Page 3

The Sacrifice

Patrick

My supervisor was staring at me, from behind his thick glasses. His lips moved but the words were lost to me, having long since bled into the low hum of the air office conditioner. I didn’t need to hear his briefing or his condolences. I knew what the hell had happened. I was there…

I might as well still be.

My mind was in limbo; half of me numb and still reeling with disbelief, while the other part of me was already halfway home and dragging my wife and youngest son to the car.

To hell with packing. Forget the heirlooms and silver cutlery.

I needed to get them on the road and safely back to Georgia. My eldest son was incarcerated; there was nothing I could do except plead with the powers that be and hope to have him moved. Even better, isolated. He could hate me later for solitary confinement or whatever they called protective custody these days.

At least he’d be around to feel that way.

The gentle trickle of the water dispenser drew my attention to the corner of the room.

I wasn’t the only one sitting around the office shaken.

Some of the men in the room had never been involved in an organized crime case. Sure, they’d studied it. They’d interned and did their time, but now they were seeing firsthand what it looked like when you played chess with men of means.

Dangerous men weren’t impressive. We dealt with those by the dozens, but most of them didn’t have the means… The power that came from money and life-or-death loyalty.

Two hours ago, a room full of my department’s best stood around Al’s bedside and watched as my assigned partner was removed from life support.

Agents were lost sometimes, it was part of the job and we all knew it, but this was different.

Much different.

Even for veteran agents like me.

We didn’t even have time to properly pay respect to Al’s wife, or to make room for his children at the bedside. Superiors found the trio executed when they arrived to break the news and express their condolences.

It was inconceivable, unheard of…

And yet, it’d happened.

Not just to Al and his family; in the hour it took the doctors to decide that his wounds were not compatible with life, two other agents had been ambushed.

Even trying to wrap my head around that kind of power, that level of a dark and deadly chess match was too much.

My pulse was pounding so hard it was the only thing I could hear.

My own wife had spent the past week unpacking the last few boxes of our belongings at the house we’d chosen in Illinois.

Reality came in a suffocating wave. It felt like I’d swallowed a golf ball.

I couldn’t transfer back to Georgia with them; it was unthinkable to even ask for a transfer this soon. What was worse, we couldn’t afford two homes. We’d placed every dime we had into this relocation. I was stuck between the urge to scoop them up and run, and the need to stay and protect them.

I ground my teeth while inwardly tormenting myself.

How would I ever convince Brenna that taking the kids across the country with nothing to put over their heads, but a tent was safer than waiting on the Valentino mob to pay a house call?

I couldn’t afford or stomach the thought of putting my wife through a mess like that, or worse; losing one of them to the mob.

It would ruin me to know my career choices had led to their injury or death.

Bankruptcy was a blip on the radar, compared to what the mob would do.