Breaking Protocol Read online

  Breaking

  Protocol

  By

  TT Banks

  To My Wife,

  Thank you for always supporting me and my dreams.

  All my love,

  Me

  ******************************

  The bullet barked out of the gun and its impact threw her into the wall. Her eyes were wide with horror, shock, and disbelief as her body crumpled and slid slowly to the floor. A second, third, fourth, and fifth shot rang out – then there was nothing but the smell of blood and gun powder, and the faint sound of whispers and whimpers.

  ******************************

  Lusty Leavings

  The room reeked of sex. Alex couldn’t read the clock, but her internal one knew she was going to be late for work if she didn’t haul ass. She scrubbed her face with both of her hands, trying to rub off the cobwebs of sleep and sex. Trying to rub away the memories of what she had just done. Again.

  How many times had she fallen back into this pattern? Fucking stupid. Sex with an ex. Why?!? Fucking alcohol - that’s why. Stupid bar. Stupid alcohol. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  “Fuck,” she whispered.

  Her ex sighed and snuffled at her voice, but didn’t wake.

  Don’t wake the beast - get up and get the hell out of here before you have to talk about shit.

  Alex gently lifted the covers and eased towards the side of the bed, her face grimaced as the opened sheets let in the cool air. Her ex stirred again as she was just putting her left foot’s big toe on the carpet. She turned to see she had awakened the creature.

  FUUUUUUUCK.

  “Good morning,” Alex whispered.

  “Morning - where are you going?”

  “Work.” Alex popped off the bed and started pulling on clothing as quickly as possible without looking like she was running out.

  “Work. You’re always going to work. Don’t you want to come back to bed and play a game?”

  “Mandi, you know. I just…I gotta go to work.” Alex started feeling panicky, she couldn’t find her shirt.

  Maybe it was in the living room?

  Mandi threw the covers back exposing her naked, creamy skin and said, “Are you really sure you can’t, maybe, go in a little late?”

  “I really can’t. I’m in the middle of a really difficult case - and I need to focus. In fact, I can’t believe that I’m still here. I have to go all the way home, take a shower, get dressed…” Alex’s voice trailed off as Mandi’s hand had dropped from her brow to her delicate flesh and she started playing with herself. Mandi was a knockout. It didn’t matter what kind of a bitch she was, and she was a mega bitch, she was a 12 out of 10 on the hot scale. Red head. Slender. Milky white skin. Flawless. Well, not flawless - she was a Grade A bitch, user, and manipulator.

  So there’s that.

  “Come on - the guy is still going to be dead tomorrow - right?” Mandi asked as she pushed her fingers into herself and bit her lower lip. “Just a few minutes…it’ll be fun.” Mandi tasted herself on her own fingers and shuddered with arousal.

  Alex shook her head, again trying to shake off the sex cobwebs. “It’s important. I have to go. I’m sure that you can entertain yourself,” Alex said gesturing to Mandi’s treasure chest of naughty toys. She walked over, grabbed a neon pink toy and then slapped it on the bed. “Remember, you don’t need me for this,” Alex added, bringing up one of the last fights that they had before the last time they broke up.

  Oh yeah, way to go. Piss off the viper. Poke the bear. What the HELL is wrong with you?! Find your clothes and bounce!! Go go go!!

  “I’m sorry… I’m cranky. I just need to get going and get some caffeine in my system. I’ll call you later.” Alex stalked out of the room and left Mandi to handle herself. From the kitchen, where she found her shirt, she could hear the soft sound of buzzing coming from the bedroom. She bent over the kitchen sink, turned on the water and took a long, long drink.

  Drink the water. Don’t listen to the buzzing, ignore the buzzing. Act like this is normal. Act like you don’t want to rip off your own skin. Okay… Go Go GO!! No need to dally… get yer shit and go!

  She picked up her keys from the counter, slipped through the front door, and...

  Shit. No car.

  Images started floating back into her head. Lots of beer, lots of dancing, lots of cleavage. Kissing, sucking, touching.

  NO! Don’t think about it.

  She had left her car at the bar and had walked – stumbled rather – the 10 blocks to Mandi’s house.

  Jesus. WAY too much alcohol.

  No big deal, she could grab a coffee a few blocks down, and the cool air might do some good. At least the hammering headache that often comes with all that drinking hadn’t found her yet. That was a pleasant sign. A good omen for the day. Of course, she had started the day with Mandi, so anything that happened for the rest of the day had to be better than how it started.

  Work Sucks

  After a the brisk walk and the cup of coffee, Alex’s quick morning shower was quicker than usual. She rushed around her apartment nearly forgetting to fill Dexter’s bowl with food and only gave him a cursory stroke before rushing out the door. Bagel in mouth, keys in hand, she had to go back inside twice, forgetting first her ankle holster and then her thermos.

  Damn I’m getting put through my paces…

  By the time she got to the precinct, she had eaten her bagel and her short cropped hair had dried into a strange shape. She sat in the car fighting natural cowlicks and curls trying to tame the mop on the top of her head into something presentable.

  Her partner, Bret, was already at his desk, though only the top two thirds of his head were visible over the mountain of paperwork that he had piled around himself.

  “Hey man, when are you going to clean that desk of yours? You’re starting to look like a hoarder,” Alex jibed and dropped a bagel on his desk.

  “Like I tell my wife, I’ll get to it when I get to it.” Bret was a no nonsense kind of guy. A forty-something year old, slightly balding, black man - two kids, a dog, a cat, a hamster, and thankfully a house just big enough to hold all those creatures. He had the long, lean build of Samuel L. Jackson, a deadpan sense of humor, and was always dressed in what appeared to be yesterday’s wrinkled laundry. It was tough for him, at first, to be partnered up with a much younger, female partner. But after five years together, they had gotten into a good rhythm and were grateful to have one another.

  “So, what’s on the docket for the day? Anything new come in?”

  “Come on, we finished up the last two cases and still haven’t completed the paperwork. You know the chief isn’t going to assign us anything until we turn in these files,” he said around a mouthful of bagel.

  “Fine. I’ll help.” Alex looked at her desk - clean, orderly, not a paper or file in sight.

  But much like the iceberg that fucked the Titanic, this desk has something hidden under the surface.

  Alex pulled out a file box from under her desk and got started on the last two weeks of paperwork.

  Booooorinnnnnng….

  Four hours and five cups of terrible coffee later, Alex looked up from her desk. Her eyes felt funny and had a hard time focusing on anything more than a foot from her face. She decided she needed to take a break and maybe get some fresh air. She signaled to Bret that she was headed outside; though he didn’t look up, he nodded in understanding.

  Perhaps she would walk to the deli and pick up a couple of sandwiches. She was about three quarters through her paperwork and needed some brain food to keep going. A good Italian sub would hit the spot, and a Turkey on White for Bret would boost his spirits as well.

  While on her way to the deli, Alex thought back to the previous n
ight’s extra curricular activities.

  Damn it, why did you go into that bar?

  She knew why. It had been six months since her last real flirtation. And that ended in coals, literally. Jenny, the flirtation, had an insane ex who placed a blivet on Alex’s stoop, rang the bell, and left. After stomping out the fire and getting burnt shit all over her shoes, Alex decided Jenny wasn’t worth the effort - besides, they really didn’t have anything in common. Jenny was a banker, pretty, and had a fairly decent sense of humor… but she was also quite petty and a little dull. Plus, she had a crazy ex.

  Of course, who doesn’t have a few of those?

  Her love life was pretty bland these days, and last night she had decided she would try the bar, see if any new birds had flitted their way there. Of course, it had been all the same faces she remembered from the last time she was in. Morose and slightly despondent, she had decided to just sit and watch from her bar stool as all the gay girls and boys tried their hand at making a connection.

  After a few beers, she had felt a hand on the back of her neck. The smell of sex and a cheap starlet perfume Alex couldn’t remember the name of made her arm hair stand on end.

  Mandi.

  A fresh beer floated in front of her face, and the hand made its way down the front of her shoulder, across her chest (just glancing the top of her breast), and lips touched her ear. “Looking for me?” Mandi had whispered and then flicked her tongue along the shell of her ear.

  “Hell no. I was looking to meet someone nice,” Alex had quipped.

  “I’m nice. Look, I even bought you your favorite beer….” She nibbled her ear this time.

  Alex grudgingly took the beer, and Mandi squealed with delight.

  It’s just one beer… what harm could it do?

  Again images of cleavage, dancing, and other debauchery floated into her memory.

  Shit… It’s not entirely your fault. You were lonely and that woman is a predator. She feeds on the slower, desperate members of the herd - and you, my friend, you were definitely desperate. Sex with an ex… so many reasons NOT to do it.

  Lost in thought, Alex stood in Archie’s and paid without even really knowing she had ordered. On her way back to the precinct, she did her best to keep her mind from wandering back to last night’s debauchery.

  Bret was still neck deep in paperwork when she arrived. He smiled his gap-toothed smile when Alex slapped down his sandwich and pickle.

  “Oh my… Archie’s?”

  “Of course.”

  Between bites of sandwich they discussed the details of a few case files and talked about their weekend plans.

  “Slow day… Did any cases come in while I was out?”

  “Nah, couple robberies, an assault, and of course a domestic dispute. Actually, if you file the last bit of paperwork that you’re hiding in your desk, I think we can be assigned to whatever comes in next,” Bret flashed his dark eyes mockingly at Alex.

  “You’re not done with yours though, right? I mean, this fucking pile isn’t any smaller.” Alex gestured to his mountain.

  “Well, actually, this ‘fucking pile’ is all old material and I was just reviewing it for testimony that I’m going to have to give next week.”

  Alex did a couple of fist pumps and shot out of her chair. She quickly calculated how many files she had cleared.

  These are done… these are done. I have to sign these. My notes for this one are here… annnnnd....

  “Gimme fifteen minutes.”

  And Then You Die

  Fifteen minutes or so later, Alex and Bret were rolling. Bret usually let Alex drive, but considering her slight hangover - Bret was behind the wheel. He always drove a little faster, and a little less cautiously than Alex preferred. As Bret came to an almost screeching halt behind another car, Alex fake braked the floorboards. Bret shot an eyebrow up and peeped at Alex from the corner of his eye without turning his head, his “cut that crap out” look. He definitely had that look down, it was one he gave to his children often.

  They had been driving around for a couple hours assisting with various calls when one came in specifically for them.

  **** Car 159, Car 159. We have a possible 187 near the corner of Beacon and Berkeley ****

  **** Please advise if you are available, and call into the office, over. ****

  Alex picked up the radio and said, “Hey Darlene, I’ll give you a call in a minute, we’ll start heading that way now.”

  Alex’s cell had three missed calls, all from Mandi.

  Jesus.

  She dialed the precinct and got Darlene.

  “How’s my best girl?”

  “Good God Alex, you know, I thought I was your only girl.”

  “Yeah, yeah. What do you have for me, Darlene?”

  “Some hot shot, blue blood, geezer is D.E.D. Got the call and the first cops on scene think we might have something for you two to look at.”

  “Is CSI on scene?”

  “They are my next call dearie.”

  “Alright, address?”

  Darlene rattled off the address causing Alex to whistle and say, “Whoa, D. That is a hoity toity neighborhood, this oughta be fun.”

  Be sure to keep a wary eye on their butler – they have a reputation you know,” Darlene said in her best British voice.

  “Oh, I will.”

  “Tah tah, love.”

  Alex turned to Bret, “Darlene, she is such a tease.”

  Ten minutes later, they were two blocks away. Nothing but red and blue lights filled the street. One of the tape officers stuck his head in the window and said, “Hey Alex, gimme a big ole kiss.”

  “In your dreams Holder.”

  “Every night…”

  “Bite me.”

  “I do that in my dreams, too…”

  “That guy is a sick bastard,” Alex said after they were out of earshot. “You know that I had to kick his ass out of my apartment after he casually stopped over at 1 AM? Creepy. How long is he going to be demoted to blues for?”

  “What I heard...Holder is stuck there until he proves that he can actually perform the duties he’s assigned to. He’s always causing trouble in other cases, especially when one of his old buddies from ‘back in the day’ gets pinched. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has been in on some of the schemes those turds are involved in.”

  Creepy fucker. One of those guys who thinks that I just haven’t found the right man yet. *barf*

  As they eased to a stop in front of the house, Alex whistled. “Must be nice…”

  “Must be,” Bret echoed, ducking his head down to the level of the passenger window. Both got out of the car, and stared in awe at the grandeur of the town house.

  Shit. Maybe they really do have a butler…

  They badged their way past the gate, into the house, through the hall, and started to walk past the front sitting room. Alex turned her head as she saw movement out of the corner of her eye and stopped in her tracks.

  Who is THAT?! Stop staring...

  She stood, mouth slightly agape, staring. Mesmerized. Before her, a very familiar scene was playing out; a young woman consoling her mother, the presumed widow. Alex had been to many crime scenes, and had seen many family members console one another – this one shouldn’t have been any different.

  But LOOK at her! Stop staring...

  She had dark hair to her chin, high cheekbones, a severe jaw line, a small but straight nose, and flawless, olive colored skin. At a question from the officer standing nearest her mother, she shot him a fierce, warrior-like look. Her eyes flashed anger, disdain, resentment, and something else. The raven-haired beauty said something to the apathetic looking officer that was inaudible from the hall, but whatever it was made him blush in embarrassment. He quickly walked away, giving the woman and her mother some space.

  The woman turned slightly, and then it happened. They locked eyes.

  Oh. My. God. Stop staring… Seriously. Look away. You are intruding on a personal moment. You
are seriously freaking her out. Look away….

  But she didn’t. In fact, they stayed, eyes locked together for what seemed like an eternity. Alex’s blue eyes drinking in every inch of her, and she staring back. The moment could’ve lasted for five minutes, maybe it was only one second, Alex couldn’t be sure.

  “A-hem! Detective Connolly, the victim is back this way... in the kitchen.”

  And like that, Alex clicked back into motion. Back into detective mode. She swiveled towards the voice that had interrupted what felt like the most intimate moment she had shared with another person in months.

  And THAT included last night.

  Bret stood in front of her, this time both eyebrows raised, hands on hips, and had that “what the HELL do you think you’re doing” look all over his face.

  Alex flicked a look back towards the sitting room, but the alluring woman had refocused her energy back on her mother. Forcing herself to focus, she followed Bret back into the kitchen.

  “What have we got?”

  “Well, no forced entry. No obvious wounds. No messages written in blood. Time to let CSI have their fun.”

  The kitchen was a chef’s dream. Everything was stainless. White marble countertops. Gas range. Double oven. Copper pots hanging from a ceiling rack. Huge knife block on the butcher block island. Also of note, the body on the floor.

  Ah. The master of this castle.

  “What do you think?” Alex asked.

  “Well, we were called because even though there was no forced entry, the back door was wide open.”

  “So, maybe he opened the door for some fall air, had a heart attack and died,” She surmised.

  “I’m pretty sure that could be the case… but it’s not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Their dog… he also didn’t make it.”

  “Shit.”

  Alex bent down, and used her pen to look through the man’s suit pockets without touching anything. She stared at his face. He had the same very straight nose and dark hair (though just graying at the temples) that the vixen in the front room had.