Children of Trident Book 1: Broken Treaty

The Lead

Nate

    The sundried tomato, basil, and bacon frittata did not appeal to Nate Kall. He sat in a small corner diner called Holmes’ Cooking. The laminate tables hosted many patrons in the years the diner had been open, but Nate never saw more than two or three occupied at a time. He used to love the food at this restaurant, but nothing interested to him this morning.

    Nate, a ten-year detective, had been partnered with the senior most detective at the precinct. Eating breakfast once a week became a weekly tradition since they partnered some two years prior. Something Darren insisted on.

    “To clear the mind,” Darren would say as he would sit himself at his favorite table.

    Darren liked starting his week with a good plate of fried eggs, hash browns, sausage links and baguette bread toast. Nate glanced up at his partner across the way. Still in good shape with a body of someone half his age, Darren’s dark hair just began to show silvery flecks of age. He ran five miles every morning and insisted Nate join him. To stop the ‘nagging’, Nate joined a Dojo and learned a mixed martial art. 

    Today, Nate did not want to clear his mind. He needed to concentrate on getting his thoughts under control. Thirty-two days prior, Kevin, Nate’s father and only parent, went missing. What had started as a simple phone call to 911 turned into a month-long search for the man. Nate and Darren were the first ones on the scene, followed closely by Hansen and his partner Lacy.

    The destruction the detectives found inside shocked them, but they did not find Kevin. Once they cleared the apartment, they realized he had been there, and he had not left willingly. The main living area had been torn up, with the La-Z-Boy overturned and the tv dinner stand knocked over. Papers, bills, and a few books were scattered to the floor. The couch looked blasted and the coffee table charred. A china cabinet had been shattered and a bookcase had been toppled over. In the kitchen, they found broken dishes on the floor and countertops. Water sprayed into the sink from where the faucet had been torn away. They continued to the back bedrooms to find the guest room untouched. The found the destruction of the apartment continued in the master bedroom. The bed had been upended and the dresser pulled over. At the window, they found evidence someone tried to escape, but the broken screen and window frame indicated they had been pulled back in.

    Nate called his dad’s phone several times on the drive over after the 911 call, and then repeatedly after they cleared Kevin’s place. No answer, no voicemail. A BOLO, or be on the lookout, had been issued for his dad’s car. Captain Nodes barred Nate from following up on any tips, pulling him from the case almost immediately. Conflict of interest. This did not dissuade him. Instead, he stole a copy of the report.

    Nate brought the pilfered document to the diner and kept glancing at it on the chair next to him. Darren narrowed his eyes watching Nate glance at the report. Long years on the force gave Darren the experience to know what his partner tried to hide.

    “Put that thing away or let me read it,” he said taking a bite of his sausage.

    Nate sighed and pulled the report from its hiding place. Darren twisted the document get a better angle for reading. He skimmed the page and then flipped it to the next.

    “They’ve talked with all of your dad’s neighbors,” he commented.

    “Yeah. Nothing useful either,” Nate responded.

    The frittata was getting cold. He pushed it away.

    “Have they talked with your grandparents?” Darren asked working on his second sausage link.

    “My mom’s parents. Per what the report states, they haven’t been able to locate his.”

    Nate and his dad were not on speaking terms with his paternal grandparents. They disowned Nate’s dad when his parents got married. In retaliation, his dad took his mother’s last name.

    “Did they go back to Africa?” the senior partner asked.

    “Probably,” Nate shrugged. “Don’t know if they even came to America. Don’t care.”

    He grabbed one of Darren’s toast wedges and took a large bite.

    “If you wanted toast, you could have ordered your own,” Darren said.

    He hated it when Nate took food from his plate; especially when it came to his carbs.

    Nate shrugged again, “You weren’t looking.”

    “Still not cool.”

    They both read the next page of the report. Darren suddenly closed it and shoved it aside.

    “I was reading that.” Nate grabbed at the report.

    “And I’m eating here. I can’t concentrate on both,” Darren said.

    He started on his second piece of toast before Nate could grab it.

    “Not hungry?” the waitress asked walking by.

    Nate indicated the plate, “can I have a box, please?”

    “Sure thing, honey. And what about you?” she asked turning to Darren.

    “I’m still eating,” he responded. “Thanks, though.”

    The waitress wandered away to get the requested to go box.

    “What you need to do, is to let Hansen and Lacy work on it and leave it be,” Darren said tapping the cover of the report.

    “If it was your dad, would you leave it be?” Nate asked cynically.

    Darren dropped the subject and continued to eat. Nate already investigated the disappearance of a parent. As a child, his mother had been taken. Kevin rarely spoke of the event and Nate had to depend on the case file, which had barely anything to go on. He did not remember anything about the night she left, or anything prior. The psychiatrist said Nate’s mind blocked all memories of the time surrounding the event. In his nightmares he saw a hairy arm reaching for him while a woman screamed.

    The waitress returned with the bill and a box. Nate nodded his thanks and shoved the frittata in it. He glanced at the bill. A simple $20 would cover it. He reached for his billfold, but Darren grabbed the check away.

    “Breakfast is on me this week,” he said pulling a twenty from his pocket. “Wife gave me some spending money.”

    Nate’s phone chimed. He glanced at the caller ID thinking Captain Nodes sent it but stopped and stared. The caller ID registered his dad’s number. The text had been sent from his dad’s phone. The message was an address from the edge of the industrial district part of town. He stood up quickly, knocking his chair back. Darren glanced up at his reaction as Nate shoved the report back into his bag.

    “What’s going on?” he asked.

    “Got a message from my dad,” Nate said.

    The sound of worry and excitement reflected in his voice.

    “Are you sure?” Darren asked standing up.

    He reached for his own jacket.

    “Yeah. It’s an address down Cycle Way,” Nate said heading to the door.

    Darren rushed to keep up with Nate, grabbing his arm.

    “Hold up there, partner. You need to contact Hansen. Let him know the address.”

    “You can tell him.”

    Nate wrenched his arm out of Darren’s grip and got into the driver seat of their car. Darren got into the passenger seat. He took Nate’s phone and sent a message to Hansen.

    “This is a bad idea,” he said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

    Not for the first time, Darren made a good point. Nate found it odd that the first message he received from his dad in thirty-two days would be an address. Going to the address had to be one of his more impulsive and reckless ideas. His thoughts wandered to the condition of the apartment. Kevin was in danger and Nate needed to protect him.

    Despite the traffic, Nate took less time than expected getting to their destination. Peeling paint on an old wooden sign identified the building as the Carmichael Institution for the Disturbed in the Head. The abandoned infirmary attracted all sorts of activity since it’s closing over 50 years ago. Recently, a gang of kids had to be rescued after they fell through a floor in one of the procedure rooms.

    The missing and broken windows looked down on them as they pulled up. They stared up at the hospital. The grey washed stone of the exterior gave the building a somber, almost ominous feeling. Only the uncut grass and trees, which were currently growing new leaves, gave away any life beyond the gates. Dew glistened on the grass like diamonds as they pulled in.

    “I hate this place,” Darren said.

    He pulled his jacket closer as their car approached.

    Nate said nothing to the comment. He had his own bad memories of the hospital. Many teens considered going into the building as a rite of passage. In Nates case, adventuring beyond the doors one time did it for him. Near the end of his wild teenage years, he and Harold, his cousin, explored the old place together with a few friends. One of their friends fell down a stair well, getting seriously injured. Kevin and Harold’s dad, Gideon, were furious the boys even went there, and both had been grounded until graduation. The boys spent their punishment working in their Aunt Celia’s drycleaner shop. Three months later, Nate signed up for the military.

    Nate opened the driver side door and Darren grabbed his arm again.

    “Wait for backup,” he warned.

    Nate ignored him and pulled his arm free. He drew his service weapon and approached the entrance. His footsteps crunched on the gravel where the former sidewalk had long been destroyed by time and vandals. A chain hung freely from the front doors, indicating someone had recently broke in. He pulled on the door and it swung open. To Nate’s surprise, the doors made little sound, as if someone had greased them. Behind him he could hear Darren exit their vehicle. Nate peered inside, half expecting to get ambushed. His instincts told him a trap had been set.

    “If we’re gonna do this, let’s be smart about it,” Darren said joining him.

    He too had pulled his service weapon and they quickly cleared the entrance of the building. On the floor, they noticed footprints and tire tracks in the dust. Darren started following them as Nate covered the rear. They came to a barred door. Through the window, they could see a room with no floor. The tracks were from the recent rescue efforts.

    Nate let out a frustrated sigh. He took the lead and continued the path they started. The hall ended in a large sitting room that looked out to the sandy courtyard the building surrounded. Several overturned chairs and couches and more than a few IV poles lay scattered around.

    Scratching startled both men and they trained their guns the direction the sound came from. A moment later a large rat scurried out. Nate could hear his heart pounding in his ears. They back tracked to the front desk where two more halls branched off.

    Through the front door, Nate could see Hansen pull up with Lacy. Lacy, a seven-year detective, and Hansen, a five-year detective, had been partners for most of that time. Nate had been partnered with Lacy a few times and found her annoyingly good at her job. He was not competitive, but she took the fun out of solving crimes. Hansen, on the other hand, seemed to handle her with ease. Nate could tell Darren wanted to wait for them to join before they continued.

    Nate put some gum in his mouth as he stared down one of the other halls. A black figure crossed the hall and stopped at the other end before continuing.

    “Hey,” Nate shouted. “Hold up.”

    He ran down the hall after the figure, Darren’s shouts echoing behind him. The double doors blocked Nate’s path, the clicking sound indicating they had closed. Nate could see the figure through the window in the hall before him.

    “Stop, police,” he shouted going through the doors.

    The figure turned back and then ran through the doors beyond. He sprinted through the door only to be met by the blazing sunshine. The sandy courtyard lay in front of him. Before he could react, someone hit him in the back of the head.