Page 4 of Artifacts

Officer Darrell Williams stared straight ahead as Sergeant Fuentes spoke…and spoke a little more, then more still. He tried not to catch his partner’s eye, even when Sean O’Hara shifted his weight from one foot to the other.Especially then.It meant Sean would be rolling his eyes and giving a jerk of his red head in their sergeant’s direction.

“And they saymypeople have the gift of the gab,” Sean muttered out of the side of his mouth, putting on an Irish lilt he didn’t have in real life.

Darrell shot a quick look from the corners of his eyes around the substation’s press briefing room to check if anyone else had heard. The detectives wouldn’t have, being on Fuentes’ other side, for all they and uniform were sharing the same stage at the front of the room. The division between the two branches persisted in media conferences as in life. He didn’t begrudge his sergeant, or any of them, their moment in the spotlight. He just wished he didn’t have to be in it too. Especially with the way Fuentes was gearing up for the end of the story.

“Vigilance, surveillance, perseverance.” Sergeant Fuentes repeated his mantra and nodded at Officer Laurie Strauss to switch to the next slide. This one got a little gasp, mainly from the members of the public who were part of the Civilian Involvement Program, rather than the reporters present, all sitting on the regulation hard plastic chairs. Darrell didn’t look at the screen, instead keeping his gaze directed at the back of the room. At the wall, not at anyone who was attending this for him. It was impossible to do that, because no onewasthere for him.

Although he could appreciate Fuentes’ skill in storytelling, making the bust sound dramatic, Darrell tuned out the description of that night. He had no need to hear it—he’d been there. And now, as a result, he was here.

“Officers O’Hara and Williams are especially commended…”

Darrell closed his ears more firmly at that, giving a tight nod at the gesture pointing him out as he stood there in all his five-feet-nine crew-cut glory, his arms by his sides, eyes front, face blank, at attention. Sean was no doubt offering up a cheesy grin, mainly to his steady girlfriend, who’d come to watch him today, and on whom he routinely cheated, mainly with Laurie Strauss.

Darrell was well aware of what he’d done. His job, making sure San Antonio had one less offshoot of the Mexican Mafia running its streets…at least for a while.

His actions had been simple enough in themselves. As a result of the team’s vigilance and surveillance, to quote their sergeant, not to mention the stake-out, he’d gone into the Casa Hernandez restaurant to serve a minor citation…when the mafia boss had been holding a meeting. The La eMe leader, Ramon ‘Rapido’ Estrada, had ordered his lieutenant Felix ‘El Gato’ to pay Darrell off, then, when Darrell had refused the money, had ordered him to“see him off”, which was when The Cat had gone for his gun. Darrell had beaten him to the draw—his speed was probably the reason he’d been chosen for the assignment. Anyway, it had allowed the SWAT team to storm in.

Whoops and cheers greeted the footage of the raid. Darrell didn’t join in with them, or grin at his family cheering on his behalf. He couldn’t. None of them, his father or brothers, were among the audience. A small, tight smile took up some room on his face at the adjectives being used to describe his heroism. “Bravery,” he heard. Pity he didn’t agree with it.

“Officer Williams?” his sergeant said. Or repeated, Darrell realized, when Fuentes raised an eyebrow at him and gave a head tilt at a kid with his hand raised. The Civilian Involvement Program included high school students.

“Yes.” Darrell pointed at the boy, for him to go ahead and ask his question.

“So you just walked into that restaurant during that meeting, with a bullshit—”

“Tyler!” snapped the adult two seats down.

“Sorry. B…ogus complaint,” the kid continued.

“Wasn’t b…ogus.” Darrell addressed the boy. “Someone really had parked in front of a fire hydrant.”

“Okay, and you knew he’d just bribe you?” Tyler asked.

“Try. Try to bribe me,” Darrell corrected again.

“Didn’t you think he’d attack you?” asked the girl to Tyler’s left, as if taking up the baton for him. Maybe each kid was only allowed one question and Tyler had already stretched the rules. He looked the sort of kid who considered rules to be flexible.

“Thought he’d try. I mean, there was a strong possibility of it, when we ran the scenarios, based on—”

“Vigilance, surveillance,” came from Sean, on a fake cough.

“Profiles built up of the gang members.” Darrell ignored Sean and indicated the detectives on the low platform, with all their myriad roles and specializations.

“Attack? That psycho tried tokillyou, man!” called another kid, who received a snapped-out, “Diego! You are in a police station!” for his remark. “Sorry. That psycho tried to kill you,Officer.”

“Again, a possibility.” Darrell stood straighter.

The girl raised her hand. “Could we see it again?”

Several voices, teenager and adult, added their support to the request, and this time, when the video—a mix of various cam feeds from the restaurant—ran, Darrell watched too, seeing El Gato fake-telegraph throwing a punch with one hand but really going for his gun with the other, and screen-Darrell pivot, as if attempting to get out of fist range, but really drawing his own weapon, beating the gang member to it.

They’d learned through surveillance that at those meetings, only the lieutenants carried firearms, with everyone else made to leave theirs on a table at one end of the room, so in theory, the risk of someone firing off a round at him had been minimal—but in practice, any of the gang could have had a gun tucked away and been trigger happy, wanting to get in with the boss. But they hadn’t. Or hadn’t had time. Which amounted to the same thing.

A shaven-headed guy raised a hand, showing his full tatt sleeve. “Your reaction, that move—that MMA? Or some specific martial art, to get that awareness and speed?”

Now a smile did cross Darrell’s face, although it was bittersweet. “A mix, yeah, in that I grew up with two brothers, one older, and who both knew as soon as they could talk they wanted to go into the military, like Dad.”

When the chuckles died down, Fuentes explained, “Officer Williams’ father, Major Williams, is a Silver Star Medal decorated Special Reconnaissance Battlefield Airman of the United States Air Force Special Operations Command, now back here at Lackland AFB after distinguished active service. He designed and still runs the Special Warfare Preparatory Course and theAssessment and Selection Course, training future Special Reconnaissance operators, both sections of which have an attrition rate of almost ninety-five percent.”

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