The MAIDSTONE COLLECTION

Maidstone VII Is a work in progress.

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MAIDSTONE I Chapter 1 February 9, 2010, was a typically cold night in Maidstone, a small village tucked into one of the valleys of the Berkshire Mountains. The air was dry and crisp with a light dusting of new snow covering the ground. Traffic at 2 a.m. had all but stopped. On a Tuesday night everyone would be home in bed—all, but for a few restaurant workers finishing up their late shift. Of course, there would be a couple of police officers watching over the town. Except for the occasional drunk driver or maybe a heart attack, not much was going to happen until the town woke up at dawn and things began to come alive. It could seem boring to some, but Danny Gilcrest didn’t mind the quiet. It gave him a chance to catch up on his studies in a few community college courses, so he could move on to a four-year degree. He could do some research in the stock market even though he had very little to invest. This job had turned into a lot more than he had ever imagined. At times it was boring, but not all the time. The pay wasn’t great, but it was okay. The bills were getting paid and there was more than enough for his daily expenses. He could go out any night he liked if he didn’t go nuts and spend like he was one of the New York stock brokers who frequented the town. The Maidstone really did look like an Andrea Smythe painting with the new clean snow. Then again, this is the town that Smythe lived in and painted year after year. The recent dusting made it look just the way it should for a small, quiet New England town in the dead of winter. The radio barked, “Unit 1, check out a suspicious vehicle at the Shell Station on Route 9, just south of the Housatonic Inn. An unidentified caller has stated that he had driven by the place twice in the past hour, and the vehicle was still there idling.” Danny was almost happy to be interrupted and have something to do. Some of the guys on the midnight shift would go in the hole after the bars closed and catch a few hours of sleep, but Danny couldn’t do that. The first time he heard the term going in the hole, he had no idea what they were talking about. There was always some vacant estate with a long driveway that you could pull into, and no one would ever see you. There were also the seasonal places that were closed for months of the year that no one ever wandered into but the police who had keys to the gates to make routine checks. During his time in the service, Danny had often dug a hole to sleep in at night for protection, but he didn’t make the connection until it had been explained to him. After six years in the Marines, sleeping on duty was something he just couldn’t do. Even if he wanted to, his body wouldn’t let him. Danny drove the mile or so to the gas station. He did not recall seeing any vehicles in the area when he passed by earlier in the evening. This is a well-travelled route especially for patrol vehicles because it took them past most of businesses and shops that might be broken into. Then again, any of the drunks headed north from Great Barrington or travelling south from Lee would pass by there. This was Maidstone’s center of activity, if a few dozen cars could be called activity. As he pulled up near the gas station, Danny took note that there were no tire tracks in the new snow. There were also no vehicles in the general area that looked like they had been running as they were all dusted with the new snow. He decided to exit his patrol vehicle and listen for the sound of an idling vehicle. Danny figured that the caller might have used the gas station as an identifiable location near where the vehicle was sitting. “Dispatch, I will be out of the car at the Shell Station. I do not see the vehicle, but I will be checking the area.” “Roger,” was the response. As he stepped out of the cruiser, he reached for his flashlight on the seat. Not knowing that he’d be standing on ice, he stepped out of the vehicle. As his weight came down, his foot shot straight forward into the door. He flipped out of the door coming down hard onto his back slamming his head into the pavement. “What the hell!”  

MAIDSTONE II Chapter 1 Danny came straight up out of bed letting out an animal-like scream. The explosion he heard in his dream was as real as the night he heard the shotgun blast. His roommate rolled out of his bed gasping for air and staring into the darkness where his Danny had just scared the shit out of him. “Not again!” Danny was trying to catch his breath and slow his heart rate, and after a few seconds, things began to return to normal. “Sorry,” said Danny. “The shit keeps creeping back. I have no control over these nightmares. I hear the blast, and then I wake up.” Looking through the darkness, Mike reached for the light. As he flipped the switch, he could clearly see that Danny was dripping wet and his chest was heaving. “Dude, you’ve got to go see someone about these dreams. This is the fourth time you have scared the shit out of me, and I don’t scare easy. I did my time overseas. Once in a while I have my dreams just not every damn night and not with the intensity that you have. Don’t take this the wrong way, but in the morning I am out of here. I can’t take this, and you need help.” All Danny could manage was, “Sorry.” Mike thought this was all about Iraq and Afghanistan. No one in the class had heard about the attempted murder in Maidstone, Massachusetts. Danny had his share of close calls in the Marines with twenty-four months in various combat zones. No one knew it was a small town in the Berkshire Hills of Western Massachusetts that gave him nightmares. Being in a quaint country village and almost getting cut in half by a shotgun blast was not what he had expected. The “BOOM” he heard when he hit his head he thought, was from the impact on the pavement only to learn later it was a blast from a shotgun. Who could guess that slipping on black ice getting out of the cruiser would save his life? Lying there on the ground dazed had given the shooter the impression that he had hit his target and that the deed was done. The false sense of security and the relative peacefulness of the mountains hid secrets that no one knew about. The FBI had cautioned Danny not to talk about the situation back home while at the FBI National Academy. Yes, it was in the news, they were controlling what information got out. The FBI did not want any leaked information than they deemed necessary to be made public until they were ready. If word got out about Danny being the target of a mob hit, there would be a lot of questions. Danny was surrounded by several hundred high ranking police officers who were used to getting answers. Danny would be informally and relentlessly interrogated by his classmates. So for the time being, he was to maintain a low profile and not standout, still people were talking. The sound of the reoccurring nightmares had extended beyond his room. The two suitemates who shared the bathroom heard all the noise and the conversations with Mike. That opened the circle of people in the know and was a topic of conversation among the rest of the class. No one wanted a roommate who was having problems. They weren’t afraid of Danny. They just wanted to study and get a decent night sleep without the animal screams in the night. There were some serious squirrels running around in that young man’s head, and he needed to do something about it. The assignment to the FBI National Academy had gotten Danny out of town, just not away from the nightmares. The Behavioral Science guys at Quantico were trying to help while they debriefed him, there was only so much they could do. The counseling was there, and Danny refused any type of medication even with the consent of the FBI doctors. He wanted his life back on his own terms, without the drugs that he might become dependent upon to sleep the night through. When Mike went to the FBI coordinators and asked for a new roommate, it was Danny who was moved. The agents had speculated about the dreams, Mike finally confirmed it. Danny was given his own room and a private bathroom. It was just like all the rooms in the dormitories. There were two beds, two desks with chairs, two sitting chairs and bare walls. The rooms were plain though totally functional. A few of the females had put up posters and other decorations, while the guys would not get past a picture or two on their desks. A few had their notes carefully displayed on the walls with blue painters tape. With no one else in the room, Danny was able to listen to a classical radio station playing music all night long. The music played softly through the night. Even the disc jockey had a soothing voice. This helped; most of the nightmares were gone, most of them. Erasing the past several years was not going to happen overnight, if ever. He had always kept the demons at a distance, sleep let them creep in and take over his thoughts. The unexpected things that happened in Maidstone disturbed and traumatized him more than the events in the combat zones. Yes, they could both be deadly, and in the Middle East, it was expected. It was a surprise in the Berkshire Hills. A small town police officer wasn’t supposed to be the target of a mob hit, unfortunately that’s what happened, and Danny had no control over it.

MAIDSTONE V CHAPTER 1 Gwen was looking forward to her very first day on her own patrolling the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont as a US Fish and Wildlife Officer. At least that was where she was stationed. The territory was pretty much anywhere a US Fish and Wildlife Officer was needed. They did try to keep the officers reasonably close to their home stations. When a hiker went missing on Mount Washington in New Hampshire, she better have a bag packed with everything she might need. The six months of training had seemed to drag on. With her degree in criminal justice and six months at the Connecticut Police Academy, she was way ahead of most of her classmates. The four weeks of field training in Vermont with several seasoned officers gave her a better feel for the job in Vermont and New Hampshire. The day started with a tip that a pair of locals had been cruising the farm fields southeast of Island Pond shining a high-power spotlight and jacking deer. The only other information she had to go on was that they had a very old beat-up pickup truck with a double cab. A color and marker plate would have been nice, thought Gwen, but it is what it is. Gwen took a page out of Danny Gilchrest’s play book and cruised the area. She found a hill overlooking a large tract of open land away from any dwelling. The deer-jackers aren’t going to fire anywhere near a house and risk getting caught, she reasoned. Still, they have to get in and out of this area, and there just aren’t that many roads. Most of the big farm fields border the roads; and because they are jacking and not really hunting, they are going to fire from the road--not some interior field where they might get trapped. They had to drop the deer, get it in the truck and get out of the area fast before a citizen, game warden or sheriff came along. Gwen drove around the Nulhegan Basin most of the afternoon getting a feel for the place and even spotted a few deer. The area was a combination of rolling hills dotted with pines and hardwoods, marsh areas and open fields. She knew the jackers wouldn’t be out until way after dark when there would be very little traffic on the roads. The first spot she found turned out to present the best possible location for seeing and not being seen. She parked the marked SUV down a dirt road out of sight and found a spot where she could blend in and wait. Darkness fell. Gwen was very much alone in the woods of northern Vermont. There were the night sounds Gwen wasn’t used to. Being a constable in Old Lyme was never like this. There was always traffic and street lights. On a quiet night in Old Lyme, you could hear the traffic on I-95 anywhere in town. From time to time the train would rumble through sounding its horn. Out here there wasn’t much more than the wind and a few owls calling to each other. Around midnight Gwen was starting to doze off from the boredom when she heard the sound of a pickup truck in need of a muffler coming up the road. She instinctively hunkered down even though where she was the truck lights could never reach her. In the pitch of the black night, she could have stood up and waved, and they never would have seen her. As she watched, the truck slowed down about a thousand yards off to the west. The truck stopped, and the spotlight came on illuminating six deer just off the road standing in a field. The deer froze in place; then there was the shot. In the stillness and dark of the night, it was like a canon being fired, not a rifle. The light remained on, and the biggest deer took a few steps and went down. As the light went off, the other deer scattered in all directions as the truck took off down the road. Now where the hell are they going? Gwen though about it for a while and then it dawned on her that they got out of there just in case someone heard the shot and called the game warden. These guys are pros and know what they are doing. I better be careful. Gwen headed back to the SUV and retrieved her M-4 carbine. They have at least one rifle so just in case I better be ready with my own firepower. Leaving the SUV hidden so it wouldn’t spook them when they returned to retrieve the deer, Gwen took up a post close to where she saw the shot fired. She wanted to go over and spot the deer but thought better of it. That would mean turning on her flashlight giving away the fact that someone was there. So she remained hidden in the shadows and waited. It was well after 1am when she heard the pickup truck retuning to the area. The deer wasn’t going anywhere so waiting a few hours until almost all traffic had stopped was their best course of action. The truck cruised through the area twice before stopping where the shot had been fired. The loud muffler or the lack of one drowned out all other noises. They shutoff the truck, and the silence of the night returned. It was so quiet and still Gwen could hear them talking two hundred yards away. “You idiot, I told you to mark the spot with the Silver Bullet beer can so we could find the damn thing. Now we have to find a brown Budweiser bottle in the grass, you dumb shit.” “Screw you, it’s right there. You walked right past it.” They were two local guys, who since high school had worked very hard at breaking the law, any law. Their criminal records were long but not very impressive. In high school they broke into houses and stole drugs and booze only to be caught on a surveillance camera breaking into a seasonal home. For that they got probation. They continued their burglary career, this time wearing masks and gloves. Their undoing was bragging about their exploits telling what they had stolen. One of their so-called friends got jammed up with the state police for speeding, played let’s make a deal, ratting them out to the troopers for a pass. A search and arrest warrant soon followed. Things continued on in a similar fashion for the pair. Tonight was going to be the biggest mistake of their lives. Deer jacking was going to be the least of their problems. The truck was unregistered, and the rifle they were using was taken in a burglary that turned into an attempted murder. It seems that the homeowner came in while the pair was still there and tried to stop them. Elijah and Dwight knew they had to get out or they would be doing serious time. Dwight took the crowbar used to break in to beat the homeowner over the head. The first blow rendered the homeowner unconscious on the floor, with Dwight still swinging until Eli pulled him off. They both though he was dead. Miraculously the homeowner survived. Unfortunately, he had no memory of the assault. The two criminal geniuses didn’t know that. The stolen TV never worked because they didn’t have satellite dish. The radio in the truck like everything else they owned hadn’t worked since they got the truck and so they had very little news from the world around them. They expected to be arrested at any moment; but when days turned into weeks without the troopers crashing through the door, they re-thought their life of crime and decided to take up deer jacking. If it weren’t for food stamps and some drug dealing, they would have starved to death. Gwen had no idea who she was dealing with or their level of desperation if they were caught. For her, it was a simple hunting violation. She didn’t know she was dealing with attempted murderers. She found the truck and without using her flashlight tried to see what was in the bed of the truck. Without warning Gwen was lit up by the powerful spotlight. There was the ear splitting crack of a high-powered hunting rifle. She never heard it as the round knifed its way through her body armor slamming her into the truck. She was dead before she hit the ground. “Eli, you dumb shit, now we have two dead people; and this one is a federal fish cop.” Dwight went over ready to fire a second shot. He nudged her body with the muzzle of the rifle. In the glare of the spotlight, he could see the massive exit hole in her back and her lifeless eyes staring back at him. “We are already up for one murder; we couldn’t let her take us in. Let’s get her into the tree line and get the hell outta here. Where the hell’s her cruiser?” They shined the light up and down the road to no avail. Gwen had put it far enough off Eagles Nest Road and hundreds of yards away from where the truck was stopped. “Eli, grab her feet and let’s get her off the road before someone comes.” They dragged Gwen just far enough so that she was concealed in the brush. Dwight grabbed the radio and her gun belt. He went through her pockets and took the wallet. He then flipped her on her back and pulled her badge off her shirt. Eli looked on, not wanting to touch the body. “What are you going to do with that stuff?” “The way things are going we’re are going to need all the firepower we can get. She is a federal fish cop--she might have some money on her.” “Why the badge?” “Eli, I think we are going to be collecting a lot more of these unless we can get over the border into Canada.” They loaded Gwen’s gear into the backseat of the double cab truck and headed out leaving her and the deer behind. Inside the cab Dwight went through the wallet. There were the usual identification and credits cards and a whooping thirty-six dollars. Dwight was pissed. Not only had they left the deer behind, they only had thirty-six lousy dollars for a murder. That would only get them a few shots and beers at the local American Legion Post.

MAIDSTONE III Chapter 1 Danny’s nightmares were not going away; in fact, they were getting worse. The shocking dreams weren’t from is combat duties in Iraq or Afghanistan. Those six years didn’t bother him. The random memories were like a PowerPoint slide presentation that kept scrolling through his brain. It had only been one slide for the longest time; that changed. Danny would slip on black ice getting out of his cruiser and slam his head onto the pavement as a shotgun blast passed over him. That was the least of his terror. Slide one, Penny Worthington naked and twisted in the bed covers with the back of her head blown off. Slide two, an angel silhouette of Penny on the wall outlined in blood where her husband, Brad, had pinned her and fired the fatal shot. Slide three, Gary Carlson sitting on the ground using his cruiser for cover, bleeding from a head wound while praying not to die. Slide four, Danny sticking his Glock 17 in a hitman’s mouth ready to pull the trigger if the mutt didn’t talk. Slide five, a headless man sitting at a desk that would cost most people what they paid for their home. Danny would hear that final blast of a ten gauge shotgun; and after enough repeats of the slide show, he would roll out of bed ducking for cover. This time he had no one to scare except his yellow Labrador, Bear, and Bear didn’t like it. Geri would be coming back from England and the Interpol assignment, things were different. That short time away had changed their lives and Danny was having some serious problems. Geri would be able to handle the nightmares. The worst part was the small town politics--politics that extended to the state police covering Western Massachusetts. Danny was doomed, and he knew it. He had to get away from the Berkshires and that meant getting away from Geri. Her job as a state police detective was just taking off. Everything was breaking her way, except Danny. He was the most respected and hated member of the Maidstone Police Force. He solved a horrible murder and put the quiet town in the national news—a place the town did not want to be. He took out a corrupt police official that everyone loved for one reason or another. He identified the biggest thief in town who was also the biggest tax payer and employer whose suicide crushed the town, and it was all Danny’s fault. U.S. Attorney for Western Massachusetts Diana Sheriden kept Danny on the federal payroll, even though there was very little for him to do. He spent most of his days waiting for a phone call to testify in any of the ongoing court cases. Then it was a ride to the court house to wait. The Worthington family was trying to get their trucking business out of receivership from the feds. Since the fuel laundering business was exposed, the federal government took over the running of the company. Cynthia Worthington, the widow of Quenton Worthington, was trying to prove that no one else in the family or company knew that home heating oil was being diverted to diesel truck fuel. The tax evasion scam had worked like a charm until Danny started to nose around. Cynthia had agreed to every demand that the federal government had imposed on the trucking company. Agent Tom Deverse of the FBI had gone over the business records with the forensic accountants, and they all agreed the trucking business without the untaxed fuel oil scam was still a profitable operation. The money that came in from the laundered fuel oil was just extra cash and not needed to keep the company in the black. The scam was profitable in every way. Cynthia was begging the court to release the noncriminal part of the company for the good of the town. She agreed to pay all the tax money owed and was willing to submit to a heavy fine. This would benefit the town as much as it would the Worthington family. The IRS and the Massachusetts Tax Department signed off on the deal. With no real effort on their part, the state and federal tax departments were going to be getting sizeable checks if they agreed to return the trucking company to Cynthia. In the end, even after paying the back taxes and the imposed fine, Worthington Trucking would still be ahead of the game dollar wise. Having several family members on the state and federal level helped out immensely. Having low friends in high places had its benefits. Everything would be back to normal except for Danny. He was spending more time on his studies and getting his associates degree. He was concentrating on areas other than criminal justice. He was convinced that he wouldn’t be in law enforcement much longer. He was sure that he couldn’t stay in Maidstone. He doubted that another department would hire him. Chiefs of police are reluctant to hire someone with the baggage he was carrying. Getting a fellow chief of police and a well-respected detective lieutenant arrested and sent to prison would not sit well with them. Forcing a state police captain into an early retirement just added to the drama they didn’t need. Why hire someone with that kind of history when there are two hundred qualified candidates to pick from. It didn’t matter that the chief and the detective lieutenant were guilty. The fact that the captain was on audio tape threatening Danny for something he didn’t do made no difference. Danny Gilcrest was trouble. Why take the chance. Geri was due at Westover Air Reserve Base in a few days……..these were very long days as Danny watched the time tick by, waiting to see his future fiancée. Finally this small town cop would catch a break.

MAIDSTONE VII No Greater Friend-No Worse Enemy

MAIDSTONE IV Chapter 1 Danny sat in a teak wood deck chair like in the movie Titanic. He looked out over the quiet lake that was the Stockbridge Bowl. A two year old yellow Labrador laid by his side on a bed of white pine needles. Towering above them were one hundred year old trees that had survived hurricanes and snow storms. The cottage behind them was old but comfortable thanks to many helping hands. This was the Berkshires Danny remembered growing up. Not the one where organized crime figures partied. His neighbor has his sound system on and it was playing loud enough for the entire west side of the lake to hear. And it was all good. One song was from James Taylor and the next from Bruce Springsteen. That would be followed by the Kingston Trio and then Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Bono and Ozzie Osborne would soon follow. But that was the Berkshires, old and new, all at the same time. For a summer day it was cool and a gentle breeze came in from the northwest out of New York. Danny was half asleep with the sun warming his face when he heard a car pull in to the camp. His first reaction was to grip the Beretta 380 auto before looking to see who it was. To his surprise it was Chief Dominic Nanfito of the Maidstone Police Department, his big boss. Danny slid the 380 back into the pouch and got up to great the Chief. It was a surprise that the Chief was paying him a visit. “Chief, my cell didn’t ring. Is there something wrong? Do we have a call out?” “No nothing like that Danny. I just need someone to chat with and exchange some thoughts. You have some time?” Now the Chief had been seeing Danny daily for what seemed like forever and nothing like this had come up. The Chief could have pulled him aside at any time but here he was now on a day off wanting to talk. It wasn’t like Danny was going to turn him down. “Whatever you need Chief. Let me get you a deck chair.” “While you’re up get some ice and two glasses,” said the Chief. Danny did as requested and the two sat sipping scotch looking out over the lake. For someone who wanted to talk nothing was being said. Danny knew this had to be something serious and it was the Chiefs call and so he waited. It was twenty minutes and half a glass of scotch later that the Chief finally spoke. “Ever kill anyone Danny?” It wasn’t the question Danny was expecting. He took a long pull on his scotch and thought back to his days in Iraq and Afghanistan. For a long time Danny had a very faraway look. The Chief did not rush him. “I am going to have to give you a definite probably. There were days when I emptied all seven of my magazines and chucked whatever grenades I had. I would then make my way back to the HUMVEE and draw more ammo and grenades. Did I kill anyone; probably. But when you toss a grenade into a room or crank off 30 rounds at a guy a hundred yards away you never know for sure that you killed someone. Everyone was firing and throwing grenades so it would be anyone’s guess as to who connected. Did we find dead and wounded, you bet your ass. Do I feel bad about it? Not in the least. I hope I did kill a few, not for the bragging rights. They were trying to kill me and my guys. I wasn’t going to let that happen.” Then there was a long pause. Danny was a few thousand miles away from Maidstone. “Chief, I take that back. There were a couple of times we were just a few feet apart clearing rooms. We were close enough you could see the sweat on their faces and I just fired until the insurgent went down and then put a few more into him just to make sure he wasn’t getting up. They did like their drugs and there were times that no matter how many rounds you put in them they kept coming. They had no sensation of pain even after being hit six times. So yes, I did for sure kill a few people. We took prisoners if they would surrender. After May 1st 2003 when the Iraqi Army was defeated not one US Servicemen was ever taken prisoner. They were all executed if they were captured. So no, I don’t lose any sleep over it. I do have my dreams, dreams where I missed firing at insurgents and dreams where I wasn’t prepared. Those bother me. Now you didn’t have a choice the other day. You had to take those guys out. If you hadn’t then we would be having some huge memorial services and talk about the great guys we lost that day. By the way, where did you learn to shoot an M-14 like that?” “I was a Gunners Mate in the Coast Guard.” “Seriously?” “I was armed with an M-14. My job was to cover boarding parties from cutters or to be a gunner on helicopters. I have four confirmed kills. With four single shots I took out four two hundred and fifty horsepower outboards on a drug boat at sixty miles an hour from a Jayhawk helicopter. After that everyone on the drug boat put their hands up. We trained every week, sometimes every day we would crank off a few rounds just to stay sharp. That day at the barn was the only time I ever fired on a human being.” At this point the conversation took a long break. Sipping scotch was the main activity besides listening to the neighbor’s sound system. Smitty, the yellow Labrador maneuvered in for some attention. Sipping scotch and scratching a fat headed Labrador had a calming effect. Now Danny thought back to those months in Iraq and Afghanistan. “When we were out sweeping the town or patrolling the roads looking for trouble things were not just a one-time event. Now the shootout at the barn was something else. It was over in a matter of minutes. In the Marines we didn’t have time to reflect on what just happened because while one engagement ended the next one immediately followed. The pressure was always on. You had to stay focused. You couldn’t dwell on the past because the future was right there and you had to take care of what was in front of you. Now when we came out of the field all we wanted to do was get some real food, take a long shower and go to sleep without eighty pounds of gear on. Let’s say we would get in a fire fight clearing a building. Once we cleared that building there would always be another one to hit. As soon as you fired that second round it was all over. So at that point you had plenty of time to think about it. We never did.” “Danny, I am trying to be a family man again and a low profile Chief of Police. Everyone is now looking at me a different way, even my kids. I am pretty sure that they don’t fully understand what happened and why, but the kids at school are giving them a hard time because their father is a killer. I am back on the job but without a badge or gun. I sit in my office and do the administration part of the of being a Chief. They won’t clear me for full duty until the District Attorney signs off on the shooting. I am not worried about being cleared it just takes so much time to do all the interviews and complete the investigation. District Attorney Cohen has already told me I was in the clear but the investigation has to run its course. The thing is I am not with a bunch of Marines or Coasties. I am out in town and some people have the idea that I am a stone cold killer. Others think I am some sort of Clint Eastwood super hero. And I don’t know what I am. I keep trying to explain it to the kids but if I can’t understand it how can I explain it?” “People are going to think what they will Chief and there is nothing you can do about it. Don’t try and explain the unexplainable. Most people won’t even listen anyway; they already have their minds made up. Time will let memories fade hopefully and people will see you in the present and not the guy who took down two hitmen. Of course that won’t ever go away but people will get used to the old you. They will see you around and at town functions. They will see you out with your wife and the kids being, well, normal. That day won’t ever go completely away but time will help things fade.” “I always had the idea that something bad might happen. That was why I had the M-14 in the trunk. But I figured that all I would have to do was pull it out and that would be the end of it. I never thought I would actually have to fire it. Danny, until you shot up the van with the armed robber in it no Maidstone Officer ever discharged their weapon. Now in just under four years we have had gunfire exchanged four times. I don’t know if I am cut out for this sort of thing.” “Chief, if I had the answers to your questions I would be making the big bucks. You did what you had to do and you saved lives. Go back to being you and don’t worry about what you have no control over. Easy for me to say, huh?” “Thanks for the time Danny. I think I will take the kids for a walk out to the Ledges and watch the sunset.” “I do like that hike too.” The Chief headed for his car leaving the bottle of scotch. Danny was about to call out to him but thought better of it. Most of the scotch was still in the bottle and it would keep for another day. The Chief had a lot on his mind and didn’t need to cloud it with too much booze.