Police Training Ch. 04

"Thanks Carlos."

"Don't worry. My wife and kids loves seeing me being all masculine on the TV. Street cred, ya know." Liz gets one of the famous melt-your-panties smiles that Candi fell head over heels for. Liz pokes his stomach and they go to see what's going on.

Everyone is crowded in front of the TV, Finn and Liam are at the computer looking up the news there. The lawyer and both his sons went fishing two days ago. They never came back. The wife and daughter called the cops this morning to report them missing. Liz can't decide which is worse; thinking that police now have to help look for cop-killers, or thinking that police might not give it their full effort because they are looking for cop-killers.

Calls are made. Aiden and Donal are in contact with actual officers in the Florida area where they're looking, getting updates. Cops have a lot of friends, and friends of friends of friends led them to these two guys.

Liz wanders into the kitchen. Mom and grampa are sitting at the table holding hands. She hugs them both. "Are you OK?"

Mom and grampa share a look. She sighs. "I just want them dead. I feel terrible that I'm thinking that, hoping that. Maybe I'm just a bad person, but I want them dead."

Grampa joins in. "They deserve to die. And I don't feel bad about saying it. They had my son murdered."

Mom looks so broken. "I can't go through this again. I just want it to be over." Liz is not sure she can go through this again either. It must be so much worse for mom because everyone looks to her to for guidance.

She hugs her mom. "We all have mixed feelings. Mine change every few minutes. You don't have to be strong, mom. We'll hold it together if you need some time. We'll get you whatever you need. Let Malachi take the lead. He's a good fit for the chair. He's a natural to lead us. Let him take the burden. It's time." Someone is banging on the front door. Uugh. Now what?

The friends and family in the living room are just staring at the door when all three of us walk into the room. Everyone turns to look at mom. Should they answer it? Is it more reporters? Mom looks to Liz, then to grampa. She kisses the top of Liz's head. "Mal. What should we do?"

Every head turns to Malachi. Mom and Mal share a look. And with that one look, leadership is passed to Mal. He stands and goes to answer the door. It's Mr. Allan, our lawyer. Mal welcomes him in. "I hope you don't mind. I gave the press a brief reminder on private property laws in the state of New York."

"You're not going to charge us $500 bucks for that are you?" Mal and Mr. Allan share a forced laugh. As a DA, we don't pay him for prosecuting the murderers.

"If you get sassy with me, I'll charge you a grand." Hands are shaken and we make room for one more. "No, seriously. I'm here as a friend today. Do we have any news?"

"Not much. Florida. Yacht. Missing. Same info we had this afternoon. What have you heard?"

Mr. Allan settles in next to Carlos. "About the same. They were supposed to return last night from a fishing trip. A lawyer friend down there was supposed to meet them this morning about giving the oldest boy an internship. Apparently no one wants to touch them here in New York."

Grampa snorts. "Wonder why?" Regardless of the clout of their dad, no law firm would voluntarily bring massive animosity with the entire police force by hiring a cop killer. The clan spends Friday night packed into mom's house, watching TV for any tidbit of news.

Saturday Liz goes back to work. She and Carlos volunteered for a double shift to cover for another unit. The long day actually takes her mind off the drama going on around her. They found an oil slick and a life vest, but no mention of the boat or any survivors / victims. Sunday morning at 1 AM she crawls into bed.

Sunday everyone congregates at mom's house. The house hasn't been this full in years. There's practically nowhere to stand, much less walk or sit. We're forced into the backyard, even though reporters occasionally take pictures over the neighbor's fence. On TV, we're described as 'celebrating'. Those idiots were following us for months, they know we get together every Sunday. But ratings rule; so the press lies to make it a juicer story.

About a half an hour before dinner is served, both Aiden and Donal's phones go off. It's the cops they're talking to in Florida. The lawyer's boat has been found. Sunk. Dive teams initial report say it looks like the engine caught fire. No bodies on board. At the exact same moment, about 60 people all start asking questions. Mal shuts everyone up with a loud 'Enough.' Liz sees the slight upturn on her mom's lips. He even has the magic power word! Aiden and Donal get all the known details and relay them to us.

The news is about fifteen minutes behind, and they have nothing new to add. The afternoon turns to evening. Liz hadn't eaten too much the last two days, so she tries to at least get a plateful down today. Nothing new comes along after that so everyone starts dispersing around 8ish.

When she gets home, she calls Nic, but it goes right to voicemail. She knows it does that when he's going somewhere and he leaves his phone behind or if he's in a meeting. Where is he? He knows she has Tuesday off; they were going to get together Monday after work. She wonders if he's OK. Why won't he answer?

Thankfully, the first half of Monday is training, so Liz and Carlos only have to be out about four hours. She still hasn't heard from Nic, and is considering even calling his office to see if he's OK. She's never done that before. Liz trudges up to her apartment, trying to figure out what she's going to do tonight, now that she seems to be free.

She drops the mail on the table, turns to the kitchen to drop everything else, and screams.

Nic is sitting on her sofa, wearing old jeans, running shoes, and a long sleeve t-shirt. "Holy fuck! You scared the crap outta me." He's never broken in when she wasn't home. "I tried to call you."

He stands and hugs her. "Didn't mean to frighten you. I've been out of town and didn't have my phone." Liz relaxes against Nic, her face resting against his shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

That was a serious question. "What?"

"Do you. Trust me?"

Liz looks up into those dark penetrating eyes. Does she trust him? "I think so."

"I need a definitive yes or no, Lizzy."

He has never hurt her. Well spankings, but those don't count. He kept her going when all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep for months. He never pressured her. He lies constantly about stupid stuff, but she's never caught him lying about important things. His eyes are searching her face, judging what's behind her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I trust you."

He pulls her close and kisses her forehead. "I need you to pack a complete change of clothes in this brown paper bag. I also need you to change into an old pair of clothes; shirt, pants, shoes, the works. No questions." He hands her a brown paper bag.

Liz takes one last look at his face. She drops her stuff on the kitchen counter and goes to her bedroom to change. She packs one set of clothes in the paper bag and goes back to the living room. Nic looks her up and down. "Take off the jewelry." Her watch, rings, and her green stud earrings are placed on the counter. "Phones too." She did say she trusted him. She places both her work phone and her personal one the counter. "Just keep the apartment key. Nothing else."

He pulls a pale green hoodie over her head, and they leave the apartment. An old jeep is out the back. "Keep your hood up." She has so many questions, but she knows he won't answer them. He helps her in and hops in the driver seat. He easily maneuvers through traffic, and an hour later they're pulling up beside a huge cargo ship docked in the harbor. Nic scans the area before getting out. He grabs two identical paper bags from the back seat, one is hers and the other is obviously one he prepared for himself earlier. Together they walk up the gangplank and into the massive ship.

Nic seems to know the way. We turn left and right, occasionally going down metal stairs. It takes a while to get used to the gentle swaying of the ship and the dimly lit hallways. She thinks they're heading for the back of the ship. They pass crew quarters, and a kitchen, Nic sets our bags down in a common shower area, then they go down again.

After she's completely lost, Nic stops at a large closed metal door. "I have a gift for you, my heart. A very special gift." He opens the door and motions her forward. They're standing on a second floor catwalk overlooking a large mostly empty cargo bay. Mostly empty, because there are five metal chairs below them. And in those chairs are five naked men with hoods over their heads. Their arms are hidden behind their backs, but the ankles are duct taped to the legs of the chair.

A gentle pressure on the small of her back, and numbly she walks down the metal stairs to the floor below. Their footsteps echo in the emptiness. Nic stops her in front of the men. Two muscular heavily tattooed men on the far left, then two young white men, and on the right is an overweight pasty white fat man. She looks up at Nic. He sees the question in her eyes. This isn't what I think it is, is it?

The dark words are whispered in her ear. "They're already dead, Lizzy. Nothing can change that now. How they die, that is my gift to you." Nic leaves her standing alone in front of the men. He goes behind them and one by one, the hoods are pulled off. The two shooters glare silently at her. Then the youngest boy, 22, and the older boy 26. They came up with the plan to murder her papa. Their father just did what they said. The younger one starts swearing at Lizzy immediately. "Bitch. Cunt. Whore. I'll kill you for this." The older one seems to know he's in a lot of trouble and stays silent. Then the lawyer gets his hood removed. He takes one look at Lizzy and turns into an asshole. "You bitch. Do you know what you've done? I'll sue your department back into the Stone Age. You'll be turning tricks to pay for white-out, you fucking cunt!"

Nic whacks him in the head as he returns to Lizzy's side. She's kind of in a haze right now. Her mind is trying to figure out if this is a dream. She watches him walk to her. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun. He offers her the CZ 75 SP-01. The shadow.

Without even thinking, Lizzy watches her hand reach out for the large handgun. The lawyer and his son are still shouting in the background. She looks back up at Nic. His face is set. This isn't a game. This is what he does. This is what he does for her. "Your choice Lizzy. You can leave now, and we'll never speak of this again. Or you can watch. Or you can avenge your father yourself. Either way, these men are dead. They've seen us. They can't be let go."

Lizzy looks at the men again. The shooters she's only seen pictures of, but it's definitely them. She'd never forget those faces. They don't look scared. They knew the possibilities when they became killers: double-cross, jail, or death. The youngest and the dad are still talking/shouting. The fear is probably fueling their babbling.

The decision is made, and truth be told, it wasn't that hard to make. They killed her papa. They put her family through hell. And they got away with it. She won't put her family through that again. She won't risk them getting away again. Not this time. Lizzy goes to the youngest kid, the one calling her names, and whacks him across the face with the butt of her gun. Dead silence in the cargo hold, until the dad starts up again. "Police brutality. I'll have your badge for this, bitch!"

Lizzy ignores them for now. She stands in front of the two Russian shooters. "Which one of you killed my father?" No response, they just stare up at her. She smacks one with the gun. "Who shot the cop in the driver's seat?" She wasn't expecting an answer, but it would have been nice to know. Not that it matters. Their fate is sealed. She puts a bullet in the one on the far left.

The gunshot hurts her ears as it echoes through the hold. She looks to the lawyer on the other end. His face is completely white. This isn't just a scare tactic. He understands now. The younger son is craning his neck to see the gore behind him. His eyes seem more excited than afraid. There is something seriously wrong with that kid. The older one is gagging, trying not to vomit on himself.

The shooter is dead. There is a small hole in his left cheek, but the back of his head is gone. Blood spattered out behind him. The other shooter is mouthing a prayer. He's not begging or pleading, just preparing himself for death. His god won't help him.

Lizzy looks at the dead man. It wasn't enough. He didn't suffer enough. So she shoots him three more times in the chest. The hold is silent as she watches the blood drip onto the floor. Surprisingly, the lawyer and both his bratty kids are silent.

Lizzy moves to the second shooter. "Which one of you murdered the cop in the driver's seat?" He is still silent as he glares up at her. "You murdered a good man. Two good men. Nothing can bring them back, but at least I can take two equally bad men out of this world." Without hesitation, she shoots him in the kneecap. Now he can speak, well swear anyway. Once the swearing tones down to a painful sounding growl, she shoots him in the other knee cap.

Nic makes a happy sounding throaty noise behind her; she swings around and turns her glare on him. He shuts up immediately and puts his hands up in surrender. Her glare lingers on him long enough to make sure he won't interrupt her again.

She turns back to the shooter and puts two more in his gut. He groans, and the pain shows on his face. The younger kid is fascinated by the gore. He disgusts her. So she smacks him in the face with the gun. "You fucking bitch. You can't touch me. I'll ram my cock down your throat for this, whore." His father is telling him to shut up, but the stupid little punk it too far gone to listen to reason. "Shut up, you worthless old man. She's a cop. We're lawyers. She can't touch us. Let her kill the fucking Russians, we'll own her ass."

The smile spreading on Lizzy's face is not a pleasant one. She waits for the kid to shut up, then she shoots his brother in the guts. The older kid starts howling. The father starts begging, and the younger kid just stares at the blood pooling in his brother's lap. "You can't shoot us. You can't. You just can't. Do you know who we are?"

She gets in his face, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her. "Yes, I do. And yes I can."

She goes back to the Russian. He's pale, breathing raggedly. One shot to the forehead and it's over. The shooters are dead. His head falls back and blood is dripping onto the floor. She shoots him twice more in the chest. The smell in the air is metallic and bitter.

The lawyer is full on begging now. Offering anything and everything he can think of. Money. A boat. A Rolls Royce. Season tickets to the Nicks. A confession. Idly she wonders if he knows his boat is a burnt out sunken wreck. "Please. Please don't kill my kids. Please."

"I begged too, you know. When my father was shot, I begged and pleaded and prayed. He still died. He died because of you. This is what you deserve." She shoots the oldest boy in the knee. The screaming starts again. One is screaming in pain, the other two are just screaming.

Lizzy puts a bullet in the other knee. More screaming, the older kid is crying. She cried too. She cried so many times. Her mother cried. Her brothers cried. Even her grampa cried. The anger wells up and she shoots him once in each shoulder. Enough. One in the head, and the older boy slumps in the chair. The hold is silent, just the patter of blood dripping on the floor.

Then the cacophony begins again. "Bitch! Bitch! You killed him. You fucking bitch. You killed my brother." And the lawyer joins in. "Please. Please stop. You're a cop. You can't do this. You're a cop."

Lizzy looks at the lawyer. "I'm not a cop today. Not today."

Suddenly, she shoots the younger one in both knees. This time the slide on the gun stays rearward. It's empty. At first he just stares at his knees, not quite comprehending what's happening. Then the pain finally hits him. And he shrieks. And shrieks. Lizzy and the lawyer just watch him. "You cunt. I'll kill you. I'll rip your fucking head off. Stupid cunt."

Lizzy just watches him silently until he calms down. The punk spits at her, hitting her in the chest. "Your worthless father deserved to die, bitch."

With a scream of her own, Lizzy smacks him upside the head with the gun until he shuts up. A hand is on her forearm; she spins to confront the new threat. It's just Nic. Gently he pries the gun out of her hand, pulls out the empty clip, and reloads it with a new one. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her forehead. "You impress me more and more every day. I thought you'd just put one in their head, and be done with it. I didn't think you'd be creative with your aiming. This is the only extra clip I brought, but eighteen should be more than enough for these last two. Do me a favor though. That little one is wrong in the head. He's been accused of rape a few times. Put one in his balls for those girls." Nic lets go and retreats behind her. Lizzy shoots the kid in the crotch.

And the screaming starts again. She just watches the blood dripping onto the floor as both men slowly quiet down. "You're the one who planned it, aren't you? You sick little fuck."

"I'm not going to jail for some stupid weed. They can't put me in jail. My father's a lawyer."

Lizzy just looks down at him for a long time. "My father was a cop." She can't stand being in his presence any more. She shoots him three times in the chest, and once in the head for good measure.

The lawyer is silent and pale as he looks over at his dead children. He looks defeated. He starts repeating 'I'm sorry.' over and over again. Lizzy just stands there watching the grown man cry. She's done. She thought she would regret killing them, but she doesn't. They were guilty, and they weaseled their way out of punishment. It's over. Let it be over. One last shot to the head and the lawyer slumps over in his chair. It's over.

Eventually Nic comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure. Anxious. Nervous. Alive. Empty. Why did you do this? Why didn't you just turn the shooters in when you found them?" Her hands are shaking.

"It wouldn't have helped you. Those two were professionals. Nothing could have made them talk. The lawyers still would have gotten away scot- free again. This was the only way. Come on, let's go change." She knows he's right, but she's always believed in the system.

Nic takes her shoes off, then his and carries them. He leads her up the stairs and through the hallways until they come to the shower room. Five showers on each side with faded sheets covering them. A large black plastic bag is opened on the floor, and the two paper bags are sitting along the wall near the door. Nic tosses the shoes in the plastic bag. "Put your clothes in here." As she starts undressing, she notices all the blood spattered on her shirt and jeans.

In silence they strip, careful to get all the bloody clothes in the bag. Nic ties the bag closed, then guides her to the shower.

Lizzy pulls her arm out of his grasp. Her whole body starts shaking. The adrenaline is coursing through her veins like fire. What did she just do? Oh god. What did she do? "Lizzy, you need to clean up." She pushes his chest, hard. Hard enough that he has to take a step back to keep from falling over. "Lizzy!"

She punches him in the face. He sees it coming just in time to move. He didn't get completely clear, but he did deflect enough of the blow so he isn't seeing stars. With a scream she launches at him. Adrenaline and fear turning to anger and rage. He grabs her as they tumble into a shower stall. "Lizzy! Stop."