Incident Command

By Barbara Butterfield

The information about the book is not available as of the moment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781669838814

Barbara Butterfield

Ms. Butterfield is California born and raised, and currently resides in a suburb of Phoenix, Arizona…where she lives with her favorite feline friend: Baybee. Integrity, suspense, camaraderie, romance, and personal growth are all values that play a vital role in her novels. More importantly, the gospel and spiritual growth are also an aspect of life into which she delves. Ms. Butterfield has written for many years; her first novel having been penned at the age of fourteen. She also studied writing and journalism, becoming the Editor-In-Chief of the school’s newspaper. She is currently working on her 60th novel.

Book preview

INCIDENT

COMMAND

Barbara Butterfield

Copyright © 2022 by Barbara Butterfield.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Photograph:

Compliments of iStock.com

Photograph by: Kaybe70

Rev. date: 07/19/2022

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

843399

CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

Dedication

My heartfelt thanks and appreciation are extended to:

Dan Templeton

Former El Paso County Sheriff’s Deputy

and

Andrew Thompson

Former El Paso County Sheriff’s Deputy

For their outstanding contribution to this work by

ably and patiently lending their knowledge and expertise

borne from years of hard work and dedication to their field.

* * *

My deepest thanks are also extended to my long-standing friend:

Sue Teeple-Gardner, RN, Ret.

For not only diligently proofreading every single page,

but also, for her extensive medical expertise borne from

dedication to her career as a Registered Nurse.

* * *

This teamwork came together to improve the final

outcome of the story and for that I am eternally grateful.

Thank you all.

Blessings always, and Stay Safe!

Chapter 1

Andrew stood frozen in place, his right-hand trembling at his side. His fingers clutched tightly to the pistol he had fired only seconds prior. A haunted, yet stunned expression darkened the countenance of this young man as his chest first swelled and then relaxed with the type of sigh that only mortal danger can induce.

With his eyes fixed on the man he had just killed; Andrew was already replaying the moment over and over in his head as he desperately attempted to resolve a problem that had no solution.

He pondered how something like this could happen. But even more perplexing was…why did this happen? The question would be asked a thousand more times, and the answer would remain just as elusive.

Sheriff’s Deputy Dan Temple, whom the young man had just rescued, struggled to rise to his feet. The officer was bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound he received from the thug who now lay dead just a mere eight feet away from the two men. Stoically, Temple gingerly limped over to where his rescuer stood.

You okay? Andrew asked the officer.

Holding on, came the officer’s simple reply through tightly clenched teeth. It was apparent he was badly hurt and in a lot of pain.

Okay, you stay here. I’m here to help, Andrew offered as he reassuringly patted the officer’s shoulder. From there it had all gone downhill in a hurry. Within seconds, the day had dramatically changed for everyone.

* * *

Now, in an apparent state of shock, Andrew Thomson looked at the bleeding police officer as his countenance pleaded for an explanation for what had just transpired. Each passing second brought new questions that silently paraded across the face of the civilian who had just become a reluctant hero.

After applying a tourniquet to his own leg, a skill Officer Temple learned from his time in the Army, he looked at Andrew and solemnly shook his head from side to side.

Thank you, were the only words Temple could speak at the moment. As the violent action and the sharp rapport of gunfire gave way to somber silence, it was simply all he could think of to say.

Um, uh...no problem, Andrew uneasily replied. Alternately, he cast several glances between the dead assailant, and Officer Temple. To the civilian, what had happened here was simply unfathomable.

Andrew’s dark hazel eyes widened again as he looked back down at the body lying prone on the sun-warmed pavement. In silence, he tried to absorb the fact that this man…only a minute prior, drew his final breath.

Maybe you should stop looking at the body, the wounded officer suggested.

Inwardly, Andrew winced at the officer’s use of the word ‘body’. Although he felt his actions were justified based on the apparent intent of the thug, Andrew was suddenly and shockingly confronted with the reality that sometimes death was the consequence of poor and sometimes evil choices.

He was a thug…a crook, Officer Temple solemnly commented. It was as though he could hear Andrew’s thoughts, and that seemed to cause the young man even more anxiety. It had only been the officer’s hope that he could help to salve the young man’s conscience with his implied rationale that the man’s death meant less because of his criminal lifestyle.

It’s hard to believe that was a living person a minute ago, Andrew mused.

A creep, Temple corrected, and his words earned him a puzzled look from his rescuer.

What’s wrong with you? Andrew asked indignantly, before back-pedaling. Look, I’m sorry. But he was a living, breathing human being. Shouldn’t we give him the tiniest bit of respect in his death?

Look at him, Temple responded with a stern expression; his left hand clutched firmly to his thigh as searing pain threatened to overwhelm him. This man lived his life as a felon, and he died as many felons do. Remember, you shot him because he was attempting to murder someone else.

Andrew silently pondered Officer Temple’s statement.

It was his choice, Temple persisted, but more gently this time.

As the adrenaline that coursed through Andrew’s system diminished, the enormity of what just occurred began to descend on him. His chest felt tight, and his knees weakened.

Recognizing what was happening to his new friend, Officer Temple astutely directed Andrew to sit on the nearby curb as tremors began to overtake his body. As a physiological reaction to the aftermath of an ‘adrenaline dump’, the shakes were often mistaken for a sign of fear. Andrew warily eyed his trembling hands and wondered if there was something wrong with him.

Officer Temple limped over to his car and pulled a candy bar from his lunch box, returning to Andrew’s side he handed it him. Andrew’s face demonstrated his confusion, wondering why this was the appropriate moment to enjoy a Snickers bar.

The simple sugars will help level out your blood stream, Temple explained. You just ran your body up to 100 miles per hour and back down with no time for warm-up. The candy bar will help you recover from the rush of adrenaline that got slammed into your system. Simply put, it will help you feel better.

Thanks, Andrew replied, as he accepted the generous offer.

Normally, Andrew was an easy-going sort of guy. The ‘live and let live’ sort. But there were times, and this was apparently one of them, when he was not only intensely aware of who he was as a person, but also what he could be capable of under the right circumstances. Today, this college-age student had taken the life of another human being. Though it was an action that was necessary to defend and protect another person’s life, he was still having trouble coming to grips with it.

Finally, Andrew turned his gaze from the man lying dead in the street to the officer whom he had rescued by intervening in the escalating situation.

* * *

Andrew’s afternoon would have seemed routine and familiar to most average American men. Planning to host a BBQ later that evening, Andrew drove to the local grocery store to round up the remaining provisions for the get-together. But before he could complete the errand, an event that would forever change his life waited just around the next corner.

In a relaxed posture in the comfortable bucket seat of his Dodge Charger, his mind mentally checked through a to-do list of tasks pending completion for the evening.

It was when he turned right onto Harrison Street that Andrew suddenly sat upright as he observed a black and white police car pulled over to the curb with its red and blue lights strobing vividly in the dusk of early evening. The presence of the car, however, was not what startled him. It was the image of a police officer in a navy-blue uniform, lying on his stomach in the street, illuminated solely by a nearby streetlight.

What the hell…? Andrew started to ask himself, but as more of the scene came into focus, his reaction changed from confusion to horror.

As he slowed his vehicle to a tentative stop behind the police car, Andrew observed a man wearing a dingy shirt with matted hair, standing over the prostrate police officer. The man held a gun in his right hand with an out-stretched arm, aiming the weapon directly at the back of the downed officer’s head.

Oh shit, Andrew gasped. Startled by what he was watching, Andrew reflexively put his car in park as his mind raced, and his heart pounded against his chest. But almost as fast as he realized what was about to happen, Andrew’s shock turned into indignation, propelling him into reflexive action.

With his left hand, Andrew opened his car door, while his right hand acquired the grip of the handgun concealed at his right hip. Having recently acquired his concealed carry permit, Andrew’s countless hours handling weapons in the Marine Corps were evident as he brought the pistol up from his side into a high ready position as he stepped away from his vehicle.

Falling quickly back into the mental groove that thousands of hours of Marine Corps training and operations had instilled in him, Andrew moved smoothly and swiftly along the driver’s side of the patrol car, and toward the gunman threatening the life of the incapacitated police officer. Andrew rolled softly on his feet, careful not to make noise, while also smoothing out his aim as he moved. Using the police car headlights to mask his movement, Andrew moved forward until he could see the assailant holding a gun at the back of the officer’s head.

Andrew had just been a regular guy on a patriotic mission, and right at this moment there was very little difference in attitude between Rambo, and the twenty-seven-year-old student and auto mechanic that he was.

There were times Andrew had considered a career in law enforcement, but it had just never happened. He did however buy a gun and took lessons in marksmanship. To this day, deep down inside he still fancied himself a lawman direct out of the Old West.

There had always seemed to be two sides to Andrew’s personality: the pacifist that fully embraced the ‘live and let live’ side of life, and the no-nonsense, no prisoners taken side. But no matter on which side of the tracks he landed, right down to the core of himself resided a belief that justice, no matter what the cause…or the outcome, was mandatory.

Right now, he was all business, and his goal was crystal clear.

As he gained sight of the would-be murderer, Andrew noticed a peculiar spirit in the features the criminal. It wasn’t anger, or fear…but pleasure that stained the face of this apparently sadistic creature. Andrew felt his heart quicken at the unsettling image of a man that was about to enjoy taking the life of another. Andrew knew he was going to lose his opportunity to act if he waited a moment longer.

Andrew remained behind the bright glow of the headlights in order to obscure his location from the suspect and hollered at the assailant.

Stop! Drop the gun!

Startled out of his self-satisfied reverie, the thug began looking for the source of the shouted commands. Glancing all about himself, he found no new targets for his malice as he wildly pointed his gun in every direction.

DROP THE GUN! Andrew authoritatively shouted, as he repeated the order.

Knowing that his window to act was rapidly closing, and without a clear target to shoot at, the criminal turned his focus back to the downed officer and aimed his gun accordingly. Clearly, it was the man’s intention to finish the hateful act, even if it was the last thing he may ever do. Andrew’s eyes grew wide as he realized any remaining time for hesitation had just expired.

Pulling six pounds of trigger pressure released the first round from Andrew’s pistol. Just as he was about to pull the trigger a second time, a carload of teens drove by. There was much raucous laughter coming from the vehicle, and the driver laid on the horn just as they passed the scene, which caused Andrew’s hand to jerk in reaction to the unexpected noise and the shot went wild. He heard the sound of the bullet impacting some metallic surface, though at the time, he didn’t have any idea what that might have been.

However, the first round hit home and did the anticipated job as it slammed into the suspect’s chest before the man even had the opportunity to pull the trigger of his own gun. The look on the thug’s face turned to surprise, and then disappointment as he realized he was dead on his feet. A half second later, he fell backward, sprawling dead in the street.

* * *

Sir, are you listening to me? Officer Temple asked rather patiently, considering his current condition. Hello? He added, as he vainly tried to pull Andrew’s wandering mind back to the present.

He didn’t deserve to die, Andrew dully repeated, as he firmly adhered to his stance, though his tone of voice was now markedly thoughtful.

"Maybe not, but it was his choice," Temple reminded the citizen.

I still don’t get that, Andrew replied, confused not only by what had just happened, but by how quickly the entire situation had escalated and played out. From zero to sixty and back again, in about a minute-five.

"Look, it wasn’t that he wanted to die. It’s just that he didn’t want to live enough," Officer Temple tried to explain.

Oh, that’s real cute, Andrew scoffed. Sounds like something you learned in Philosophy class in college.

Nope. Psychology…in high school, the officer added with a smile that quickly turned into a grimace. It was a change in demeanor that did not go un-noticed by his rescuer.

Maybe you should sit down or something, maybe sit in your car. Maybe you should call for help? Andrew innocently suggested.

Good idea, Temple agreed, even as the pant leg of his uniform was turning a moist, dark red. That, combined with the bright red rivulet of blood that ran down the side of his face clearly made him appear as if he’d been through a war. Indeed, he had.

Well, at least I did something right today, Andrew offered with a shrug.

"You did plenty right today," the officer countered as he slowly limped over to his patrol vehicle. Andrew watched him struggling and darted around him to open the car door before the injured officer could get there.

Thanks, Temple mumbled, with a grimace of pain. Automatically, Dan’s right hand went to his holster, checking to make sure his gun was still firmly in place.

It wasn’t. A perplexed expression touched his face as he glanced uneasily about himself.

What’s wrong?

Just looking for my gun, he replied, and Andrew found himself looking about the area as well.

No problem, Andrew muttered as he watched the officer ease himself down onto the driver’s seat. Seated sideways, his legs and feet remained outside of the car, and he heaved a huge sigh of relief.

There it is, Andrew offered. On the floor of your car.

Officer Temple, glanced downward, saw the gun, and leaned over as he reached down for the weapon. Gasping, he used his left hand to catch hold of the steering wheel. Andrew reached out to grab his arm to help steady the officer. Leaning into the car, Andrew snatched up the gun, offering it…butt first, to the officer who stowed the firearm safely within its leather holster.

Sighing heavily, Dan closed his eyes and leaned to his left side against the seat as he worked to get his breathing under control. Clearly, he was hurting, and the strain of the situation was beginning to show.

Maybe you should call for help, Andrew suggested as he put the safety on his Glock 9mm. Turning it about, he offered the butt of the gun to the officer.

Why are you giving that to me? Dan asked as he glanced upward at the man.

I figured it would be confiscated as evidence or something, Andrew replied with an airy shrug.

Holster it. It’s your weapon, and you used it to end an escalating situation, Temple advised, as he winced with pain. Let the powers that be decide what to do with it.

I usually don’t go around shooting criminals, but he was going to shoot you again, wasn’t he? Andrew asked, his voice subdued.

I believe that was his intention, yeah.

I’m glad I came along when I did.

So am I, Temple replied, with a strained smile. I’m…I’m glad you were packin’ too.

I’m just glad I passed the marksmanship class, Andrew chuckled.

Me too. You got guts, man.

Thanks. It comes with the territory.

What’s that mean?

I was raised in Brentwood, Andrew replied.

Pretty nice turf, if you ask me, the officer replied, for he really didn’t know what the guy was talking about.

Well, it’s no Beverly Hills, Andrew answered, as if comparing Malibu to South Central. Back then, if you didn’t rise above it all you got sucked in by the undertow, if you get what I mean.

I suppose, Temple replied, choosing to just go along with the guy’s rationale.

You know, you seem to be losing a lot of blood there, Andrew spoke the obvious as he pointed at the officer’s injured leg.

I think so too. Shit, this hurts, Temple groaned.

Never been shot before? Andrew asked, grimacing at the thought.

Nope.

Me neither.

I’m glad, the officer replied.

By the way, I’m Andrew Thomson, he offered by way of introduction, after all he had just saved one man’s life…and taken another. Andrew figured now was a good time to introduce himself, and so he extended his right hand in greeting.

The officer accepted the gesture, or at least he had wanted to but when he glanced at his hand it was wet with bright red blood. Embarrassed, he awkwardly pulled his hand back to himself.

Uh, sorry… Dan mumbled as he withdrew his hand, wiping it off…somewhat, on his trousers. My name’s Dan Temple. Nice to meet you, he mumbled, and then passed out.

Andrew watched in stunned silence as the officer’s head slumped against the backrest of the driver’s seat.

Uh…shit, Andrew worriedly murmured as he glanced about looking for someone to help him.

Andrew eyed the man in the dark navy-blue uniform and momentarily wondered what caused a man to choose law enforcement as a career path. What prompted a person to don that uniform every day and put their life on the line for the good of the people. People, mind you, they don’t even know.

Two revelations occurred to Andrew just then. Initially, the deeply felt emotions startled him. It was a swirling, yet resolute inclination that he too, should be wearing that same uniform. The feelings brought forth a startling clarity that what he’d witnessed today, and in fact, his inclination…nee desire to run into the fray rather than opt to ignore it and turn away was…in reality, a dream far larger than himself. The thought of going forth into battle every day, for the glory of God, and the good of the people appealed to him.

But there was something else, he felt he’d seen this officer before. But at the moment, he could neither place the face, nor the name.

Uh-oh, I’ve got to do something. Man, this has been one helluva evening, and it’s not over yet, Andrew spoke out loud though there was no one around to hear his weary comment.

Sighing heavily, he reached across the unmoving form of the unconscious police officer to grab the microphone off the dash of the patrol car. He depressed the button several times and then stated his case.

Uh…is someone listening out there? Hello? Hello? I have an officer down here. Hello? Hello?

Sir, this is a police band radio, a very somber voice advised.

No foolin’, Andrew replied, with a small chuckle.

It’s to be used only by law enforcement personnel, the dispatcher advised.

"Well, your law enforcement personnel isn’t able to do this himself, so I thought I’d help the guy out."

I show your location as 5th and Maple?

Correct.

And there’s an officer down?

Correct again.

Was the officer shot?

Yes.

Where’s the shooter?

He’s dead.

The shooter was shot? The dispatcher queried.

Correct.

By the officer?

No.

Then, by whom?

I shot him.

The officer?

No, you moron! The criminal had your guy down for the count when I came along and saw what was going on. I had to help. So, I shot the bastard. Anyway, would you please get some help over here? I think we could use another cop or two and paramedics, and throw in a side of fries, just for grins.

Fries?

You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you? Andrew asked.

"It’s not something we use too