Chapter 2 Shawn
My boots thud against the pavement as I sprint through a trash-littered back alley. Ahead, the perp darts toward a fire escape. I pump my arms faster, the badge around my neck swinging on its chain as I run.
I leap up, wrapping both arms around his legs as he climbs, then rip him down to the ground.
I hit the asphalt with a pained grunt, but don’t hesitate even a moment before I’m flipping him over onto his stomach and resting my knee on his back.
“Marcus Henderson, you’re under arrest for the murder of Anne Martinez. ”
“I didn’t do anything!” he insists.
“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” I growl as I cuff him, then straighten and rip him to his feet.
My partner, Anderson Redmond, a new detective to our precinct, runs over, weapon drawn, breathing ragged. “You’re fast,” he comments.
“It’s that, or you die,” I counter. “Come on,” I growl as I tug Marcus toward the way we came. Ahead, a uniform pulls his car into the entrance of the alleyway.
Good. I won’t have to walk this guy far.
My body aches from the fall, but it was more than worth it to catch this guy. We’ve been after him for two days, ever since the body of his girlfriend was found dumped like trash in an alley similar to this one.
“Man, you got the wrong guy,” he insists.
“We’ve got DNA evidence that proves otherwise. You good to take him in?” I ask the uniform as he waits near the alley.
“Yeah, I got him.”
“Good. Get him in the box.”
“You got it.”
I press him forward against the car. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”
He doesn’t respond.
“Not a problem,” I reply. “We’ll make sure you have a clear understanding.
Do you have any weapons on you?” Again, no answer.
“Guess I’ll be finding those, too.” Quickly, I pat him down, withdrawing a set of keys and a wallet from his pocket.
No weapons, though. After handing those to the uniform, I pull him back and wait for the uniform to open the door.
“Watch your head. I’d hate for you to get a headache,” I snap as I press down on top of his head and guide him into the car.
“Yeah, you sure seem like you care.” He spits at me, and it’s all I can do to rein in my temper.
“That’s assault, wouldn’t you say so, Detective?” my partner asks.
“Something like that.” I close the door, then use the sleeve of my jacket to wipe the spit from my cheek. “I’m going home to shower. I’ll be back soon. Let him sweat.”
“You got it,” Redmond replies. “I’ll catch a ride back with this guy.” He clasps a hand on the uniform’s shoulder, then climbs into the passenger seat while I finish the walk down toward where I left my car.
Once behind the wheel, I take a moment to breathe before pulling away from the curb.
Some morning.
After a sleepless night, combined with not getting a chance to have my coffee this morning, I recognize that I’m in a less-than-stellar mood. So as I make my way back home, I dial up the one person who always puts things into perspective for me.
“Well, hello, darling,” a soft, feminine voice greets.
“Hey, Ma,” I reply. “I just wanted to call and see how your morning was going.”
“Not too bad. I spent the morning in Bible study, then had brunch with some friends. How about you?”
“Caught a murderer,” I reply. “Got spit on.”
“Oh, honey. Congratulations on one, sorry about two.”
Chuckling, I pull down my street. “Thanks. Headed home to shower now, so I figured I’d call and see how you were doing.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I know it’s because she’s reading through the real reason I called. “Honey, I’m doing just fine. Feeling back to my old self again.”
I can hear the smile in her voice, and it brings one to my face, even as the all-too-familiar worry creeps in. She’d felt fine before the diagnosis, too. It was just a routine appointment that turned into a two-year nightmare.
“When’s your next checkup?”
“Three weeks,” she replies. “But, honey, I’m telling you, I’m fine.”
“I know you are. It’s just important to make sure.” I pull into my driveway and park my issued car beside the truck I rarely get to drive. “Dinner tomorrow?”
“I’ll see you then. Love you, honey.”
“Love you, too, Ma.” After ending the call, I climb out of my car and head straight inside, more than ready to get cleaned up so I can get back to the precinct and put this case behind me.
After unlocking the door, I step into my house.
It’s so quiet.
Too quiet.
I used to love it, but then my mom moved in, and I got used to having her here. Now that she’s back in the house I grew up in and I’m alone, the quiet is unsettling.
A small meow catches my attention, so I smile down at my cat as he rubs against my legs. “Hey, there, Trigs.”
As desperate as I am to shower, I’m even more desperate for coffee, so I head into the kitchen to start the coffee pot before finally heading into the bathroom and turning on the water.
Shrugging out of my jacket first, I set it off to the side, then strip out of the sweat and dirt-crusted clothes as the shower heats up. For a moment, I pause in front of the mirror, my gaze landing on the scarred skin of my chest just above my heart.
It was meant to break me.
Instead, every time I see it, I’m reminded of why I do what I do.
I earned this particular scar when I infiltrated a ring of human traffickers. They’d tried to test me, and I failed—proudly. So they thought they’d punish me instead. Luckily for me, the cavalry showed up shortly after they gave me this memento.
We ended up saving the lives of two dozen children and young teens who were about to be sold and transported out of the country.
I only did one undercover op after that, and while it went sideways and the guy I was investigating ended up dead, I still took down an evil man who was on the fast track to politics. Now he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison, and the world is a safer place.
No matter how tired I get, how down in the dumps I feel when I’m faced with evil on a daily basis, I’m reminded that there are still people worth fighting for. Innocents who deserve a chance, not just to survive…but to thrive.
So, until the day the Good Lord calls me home, I’ll fight for the innocent and wear any scars I’m left with honor.
Attorney Secures Major Win
December 19, 2025. Boston, MA.
Boston attorney Beckett Wallace secured a major courtroom victory Friday afternoon when the jury returned with a guilty verdict against Carl Jensen, owner of Summit Steel Construction, LLC.
Jensen was accused of cutting safety corners that led to the deaths of three employees who fell to their deaths on January 7 of this year.
Throughout the trial, Jensen attempted to deflect responsibility onto the victims. But Wallace, a partner at Langford, Wallace, & Wolfe Legal Group, delivered a powerful closing argument that struck a chord with jurors.
She reminded them that this tragedy was not a freak accident but a preventable failure of leadership and basic safety.
“The lives lost could have been any one of our family members,” Wallace told the jury. “It could have been any one of us. And the fact is: They would still be here if the most basic safety protocols had been followed.”
The jury deliberated for less than two hours before returning with a unanimous guilty verdict.
Jensen was sentenced to ten years in prison and ordered to pay a substantial restitution to the surviving families.
“It won’t bring their loved ones back,” Wallace said in a post-trial interview. “But I hope it will go a long way in supporting these families while they get back on their feet.”
Known for her relentless preparation and moral clarity, Wallace has built a reputation as a bulldog in the courtroom. She’s respected for her tactical precision and unwavering code of honor, no matter the obstacles she faces.
Ismile as I finish reading the article, then pause at the image of Beckett embracing a crying woman on the steps leading up to the courthouse. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are parted as though she’s saying something.
Knowing her, it’s likely something reassuring. Kind.
Because, while she’s a bulldog, Beckett Wallace is the type of woman who is as kind as she is stubborn.
Something I knew long before a date that went horribly sideways, which led to her leaving Seattle to head home to Boston. I hadn’t even had time to fully process what had gone wrong, and she was already out of the state.
Yet, two years later, she’s still on my mind.
It’s pathetic.
“What are you looking at?” my partner questions.
I close out of the article then look up at him. “Paperwork,” I reply. “Which is what you should be doing, too.”
Redmond and I have been partners for less than a year, and while he’s a decent detective, he’s got an arrogant streak that really gets to me.
I know it’s likely because he’s green, and I’m sure I had one back then, too, but I’ve learned that, in this job, arrogance causes you to miss vital information.
It gets people killed and lets killers slip through the cracks.
“I’m nearly wrapped up with mine,” he replies. “Thinking about playing some pool afterward. You interested?”
“I have plans,” I reply. “But thanks for the invite.”
“Yeah, man. No problem.” He leans back behind his computer, so I re-focus on the paperwork I’ve barely started but need to finish before I can turn in for the night.
We got a confession in less than thirty minutes, and Henderson has already been booked. The DA will be pressing charges, and he’ll be going away for a long, long time. I glance up at the whiteboard with Anne’s DMV photo.
Twenty years old.
She’d barely begun to live before her life was stolen from her.
But at least her killer will be brought to justice. And while that won’t bring her back, it’s a win for sure.
Just like Beckett’s victory is a win for those families.
My thoughts drift back to her again. To the woman I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since the moment she first strolled into my precinct, nearly blowing a hole through the undercover case I was trying to salvage.
It was my last one, and while everything had worked out in the end, she’d threatened to tear it apart because I’d arrested a friend of hers on murder. Turns out he was innocent, but since it introduced me to her, I couldn’t be too upset that I’d been wrong.
I can still see her—bright red lipstick, dark eyes that bored straight through me. Man, what will it take for me to get her out of my head?
We’re on two opposite sides of the country, and she has absolutely no reason to ever step foot in Washington again. So why am I so hung up on her that I can’t even find the interest to try and date anyone else?
Probably because I keep looking into her life and celebrating her wins clear across the country.
Frustrated with myself, I return my attention to the paperwork at hand. As I finish it up, I do my best to shove all thoughts of Beckett Wallace out of my mind.
Hopefully, forever.