for the evening shift, they all work 1500 to 2300 hours. I added, “My schedule right now is Friday and Saturday fifteen-hundred hours until twenty-hundred hours, and Tuesday and Thursday eight-hundred hours until eleven-hundred hours. So basically, you get me for part of the evening shift Fridays and Saturdays and the detectives get me Tuesday and Thursday mornings.”
Don nodded his head in approval. He stopped the cruiser at a red light and looked over at me. “What exactly is it you want to do with your life, kid? You wanna be a detective?”
I’ve answered this question so many times, it’s nearly become rehearsed. “I’d like to ultimately go federal. Getting my dual degree in Psychology and Criminology here and then plan to start at a local department, get some experience, and go federal.”
“Not a bad plan.” The light turned green and he continued driving. “What department are you thinking of starting at?”
I shrugged. “I guess whoever will take me.”
“What about here?” He asked.
“I’ve thought about it,” I start to say but am interrupted by a deafening tone.
“Here we go,” Don muttered as he reached around for his seatbelt and clicked it one fell swoop.
I glanced down to make sure I had mine on as well.
“Dispatch to one-ten bravo. Respond to forty-five Stedwick Place for the report of a burglary in progress. Any additional units to backup?”
With a flick of the finger, Don activated his lights and siren and pressed his mic to respond, “One-ten bravo in route.” He released his mic and glanced over to me. “When we get there stay in the cruiser. Lock the doors behind me and use the radio if you hear gunshots or anything else go down.”
I nodded.
Within seconds he flicked off his lights and siren and subtly creeped the cruiser to a halt, a block prior to the house. He jumped out of the cruiser and immediately drew his gun to his side. I pressed the lock button on the door and watched intently.
I heard more sirens in the distance, shutting off as they grew nearer. More officers approached the house. The cruiser behind me shut off their headlights and I saw Officer Locke jump out to backup Don. I could see Don walk up the front stoop and gently opened the front door. He bellowed, “Campus Police!” I’ve never heard Don have to yell before, but if I were in that house, I have no doubt I would have stopped dead in my tracks when I heard a voice like that.
But I wasn’t in the house, someone else was. Someone who did not stop in their tracks. Someone who responded with gunfire.
I saw a flash of Don’s muzzle before he fell to the ground, nearly tumbling down the porch stairs. Officer Locke sprinted to the house.
I fumbled to release the radio mic’s metal clip from the center console. Come on! I got it off and held in the side button. “This is Alex the intern. There have been gunshots at uh,” I forgot the address. Where the hell are we?! “Officer Herbert is down!” Dispatch will know where we are.
“Dispatch to all units. Respond to forty-five Stedwick Place for an officer-involved shooting. Ambulance in route. Advise when scene is safe.”
I watched as Officer Locke dragged Don’s body down the stairs and into the front yard. He then cautiously, but hurriedly, entered the house. I’m pressed so far against the car window that it began to fog. I need to see better. I pressed the unlock button and slowly opened my door. I stepped foot outside the cruiser and tried to find a more advantageous angle without getting closer to the house. As I side-stepped, I saw someone run down the rear fire escape and through the back yard.
More officers arrived on scene, but nobody was concerned about being stealth at this point so there’s a sea of red and blue lights throughout the street and I yelled to the first one I saw, a city cop, “Hey! Someone ran down the fire escape and through the backyard! Officer Locke is still inside the house!”
Officer Grear yelled, “Got it!” and got on his mic to relay the information to everyone else. I turned up the radio in the cruiser so I could hear it while I stood outside. My heart was thumping louder than Jumanji. I heard Sergeant Jenkins get on the radio and direct everyone where to go. His voice was direct, but calm. He set up a tactical plan and arrived on scene to get right into the action. As I now think about how professional and clear his voice was on the radio, I realize that I must have been screaming when I used the radio. I couldn’t even remember the address of where we were. Stupid, Alex.
Those few minutes felt like hours. Sergeant Jenkins announced that the scene was safe and the house was clear. Medics took Don away and I was left standing in the middle of a crime scene.
Officer Locke began to walk toward me and I realized he was heading to his parked cruiser right behind me. “Jesus, Alex,” he says. He ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. “You alright? You want me to find you a ride home?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him. I didn’t want to leave in the middle of the action. I wanted to help, but what could I possibly do? As they say, there are two types of people- those who run toward the fire, and those who run away. I always run toward the fire. In fact, I sprint. “I want to help. What can I do?”
His widened eyes suggested he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Let me check with Sarge.” He used his cellphone to call Sergeant Jenkins and walked just far enough away that I couldn’t hear what was said except for the end, “Alright, will do.” He put his phone back in his pocket and told me, “He said you can help by giving me your statement. You said you saw something?”
“Yeah. Well, not very well. I heard a gunshot, and then I saw Don shoot his gun, and then he immediately fell down.”
Brian was writing everything down. “So, you heard a gunshot and THEN you saw Don shoot?”
I stopped to think. Did I hear the gunshot first? Or after? “I’m pretty sure I heard a gunshot before I saw Don shoot. But I guess I’m not positive.”
“And then what?”
“I saw someone dressed in dark clothing run down the fire escape and through the backyard, into the alley and toward the house behind it. I couldn’t see anything once they ran behind the shrubs in that yard.”
“Alright. How about if you show me exactly where you saw this guy run.”
Brian held up multiple strands of yellow tape as we ducked under them to get to the backyard. As I bent directly below his arm, I caught a whiff of his scent. It wasn’t as strong as cologne, more likely his body wash or deodorant. Whatever it was, it was stimulating. Focus!
I tried my best to show him exactly what part of the yard and alley I saw the figure run through. We walked through the alley and finally, I showed him exactly where in the bushes I saw the guy squeeze his way through. Brian took out his flashlight now that the sun had mostly set and looked around. He hesitated and squat down. I didn’t see anything, but I continued watching.
He took out his gloves, put them on, and reached into the dirt with his pincher fingers. He brought something up to his mouth and gently blew on it. As he continued to hold the flashlight to his hand, I caught a glimpse of a shine. “Is that what I think it is?” I asked.
Brian smiled out of the side of his mouth and responds, “Sure is. We have ourselves a shell casing.”
“Kilo Niner,” Sergeant Jenkins called on the radio to Brian. Kilo Niner…K9… how original.
Brian lowered the casing and pressed his mic with his opposite hand. “Go ahead.”
“When you’re done in the back can you take some statements?”
“Affirmative,” Brian responded. He dropped the casing in a bag and sealed it before putting it in his cargo pocket. He checked his watch. “It’s almost the end of your shift, isn’t it? You sure you don’t want me to call a ride for you?” he asked me.
Do you want me to go? I really didn’t want to leave in the middle of all the action, but I’m not sure what protocol there is for interns working overtime. Not that I get a paycheck, just credits. I can’t imagine there’s a protocol, right? “I’d like to stay, if that’s alright,” I told him.
He offered the slightest grin that incited my own. “Sure, why not. Help take notes while I get these statements.”
We rounded the corner back to the house to find two students sitting on the street curb, about 20 feet apart, each with an officer in front of them. Brian walked up to one of the officers and asked, “Hey John. Jenkins told me to take statements. Looks like you and Kyle already have it covered though. Is there another witness somewhere?”
Officer John Grear closed his notepad and gently tilted his head to the right, signaling for Brian to talk to him out of earshot of the witness. I watched them walk away and debated whether I should follow them or stay with the witness. Don’t be a second dog, Alex. I decide to stay with the witness.
I leaned my butt against the trunk of a cruiser and reach into my pocket to check my phone.
“Hey,” someone said.
I looked up and realized the witness on the curb was staring at me. “Hey,” I said back.
“Do you mind if I use your cell?” he asked. He rubbed his hands against his jeans. “I really need to make a call,” he added.
I looked at my phone, then back to the witness. He’s probably about the same age as me. I’m guessing he’s a junior or a senior. Has to be at least a Sophomore if he’s living off campus. It’s not like he’s the suspect or anything. “Sure,” I hesitatingly offered. I handed him my phone and took two steps back- just enough to appear as though I’m offering privacy but still be able to hear his side of the conversation.
It took him an awkwardly long amount of time to dial the number. Is he going through my messages? I glanced down at the screen just in time to see his thumbs move quickly enough to the dial screen for me to only see two digits dialed. He finished dialing and held the phone up to his ear and gave me a look of Excuse me, do you mind?
I took two steps back again and listened.
“Hey, it’s me. Yeah, I know. No, not yet. Can I crash at your house tonight? Alright, thanks.” He lowered my phone to end the call and handed it back to me. “Thanks,” he said.
“No problem. I guess you can’t stay here tonight,” I replied.
He agreed, “Yeah,” but his face read No shit.
“Well, glad you found a place to stay.” I looked over to see Brian still talking to John. John tucked his hands into his outer carrier vest. They always look like turtles when they do that. I guess that conversation isn’t ending soon.
“Who are you, anyway? You don’t look like a cop,” the witness said. He looked me up and down. “You wear pants like a cop but with a polo shirt.”
“I’m an intern. My name is Alex,” I told him. I looked down at my BDU pants, black boots, and blue polo shirt. I really hate this outfit.
He nodded his head as if approving of my response. “That makes sense. I’m Brad, by the way.”
“Hi Brad.” As I responded, Brian walked back over.
“I’m Officer Locke with Campus Police. I need to go over everything you told Officer Grear over here.”
Brad rolled his eyes. “Man, why do I have to tell you everything I just told that guy?”
“Officer Grear here is with the City Police Department and has to get back into service. I’m going to need to document everything you saw since this is being reported through the Campus Police Department.”
“Whatever,” Brad said. “I was home and upstairs with my roommate when we heard the door like slam open. We looked downstairs and saw some dude in a mask with a gun so we ran back into our rooms and called you guys.”
I took notes like Brian asked me to, periodically glancing up. Something about the way Brad spoke was rubbing me the wrong way. As if this entire thing was more of an inconvenience than a scare to him.
Brian asked, “Did the intruder come upstairs at all?”
“No.”
“Do you have any idea who it might have been?”
“No way. I have no idea who would break in to our house. It’s not like we’re living any fancy life over here. Even our tv is worth less than a hundred bucks. We found our coffee table in someone else’s curbside trash.”
Classy. I continued to write down everything Brad said.
Brian offered a forced laugh. “I get it, sometimes these things can be surprising. Can you tell me what was taken then?”
Brad rubbed his hands against his legs again and sucked in his lips, as if forcing himself to hold in a secret. “Nothing. Weird, right?”
I looked up at Brian to gauge his reaction. Why would someone break into a house, steal nothing, and find it so important to not get caught that they shoot a cop?
Brian studied Brad. “Sometimes it’s something really small that gets stolen. Maybe you just didn’t get a chance to look close enough. Make sure you call me if you find anything at all seems out of place or missing.” Brian handed Brad his card.
Brian continued to get all of Brad’s basic information including his contact information and date of birth. He paused to hand me his cruiser key and quietly asked me to let Rudy relieve himself.
Any chance to see Rudy I snatch up. He’s the sweetest dog I’ve ever met. I headed to his Explorer, grabbed the leash from the front seat, and let Rudy out from the back. Probably not a good idea to pee all over a crime scene, so I started to walk in the opposite direction of the house. After only a few steps, Rudy quickly lifts his leg.
“Awe, you must have really had to go, buddy.” I bent over to give him some good scratches but he pulled me toward the cruiser. “Whoa there,” I said as I’m being dragged to the cruiser. But he doesn’t stop at the cruiser. He keeps on pulling me. “You must really want to see your partner,” I said. By now Brian sees us and I could tell he isn’t happy that I’m losing control over this simple task. Damn it.
Rudy took a sharp turn and nearly knocked me to the ground as I got tangled in Do Not Cross police tape. “Rudy!” I yelled. His nose was buried in the ground.
“Sit!” Brian commands and Rudy’s butt could not have hit the grass faster. To be fair, when Brian yelled, I nearly dove my own butt to the grass with the authoritativeness of his voice.
Brian walked over and took the leash from my hand. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “I-”
Brian held up his hand and intently stared at Rudy. “Search,” he gently commands.
Rudy’s rear pops up as his nose dives back down. I followed as Rudy took us toward the house, up the front porch, and inside. We reached the kitchen when he abruptly sat in front of the sink.
“Does that mean the trail ended?” I asked.
“No,” Brian said. “It means he found a bomb.”
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Bomb dogs are trained to sit when they detect a bomb because any other reaction such as a bark could set off a sensitive device.
By this point, I was sitting in the front seat of Brian’s cruiser, accompanied by Rudy panting in the backseat. The cruiser was nearly three blocks away from the house since Brian had to move it. “You really are the best cop here, aren’t you?” I said to Rudy.
He pressed his nose against the cage and I squeezed my hand through the cage to make contact. I glanced at the dash. Jesus, it’s nearly 2am. Everyone is held past their shift at this point. They’ve set up a perimeter of three blocks and evacuated everyone out of their houses. The student union has been opened and is now serving as temporary housing, even for the people who aren’t students.
Eventually I heard across the radio, “All clear,” someone called out. A sense of relief washed over my body and I saw Brian walking back to the cruiser.
He crawled into the driver seat and released a long sigh. “What a night,” he said as he brushed his left fingers through his hair and reached to take a drink from his water with his right hand. His eyes looked drained. He was clearly tired, everyone was. But something looked… disturbed.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I still can’t believe Rudy practically saved all of our lives like that.”
“Not practically. He absolutely saved all of our lives. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but the city bomb squad guys told me it was set to go off less than one hour after we found it. They disarmed it and took a while to safely remove it, but they got it out. We would have all still been on scene processing evidence when that thing went off.”
I felt my heart sink into my stomach. “Wow,” is all I could muster.
“Let’s get you home,” Brian said.
“Yeah, that sounds good to me.” As we drove toward my house we passed by Brad, who was walking along the sidewalk in the same direction. “Did either of the guys that live there have any idea why someone would put a bomb in their house?” I asked.
“When I talked to that Brad kid he had no idea. He seemed like an odd kid though. I didn’t get to talk to the other kid, someone else took his statement but as far as I know I’m gonna guess he didn’t have any idea or else we would have heard something. I’ll have to read his statement tomorrow.”
We arrived at my house and before I could remove my seatbelt and open my door, Brian was out of the cruiser. Where is he going? I watched as he walked in front, and then to my door and opened it. It’s been a while since a guy opened a door for me, I was truly confused what was happening. Brian wasn’t a college kid.
He stayed parked until I was inside my house. My dad would approve.
“Whoa, Alex with the late night,” Greg said from the family room.
I walked down the hall and saw Greg and Dave playing video games with one empty and one half empty pizza box on the coffee table. “Long night,” I said and focused intently on the pizza. It suddenly hit me that I hadn’t eaten anything all night. “Please tell me those leftovers are up for grabs.”
“All yours,” Dave offered.
I shoveled the pizza in my mouth and nearly immediately passed out.
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The smell of bacon swarmed through the air and nearly pushed my tired limbs to step out of bed. I love you, Dave. I threw on some sweat pants and a shirt before heading downstairs. Living with two guys has its perks- but not being able to step foot out of my bedroom unless fully clothed is on the very short list of cons.
Dave might be in school for engineering, but his cooking skills are nothing to be overlooked. On the weeks and days that he has later classes he always cooks a grand breakfast- bacon, eggs, toast, pancakes. Last week he actually had fresh-squeezed orange juice for us.
Greg is already at the counter eating and I make myself a plate. “Thanks, Dave!” I squealed.
“So, what kept you out late last night?” Greg asked.
I swallowed my bite of bacon. “They got a call for a burglary and then one of the cops ended up getting shot. Then on top of that, there ended up being a bomb in the house.”
“Jesus Christ!” Greg responded.
Dave doesn’t say a word, but his face showed his shock.
I scrolled through my phone. “I’m surprised there’s nothing on the news about this.”
“Maybe it will come out later,” Dave said.
“Yeah, maybe. How was your guys’ night?” I asked.
“We went to a few parties but they kind of sucked so we came home around midnight and gamed with pizza. I have that huge Psych exam this week I’m trying to take it easy this weekend since I’ll spend most of Sunday studying.” Greg is currently working on his undergrad in Psychology, but he plans to immediately go into getting his PHD so he’s taking his senior year a little more serious than most since he’s actively applying on grad schools.
“What sucked about the parties?” I asked.
“There was some drama at the first place,” Greg answered while Dave continued to cook. “Dave’s new lady friend had some people over but then randomly decided to shoo us all out and said she wanted to get to sleep.
Dave continued to cook without looking up. It was weird that he didn’t spend the night with her since they spend most weekends together since they’ve started seeing each other, or at least one night. I think it’s casual, but it’s consistent nonetheless.
“Well, your loss was my gain. Thanks again for the pizza…and breakfast!”
I headed upstairs and get in the shower. I let the steam fill my lungs and hold it there. Out of nowhere, I release into a sob. I wasn’t expecting this, but here we are. I try to keep my cries as quiet as I can so the guys don’t hear me. Where is this coming from? I was so close to dying. If Brian had made Rudy hold his bladder for one more hour we would all be dead. If Rudy wasn’t so good at his job, we would all be dead. If one thing had gone differently, we would all be dead.
I slowed my breathing to help stabilize my tremors. You’re here now, that’s all that matters. I grabbed my towel and went to reach under the sink for my hair dryer. I paused. What if there’s a bomb under this sink? It made no sense to think that, but these intrusive thoughts don’t seem to have any intentions of stopping anytime soon. It’s not the first time I’ve had intrusive thoughts. They’re like little demons that dance in your mind and convince you that you’ve invited each and every one of them there. But they’re wrong. They’re never invited.
I grabbed some leggings, a sports bra, and a tank top before heading downstairs again. “Who wants to join me at the gym?”
Dave and Greg shared a challenging glance to see who would back down first. After a few moments, Dave mustered up the energy to join me.
“You guys go ahead, I’m going to get a little bit of studying done,” Greg said.
The gym is nearly a mile to campus. It’s a workout just to go workout. We’re nearly there when I asked, “What’s going on with you and Lindsey?”
Dave shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He’s somewhat on the shyer side, but he knows how to have fun at the same time. When I first met Dave freshman year, he felt like family. What I wasn’t expecting, was to find out that he literally was family. When I went home and told my mom about these two guys I became friends with who were from a town 20 minutes away from us, I was shocked when she recognized his last name and explained to me that we were fourth cousins. Small towns, right?
I pried further. “How was it seeing her last night? Anything happen?”
“Things were pretty normal last night. She’s been a little flaky these past couple of weeks but last night things were cool and s Well, until she randomly started telling everyone to leave and that her parents were going to visit today.”
“Did you not know her parents were coming?” I asked.
“They weren’t. I had just talked to her about her plans for today and offered to make her breakfast. She was all about it and said she planned to have a chill Saturday and probably clean up from the party and maybe workout. Said nothing about her parents.”
“So weird,” I said as we opened the front doors to the gym. “Any idea what you think made her change her mind?”
“Yeah,” Dave said. “I’m pretty sure her ex called her to come over.”
“Man, what a bummer. If she’s still hung up on her ex I say move on. You’re too good for someone like that.” I meant it too. Dave is the best of the best and if someone is immature enough to be hung up in their own past, he deserves better.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t offer much more. “From what she’s said, the dude sounded like a douche anyway. Even had a douchey name.”
“Oh please let me guess,” I plea.
Dave laughed. “Go ahead.”
“Cody?”
“Nope.”
“Logan?”
“Nope.”
“Jon, but with no h.”
“Nope.”
“Brad?”
“Ding, ding, ding! Winner, winner, chicken dinner!”
I laughed and was equally amused as I was impressed by my guess. “That’s hilarious because I totally met a douchebag named Brad last night.” As soon as the words slipped my mouth, I remembered our last interaction. I pulled my phone from my pocket and asked Dave, “Wait. What’s Lindsey’s number?”
Dave resists at first saying, “Why do you want her number? Please don’t say anything to her.”
“No, no, it’s not like that,” I say. “I want to see if I have her number saved from something else. I just remembered something.” I didn’t want to go down a rabbit hole that didn’t need dug up.
Dave pulled out his phone and began reading the number. I opened my recently called contacts and followed along. “Oh my God. I met her ex.”
Lindsey was nowhere on scene when I was at Brad’s house. Where did she go? Could she have been involved with the bomb?