DIR Return Create A Forum - Home
---------------------------------------------------------
UCC (UMMA) Managers Forum
HTML https://umma.createaforum.com
---------------------------------------------------------
*****************************************************
DIR Return to: Rampage Sports
*****************************************************
#Post#: 2970--------------------------------------------------
Haunted by the Past - Chapter 21 - Breakdowns and Blowouts
By: RampageSports Date: March 17, 2016, 7:59 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: The Spenser, Hawk and Susan Silverman characters
belong to mystery novelist Robert B. Parker. Mr. Parker is one
of my favorite authors, and his work is a major influence on the
way I write. Whether I even come close to mimicking his style
is open to considerable debate, but I have chosen to use his
characters in this story as something of an homage. My goal is
to handle them as lightly as possible and to maintain them as
Mr. Parker created them. Any failure on that front is
completely my own.
[hr]
Haunted by the Past - Chapter 21 - Breakdowns and Blowouts
We got outside and I just kept dragging, pulling Danni back to
the Subaru and folding her into the passenger seat. Then I got
in, set the gun down on the console and jabbed my finger into
the start button. The engine hummed, and I slammed it into gear
as I mashed my foot on the gas pedal — momentarily spewing
gravel in all directions before the all-wheel-drive caught hold
and made up for my aggressive acceleration.
As soon as I got the car on the pavement, a vehicle across the
street suddenly bloomed to life. The full scene came together
for me slowly and in fragments... the way it does when the
adrenaline is pumping and your focus is elsewhere. First the
headlights came up, then the light bar came on flashing blue and
red. More lights in the mirror. One, then another, then more.
Blue and red lights everywhere.
We were four blocks away before I realized what I'd seen.
Cops. But where the hell did they come from?
No time. Just keep moving.
The streets that were so crowded earlier were mostly empty now,
and I flew down Stark and Broad and floored it up the ramp onto
I-195 as if we were being chased. After a few miles, I glanced
down at the speedometer and realized I was going a hundred and
ten as I weaved around the few cars on the highway.
If I kept this up, we might end up dead, yet.
I lifted my foot and let the car coast. Once I got down to a
more reasonable speed, the driving was easy. The miles drained
the adrenaline from my system, and I realized I had practically
forgotten Danni was there.
From the look of her face in the dim light, it was clear she
wasn't doing very well. Her color hadn't returned, and her
breathing seemed unnatural — as though she were repeatedly
reminding herself to take the next breath. Her hands were
folded neatly in her lap, and they were visibly shaking. But,
most noticeable of all was the terror in her eyes — focused down
and to her left. Riveted to something in the car.
I followed her gaze to the center console and realized she was
staring at the gun.
Tires buzzing over the rumble strips, I eased into the shoulder
and brought us to a stop. The metal clicked softly as I picked
up the gun and removed the ammunition magazine. I racked the
slide again, and the round I'd chambered ejected and bounced
along the dashboard. Snatching it on a hop, I pressed it back
into the top of the clip and put the ammunition down on the
console. Then, I held the gun up for Danni to see.
"Empty," I said.
She stared at the weapon, seemingly hypnotized by the gleaming
steel.
I reached down and took hold of her hand.
"It's empty, Danni."
The physical contact seemed to reconnect her to reality, and her
eyes slid to mine. After a moment, she nodded that she
understood.
I put the gun down next to the clip, then reached out and pulled
her head to my shoulder.
"I'm sorry," I said.
I felt her face rub against me as she shook her head.
"No," she said, "it's my fault. I wanted to go."
Hearing her voice made me realize those were the first words
she'd said since we'd entered the club. Whether it was due to
shock, or fear or her just taking me seriously, she had done
what I'd asked. She had stayed out of the way and let me handle
the situation.
I repaid her by acting like a bull in a china shop, and almost
getting her killed.
Suddenly, I wasn't in the mood to talk, anymore. So, we just
sat and held onto each other in the hopes that we could help
each other feel normal. It worked to some degree, but it was
apparent we wouldn't truly be ourselves again for a while.
Behind us, a car rolled into the shoulder, stopping nearly
thirty feet back. No sooner had I noticed it when my phone
chirped with a message.
That's us behind. All OK?
"It's Spenser," I said to Danni.
Yes, I sent back. Moving again soon.
With everyone's identity established, Spenser slowly closed the
distance between the vehicles.
I looked at Danni and said, "Let's go home."
She nodded and I put the car back on the road. We finished the
drive in total silence as we separately tried to process what
we'd been through. Thank god traffic was light, because my
focus was a mess. My mind continuously played different
snippets of what had happened as the miles ticked by. I kept
trying to make sense of it, and I did fine each time until I
came to the point where King had ordered Danni killed. That
part I couldn't figure out, and I couldn't get past.
For a sedentary task, the thinking was truly exhausting, and I
was worn out by the time I pulled into Danni's driveway.
"You sure you're okay?" I asked as Spenser and Hawk rolled to a
stop beside us.
She gave me a funny look.
"This is the first time I've ever had a mobster try to have me
executed," she said exasperatedly. "I'm probably going to need
some time to adjust."
A short laugh escaped from me before I could catch it. I
stifled it quickly, noting that Danni wasn't smiling.
"That seems fair," I said seriously.
That's when she cracked. At first, it was just a little laugh.
Then a little more. Soon enough, I was laughing too, and the
whole thing got out of hand pretty fast. It was stupid, I know.
The exchange hadn't really been that funny. But stress can be
a heavy thing to carry, and the silly laughter helped lighten my
load. Better still was seeing the effect it had on Danni.
"Oh god, what a DAY!" she said as the laughing fit wound down.
She let her body relax all at once — the way you throw yourself
into a chair at the end of a long day — and her head flopped
against my shoulder.
"I suppose telling you to try and get some sleep would be a
waste of time," I said.
She looked at me with a sad smile.
"Yeah, it doesn't seem likely," she said softly.
"I know," I said, "but try, anyway. Try to put this stuff away,
for a while. We'll figure out what to do next in the morning."
We all got out and talked the situation over. Hawk was going to
stay with Danni, as he had been doing all along. Spenser was
going to help them get situated, then he would come and stay
with me.
I protested a little, saying I already had all the protection I
needed. He said he would feel better being there, and I didn't
have the strength or the desire to argue about it. Truth is, I
could use the company.
I did declare that I wasn't willing to stick around and wait.
I'd had enough of this day, and I wanted to get home.
Spenser didn't put up much of a fight, so the solo twenty-minute
drive to my house — which was really only about twelve at this
late hour — was my big victory.
Before I left, Hawk took possession of the gun I'd lifted from
Rat Face. I didn't know or care what he planned to do with it.
I only knew I was never going to see it again.
Everything seemed fine as I pulled into my driveway. The house
looked exactly as I'd left it, and my unofficial security detail
appeared to be in place. Things went awry when I attempted to
open the door, though. No matter how hard I tried, I simply
couldn't get the key into the lock.
The most likely source of the problem was the fact that I was
shaking uncontrollably.
With the adrenaline gone and Danni safe and sound, I no longer
had any distractions or responsibilities to busy myself with.
All I was thinking as I came up the steps was that I just wanted
to get inside, but that simple thought left too much room for
trouble. Now my brain had lost control, and my body had
developed a mind of its own. I was powerless to stop it, and I
eventually walked back and sat down on the steps. Then, I
hugged my knees to my chest and waited for the shaking to stop.
It's a good thing I'm so tough, or I might worry I was having a
nervous breakdown.
Trooper Gavin Brown had front door duty on this night, and he
stepped from his vehicle to inquire about my situation.
"Ma'am, are you alright?"
"I'll be fine," I said, "just had a little too much excitement,
for one day."
My voice sounded normal — calm even — which was interesting
considering I still couldn't get my hands to do what I asked of
them.
"Yes, ma'am," he said. "We heard something about that."
His words tripped an alert somewhere in the back of my mind, but
I was too busy holding myself still to reflect on it for long.
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do, ma'am?"
"Not right now, Gavin. Thank you."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, reluctantly retreating to his post.
Some time later, Spenser's familiar Mustang pulled into the
drive behind the Subaru.
"This isn't exactly where I expected to find you," he said as he
came up the walk.
"It's not exactly where I expected to be found," I said.
He spread his hands out in front of him.
"Are you just enjoying this pleasant winter evening?"
"No," I said as I shook my head. "I can't get the door open.
The lock keeps moving on me, and I can't get the key in."
"Ah," he nodded. "I hate it when that happens."
"You've had it happen to you?" I asked doubtfully.
He sat down on the step beside me.
"It can get to me, sometimes," he said. "Especially if Susan is
in danger."
I decided I understood how it could happen. Susan normally gave
Spenser strength. She was, to put it bluntly, his reason for
being. It hadn't always been that way, but time and adversity
had forged an unbreakable bond between them.
If someone were to threaten her... well, I really can't picture
how Spenser might react. I do know I wouldn't want to be that
person, though.
In a way, the situation with Danni tonight was similar. Having
her with me had been a help in ways I couldn't explain. It
seemed to serve as a reminder that I wasn't in this by myself,
this time. It kept me looser than I should have been and helped
me keep my head in a difficult situation.
Then, King had threatened her life and showed me just how stupid
I had been, and how carelessly I'd put her in danger.
In the moment, my concern for her overrode everything. It was
how I managed to stay focused and get us both out of there. Now
that the immediate threat had passed, reliving those events was
destroying me.
"What does he want with her?" I said softly.
He turned and looked directly at me.
"I don't know," he said, "but we're going to find out."
I watched him for a moment, then nodded solemnly.
"C'mon," he said. "Let's get you inside."
I gave him my keys, and he opened the door with the minimal
effort normally required for the task.
Stupid hands, I thought to myself. How hard was that?
My home is not large — not like Danni's, anyway — but it's
pretty big for my neighborhood. You enter into an elongated
kitchen, with a narrow strip of hardwood to the right and a
wider sitting area to the left. The slender area is about ten
feet deep with the refrigerator to the left and the sink and
dishwasher on the right. Sand-colored quartz counter top
connects these to the oven and range combination at the end. My
first impression was that the arrangement was much too tight,
but I discovered its benefits the first time I prepared a meal.
I can stand in front of the stove and span the distance from one
counter to the other without stretching. Sink and refrigerator
less than two full steps away. Blond cabinetry everywhere,
capable of holding everything I could need. Though totally
inadequate for a crowded, commercial kitchen, the space was
perfect for the amateur chef operating solo.
The sitting area holds a simple, maple table and chair set where
I eat breakfast in front of the large bay window. Well, when I
take the time to sit and eat breakfast, anyway. Mostly, it
holds unread mail and other miscellaneous clutter, and having to
clear all of that just to eat is the biggest reason I don't use
it often. In the center, though, is a clear vase holding a
colorful bouquet of silk flowers — a little homage to the
table's intended purpose.
Directly in front of the door, there is a circular, maroon
carpet that marks both the bottom of a long staircase that
climbs to the right and leads to the second floor, and the top
of a short, two-step staircase that brings you to the most
impressive room in the house. At thirteen feet wide and over
twenty feet deep, it's the largest, by far. So large, in fact,
that I've split it into two separate spaces. A heavy oak table
with matching chairs and china cabinet delineate the formal
dining area in the near half, while the back half is set out as
a living room, with a sofa and two recliners grouped around a
sizable plasma television.
A pocket door to the right slides open to reveal what a realtor
would refer to as a family room, and another door connects to my
office beyond that. The half-bath on this floor cuts the length
of the family room down to about three-quarters of its neighbor,
and it's narrower, as well. Another couch and recliner provide
the seating, and an identical TV provides the entertainment.
Though it lacks the wow factor of the bigger room, this one has
a coziness to it that makes it my favorite.
Upstairs is pretty basic. There are four bedrooms — the master
bedroom, a guest bedroom, one I use as a quiet reading room, and
one I use for storage. The only thing of note on this level is
the full bath, which is my second favorite room in the house.
Why? Two words: Jacuzzi tub. This was the room that made the
sale for me, and it's largely unchanged from the day I bought
it. I've even kept the double sink I have absolutely no use
for. I suppose I subconsciously cling to the optimistic belief
that I will one day find someone to share my life with. Though,
at forty years of age, that hope has collected a lot of grime,
and no one's given me cause to dust it off in quite a long time.
As Spenser and I stepped through the front door, a solid thump
emanated from the upper floor.
"What was that?" Spenser asked warily.
The source of the sound ran out of my bedroom before I had the
chance to answer. A black and tan streak of canine excitement
shot down the stairs and overran the carpet at the bottom.
Having little traction on the wood, he skidded across the floor
in the sitting area, stopping only when he hit the low cabinets
along the far wall. Then he pointed himself back in our
direction and ran in place briefly before he got his momentum
going again.
He tore right past me and slid to a stop in front of Spenser. I
haven't been able to teach him much, but I have managed to train
him not to jump on people. Instead, he sits obediently at a
guest's feet and begins to vibrate intensely. With his furry
little face canted to the right and his pointy ears drooped to
the sides, he's too cute to ignore, so I've never seen what
would happen if he doesn't get petted. But, if I had to guess,
I'm pretty sure he would eventually explode.
Spenser seemed to recognize the urgency, and he dropped to one
knee and extended his hand, palm up. The dog sniffed at it
briefly, then gave its owner a lick of approval and Spenser
reached out and petted him firmly.
"You must be Tramp," he said.
"That's him," I said, "and don't let him fool you. He's an
angel when people are watching, but that sound you heard was him
jumping off my bed."
I leveled a withering look at the dog and added, "Where he knows
he's not supposed to be."
Tramp canted his head again — to the left this time — for just a
second, as if to say, Sorry, but what are you gonna do? This is
what happens when you leave me alone all day. Then he turned
his full attention back to Spenser.
He wasn't fooling me, though. I know he heads straight for the
bed the minute I walk out the door in the morning. I've heard
him jump down on occasions when I've had to come back in for
something. Better still are the times when I've come back
within seconds to find him halfway up the stairs, looking at me
with his uh, oh face.
Spenser stood upright, and Tramp circled for a minute in the
hopes of a second petting. When it became apparent that wasn't
going to happen, he trotted over to me.
"You know I'm the one that feeds you, right?" I said of playing
second fiddle to a stranger.
He circled around for a quick pet, oblivious to my hurt
feelings. Then he led me down the stairs and through the family
room to the sliding door that leads to the back yard.
It had been a long day, and, unsurprisingly, there was business
to be attended to.
The slider has a long handle and a fairly large paddle switch
that operates the latch. So, though it was a bit of a fight, I
was able to let the poor dog out despite my lack of hand
control.
"Can I get you some coffee?" I asked Spenser as I returned.
I really don't drink coffee, but I'm an excellent hostess when
I'm in the mood to be. Right now, I felt like I was in no mood,
at all... just absently going through the motions.
"No, I'm fine," he said.
I proceeded to retrieve the coffee canister as if I hadn't heard
him. Fishing it out of the cabinet was a feat all by itself in
my current state. but getting the lid off proved to be my
undoing. Unable to steady my hands, I had to set the can down
on the counter to stabilize it. That was only half the battle,
though, and, after a few stabs at it, I got aggravated and
clawed at the lid in frustration. My fingers caught the edge
and ripped it free, but the can slipped from the counter and
bounced across the floor, spilling coffee grounds everywhere.
I stared angrily at the spinning container and the scattered
black granules as if they had somehow made this disaster without
my help. Then, I blew out a frustrated sigh and narrowed my
eyes at Spenser's bemused grin.
"This isn't funny," I said.
"No, it's not," he said, "but watching you pretend it's not
happening is somewhat amusing."
He gestured toward the sitting area, and I left the mess and
collapsed into a chair. Spenser found a glass in the cabinet,
filled it with water from the tap and put it in front of me on
the table as he took the seat beside me. I curled my hand
around the beverage but knew better than to pick it up. My
hands weren't ready to provide the level of dexterity needed to
drink, just yet.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said. "If you were able to go through what
happened tonight and not have some sort of response, that's when
I would worry."
"It doesn't seem to be affecting you."
"That's not a good thing," he said. "It means I've been through
it too many times. I'm used to it."
I rubbed aggressively at my face as I peered glassy-eyed through
the window at the dimly lit street, the friction causing my hand
to stutter as it moved.
"Also, it wasn't my friend that Powers tried to kill," he said.
The mention of Powers name brought a visceral reaction from me,
my jaw progressively tightening until the joints threatened to
pop. I tried to contain it, but Spenser saw it easily.
"Let it go," he said.
I sat stock still, weighing my options. It was taking every
ounce of my being to maintain my composure, and it seemed a
waste to throw away all of the effort I'd expended to succeed up
until now. Then, I picked my left hand off the table and
watched the tremors roll through it.
If that was success, then f*ck it.
With no warning, I savagely gripped the glass then hurled it
into the cooking area. It caught the front edge of the
refrigerator and exploded, glittering glass shards and droplets
of water spraying everywhere.
"WHAT THE F*CK DOES HE WANT WITH HER?" I screamed.
I brought both hands up and slammed my open palms under the lip
of the table. The near end jumped a foot off the floor and the
whole thing slid until it hit the wall, spilling its contents
into the seat of the window.
"SHE HAS NO PART IN THIS! SHE'S NEVER DONE ANYTHING TO HIM!
THE STUPID ASSH*LE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHO THE F*CK SHE IS!"
I jumped to my feet, overturning the chair and sending it
rattling across the hardwood.
"WHY DOESN'T HE JUST COME FOR ME? I'M THE ONE HE WANTS!"
Spenser stood, but let me rage on.
"AND WHAT IS THIS F*CKING GAME HE'S PLAYING? WHAT IS HE WAITING
FOR?"
I had zero control over myself. Worse yet, I wasn't even
trying. I circled wildly, coming to a stop in front of the
newel at the base of the staircase.
"JUST COME GET ME, YOU ASSH*LE!"
I brought my right leg up... knee bent... toes flexed back
toward me.
"AND LEAVE..."
I kicked out at the thick, square column.
"HER..."
I kicked again, the wood giving a little as it strained against
the bolt that held it.
"THE F*CK..."
Another kick.
"ALONE!"
The wood made a sickening crack as I hit it one last time, but
the bolt held fast. I whirled around and looked for a new
target, and the only thing there was the upturned chair.
Grabbing both front legs, I brought it up over my head and
turned toward the window.
Spenser stepped into my path and took the chair away. He spun
it down, and it clattered along the floor again. Then, he
grabbed both my wrists.
"LET GO OF ME!"
I thrashed wildly against his grip — my whole body shaking with
fury.
"LET... GO!" I gritted.
I struggled some more, but it was pointless. Even in full rage,
I had no hope of tearing myself free.
"That's enough," he said calmly.
I fought on, pulling and wrenching as I tried to escape.
"Enough," he said again.
I stopped fighting and just stood there... my arms extended over
my head as Spenser restrained me. Slowly, I regained control of
myself, from the inside out. My mind started to clear, and the
anger slowly dissipated... like someone had opened a door in my
head and let it escape. I took a deep breath and let it out.
The house suddenly seemed eerily quiet... the stillness deepened
by the fury that had preceded it.
Then a sharp rap at the door pierced the silence.
Spenser watched me closely, asking with his eyes if it was safe
for him to let me go. I nodded once, and he released my hands.
Then I went over and sat on the steps as he went to answer the
door.
To no one's surprise, it opened to reveal a concerned-looking
Brown.
He gazed past Spenser as if he weren't there, and zeroed on me.
"Everything okay, ma'am?"
"Yes."
"I thought I heard you yelling," he said.
"I'm sure the neighbors did, too," I said with a smile.
"Yes, ma'am," he said sheepishly, returning my grin.
"I'm alright, Gavin. I just got a little emotional."
He nodded. Behind him, I could see Taylor coming up the walk.
"If you're sure, ma'am."
"I am. Thank you."
He nodded again, then turned and met Meghan half-way.
Spenser closed the door and looked to me.
"That reminds me," I said accusingly, "where did all those cops
come from tonight?"
"That would be Major O'Rourke's doing, I believe."
"Ah," I said, "and how did Major O'Rourke know where I was?"
A wide, exaggerated smile appeared on his face.
"It's possible I may have mentioned your whereabouts to him."
I narrowed my eyes.
"What did I say about handling me?"
"That's not a fair way to look at it," he said. "If I were
handling you, I never would have let you go down there in the
first place. But, given your frame of mind, I suspected we
might need an exit strategy. The Major was uniquely positioned
to assist us with that."
I accepted his answer without further interrogation. After all,
he had been right — both about my mental disposition and the
need for a distraction to cover our departure.
"Full disclosure," he said. "The Major didn't sound very
understanding of your actions."
"I can deal with Pat," I said, though I was not enthused at the
prospect of that conversation.
Spenser walked to the downed chair, picked it up and brought it
over to where I was.
"You seem better," he said as he sat down.
I held my hands up steadily in front of me.
"I guess I am," I replied. "I guess a good rampage works
wonders."
"That's how you got the name, right?"
"Shut up," I said flatly.
He nodded.
"If you don't mind my asking," he said, "what were your
intentions with the chair?"
"My intentions were bad," I said, glancing toward the big
window, "and potentially expensive."
"I suspected," he said.
I wanted to laugh, but couldn't work up the energy. Not after a
night like this.
"I can't handle this," I said.
"Well, you did well, tonight," he said.
"Yeah," I snorted. "I almost got Danni killed, and we didn't
learn a damn thing."
"I think you're selling yourself short."
"I lost my sh*t entirely, and started a brawl with a man three
times my size."
"I think you knew exactly what you were doing," he countered.
"You were supposed to be disruptive, and you were."
I shook my head in denial, but he pressed on.
"You knew what you were doing when you started that fight, too,"
he continued. "That wasn't you lashing out. You measured him,
and you thought you could handle him. And you were right."
A lot of good it did, I thought to myself.
"You kept your head on straight. Because of that, both of you
got out of there in one piece," he said. "What made you think
to go for the gun, anyway?"
"King looked too happy," I said. "I knew that was bad."
"So, not only did you know what you were doing, but you had the
presence of mind to recognize when things were going wrong."
I stared off over his shoulder, hearing his words but not
accepting his view of the night's events.
"By the way, the gentleman you, uh... danced with tonight.
Don't I know him from somewhere?"
A genuine smile crossed my face for the first time in hours.
"That had to feel pretty good," he said.
I unconsciously started to roll the knuckles in my right hand as
I relived the feeling of smashing it into Rat Boy's face.
"It did," I said. "It really did."
Then I remembered why it had felt so good. Why I'd enjoyed
hurting the man who had hurt my friend.
"I can't have this," I said. "I can't have my past spilling out
all over Danni."
"You didn't involve her in this," he said.
"Didn't I?" I asked. "She's involved simply because she knows
me."
"You can't blame yourself," he said. "It's wrong that Danneel
has been dragged into it, but it's not your fault. The blame is
on Powers, and that's the end of it."
"Yeah, well... maybe if we'd actually learned something tonight,
we'd be able to do something about it."
"We learned more than you think," he said.
"Like what?"
"Not now," he said. "We'll talk it over tomorrow."
"Why not talk now? There's no way I'm going to sleep."
"I want to think about it a little more," he said.
"Shouldn't a proper knight always know the right thing to do?" I
teased.
"Fast is fine, but accuracy is everything," he said.
Unable to place it, I waited for him to reveal the source of the
quote.
"Wyatt Earp," he said.
"Does that make Hawk Doc Holliday?"
"Yikes," he said.
[hr]
Character Reference
HTML https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjMxOhMMXhVcF82aG5SXzA/Richelle_100x120.jpg
Name: Richelle Winterfeld
Nickname(s):
Background: Owner of the RSI stable, former underground fighter
HTML https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjMxOhMMXhVcF82aG5SXzA/Danni_100x120.jpg
Name: Danneel Harris
Nickname(s): Danni
Background: RSI stable leader, reigning DEF welterweight
champion
[img]
HTML https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=0Bz8YsEjMxOhMTWlVa0RtSHRqdlE[/img]
Name: Patrick O'Rourke
Nickname(s): Pat
Background: Major with the New Jersey State Police, family
friend of Richelle's
[img]
HTML https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=0Bz8YsEjMxOhMVVZyNWhTVnVrMzA[/img]
Name: Meghan Taylor
Nickname(s):
Background: New Jersey State Police Detective, works for Major
O'Rourke
[img]
HTML https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=0Bz8YsEjMxOhMUlRZaFhJQjBuQnc[/img]
Name: Gavin Brown
Nickname(s):
Background: New Jersey State Police Trooper, works for Major
O'Rourke
[img]
HTML https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=0Bz8YsEjMxOhMS1lDYndNak9hbHM[/img]
Name: Vince Jordan
Nickname(s):
Background: New Jersey State Police Trooper, works for Major
O'Rourke
[img]
HTML https://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=0Bz8YsEjMxOhMV0MwRjdValhNQ2s[/img]
Name: Tramp
Nickname(s):
Background: Richelle's dog
*****************************************************