Letters to Maxine

CHAPTER 30

(Video above gives insight into Kelly's Trauma in Afghanistan)

Back Lot April 23,

22:15 Hours

Since Maxine's new assignment, two days had passed, and we hadn't seen each other. We spoke on the phone and shared flirty texts, but nothing more. That's the way Bellagamba wanted it.

Bullshit. Isolate us so Sal can try to move in on her. Piece of shit.

The fight inside the Watch Commander's office resulted in no suspensions. Most likely because Bongiovanni threw the first punch. However, the gossip mill said I got away with another one, thanks to my father and uncle.

The good was that I could ride with Keegan. The bad was that Major Case prepared and trained Maxine for the op.

"Forty-five minutes until insertion," I said. I racked the shotgun, braced it, and sat in the driver's seat.

A sense of unease washed over me as Keegs sang a haunting tune about the wolf's hunger and the thrill of the hunt.

"This anxiety is going to kill me," I said. "I feel it on my chest and my back."

He said nothing, just racked and braced the shotgun before sitting on the passenger side seat. He fiddled with the overheads, let go a few horn blasts, and picked up the handset from the cradle.

"I have to protect her, Keegs. This is a bad freaking idea." He lowered the music, looked at me, and sighed.

"Six-three David in service, two-man unit. Trauma kit no O2. Evening," he said. As he hung up the handset, he shifted to engage me. "Bro, you tried. And everyone signed off on it, so maybe they know more about her than we do."

He opened my clip box, sorted the tobacco pouch and papers, and found what he sought.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Performance reviews for Maxine," he said. Keegs grabbed my most recent review from the box and shut it.

As I put the car in reverse, I rested my head on my hands and steering wheel.

"I'm fighting these feelings of impending doom," I said. "My heart is pounding in my chest."

I huffed and gasped, wanting to get out of the car and run. But Keegs sensed my unease.

"It's going to be fine, Kelly. We've got her back. And if we have to go on our own freaking program to help her, you know I'm game." He patted my forearm and prompted me to get the car moving with a flick of his wrist. "Everything is going to be okay. And before you know it, you'll be hitting that sweet princess ass, and good."

Even though I felt like I was going to die, I laughed out loud and, for the moment, had a sense of peace.

"Probie performance eval. Human resources, patrol division..."

"I know Keegs. I wrote it."

"Bro, let's hope she doesn't spell like her FTO. Don't you use a spell check? A stong tactical sense. And wait, got one better." Keegs scanned the report and pointed.

"Aha. Repsonds...what the hell is a repsond. Should I google that?" Keegs made me laugh. "Kelly, you need to keep your composure out there tonight. Especially if shit goes sideways."

As we turned the corner onto Brighton, Keegs turned the radio back up. Eighties retro music had become a recent fascination.

"Listen, dude," he said. "In decision-making and tactical ability, you're unmatched. Loyalty to your friends, you're a cop's cop."

"But," I asked.

"Sometimes, this job triggers the shit from Afghanistan. Thank God it never got you into trouble. But if today is the day it does, I've got you."

I needed to lighten the moment and get out of my head. The song on the radio made no sense, and I glanced over and watched Keegs doing some weird contortion shit as a dance.

"Keegs, come on, man. Really?

"What? You know the rules. You drive, and I pick the music. Besides, this is classic Duran Duran."

My phone lit up and buzzed. I grabbed it, saw Max's number, and pressed down with my thumb.

Quick to watch my path, I was cautious not to swerve, yet I had to read her message.

"It's Max," I said. "Maybe they've aborted the op." But when I read her first sentence, my expectations shattered.

Kelly, I'm all ready to go. Thank you for having my back and understanding my decision. I feel protected because I know you're here for me.

And, I must say, I look pretty hot. Martinez would lose her mind right now. Stand by for pictures.

"What'd she say?" asked Keegs. "I can see it all over your face."

"She said she's going to send me pics."

"Oh bro, you need to share the love with those."

Keegs slapped my thigh, his hands meeting with a satisfying clap. But I couldn't pay attention. It didn't even register what Max had texted. I hadn't experienced such intense tension since the night of the firefight with the Taliban.

It felt like a millstone was crushing me, making it almost impossible to take a full breath. My mind became flooded with memories and emotions, making it hard to think.

That night in Afghanistan, in that godforsaken shithole, a whirlwind of terror, exhilaration, and a strange sense of numbness consumed me.

"I had to do it, Keegs," he said. "Freaking Taliban goat roping son of a bitch tried to kill me."

"I know." Keegs' voice was soft and compassionate. "Listen, you have very intense feelings for Maxine, and it's causing you to feel triggered."

"But what if it goes sideways? What do I do then?"

He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. Part of our friendship was knowing when to talk, when to listen, and when to console. Keegs had seen me like this before, seldom, but enough to know that I struggled with the killing I did in Afghanistan. Not all of them, mind you, but one in particular.

"I had him, Keegs," I said. "My bicep constricted his trachea, my leg lock squeezing his diaphragm."

I felt my hands trembling as I gripped the steering wheel harder. "I heard that internal voice, you know. End this now. Kill him."

Keegs straightened up and reached into his front pocket. He took out the tobacco pouch, unzipped it, and held it out.

"I took my combat knife, my heels locked near his groin and arms closed in an L shape."

"Take some," he said. "You're safe, Kelly. Talk it out, but remember, I'm right here with you." I blinked to clear my eyes from the tears, still fighting off the panic.

"He grabbed hold of my forearm and the blade. I thrust my knife downward and sliced his wrist." I sniffled and wiped my eyes with my forearm. "His grip waned, and I drove the blade through the side of his neck and forced it through his jugular and deep into his spine."

I took a handful of tobacco from the pouch and stuffed it into my mouth. As I swirled and tongued it into place, I felt the tension easing up.

I turned to Keegs and looked him in the eye. His face drew back, and his eyes widened at attention.

"And I kneeled there, frozen, as he bled out onto the ground beside me."

Keegs was quiet. He looked out of the passenger's side window and shook his head.

"Central to Six Three David, ten-two watch command."

That was the signal.