Fatal Error

By Eileen Schuh

One mistake and a young man dies. Someone must shoulder the blame.

Fourteen year-old Katrina Buckhold is running from a fatal error she can’t undo. However, there’s no escaping the truth. Life demands she face the police officers who endangered her, The Traz bikers who brutalized her, and her own troubled conscience.

Grief, guilt, blame and betrayal. The repercussions from the successful undercover Traz operation weigh heavy on all who participated. Sergeant Kindle, who ran the sting, reaches deep for the wisdom needed to resolve his own misgivings and help his men heal. Some will make it through, others won’t. There’s something, though, they all come to accept—the damage they caused young Katrina will scar her forever.

However, Katrina Buckhold is of a different mind. Her secret, ambitions plans, though, could prove more deadly than the gang life she left.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eileen Schuh
• Release date: Oct 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9780995297579

Eileen Schuh

Eileen Schuh is excited to announce the release of Book 1 in her PROJECT W.Olf trilogy. The entire e-Series along with the paperback will be available before yearend. Wolfsinger Publications out of Colorado, U.S.A. is her SciFi publisher and has also previously released her two adult Science Fiction thrillers, SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT and DISPASSIONATE LIES.In addition to her sci-fi books, Schuh has released four novels in her ongoing BackTracker crime series that centers on biker gangs, drug dealing, murder, computer hackers, international espionage and the role of law enforcement. Books in the series include THE TRAZ, FATAL ERROR, FIREWALLS and OPERATION MAXTRACKER. Her adult crime thriller, SHADOW RIDERS, runs parallel to her BackTracker series and is partially set in an exotic South Korean locale.Her children's novel BETWEEN THE SUN AND THE RAINBOW, is a tribute to her ancestors and a gift to her grandchildren. Loosely based on her childhood growing up on a small prairie farm, the book seeks to provide a link between generations.Schuh writes psychological thrillers across genres but is perhaps best known for the surprising and satisfying endings. Whether it is travel to quantum physics’ alternate universes in SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT, a glimpse into the future of the computer in DISPASSIONATE LIES, or a look at the weird world of genetic manipulations in PROJECT W.Olf, Schuh is sure to entertain.Born Eileen Fairbrother in Tofield, Alberta, Schuh lives in Canada’s northern boreal forests and draws her inspiration from the wilderness, her grandchildren, family and friends, and her adopted community of St. Paul.All Schuh’s books are available in both eBook and paperback formats.

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One mistake and a young man dies. Someone must shoulder the blame.

Fourteen year-old Katrina Buckhold is running from a fatal error she can’t undo. However, there’s no escaping the truth. Life demands she face the police officers who endangered her, The Traz bikers who brutalized her, and her own troubled conscience.

Grief, guilt, blame and betrayal. The repercussions from the successful undercover Traz operation weigh heavy on all who participated. Sergeant Kindle, who ran the sting, reaches deep for the wisdom needed to resolve his own misgivings and help his men heal. Some will make it through, others won’t. There’s something, though, they all come to accept—the damage they caused young Katrina will scar her forever.

However, Katrina Buckhold is of a different mind but her secret, ambitions plans could prove more deadly than the gang life she left.

CHAPTER 1

Northern Alberta Police Detachment, September 1996

Katrina shivered, curled her feet under her and wrapped the afghan tighter. She’d not felt warm since the cold wash of the rescue chopper had whipped about her on the ridge.

It had been a long flight out. When they’d finally set down, someone had hustled her through the deepening cold of the September dusk and sat her in this small office.

She shivered again, the intense chill stirring memories of a frigid October night, ages ago it seemed, in an abandoned shed. Or perhaps that night wasn’t real. Perhaps it was just a shifting, circling, recurrent nightmare—a wordless collage of violent images. A dream-thing she’d always be able to suppress by concentrating on other matters. She desperately searched for a distraction.

Beyond the wild beating of her heart and the chattering of her teeth, she heard ringing phones, police-radio static and the harsh click of boots on tiles. These familiar stationhouse sounds reminded her of her late father.

She stifled her grief and switched her thoughts to Chad. She’d never seen him in uniform, but she could easily imagine him in one. Chad, the handsome undercover officer who had promised to meet her here tomorrow and find her a safe home with a real bed. Chad, with his dark, mesmerizing eyes, a silly lopsided grin and an irresistibly cute chuckle.

Intruding into her thoughts came a shadow, gliding across the floor and pooling at her feet. Katrina looked up. A tall, heavy-set officer had entered the room. He was stiff and starched and formal, with grey hair and sergeant stripes on his shoulders,

He was totally absorbed in the file in his hands, not lifting his eyes until he began to speak. We need to— He stopped short when he saw her. A look of shock cut across his face.

Katrina was taken in by how much he looked like the father she’d lost. He was heavier, but had the same soft blue eyes. The same uniform.

He slapped the file closed. How old are you?

Fourteen.

He’d obviously expected someone else to be sitting in his office. Someone older, perhaps. He flipped open the file and scowled at the papers. Katrina Buckhold?

She hesitated. Her given name sounded weird, it had been a long while since she’d heard it. Since the age of twelve, she’d used the alias ‘Sarina’ when hanging out in places she knew she shouldn’t, like the back rooms of the King’s Ace Bar and, for the past year, in The Traz biker gang compound.

Katrina? he asked again.

She nodded.

The sergeant’s eyes darted between his papers and her face. You’re fourteen?

Katrina sucked in a breath and exhaled loudly. Do I look like I’m lying?

He scrunched his cheeks upward as if trying to conceal his eyes and for a long time stood peeking out at her. This changes things, he finally said. Please stay here, I’ll be right back.

He abruptly headed for the door. Just shy of the hallway, he stopped and turned. His eyes flicked from his file, to the ceiling, to the floor and then struggled to stay on her. I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Sergeant Kindle. She nodded. He turned and stepped away, then glanced back.

He was so much like her father. Katrina flashed him a quick grin. Pleased to meet you, Sergeant Kindle, she said.

Relief melted the furrows in his face and he managed to return a small smile, before turning and rushing out the door. As his feet hit the hallway he roared, Debra!

CHAPTER 2

Constable Debra Carter!

Debra pulled the phone from her ear and covered the speaker with her palm. Sergeant Gabe Kindle threw Katrina’s file onto her desk. I thought I told you to take care of the child.

Please give me a moment, Debra whispered into the receiver. She hit the hold button and placed the phone back in its cradle.

Sarge, Officer Morgan called from across the room. The Americans are on line one again for you. Saying it’s urgent.

Kindle gritted his teeth and looked back to Debra. Why the hell is there a child in my office? I have an international operation against the bikers coming down. I don’t need screw-ups like this.

You said you wanted the murder witness in your office as soon as they got in. She got in.

"The murder witness! I wanted the murder witness not the girl."

The girl is the murder witness. Debra pulled the file toward her and opened it.

Don’t even joke about such a thing. This is no time for that.

I’m not kidding. She pointed to a pink phone message in the file. I noted it here. Chad called it in from the field. Katrina Buckhold, sir, is the mystery witness that Shrug has been refusing to turn over.

Kindle’s face blanched. You’re serious, aren’t you? He grabbed the file from her and searched through the pages.

I pulled together whatever information I could find about the witness from your notes on your meetings with Shrug... As Kindle began reading, Debra reconnected with the caller on hold. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to call you back. She hung up and looked around the room.

The office was noisy this evening. At least fifteen officers were on duty, three times as many as usual for the late shift.

No one bothered to tell me until now that the witness is a juvenile? Kindle muttered.

Chad didn’t find out until the rescue helicopter landed at the biker compound. The pilot had the girl aboard but was waiting on the ridge for the murder witness. It was only then, Shrug told Chad the girl was also the witness and ordered him to wave off the chopper before the tactical team moved into the compound and bullets started flying.

Your notes here are useless! I’m already well-aware of what Shrug told me about the witness. Kindle’s baritone voice rose over the noise in the room. What I really need, he continued, is information on this child.

A young constable two desks over rolled his chair back and gawked. The open office milieu, designed to foster teamwork, didn’t work well at times like this.

Embarrassed that others might think she was being chastised, Debra straightened. Consciously keeping her voice soft and even, she looked up at her boss. Remember that car accident in Calgary a year ago last summer that claimed a police officer and his wife? Katrina is their daughter. That’s about all I could find out. I was on the phone trying to get more—

You’re telling me I have, sitting in my office, the orphaned daughter of a cop as the witness to a brutal gang slaying?

Yes, sir. That’s what Chad called in.

And I have two undercover police officers who didn’t tell me that until now?

Well, one officer. As I said Chad didn’t know—

Sarge, the Americans are still holding, Officer Morgan shouted again.

Find out what’s so urgent, Kindle hollered back before setting the file on Debra’s desk and pounding it with his fist. It was Chad’s job to know such things. It’s what he was sent in for—to ensure everything was above board with Shrug. It’s hardly likely it wasn’t noticeable to him that a child was running with a biker gang.

Sarge, Chad told you there was a young girl who needed to be rescued. It’s not his fault he didn’t know she was the witness. You know full-well what Shrug is like. If there’s something that man doesn’t want you to know, you won’t know.

I sent Chad in to make sure stuff like this wasn’t happening. We have here a juvenile who is the witness to homicide that happened a year ago and she’s been out there with the murderers ever since? With the bikers? With my undercover cops? If those two have screwed up this operation with such foolishness, I’ll not only have their careers, I’ll have their necks.

The Americans need the paperwork, stat! Morgan called.

Paperwork?

Their SWAT team is ready to go in after The Traz, but they need that info you promised so they can get their search warrant.

How is that urgent?

There's destruction of evidence happening inside the South Dakota clubhouse, while SWAT sits on the grass outside the gates waiting for their legal right to enter.

Tell them one minute.

Debra reached for the file. Sir, I’ll look after the girl. I’ll locate her guardians and find her an ultra-safe location for the night. We can deal with the witness part of things tomorrow when Chad gets here.

Let Calgary know I want Shrug here, too.

Debra slipped the file from his fingers. Sir, unless you want to sic the FBI on him, Shrug won’t be here.

The FBI?

Shrug’s long gone. Took off moments after our tactical team swept into the bikers’ Calgary compound. He’s across the American border by now.

What the hell’s he doing down there?

He’s got one biker, Stack Jacobs that he’s set up for something big.

And that’s more important than what’s happening up here?

Apparently so.

I’m guessing this Stack guy did something to really piss off Shrug?

Killed a puppy. Debra grabbed the file and rose.

A puppy?

I’m sure there’s more to the story. She headed toward his office.

Killed a puppy? Kindle roared. Is there even a law against killing puppies?

CHAPTER 3

The girl was tiny and tense, swaddled in the grey chevrons of a crocheted blanket, her feet tucked beneath her butt. She was staring at the floor.

Katrina? Debra asked.

Yes? The girl looked up and tossed her head. Long amber curls shimmered and danced across her small shoulders. She had a set of the bluest eyes Debra had ever seen.

I’m guessing you are at least fourteen.

Katrina flung the blanket aside and unfurled her legs. Do you always sound this idiotic or has it just been a long fucking day for you?

Pardon?

You said you guessed I was at least fourteen. What a load of crap. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’d never have guessed I’m older than ten if that file you have hadn’t told you otherwise. Katrina folded her hands in her lap and stared at her feet, which were now swinging about five centimetres shy of the floor. I get along better with people when they’re honest with me.

I was trying to be kind, not dishonest. I apologize if it didn’t come out that way.

Debra slowly walked behind Kindle’s desk. Witnesses to gang murders tended to be half-bald burly men with tattoos and facial hair. She wasn’t sure how to deal with one as vulnerable as Katrina. I’m Constable Debra Carter, she said, settling into the high-back leather chair. Sergeant Kindle has asked me to get things in order for you. She tried to imagine how someone so tiny and young would feel about witnessing a murder. It hadn’t just been a murder, either, it had been a slaughter. The bloody and violent crime scene had left even the most experienced of the homicide investigators emotionally shaken.

Katrina slouched until her toes touched the floor. Then, she crossed her arms and yawned. Just find me somewhere to sleep tonight. A sofa will do. After all, I slept on Shrug’s couch for over a year.

Debra opened Katrina’s file. I’ll find you somewhere to sleep and it won’t be a sofa. But I first need to get in touch with your guardians.

No need to do that. Chad has plans in place for me.

Chad?

When he gets here tomorrow, you can ask him.

Constable Chad Leslie?

Katrina looked up at Debra through her long, dark lashes. Yes, he promised me everything is set.

I see. Well, in any event, Constable Leslie won’t be around until tomorrow, so tonight I have to get in touch with your guardians. That information doesn’t seem to be in your file.

Good.

You’re going to give me that information.

Not likely.

Or I’ll call Children’s Services. Debra reached for the phone.

Cooper, Katrina quickly answered. Steven and Elizabeth Cooper.

Do you know the Coopers’ phone number?

I know the phone number of everyone who ever gave me one, plus many more.

For now, Mr. Cooper’s is all I need.

Katrina rattled off Cooper’s number. He’s a lawyer, you know, so, don’t fuck with me.

I’m not f—yeah. She gave up on the conversation and picked up the phone.

Anyone who uses the phrase ‘Children’s Services’ in the same sentence as my name, gets no damned stars from me, Katrina continued.

Did you have a bad experience with Children’s Services?

Katrina gave a sardonic giggle. Do you know any kid who’s had a good experience?

Debra paused her dialing. You were reluctant to give me Mr. Cooper’s name and number. Did you have a bad experience with him, too? The child’s angry rhetoric had her worrying she’d been a victim of abuse. Loveless lives often went hand-in-hand with the juveniles who found their way into a chair across from her.

Can’t say I did. Katrina sighed and sat straighter. However, I can say he had a bad experience with me.

How so?

After Grandpa died, I had no living relatives, so my parents named the Coopers in their will as my guardians. Katrina’s eyes misted over. She blinked several times before the ice returned to them and she began talking again. I’m fourteen and ran with The Traz bikers for a year. Think that was a good experience for him?

Well, let’s find out. Debra, again, began dialing. This is a Calgary number. I remember your parents’ accident. I’m very sorry about what happened.

My mother killed my dad. She couldn’t have him for herself, so she took him from me. She was driving drunk.

I didn’t know that.

It wasn’t a secret. Sure, they blamed the other driver for coming across the centre line, but Mom’s blood alcohol level was higher than the other guy’s.

I’m sorry it happened.

Being sorry does shit all good.

I suppose not, but perhaps someday you’ll find that sharing your sadness will make you feel better.

Why would I want to feel better? My father’s fucking dead.

But, you’re not dead, Debra said quietly. You have your whole life yet to live.

That’s what Chad said. So, don’t let Cooper take me to Calgary. I won’t go back there with him.

The call went through and Debra shifted the receiver to her other ear. Let’s see what Mr. Cooper says.

CHAPTER 4

Katrina was still drowsing when Debra rapped on the bedroom door. Mr. Cooper’s here to talk with you, she called. Are you awake?

Yes. Katrina let the luxury of Debra’s spare room soak into her soul. Despite the money and power possessed by The Traz, she’d had nothing to call her own on the compound, other than her computer and clothes. No room of her own. Not even a bed. For a long time, she hadn’t cared. She’d been as barren and empty inside, as her life had been on the outside. It wasn’t until Chad had come at her with his soft promises that she’d started to miss what she’d had before her parents died.

Katrina snuggled deeper under the pink satin duvet. She thought of Steven and Elizabeth Cooper and how cold and strict they’d been. She remembered Mr. Cooper obsessing about the money she’d inherited. She wondered if he’d won his battle against her parents’ life insurance company.

Before she’d run away with Shrug, Cooper had been trying to collect the double payout portion of her parents’ life insurance. He’d spent way more time on the phone talking with the agent than he’d spent talking to her. The insurance company argued that because her mother had been engaged in the criminal act of drunk driving, it didn’t have to honour the policies’ double payout clauses in the event of accidental deaths. Since Katrina already had a million dollars from each of her parent’s policies, she couldn’t understand why Cooper thought she needed more. However, he refused to stop fighting for it.

Debra rapped again. Katrina, you haven’t gone back to sleep? I have to leave for work now and Sergeant Kindle’s waiting for you down at the detachment.

I’m coming. Katrina sighed. She didn’t want to deal with Cooper or Sergeant Kindle. It was only the thought of seeing Chad that finally got her feet on the floor.

Cooper held out his hand in greeting. I hear you’ve been a pretty busy lady lately. He was trying to sound gentle but it didn’t work. He was staid and formal, dressed in an impeccable navy suit, just as he always was.

Katrina reluctantly accepted his handshake. I suppose ‘busy’ is one word for it. He says the weirdest things. His fingers were bony and cold.

They’re not too happy with me. They don’t think I’ve been a very good guardian. He was searching her eyes, looking for approval, perhaps.

Katrina didn’t want to look in his eyes, didn’t want him looking in hers, either, for fear he’d read her soul; there were dark secrets in there. She spotted a slit between the front room curtains and stared out onto the street. You had a tough job.

Cooper stepped between her and the window and slipped his hands into his tailored pants’ pockets. She had no choice now but to look at him. I’m just warning you.

Warning me?

They’re talking of assigning you a new guardian.

Does he think that news upsets me? I...I... Wow.

Well, I’m glad I have your support. Cooper pulled her to him for a hug. She stiffened. There are issues I want to go over, legal things. You must tell me what you’ve been doing this past year.

I can’t.

Come. Cooper released his hug and reached for her hand. Sit with me on the sofa and we’ll talk. Before we meet with the sergeant, I need to know what went on.

Katrina wriggled her hand free. You don’t want to know what went on.

Yes, I do. Cooper’s eyes were moist, as if he were actually feeling sad for her. He tilted his head. Please talk to me, Katrina. I promise I won’t get angry.

She felt her own eyes tearing. She couldn’t talk, though. She couldn’t tell anyone what had happened or she’d end up dead for sure. I can’t... There were reasons she’d agreed to being rescued from the gang—leaving behind what had happened was the main one.

Sit, please. Cooper patted the sofa behind him. Let’s talk about other things, then.

Katrina walked past him and took the easy chair on the other side of the coffee table. He stared sadly down at her before he, too, sat. You go first, he offered.

How’s Elizabeth? Last time I talked to you she’d just been diagnosed with breast cancer.

She’s not doing well.

Worry about her then, instead of me. Chad will look after me and keep me safe.

Who’s Chad?

An undercover cop. He’s the one who convinced me to leave the bikers.

Well, I don’t know what he promised, but I’m your legal guardian and no one plans anything for you without my say so.

I understand that. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Afraid if she didn’t talk Cooper would again start questioning her about the gang, Katrina struggled to think of something to say. What happened to my house in Calgary? she eventually thought to ask.

It’s been sold.

And my stuff?

We kept what we felt might be important to you. The rest was donated to your mother’s favourite charities.

Okay. She squeezed her eyes shut. So it was gone—the last remnants of her life with her parents—sold and dispersed.

Did you know there was a handgun stored in the basement? Cooper asked.

Yes. If Shrug hadn’t interrupted her thoughts that early September morning a year ago, she’d have gone home, gotten that pistol and shot herself dead. Katrina clearly remembered the day Shrug had slipped in across from her in the restaurant, eyed her up and asked if she wanted a ride on his Harley.

Don’t tell Elizabeth, Cooper whispered, but I kept the gun for you. If you don’t want it...

The gun was Grandpa’s. She saw her grandfather’s face behind her closed lids; she could almost hear his voice. He’d taught her how to control her breathing and heartbeat—a must for hunters...and sharp-shooters. When her dad had taken her to the shooting range to fire off his service revolver and Grandpa’s pistol, she’d hit the target every time because she knew how to hold steady.

Ah, yes, I see.

Grandpa used to take me hunting. I loved that. Katrina opened her eyes. She had to talk about something less sad. It’s okay about selling the house. I didn’t want you to sell it before, but everything’s different now. Like I said, you don’t have to worry about me.

I’m your guardian. I have to worry about you.

I know you don’t want to look after me, especially if Elizabeth is sick. I stress her out.

Katrina, Elizabeth and I both care a lot about you. Although I admit we were a little lost thrown into a parenting role when we’d never had children of our own, we fully understood what you were going through. We ached for you, Katrina.

You were going to send me to a foster home.

Elizabeth and I did the best we knew how for you. When it wasn’t working... We were scared for you, dear. We were looking for help to get you out of your grief, off the streets and back into school.

It didn’t work, did it?

Cooper sighed. He leaned back in the sofa and looked at the ceiling. No, it didn’t work.

You seem to have had trouble looking after me, but I don’t remember you ever having trouble looking after my trust account.

Don’t insinuate I’m in this for your money! Every penny of your trust is still there for you.

I didn’t mean it to sound that way. She flicked her eyes around the room. Since Cooper was lying, she figured she could, too. He’d never ‘ached’ for her and although Elizabeth may have been scared, it wasn’t Katrina’s life she’d been worried about; she’d been worried Katrina’s behaviour was endangering her husband’s legal career.

Katrina, your dad and I were very close and he confided in me about the problems you were having even before the accident. I know all about how upset you were when your grandpa passed and about your mom drinking too much after his death. I know there were problems between your mom and dad and that you were skipping school. However, when I agreed to be your guardian in the will, neither your parents nor I believed it would actually come to that, especially at such a difficult time for you. Elizabeth and I did our best.

Cooper had made it clear to her in the past that although he could assign her care to someone else, she had no similar legal option. But she was sure she could find a way to make Chad her guardian.

She’d learned in the back room of the King’s Ace that most professional men placed tremendous value on their reputations, which made them as vulnerable to bribes as criminals with vices.

She straightened and locked her eyes on Cooper’s. And then you gave up on me.

No!

Yes. After I ran off, your life was more pleasant, wasn’t it? And when Elizabeth got sick, not having to deal with me was a bonus.

I reported you missing, immediately. Sent the police looking for you.

Wow. That must have taken an entire ten-minute phone call.

Katrina!

That quarter million dollars I wired to you a few months ago...

What about it? I haven’t stolen it. I did as you asked and bought the land you wanted. Yes, my name’s on the deed because you’re underage but the title is in your name in trust.

The important question people will ask, though, is where do you think I got that kind of money?

From your grandpa, just as you said. He was wealthy—

Yes, but I wasn’t in his will. Don’t tell me you didn’t check that out. I know you would have. Somehow, though, it didn’t matter to you, did it? It was much less trouble to just do as I asked with the money. It kept me out of your life.

You said your grandfather gave you that cash before he died. I had no reason to doubt you.

No reason? Mr. Cooper, I was with a biker gang. Do you really think that money came from IBM stocks?

What are you saying?

"Perhaps it was the proceeds from other investments which bought the land that has your name on it. Perhaps from cocaine? Guns? Theft? Bribes? If I were you, I wouldn’t push this guardianship issue too hard. Wherever that money came from, I don’t think