Terminal City by Trevor Melanson

Author:Trevor Melanson [Melanson, Trevor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: EDGE-Lite
Published: 2016-04-03T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Local cop survives life-threatening injuries

by John Ryan

A local police officer who was shot Tuesday evening during a drug raid in East Terminal City is now in stable condition, Police Chief Roger Chin told reporters Wednesday.

Detective Constable Clayton Stark, 32, was shot twice in the stomach inside a suburban drug home, which police say housed a “sizable” crystal meth lab in its basement.

The shooter, identified as 17-year-old Charlie Reese, was gunned down by two other officers shortly after the shooting and died on the scene, police say.

According to Chief Chin, Det.-Sgt. Stark had tried to reason with the teenager and was shot for his effort.

Det.-Sgt. Stark has been with the Terminal City Police Department for eight years and is described by Chief Chin as intelligent and kind.

“He’s a model detective,” Chief Chin said. “It was a tragic day for all of us on the force, but his doctor tells us he’s going to be okay. It was music to our ears, I can tell you that.”

Chief Chin wouldn’t speculate on when Det.-Sgt. Stark might return to work. “It’s far too early to say,” he said. “Whenever he’s a hundred per cent— not a moment sooner.”

Little is yet known about his deceased shooter, Charlie Reese, but police say his family was notified of his death Wednesday morning.

—The Terminal City Chronicle

June 10, 2014

* * *

Clayton Stark stepped out of his car and scanned the forest across the street. He couldn’t see any of his colleagues, just two blue and white cop cars. He was probably the last one to get here, often was. He took a slow sip of coffee before locking the car door.

With his free hand, Clayton wiped his bloodshot eyes then ran his fingers through his close-cropped brown hair. “God.” He shook his head like a wet dog. “All right, let’s do this.”

He walked up the street until he spotted a small trail burrowing through the brush, jaywalked, then made his way down the dirt path. Clayton could hear ocean waves crashing in the distance. It was pleasant, but he knew only too well that nothing stayed pleasant for long in his line of work.

At least his coffee had cooled down enough to swallow in swigs, which was good because, boy, he really needed this one. He hadn’t slept well last night, still not used to another person sleeping in his bed— at least, not that often and not when he was sober. But she was staying over every other night now. Of course, it was a worthy trade-off. Until recently, Clayton hadn’t been happy, truly happy, in years. Alicia was great. They’d been dating for almost a year, just long enough that he no longer felt as if she were always on the verge of leaving him (his problem, not hers). She even appeared to be as happy about the situation as he was.

Clayton wondered what she was doing right now. He couldn’t remember if her class had started. She taught here at Carwin University, the location of this morning’s crime scene, but he wouldn’t be seeing her.

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