Fallen from Grace

Fallen from Grace

Spirit of Grace #2

Adrian J. Smith

Smashwords Edition

Supposed Crimes LLC, Matthews, North Carolina

All Rights Reserved

Copyright 2015 Adrian J. Smith

Published in the United States

ISBN: 978-1-938108-49-5

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

I would like to dedicate this to the all those who work in a law enforcement agency and put their lives at risk daily. Without you, we would not be living in this safe of a world. Thank you for your hard work, and thank you for doing what I cannot.

Mama’s Boys

Grace’s feet pounded hard against the asphalt as her belt moved against her hips. She heaved breath after breath as she ran as hard as she could past the run-down houses and abandoned cars. Squinting, she tried to see the punk who had ditched his car when she pulled him over.

Fucker, she muttered, lowering her head to gain more speed.

They turned the corner, and Grace grabbed the radio attached to her shoulder and shouted into it.

We’re on Canary.

10-4. Coming your way, Toulouse answered.

Grace’s ankle rolled as she stepped on a rock, her thick boot keeping her from completely collapsing. She straightened her back and pushed off her injured foot. She heard the sirens coming and knew Toulouse was close. She had to do it—had to prove to herself and to him that she could.

She huffed and counted to three, getting even closer. Just as the cruiser turned the corner down the street, Grace launched herself forward with her arms outstretched and grabbed hold of the punk’s left leg. His right foot came up and smacked into her chin just as he tumbled down to the ground.

Stop resisting! Grace shouted. Stop resisting!

Climbing up and onto his back, she dug her knee into his spine and grasped for his hand, the knife blade flying out. Pulling her fingers into a fist, she smashed it down onto his wrist until he let go and cried out.

Get off me, bitch!

Stop resisting! Grace shouted back, seeing red as the punk tried to wiggle his way loose from under her.

She moved up his body and rested her forearm against the back of his neck, working his face into the gravel. He cried out in pain, but Grace didn’t let up. She wouldn’t until his body completely relaxed and he decided to cooperate.

Stop resisting, and I’ll let you up. Grace swallowed hard.

Toulouse barreled his way down the street to her location. He had left his cruiser at the end of the block, driver’s side door flung open.

Grace glanced down at her suspect and sneered as he tried to turn her over. She dug her knee farther into his back and put more pressure on his neck.

A’ight. A’ight. Damn, bitch. I give up.

Toulouse landed on the other side of the suspect. He grabbed for the suspect’s arm, wrenched it behind his back and pressed his own knee into the man’s back. Grace twisted his other arm back as Toulouse clicked the handcuffs into place.

Grace let out a breath just as another cruiser pulled up. Two doors slammed and Grace knew who was walking over. The stupid cop, Hinds, who wouldn’t let up on her, and Drake, the kid officer who needed a reality check. She took a deep breath and bolstered herself for any rude comments, sexual or personal, and tugged him up by his cuffs.

Got it all handled, Halling? Hinds asked.

If he hadn’t been facing her, Grace would have sneered. Yes, it’s all handed. Thanks for the assist.

She turned back to Toulouse and headed toward his cruiser to do the pat down. She knew by their silence the three men were giving each other nasty glares, but she ignored them and kept on walking with the detainee in front of her.

You fucking tackled me! I’m gonna report this to your sup. Excessive force is what it is.

Shut up, Grace muttered.

She shoved him against the back of the cruiser and spun him around. She patted down his arms and sides, deciding to wait for Toulouse to come back over for the rest of the pat down. A quick glance over her shoulder told her he was already on his way.

Got any needles on you? Anything sharp that’s going to poke me?

The punk spit on the ground and growled. None of your business.

He pursed his lips and lifted his chin. Grace rolled her eyes and tugged on his cuffs to make her point. She didn’t want to get pricked if she could help it, and she was sure Toulouse would agree.

It’s only going to be harder on you if you don’t cooperate.

He didn’t respond.

What we got, Halling? Toulouse said.

Nothing yet. I only did the top half of the pat down, figured you could do the rest. You know, that whole man to man thing. Grace smirked and stepped back when Toulouse grabbed hold of the handcuffs.

Before Grace could take three steps, a woman came charging down the road, barefoot and braless. Grace immediately stepped between the detainee, Toulouse, and the angry woman. The woman screamed so loudly in a hoarse, deep voice Grace couldn’t understand a word she said. Every two steps, the woman had to heave a breath as she came closer and closer.

Grace’s heart pounded as the waddling whale got even closer to where she stood. She glanced back and saw Toulouse standing dumbfounded behind her with the punk in tow. The kid’s jaw dropped, and his dark cheeks had a rosy-purplish tint to them.

His mama, Grace muttered and took two steps forward. Ma’am!

The woman didn’t listen. She pushed past Grace and straight to her son. What you doin’, boy?

Oh Mama, I ain’t do nothin’, you know that.

I swear to you, don’t lie to me again, Jay’dynn.

Jay’dynn straightened his shoulders and strained his arms against Toulouse’s hold. Grace skittered over behind the woman and tried to get her attention, but there was nothing she could do.

Mama, I said, I ain’t doin’ nothing’. These motherfuckers—

The smack rang throughout the street as she slapped her son. Grace wrapped both her arms around the woman’s upper arm and held on as she ripped her hand forward, smacking her child again. Toulouse tugged him backward and shoved him into the open car before turning on the woman. Grace had her leg around one of the woman’s large thighs as she tried to knock the heavy woman onto the ground.

Toulouse jumped onto the woman’s back, gripping her hard as they went down. The woman face planted onto the asphalt, wailing out as the air rushed from her lungs. Grace’s head hit the street and then bounced into the tire as she was thrown from the woman’s body. Toulouse was still on top of her as Grace shook her head, trying to clear the black spots.

Jay’dynn stepped out of the vehicle, crunching his foot down onto Grace’s leg. She cried out in pain before fisting her hand and gritting her teeth. There was a flash of dark blue as two other officers raced over. One wrenched him out of the backseat, pulling him through the vehicle backward, and the other jumped down to help Toulouse.

Grace rolled over onto her side and grimaced, the pain radiating up her leg into her hip and up to her shoulder. She took deep huffing breaths as she tried to work through each passing second. Tears leaked out of her eyes as she scrunched them shut. Sound disappeared as she focused on shoving any bubbling hurt back down and away from her body.

A hand on her arm caused her to pause, and she took two deep breaths before she pried her eyes open. The punk was nowhere in sight, and his mama was sprawled on the ground ten feet away, hands twisted behind her back with cuffs on and her skirt around her waist. Grace released her muscles and melted into the asphalt. Toulouse’s eyes were above her as she nodded at him.

You okay? he asked.

Yeah… just dandy, she replied and rolled onto her back, hitting the tire of his cruiser. Just fucking dandy.

Grace popped four ibuprofen as soon as she sat back in her cruiser, glowering the entire time. If this was any indication about her day, then it was not going to be a good one. She rubbed her leg where the punk had kicked her and winced. Four months prior she’d broken that leg in an attempt on her life. A bad guy in a stolen cruiser had run her off the road, spinning her vehicle five times before she rolled to a stop.

Shaking her head, Grace stared at Toulouse’s car. The punk was nestled in the back seat and his mama was being arm wrestled down the road toward hers. Apparently, in her lapse of judgment, leaving the scene meant she would have to take the woman down to the jail. Growling, Grace got out of her cruiser and unlocked the backseat.

Any way I can get out of this? she asked Toulouse.

Nope.

Rolling her eyes, Grace helped shove the woman in the back seat. After a brief pause and Toulouse leaving, Grace leaned over the open door and spoke to the woman.

Ma’am. I want you to listen closely. I’m taking you down to the jail.

Oh no, you ain’t.

I’m taking you down to the jail and arresting you for domestic assault. Any other questions and the corrections officers will answer them.

Before the woman could speak again, Grace slammed the door shut and spun on her heel, ignoring the spark of pain in her leg. If she could give off the perception of being strong, then she was strong. She was just about to turn to Toulouse to ask him a question when a Ford F-150 turned the corner and gunned its engine.

Stepping back, Grace glared as it came closer and passed their vehicles without even slowing down. She scoffed and turned to follow the truck’s progress, debating whether or not to pull it over. It made it to the end of the block, not stopping at the stop sign and speeding away. She glanced at Drake and Hinds, noting both of them had missed the commotion.

Grace’s gaze locked on the truck in the distance and her eyes widened. A very young black boy dodged out into the street without looking. Her heart thudded hard in her chest and the back of her head, and she tripped over her boot as she took the first step forward. Grabbing for her radio against her shoulder, Grace depressed the button and called for paramedics.

The truck didn’t stop. It sounded like someone had dropped a sack of potatoes onto the hood. Grace cringed and moved forward, running as fast as she could down the street. The two cruisers took off after the suspect and were completely out of sight by the time Grace made it to the gasping boy. She pressed her hands against his cheeks and stared at him fully in the face. He couldn’t be older than five or six.

I got you, kid, she whispered and analyzed his injuries.

Broken leg for sure. His thigh was pressed at an awkward angle, jutting out from his body toward the sidewalk he had just run from. Blood leaked slowly from his nose and quickly from a cut on the side of his head. His arm was broken; Grace felt the break when she ran her fingers along his clammy skin.

You’re going to be okay, she muttered.

The kid nodded to her, his eyes wide and worried as he stared up at her. Grace felt a catch in her throat as Toulouse carried over the medical kit. Both of them saw a woman come rushing from the house, shouting at the top of her lungs.

Jared! Jared!

She bounded down the sidewalk, losing a flip flop on the way. Toulouse immediately stood straight and ran toward her. Grace leaned down next to Jared and whispered in his ear.

Stay as still as possible, okay?

Jared nodded.

The ambulance is coming. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance?

Grace waited for his reply, making sure he was focused on her. If he could do that and stay alert enough for her questions, then he was doing good. Grace cupped the side of his face, his mother sobbing behind her.

Don’t worry about her. She’s just worried about you. That was scary, wasn’t it? At Jared’s affirmation, Grace continued, Riding in an ambulance is fun. I did it a few months ago. The paramedics are really nice, and they’ll take great care of you.

Sirens sounded in the distance, and Grace let out a quick sigh. She wouldn’t be staring into the bloodied face of a kid for much longer, and her day would be close to being over. Grace gave Jared a quick smile and glanced back at his mother, who was being restrained by Toulouse.

Nodding to the sergeant, Grace gave him the go-ahead. He talked to the woman briefly before escorting her over to her prone child. The woman knelt down and brushed her fingers over the top of Jared’s head, seemingly afraid to touch him. The ambulance turned down the street a few blocks down just as the call came over the radio.

Drake had the hit-and-run perpetrator in custody and was taking him down to the jail. Toulouse bent down to tell the mother that they had the guy when the paramedics pulled up onto the scene. Before Grace could even think about telling Jared about the arrest, they had already loaded him into the back of the bus and were taking him to the hospital.

Code Adam

Being back at work for a week didn’t mean she had found her feet yet. Every time she went to a call, she wondered if it was her last. The traffic ticket she’d just written had resulted in the same feeling of dread wrapping around her gut as the domestic violence call she’d taken the night before, the same feeling as when Jared had been splayed out in the street.

She sighed and brushed a hand over her face as she waited for the red light to change. She was going back to the precinct to get her lunch sack, a quick break in an eternally long day. Cars drove by while Grace hoped none of them did anything illegal. She didn’t want to have to pull them over, fear filling her up again.

Grace gnawed on her lip, tearing the thin skin and swallowing. She winced when she bit into already torn skin and made it bleed; she would need to stop the habit. Grace tapped her foot against the floor of the cruiser as she waited at the tedious light.

Her world had been flipped upside down in the span of two seconds, and it was only just coming back onto its axis. Grace blinked as the light turned green but hesitated to press her foot down on the pedal. She pushed back in her seat when a car ran the red light from her left. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, threatening to break her bones.

Glancing over to the car next to her, she saw the wide-eyed expression of the woman before it turned into an image of disgust. For the first time in her career, Grace begrudgingly hit her lights, stepped on the gas and went after a criminal. She used to enjoy this. She chided herself as the car ahead pulled to the side of the road. She should still enjoy this. This was her calling.

Grace took a deep breath she hoped would settle her stomach as she stepped out of the cruiser. Keeping her hand on her weapon, she stalked to the driver’s side and tapped on the window when it wasn’t lowered.

She blinked and saw a man, his blue uniform just like hers covered in blood. Grace gasped and stepped back at the sight of his face and skull missing, splattered across the inside of the vehicle. Davidson. She drew in a short breath through her nose, hyperventilating.

Officer?

Shaking her head and clearing her sight, Grace raised her gaze at the man calling her title. He was fine, he was okay, and he wasn’t Deputy Davidson. Grace moved her hand from her weapon, sliding it back into its holster as she stepped closer to the vehicle.

Uh… do you know why I pulled you over? Her voice wavered as she spoke, so she cleared her throat.

The red light? the man asked.

Right. Yes. License and registration?

He handed the requested items to her without even searching for them, meaning he knew he was in trouble. Grace sighed, a small amount of relief washing over her when the incident seemed to be going normally.

Thanks— she glanced down at his license —Adam. I’m going to go run some things and be back in a minute. Just sit tight.

Grace barely met his eyes as she turned to walk back to her cruiser. It wasn’t her norm. She should have gotten a good look at him, checked his eyes and his breath, done the normal checkups. Grace wasn’t doing her job; she could have easily let something slip by her. She shook her head, hoping to get some sense back into herself.

She ran his name quickly and found no outstanding warrants. Grabbing her ticket book, she filled it out with all the proper information. She tamped down her fear, pushing it to the back of her mind as she got back out of her cruiser. This was something she would have to do. She would have to learn how to work through her fears and terrors.

Grace gave the man his ticket, smelled his breath and checked his eyes. Everything seemed normal. He was just running late and thought he could make the light. Hyper-focusing on the work at hand helped her more than she thought it would have. It was something she would keep in the back of her mind the next time she got a call.

Once securely in her cruiser, Grace went back to the station. She was ready to face down her day, ready to try again to get back on her feet, ready to once more be the knight in blue-cotton armor chasing after the perps.

Grace parked her cruiser at the precinct and got out. While she’d made amends to her crappy start back to work, she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t run into one Chaplain Amaya Stone while she was inside. Grace knew they would have to talk eventually—actually talk, not just about her health and mental well-being as the conversations had been the past three months. She had a heavy heart, and Amya needed to know.

Grace opened the door to the station and entered the hall, her thoughts on Amya. They hadn’t been dating long, almost at the six-month mark. Grace shook her head as she passed Captain Brandon’s desk. It was the longest relationship she’d ever had, but it wasn’t much of a relationship anymore.

Slipping into the locker room, she grabbed her brown paper sack with her dried fruits in it. She was just about to sneak out of the room when she caught sight of Amya walking down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Grace bolstered herself. They locked eyes, and she felt herself being drawn to her partner.

Not saying anything, Grace took the last few steps toward Amya and slid her hand gently down her arm before moving it behind her back as quickly as possible. Grace nodded her head toward Amya’s office and then walked. Dutifully, Amya followed her.

Once they were in the rooms, Grace set her brown paper bag on Amya’s desk and spun to face the woman.

I’m sorry.

What for? Amya asked.

Being a jerk this morning. I really should have emailed to tell you I left my phone here. And I shouldn’t have walked out. And I should haven’t treated you that way and just left without a discussion or anything. I was an asshole, and I’m sorry.

Amya’s features softened, her eyes crinkling at the corners and her lips upturning in a gentle smile. Tension ran from Grace’s body as she took a stumbling step forward. Amya opened her arms and embraced her tenderly. Grace wrapped her arms tightly around Amya’s middle and rested her chin on her shoulder, closing her eyes and just reveling in the hug. It was everything it needed to be.

Grace pulled back and did the only thing she could think of. Leaning forward, she pressed her mouth to Amya’s and held tightly. It didn’t take long for Amya’s lips to part, and Grace slid her tongue against Amya’s. Tingles of worry filtered through Grace, and not wanting to be caught, Grace moved away well before she was ready.

You just need to relax a bit.

Grace hissed and rolled her eyes. All she’d been doing for four months was relaxing and taking her time. If anything, she needed to be busy and not thinking about how she almost died. Her legs straightened and her back tensed as the thought crossed her mind. That reaction happened every time. Grace took two deep breaths and stared at Amya, her cheeks and chest heating from embarrassment.

She was able to shake the feeling and focus on her girlfriend once more. Amya’s ocean blue eyes were staring directly at her, and Grace immediately slipped into a calm. Had they been alone in the offices, Grace might have pushed for another kiss, but since Amya’s outer offices were always bustling, she ignored the urge.

The knock resounded throughout the room, making Grace jump. Amya twined their fingers together before calling over her shoulder.

Just a second.

There was no further reply or knock from the door. Amya squeezed Grace’s fingers and smiled at her, waiting until Grace had relaxed enough.

You good to go back out? Amya asked.

Always, Grace replied. Gotta catch the bad guys.

Right.

Grace grinned and picked up her brown bag before heading for the door. Amya stopped her with a soft touch to her back and leaned in to kiss Grace’s cheek quickly.

I shouldn’t have much work tonight. If you want to grab a movie or something, I’d be game.

Maybe, Grace answered.

Text me.

Will do.

Grace turned the doorknob before she pulled open the door and walked out back into the rest of the precinct. Glancing at the watch on her right hand, Grace saw that it was well past her lunch break. Because she had driven all the way back to the station and then talked to Amya, she didn’t have time to eat her dried fruits. Sighing, she headed back out to her cruiser with her bag in hand, determined to eat a bit on her small breaks between calls.

Back in her district, Grace drove into the parking lot of a busy transit station and parked her cruiser. She pulled up her computer and ran through current calls and reports as well as those from the past few weeks. She wanted to catch up on where the activity was in the city and see if any major crime or drug houses had moved.

While going through the reports, Grace noticed the golf magazine sitting on the passenger seat of her cruiser. She picked it up and ran her left hand over the glossy cover. Staring at the front of it, nothing was of the ordinary. It was a typical golf magazine: bold letters across the top, smaller letters with incentives to read articles inside on the edges, and a golf ball rolling on the putting green.

It was the same one that had been in Davidson’s bag. If Grace focused on the contents of his gym bag, she didn’t see his face—or lack of face—as he was slumped over in his cruiser. Tears stung her eyes as she stared down at the glossy print. Nothing would bring him back. She’d visited with his wife and children twice over her three months on leave, and she knew nothing would ever be the same.

Her best friend was dead. Shot and killed in the line of duty. One of the most gentle, kind and generous men she had ever met, the one who put them all to shame as officers because he did it so much better than them. The tears slipped down her cheeks and off her chin, landing on the shiny paper and making it bubble. Grace sniffled and wiped the magazine cover with the side of her hand before shoving it back onto the passenger seat.

She cleaned her face, drank half a bottle of orange juice, and focused back on the reports in front of her. Focusing would help her forget, at least help her forget the gruesome sight of his brains splattered. She’d been the one to find him, the one forced to report that an officer was down. Grace took a deep breath in. She couldn’t go down that road again.

Scrolling through the reports, she read arrest after incident, and she filed each location in her mind. The transit system had been relatively quiet since she started her leave and had remained so until two weeks prior. Thirteen calls to bus transit stations—she knew Captain Brandon would issue another edict for deputies to check them more often.

She had a dried apricot pressed to her lips when the call came out. The dispatcher was male this time, and for some reason, it sounded odd to