Written for RDP, where sgeoil asks us
to get creative with the word βcopperβ.
Thanks, Heather! Hereβs where the prompt took me.
Tag: NYPD
The Ambush

Otis sensed it before Sam even heard it β tires crunching through the snow slowly approaching the dinerβs driveway. The black lab growled, knowing instinctively it wasnβt Deb and the kids; it was much too early. They werenβt due back until around 10:00. Besides, Otis would have recognized the sound of Debβs Jeep.
But there was one definitive reason why Otis knew it wasnβt Deb and the kids returning from their ski trip; Deb never drove in the dark with her lights off.
The instant Sam heard the vehicle, a knot started forming in his gut. βItβs ok, boyβ he whispered soothingly to Otis while reaching for the service revolver he kept hidden in the cupboard and slipped it into the pocket of his Washington Wizards sweatshirt. Sam squinted in the darkness at the LED clock on the dinerβs microwave β 5:10AM β too early, even for diehard customers. Tapping at his other pocket, Sam was reassured knowing his cell phone was there.
Careful not to knock over anything that would make noise, Sam quickly strode to the window and with one finger eased back the curtain ever so slightly. In the bleak pre-dawn hours he could barely make out the shape of a hulking SUV parked outside the diner. This was not just a business to Sam and Deb; the spacious second floor was home to them and their kids. If anyone tried to break in or cause harm, Sam took it very personally.
Otis growled again; Sam hushed the skittish dog and together they crept back to the counter and slid behind it. Sam fingered the gun in his pocket; he was ready if it came to that.
Footsteps on the front stairs were followed by a quick rap on the window. Otis was more nervous than ever and Sam spoke softly to him while slipping him a treat to keep him quiet. One more rap on the window, then the front door handle jiggled. Then jiggled again, this time with attitude. Sam decided he needed to go on the offensive.
βWeβre closedβ he called out. βIf you need help, the police stationβs just down the road. I can call them.β
βNo need for that, champβ came a voice from the other side of the door. βI just ended my shift there. Saw a car leaving your parking lot and wanted to make sure everything was ok.β
βThanks, weβre fine.β Sam replied through the door. Something about the way this guy said βchampβ made the hair on his arms stand up.
βHey, itβs my job. Iβd feel better if you let me take a look aroundβ declared the guy outside.
βAnd Iβd feel better if you showed me some I.D. Just slip it under the door.β
βNo problem, champ.β A shiny laminated wallet-size rectangle slid across the floor.
Glancing to make sure the deadbolt on the front door was secure, Sam quickly retrieved the card and checked it out in the glow of his cell. The I.D. confirmed the guy was a trooper and the photo staring back proved what Sam feared β this guy was no stranger.
βSon of a bitch! Dan McGinty!β
The same Dan McGinty from New York. Sam could never forget his brother officer from their days in the NYPD. A dirty cop, that piece of scum almost got Sam and his partner Frank killed in an ambush. Their testimony at Danβs trial helped get a conviction but Frank would never walk again. What was McGinty doing out of jail and out here in the boonies? How the hell did he ever land a job as a state trooper? Sam had a really bad feeling about this.
Otis sprang to his feet, jolting Sam out of his momentary reverie. The black lab stared in the direction of the kitchen and growled loudly. And Sam knew. In the stillness of the early morning he heard that familiar voice behind him.
βHey, champ. Been a real long time.β
It was the last thing Sam heard before the room went black.
NARΒ©2024
This is “The Messiah Will Come Again” by Roy Buchanan
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
EXPRESS LANE

The insistent knocking on our apartment door at 4AM roused us from our sleep. We had many friends who were βnight owlsβ but no one came calling at this early hour.
When it became clear the person on the other side of the door was not going away, my husband Sean groggily slid out of bed, pulled on his jeans and walked to the door. Placing his eye against the peep hole revealed who interrupted our sleep and he quickly opened the door.
βMichael!β my husband greeted our friend. βCβmon in, man. Whatβs up and whatβs with the suitcase?β
βI got a problem, broβ, words I never heard the ever-confident Michael declare. He eased past Sean into our apartment and the two friends walked straight into our spare bedroom and closed the door.
Flashback two years ago when we first met Michael. We were newlyweds when we moved into the apartment building where he lived; we became instant friends. Michael was the coolest guy we knew β good-looking, great dresser, incredibly smart, confident to a flaw, magnetic personality and sexy as hell. His bigger-than-life persona and ebullient laugh were contagious. He was the epitome of the clichΓ© βWomen want him and men want to be himβ.
We got caught up in a whirlwind lifestyle and were soon speeding in the express lane of sex, drugs and rock βn roll. Michael was fun, wild and fearless; he had all the right connections. We went to all the best parties and got into the hottest clubs. We partied every night, went to work the next day and did it all over again.
Oh yeah. Thereβs one thing I failed to mention. Michael was a narc working undercover for the NYPDβs Special Narcotics Division, a fact that saved our asses more times than I care to remember. We had plenty of close calls but all he had to do was whip out his badge, flash that smile, talk the talk and we were golden.
Somehow Michael always managed to toe the line at work β except for that night when temptation won out, that same night he showed up at our place. Behind closed doors, Michael opened the suitcase to reveal the contents to Sean: hundreds of plastic bags stuffed with quaaludes.
My husband stared at the suitcase incredulously for a moment before turning to Michael.
βWhat the fuck, bro?β Sean declared, part of him hoping some of the white pills marked Rorer 714 were meant for him.
βIt was in the evidence room, undocumentedβ, Michael explained. βI just picked it up and walked the fuck out. I need to stash it here for a couple of days until I make a plan.β
βSure, man. No prob. Do what you gotta do.βΒ
They hugged, slapping each otherβs backs, and Michael said βIβll be in touch, man.β
Michael went back to work and nobody β not one single crackerjack detective in the precinct noticed the suitcase was missing. After a few days, he returned to our place with a backpack. Taking out the suitcase he’d left with us, he dumped half the ludes into the backpack and gave the rest to Sean. βHere you go, brother β courtesy of the NYPD!βΒ
My husband draped his arm over our friendβs shoulders as they walked to the door. Michael turned and flashed me that amazing grin. βSee ya βround the campus, people.β
He took off into the night, never to be seen again.Β
NAR Β© 2023
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BACK BEFORE YOU MISS ME

Rebecca Jameson couldnβt get to sleep. She shifted her body from side to side but just couldnβt get comfortable. Maybe she should go downstairs and watch The Tonight Show.
βCanβt sleep, Becca?β Danny asked groggily.
βSorry, honey. I didnβt mean to wake you!β
Danny flipped on the nightstand lamp. Rebecca glanced at the alarm clock; it was very late and Danny had to get up early for work. She felt terribly guilty but this last month of her pregnancy was rough. She got up and waddled to the bathroom, then settled back in bed cradling her substantial belly. Danny propped himself on one elbow and rubbed Rebeccaβs tummy.
βWell, Iβm up now so what can I do for you, babe?β
Rebecca looked at him sheepishly and Danny grinned. βRocky Road with Gummy Bears and rainbow sprinkles?β he asked, knowing her cravings so well.
βYou donβt mind?β
βFor you and Danny Jr? Iβd do anything, Becca. Thank God for the 24-hour Dairy Princess!β He kissed her forehead, grabbed his wallet and bounded down the stairs. βBack before you miss me!β
That was the last time Rebecca saw Danny.
When Danny didnβt return after 30 minutes, Rebecca wasnβt worried; late Friday nights at the Dairy Princess were always busy. One hour later and she was starting to get a little anxious. After two hours she was a nervous wreck. She tried calling Danny; her calls went straight to voicemail. When she called her dad Frank, a detective with the NYPD, he answered immediately.
βBecky! Are you OK? Is it the baby?β
βThe baby and I are fine, Dad. Itβs Danny. He went for ice cream two hours ago and hasnβt come home yet. Daddy, Iβm scaredβ and she started to cry.
βSweetie, Mom and I are coming right over. Try not to worry; Iβm sure everythingβs gonna be alright.β Frank hoped he sounded confident but he knew Danny; this was totally out of character.
Rebecca and Danny knew each other all their lives. They were childhood sweethearts and never dated other people. Rebecca was a kindergarten teacher and Danny managed Jamesonβs Deli. They had the same friends and spent all their free time together; they even shared the same Facebook page. There were no secrets between them.
Danny was thrilled when he and Rebecca found out she was expecting a boy. He started calling him Danny Jr. and talked non-stop about the things theyβd do together. With just two weeks to go, Danny was eager to be a dad.
When Rebeccaβs parents arrived, they found her nervously looking out the window. Her mom Betty made a pot of tea while Frank talked soothingly to his daughter.
βListen, honey. I called the station on the way over here and my guys are out combing the area. I know youβre scared but thereβs got to be a logical explanation. People donβt just disappear, especially not Danny.β
The hours ticked by without a word. Rebecca became more and more agitated, certain something terrible had happened. Betty convinced Rebecca to get a little rest and she managed to doze off. When she got up to use the bathroom, Rebeccaβs water broke and Frank drove them to the hospital. They went straight to the ER and a few hours later, Danny Jr. was born. He was perfect but Rebeccaβs world was never the same.
Seasons came and went without a trace of Danny. Frank and his team never stopped searching; every trail led to a dead end. It was as though Danny Jameson never existed.
Rebecca never accepted Dannyβs disappearance. How could someone simply vanish and why? She took solace in caring for Danny Jr. which was a double-edged sword. He was a happy, well-adjusted child who gave Rebecca much joy but he was also the spitting image of his father. Whenever Rebecca looked at Danny Jr. she saw Danny. It was difficult.
Danny Jr. asked about his father and Rebecca explained as best she could. At first the boy seemed content with the answers his mother gave but as he got older he heard people talking about how his father βjust up and leftβ. He asked Rebecca about that which she vehemently denied; there was no way Danny would have walked out on them. Still, restless thoughts occasionally visited Danny Jr. It didnβt help when people would comment on how much he looked like his father.
A missing person case eventually turned into a cold case. Rebecca refused to have Danny declared legally dead. As painful as the unknown was, that closure was too much for Rebecca to handle.
When Danny Jr. was in his late teens, Rebecca was diagnosed with breast cancer. Whenever Rebecca went for a chemo treatment sheβd say βBack before you miss meβ. She struggled for 8 years, finally succumbing at the age of 52. Danny Jr. was 26 years old, happily married with one daughter.
On the day of Rebeccaβs funeral, Danny Jr. and his family stood near the side of his motherβs grave. His mind was whirling with memories of his mother and questions about his father. Would he ever know what really happened to Danny?
As the priest recited the final prayers, Danny Jr. stared straight ahead, his eyes filling with tears. Just then he noticed a man standing across the street from the gated cemetery. Danny Jr. was shaken to the depths of his soul by the appearance of this man; their resemblance was uncanny. At that moment Danny Jr. realized he was looking at the face of his long-lost father. Even at a distance the menβs eyes locked and Danny Jr. began to slowly walk across the cemetery.
As he drew near to the man a large bus rolled by, momentarily obscuring his view. When the bus had passed and Danny Jr. had a clear view, the man was gone.
In his heart Danny Jr. knew that man was his father. He would have given anything for just one hour with him.
NAR Β© 2022
THE HIGH LIFE

The incessant knocking on our apartment door at midnight did not surprise us. Friends were constantly coming and going at our place, commonly referred to as βParty Centralββ¦β¦or βPCβ to our closest friends.
βMichael!β my husband greeted our friend. βCβmon in, man. Whatβs with the suitcase?β
βI got a problem, manβ, Michael uncharacteristically replied as they walked straight into our bedroom and locked the door.
Flashback two years when we first met Michael. We moved into his apartment building and became instant friends. He was the coolest guy we knewβ¦..good-looking, brilliant, confident, irresistible and sexy as hell. He was infectious and we soon started living life in the express lane of sex, drugs and rock and roll. He was fun, wild and fearless. We went to all the best concerts and got into the hottest clubs. We partied every night, went to work the next day and did it all over again.
Oh yeah, Michael was also a narc for the NYPDβ¦β¦a fact that saved us more times than I care to remember β plenty of close calls but all he had to do was show his badge, flash that smile, talk the talk and we were golden.
Yet he always managed to toe the line at work, except for that night when temptation ruled, the night he showed up at our door. Inside our locked bedroom, Michael opened the suitcase to reveal hundreds of plastic bags filled with quaaludes.
My husband looked incredulously at Michael.
βIt was in the evidence room, undocumentedβ, Michael explained. βI just picked it up and walked the fuck out. Can I stash it here for a couple of days until I make a plan?β
βSure, man. Do what you gotta do.β
They hugged and Michael said βIβll be in touch soon.β
Michael went back to work and nobodyβ¦.not one person in the precinct noticed the suitcase was missing. After a few days, he returned to our place with a backpack. Taking out the suitcase, he dumped half the ludes into the backpack and gave the rest to my husband. βHere you go, brotherβ¦β¦β¦.courtesy of the NYPD!β
My husband put his arm around Michaelβs neck as they walked to the door. He turned, flashed me that amazing grin and blew me a kiss. βSee ya βround the campus, guys.β
And he disappeared into the night, never to be seen again.
NAR Β© 2017