Epilogue 2
James Hyatt
If I could change one thing about Hillcroft, it would be the rule dictating that all senior operators were obligated to train and coach recruits if necessary.
I was the perpetual substitute instructor, ’cause Danny knew I had zero patience for teaching punks, so he only called me in when better instructors were unavailable.
Like today.
This year’s recruits were fast approaching their final selection, and we’d see how many made it. It was a small class of only six left. Last year, we’d had more of them.
On the flipside, I was getting plenty of training myself. Patience was something a parent needed to have, right? We also had to speak clearly, be diplomatic, and know what nurturing was all about.
I was working on it.
I scratched my eyebrow and flipped to the next picture on the big screen.
“This one is ruled suicide by gunshot wound to the head,” I said, eyeing the animated example. “You have one minute to profile the victim and determine if it was, in fact, suicide—or foul play.”
Leaning back against the edge of the desk, I looked out over the six recruits to make sure they weren’t cheating. The ability to profile and read a situation was fundamental to a future in the field, especially when they needed to make snap decisions and lives were at stake.
Some recruits always wanted to take shortcuts.
They made guesses based on how they believed we’d fuck with them.
For instance, it probably wasn’t suicide, because why would we give them the answer?
Or maybe it was suicide for that reason, because the other option was too obvious?
But enough examples had made shit clear.
The right answer would sometimes be listed above the photo.
And sometimes not. The recruits were forced to examine the evidence.
I checked my watch, guessing Kiera would be done with her interview soon. I wanted to catch her before she went home.
When Doc had asked me the other day if she might be interested in taking over for Nurse Tina when she retired, I’d called Kiera immediately.
Fuck, the prospect of having her in the same building?
Sign me up. Granted, she would go on maternity leave soon, and we would need to send her to further training too, but Tina wasn’t retiring just yet. We had time.
Kiera would be perfect for bossing around operators in the med bay. Aside from the education and experience she already had, she’d take a couple courses in long-term recovery and rehabilitation, and then she’d be good to go.
“All right, one minute’s up,” I announced.
One of them protested. “It’s really not, sir. It’s been like forty-five seconds.”
“Yeah, well, life’s not fair,” I said.
Good parenting.
Fuck.
I scratched the side of my head and scrambled for a better response. “But you know, your folks probably still love you. Gold star. Uh, moving on.” I ignored his weird look and nodded at the tall guy in the back. “You. What’s the verdict?”
He shifted in his seat. “Um, I think it’s suicide. He has a notepad on the table, like he’s written a note to loved ones. I don’t see any luggage in the hotel room, so maybe he wasn’t planning on using anything else.”
“Next.” I pointed to the blonde up front.
“I think it’s murder,” she replied. “There are two hamburgers on the table, so the victim wasn’t eating alone. The murderer must’ve left.”
I rubbed my elbow absently, glancing back at the screen, and wondered how the fuck these kids were gonna survive out here.
I sighed and faced forward again, and I folded my arms over my chest. “You get a participation trophy for being right that it’s murder, but it has nothing to do with the second hamburger.
Note that the first burger has a bite taken out of it, and the other one is still wrapped.
The victim ordered two burgers.” I jerked my thumb at the screen behind me.
“Nothing kills your appetite like existential pain, depression, chronic suffering, or defeat. While some people are more methodical or nostalgic than others—and will eat something before committing suicide—the odds of that man in the graphic taking one bite of his burger and then suck-starting his gun…? He was murdered.” I glanced at the clock above the door and decided I was done.
They could leave five minutes early. “All right, go play. Good job or whatever. You can be anything you want to be when you grow up.”
They all gave me strange looks this time.
Maybe they saw through my bullshit.
“That’s why we’re here, sir,” one of the guys explained slowly. “I left the Marines to become a private contractor.”
I nodded with a dip of my chin and turned off the screen. “A Marine telling me he’s a Marine. What a novelty. Go seize the day, kiddo.”
Some of the others, mainly those who were former Army and Navy, cracked up.
One by one, they filed out of the classroom, and I was ready to get the hell out of here too.
Hopefully, Kiera was still in the building. I needed some sugar before I had a very important errand she knew nothing about. Well, she thought I had a dentist’s appointment—a lie I was already regretting. I’d come clean soon. Eventually.
In reality, I was shopping for a security system.
I could be out buying a ring, but she’d not-so-subtly hinted that “No romantic gestures are allowed” until she could wear her regular size clothes again. She’d also complained about her “sausage fingers,” but they had to be the scrawniest sausages I’d ever seen.
That said, I knew she was uncomfortable.
The first two or three months of the pregnancy, she’d cruised right by the nausea and whatnot, and boom, everything came at once.
Apparently, the second trimester was usually the easiest one, but not for her.
She retained quite a bit of water, she was constantly a little bit nauseated, enough that it messed with her appetite, she was tired a lot, and I’d bought her a body pillow so she could sleep comfortably.
She was a champ, though. Way calmer about shit than I was.
Damn it. No reply. Maybe she was still interviewing with Doc.
Fine.
I’d catch up with her later.
Danny ambushed me in the elevator on my way down to the basement, and he gave me this tired, frustrated look—with just a pinch of amusement.
“Hyatt.”
“Rose. What’s up?”
He sighed heavily. “I’ve received new complaints about you.”
Oh. Wow. That was fast. The class ended ten fucking minutes ago. “What did I do this time? I was nice to them.”
“You treated them like children.”
“They are children.”
“Not toddlers, goddammit,” he snapped. “Is this how you’re gonna be with your own kid?”
I furrowed my brow. “Of course not. But there’s a difference. I love my kid.”
He looked like he wanted to sigh again. Unfortunately for him, we’d reached the basement, and I had shit to do.
“Gold star on this conversation.” I clapped him on the shoulder before I stepped out. “Later.”
I walked past the gym and through the martial arts studio until I reached the end of the building. It was technically an escape route underground to the garage in the next building over, but one could argue I was escaping.
I whistled to myself and dug out the car key.
Options were limited for operators to just grab a vehicle; we had logistics coordinators who ran their own garage with our fleet of cars, trucks, and vans some twenty minutes from here.
But we kept a few around, and I had a favorite.
A black Sprinter that’d been optimized for speeding and sharp turns, despite its size.
And while I usually had no use for nine fucking seats, it worked perfectly if one was picking up a security door.
I’d just slide it between the seats and then hide the door at Hillcroft until Kiera and I got the keys to our new house next month.
She didn’t need to see the price tag. Or maybe the door was suddenly half off? She’d been horrified when I’d shown her some doors online, and I had no idea why. Security wasn’t free. But I’d be damned if I was gonna risk my family’s safety over a few hundred bucks.
I unlocked the van and got behind the wheel.
Let’s go shopping.
Kinda cool to build your security business inside an old aircraft hangar. This was the place Coach had recommended, and not only had they set up his security system at home, they’d done work at Hillcroft too.
As soon as I set foot inside, I couldn’t help but smile a little. Yeah, I liked this place. They’d turned the sides into fish-tank offices, leaving the highest part of the vaulted ceiling completely open. Everything was black, white, and steel.
Two vending machines were placed next to the door, humming quietly.
The kid at the circular front desk perked up and smiled politely as I approached.
“Welcome to MadCo. Do you have an appointment with us today?”
“Uh, yeah. Name’s Hyatt. I’m supposed to meet with one of your salespeople,” I replied. “I ordered a security door that I’m picking up too.”
He checked his computer screen, and I looked around some more.
This was probably what Kiera felt walking into a bookstore or…well, her latest obsession was Williams Sonoma. Her old man had set aside a nice chunk of money for her when he’d sold his house, and he wanted to help her get her dream kitchen in order.
That was my one and only struggle with Kiera. She was immediately on the fence about things she couldn’t afford. I’d told her repeatedly that everything was good. I’d shown her my finances, we’d started a joint account, all that stuff, but she insisted it was my money and not ours.
I was working on that too, though. She’d get there eventually. The shit she gave me couldn’t fucking compare.
“Umm, please hold a sec—I’ll be right back,” the guy said before scurrying away.
All right.
Two men headed across the space to the back, where it looked like they had a break room area, and I tilted my head. Posture said so much about a person.