Courageous (19 page)

“You’re a dinosaur, Bronson, and you’re headed for extinction. The times have passed you by.”

Bronson glanced at Adam and Shane and said, “She’s never been the same since that house fell on her sister.”

Koos put her hand on Bronson’s shoulder, not lightly. “I ought to just . . .”

Though a free-for-all would have been entertaining, Adam stepped between them to ward off an eye gouge or head-butt.

Grandjean appeared again. “Break it up, you two, or take it outside. Ms. Koos, your classroom’s down there, second one on the left. It starts in ten minutes. I’ll be there in five and introduce you.”

Adam thought the smile on Shane Fuller’s face might become permanent. Ten minutes after Bronson’s encounter with Diane Koos, his partner was still giddy.

An academy training lieutenant approached Adam and friends. “Observers need to go upwind for this one.” Several instructors donned gas masks.

The drill instructor spoke through his megaphone. “All right, recruits, yesterday you had three hours of classroom training on chemical agents. Hope you listened.

“You need to understand what people—perps or civilians—go through when exposed to gas. First we’ll spray pepper spray and other chemical agents off Plexiglas, which will bounce into your face, which is typically the way you’ll be exposed to it. This won’t be pleasant, but you’ll survive. Don’t run or we’ll tackle you. Don’t put a sleeve to your face; you’ll just make it worse.”

The next few minutes consisted of clouds of either OC or DOC or CS gas, Adam wasn’t sure which. The recruits choked and walked slowly; some fared better than others. Some who had said, “Bring it on” now gasped for air and looked as disoriented and miserable as they felt. They lined up by the water spigots, washing their faces.

Adam noticed that the recruit who fared worst was that skinny, troubled kid from the back of the classroom. He sat exhausted and dejected by the water fountain farthest away from traffic. Brock Kelley came over and slapped him on the back, saying a few words.

After the recruits headed to the locker rooms, Adam asked the lieutenant, “How’s this class overall?”

“Off the record? It’s just okay. Brock Kelley is the star.”

“The Jesus freak?” Bronson loaded up his throat.

“I believe he called himself a Christian,” Adam said.

The lieutenant said, “It’s a small class and several of them are on the bubble. In a year with lots of good candidates, several of these kids would flunk. But to be honest, we’ll have to pass anyone who’s even marginal.”

“And make his partner pay the price?” Bronson asked.

“What’s the alternative? Fewer cops on the streets? We can’t recruit people from other parts of the country to move away from home so they can be paid half of what they’d get staying. And even if they came, we wouldn’t get the best.”

“Who’s that kid over there?” Adam pointed at the skinny young man still sitting by the fountain.

“Bobby Shaw,” the lieutenant said.

“Is he going to make it?”

“He’s one I’m talking about. Bottom of the class. Likable enough. Dad died in combat, I heard. His mom raised him. She actually called me to check on him.”

“I guess I have to agree with Sarge that we can’t afford to have guys on the force unless they’re ready. Our lives are on the line.” Adam looked at Shane. “I mean, would you want to be his partner?”

“Nathan still carries David, and David’s way beyond that kid. Soft, fatherless guys aren’t my first choice to help us arrest hard, fatherless young men.”

“So, Shane, don’t go buy a fishing boat and retire early. Let’s serve twenty-five more years together.”

“Okay, maybe by then I’ll have that boat,” Shane said. He lifted his coffee cup, and Styrofoam against Styrofoam, two cops toasted their partnership.

As they exited to the parking lot, Bronson muttered, “These academy brats are more ignorant than ever.”

“Sarge—” Adam turned to Bronson—“didn’t you go to academy?”

Bronson sized him up. “Yeah. So what?”

“Were you ignorant then?”

“Yeah, I was. I wouldn’t want anyone to have been stuck with me as a partner.”

“A kid has to start somewhere.”

“Not with me he doesn’t.”

“Did you ever have a partner who was as good as you?” Adam asked.

“Yeah. My first partner, thirty-five years ago. Ollie Chandler. Taught me how to put a guy down with a head-butt. We used to practice on each other.”

Adam touched his forehead and winced.

“You stay in touch with Chandler?”

“Not much. Lives in Oregon. At Christmas we exchange pictures of his dog, Mulch, and my Marciano. Three of the best friends I’ve ever had were dogs. Chandler’s the fourth.”

For a moment Adam saw the human side of Brad Bronson.

“I tell you, these academy punks got no class.”

It had been a short moment.

This guy wouldn’t know class if he stepped in it.

“You gotta be impressed with Brock Kelley,” Shane said.

“You think I want a high school football hero?” Bronson asked. “He’ll imagine he’s big stuff. Death crawl? Give me a break. He’ll be the death of someone. Well, not me.”

As Adam pulled out, Shane said, “Sarge, you and Diane Koos are like two goats in a pepper patch. You oughta ask her out for donuts.”

Bronson muttered something unintelligible.

Shane turned his head. “Considering you thought it was a waste of time to come today, you sure had a lot of advice for those recruits.”

“Won’t make any difference,” Bronson said. “Young is stupid.”

Shane looked in his mirror. He smiled and whispered to Adam, lower than before, “In that case, the sergeant’s definitely not stupid.”

Five seconds passed before Bronson said, “Fuller, it would take you three promotions to make stupid.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Adam, Nathan, David, Shane, and Javier all sat on Adam’s patio. Used paper plates and empty Coke cans littered the table.

“That was one juicy bird, Corporal Grillmaster,” Nathan said to Adam. “What’s the secret?”

“Oil the grill, keep the chicken uncovered, put it slightly off-center from the flame, and never put on the sauce till two minutes before you’re done cooking.”

“The burgers were great too,” David added.

Shane nodded. “If you’re going to be a real man, Rookie, you gotta get the best beef you can and watch them grind it. Not yesterday, not this morning, but while you wait.”

“My son,” Nathan said, “the key to steak is to salt it generously. Then, even if your meat isn’t faultless, the salt will break it in and hold its taste.”

David studied his elders and said, “You know, you guys are really something.”

“Thanks,” the three men said, almost in unison. David hadn’t meant it as a compliment.

“One day this young man will have his own family,” Nathan said. “And he’ll tell tales of afternoons spent in Mitchell’s yard, soaking in grilling wisdom. And when he takes his kids to a Falcons game, he’ll teach them how to tailgate. There’s no price you can put on that.”

Shane laughed. “With our salaries, who can afford to go to a Falcons game?”

“All right,” Adam said, trying to change the subject. “If everybody’s stuffed, I want to tell you guys why I had you over today. I need to ask you a favor.”

Adam gave each man a sheet of paper. Javier’s curiosity perked up.

Shane knew Adam had an agenda today, but he was surprised at what he saw.

Nathan looked at the sheet in his hands. “A resolution?”

“Yeah. I struggle with what kind of father I was to Emily and what kind of dad I’ve been to Dylan.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Shane said. “You’ve been a good enough father.”

“I don’t want to be a ‘good enough’ father. We have a few short years to influence our kids, and whatever patterns we set for them will likely pass on to their kids.”

The guys wondered where Adam was headed.

“We have the responsibility to mold lives. I don’t think that should be done casually. Half the fathers in this country are failing, probably way more. And with the time I’ve got left, I don’t want to be one of them.”

“Look,” Shane said, “I’m all for spending more time with your kids, but don’t you think you’re taking this a little too far?”

“Shane, time with our kids should be a given. We need to act strategically. It’s our job to help them become the people God wants them to be—set the standards they can aim for.”

“What kind of standards?” David asked.

Adam paused. “Well, when did you first think of yourself as a man?”

Shane laughed. “I can’t believe we’re talkin’ about this.”

“No, guys, humor me a second. Think about it.”

Javier listened intently while Nathan finished quietly reading Adam’s resolution.

“Okay,” David said. “It was probably when I was first living on my own. Or maybe when I turned twenty-one. Toward the end of college.”

“So when you became legal. Okay, what about you, Shane?”

He sighed. “Maybe when I got my license or my first job. What does it matter?”

“Javy?”

Javier had known his answer instantly, the memory still vivid. “When my father told me I was.”

They all looked at him.

“When I was seventeen, he had to leave for three months for a job. He told me that he thought of me as a man—he wanted me to take care of my family. He asked me if I was ready. When I hesitated, he told me he
knew
I was ready.”

Adam said, “Look, guys, I’ve learned that God wants me to teach my son how to love Him and trust Him and that it’s my responsibility to call out the man in my son. I can’t be passive about that.”

“How did you come up with these?” Nathan asked, still intent on the sheet.

“I got them all from studying Scripture. This is a resolution of what kind of father I want to be. Each of you has permission to keep me accountable. In fact, I
want
you to hold me accountable.”

All the men joined Nathan in reading it.

Finally Javier said, “Could I sign this too?”

Shane said, “If you’re gonna sign it, Adam, maybe we all should.”

“No, no. I’m not asking you guys to sign anything. I’m doing this because I need it and my family needs it. If you think you should do this, at least take a couple of days to think about it.”

The head-butt from that giant Pillsbury Doughboy had hurt TJ. But what hurt worse was being humiliated in front of his minister of defense. TJ was mad. The Dougherty County brownies were now higher on his enemy list than the Albany city police—right up there with the Rollin’ Crips.

Antoine warned TJ, “You kill a cop, they put you away fo’ the rest o’ yo life.”

Cops might look the other way when it came to drugs. They wouldn’t look the other way when they knew the identity of someone hunting them.

But the commander in chief of the Gangster Nation had been dissed—one-upped one too many times.

That black cop had taken back the truck TJ stole and arrested his homeboy Clyde. He’d get him back some day. But the big white cop had knocked TJ flat on the ground, and that ate at his gut. And if he didn’t get some get-back, Antoine and the Gangster Nation might disrespect him. And for a gang leader, disrespect was the first step toward death.

He had to do this. And he wanted to.

You goin’ down, fat man.