Half a Monster: Detective McDaniel Thrillers, #0.5

By Axel Blackwell

Officer Darren McDaniel just wants to get his trainee through the shift without another major flustercluck. His plan for the day, teach Rookie Conklin paperwork and parking tickets. Maybe she can talk on the radio a little bit.

But when a trio of frenzied meth addicts go on a wild kidnapping spree through downtown, the veteran cop and his rookie get caught in the middle of the mayhem.

Violence escalates as the fugitives grow more desperate. Their spree spirals into a rampage as threats become bloodshed. The entire police force mobilizes, hoping to end the carnage before bloodshed becomes murder. But as McDaniel unravels the truth behind the reckless scheme, he realizes his rookie may be the only one who can bring the desperados to heel.

Hang on for a fast-paced action-packed ride as McDaniel and Conklin chase down Half a Monster.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Axel Blackwell
• Release date: Nov 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223963417

Book preview

Chapter 1

Officer Darren McDaniel scrutinized his trainee from the back corner of Woods Coffee shop. He had served fifteen years on the Bellingham Police force. Of all the crazy things he had seen or done over that decade and a half of surreal experience, nothing prepared him for the level of chaos that could be achieved by throwing a freshly-minted rookie into a real-world scenario.

As a field training officer, McDaniel not only had to perform all of his regular duties, he was also required to anticipate whatever harebrained idea popped into his trainee's mind and prevent that idea from getting anybody killed. In that endeavor, he had so far succeeded, but it had been a close thing.

Recently, white hairs had begun appearing around his temples and in his sideburns where only dark brown had previously grown. He supposed it was possible the creeping grind of time might have something to do with those hairs, but his trainees seemed a much more likely culprit.

Of the three trainees he had been assigned prior to the young woman now waiting for their coffees at the counter, two of them were still officers. His third project, a cocky, blue-eyed, square-jawed idiot named Becker, had been encouraged to seek employment in fields more suited to his talents. Last McDaniel heard, Becker was selling phone covers at the mall.

McDaniel attempted to resign his commission as a Field Training Officer following the final Becker incident. His sergeant, a crotchety man in his fifties named Bailey who reminded McDaniel of a steel bristle brush, had told him he’d be off the hook just as soon as he managed to get Becker’s replacement trained and up to speed.

After that, Bailey cracked, leaning back in his leather office chair and running one hand through his salt-and-pepper crew cut, we’ll find some other sucker to protect the public from our new recruits.

So, now, here he sat at a stainless-steel table in the Woods Coffee shop, three weeks into a two-month field training program with his final trainee. So far, Officer Beverly Conklin had proved herself to be level-headed and sensible during the few calls they had answered. But, complacency was the number one killer of cops. It would be an absolute mistake to start feeling comfortable with the rookie yet.

She waited near the pick-up counter, relaxed but alert, fidgeting with her body armor. She was about ten years younger than McDaniel, in her late twenties, brunette hair up in a bun, sturdy build, fit but not flimsy. She had told him she applied to the force because her ex-boyfriend dared her to do it. This dare happened during the fight that led to their break up.

McDaniel had heard of worse reasons for choosing a career in law enforcement, but not many. It worried him that she would make such a life-altering decision in the heat of an argument. That sort of rash decision-making did not bode well for police work.

So far, in the early weeks of her training, he had steered them away from anything overtly high stress, but that couldn’t last much longer. Sooner or later, something crazy was going to happen and he’d find out just what grade of mettle this new rookie was made of.

Across the lobby, a black-clad barista with a long black ponytail called, Order for Conklin.

Conklin gave her gun belt an irritated tug, then moved up to the counter. She chatted with the barista while arranging their order. The two black coffees (Brown Bears in the parlance of the Woods franchise) went into a cardboard drink carrier. Conklin then wedged the giant Monster Cookie between the two cups. After a final word with the barista, she returned to their table carrying their order in her left hand.

I remembered this time, she said, wriggling the fingers of her free right hand.

"You need to remember every time," McDaniel said.

Conklin handed him his coffee. Never carry anything in your gun hand, she recited, as she broke the cookie and handed him his half.

Thank you, McDaniel said, wrapping his portion of the cookie in a napkin. It takes some getting used to, but you'll get it.

Conklin pulled her chair around to his side of the table, so neither sat with their back to the door, another part of cop life she was probably still getting used to. Outside, the blustery spring breeze threw tiny hail pellets against the plate glass window. Half an hour ago, it had been a sunny morning. Half an hour from now, it probably would be again. Such was many a spring day in Bellingham, Washington.

The sudden squall had chased several pedestrians into the store for cover. McDaniel and Conklin had already been in line and thus avoided the rush, but now a crowd huddled between the door and the ordering station. As Conklin settled into her chair, she surveyed the crowd and noticed the anomaly McDaniel had picked out five minutes ago.

"What the hell is that guy supposed to be?" Conklin asked, her voice low.

You might want to work on that situational awareness, McDaniel chuckled. He's been standing there since we ordered.

I noticed his head, Conklin said. I figured he was just wearing a goofy wig. But from where I was standing, I couldn't see his…flamboyant… she waved her hand in the general direction of the man wearing leopard spotted yoga pants, a bedazzled wrestling singlet, and a chrome-studded black leather jacket. A huge rhinestone-encrusted dollar sign dangled from one ear under a bleach-blond mullet. Come on, I know you know what that’s about.

That, Conklin, is Shockvalue, McDaniel said. He took a slow sip of his Brown Bear, making her wait for the rest. He’s a semi-pro wrestler with 5CC. The coffee tasted burnt. He’d need the cookie to balance it out. They’re putting on a show up the street from here tonight. I noticed Shock and a couple others handing out fliers before we came in.

They’re doing a show in Bellingham? Tonight? Conklin sounded excited. Are they any good?

And here I was starting to think you might have some sense, McDaniel chuckled. Don’t tell me you watch that stuff.

That’s where I learned all my best moves, she said, defensively. Then, when she tipped her coffee back, McDaniel caught the twinkle in her eye. She was messing with him.

Cute, he said. How about you focus on memorizing your citation codes rather than trying to be funny? In reality, he felt relieved to see her relaxed enough to banter. The other two officers who had survived field training had spent the first month and a half wound so tight they barely dared to breathe in his presence. That got tiresome quick.

He was about to follow up by telling her that he had actually taken his wife and daughter to see a 5CC production. He’d won free tickets in a charity raffle. He hadn’t intended to go, but when his daughter Robyn found out, she had insisted. The show hadn’t been as terrible as he had feared, though he found the crowd of spectators almost as fascinating and bizarre as anything going on in the ring.

Before he got the chance, a radio call snagged their attention. The dispatcher called out a garbled string of codes, followed by the incident location. He sounded a bit confused, but McDaniel was used to that.

Conklin froze mid-sip. McDaniel didn't hesitate, he stuffed his half of the wrapped cookie into his cargo pocket, grabbed the coffee with his left hand, and moved quickly towards the door. A second later, Conklin was on his heels.

What's the call? he quizzed her.

I didn't catch… she stopped herself, thought through the codes again, then said, Auto theft. And assault?

McDaniel pushed through the door. His cruiser waited four slots down the sidewalk from the Woods Coffee. A stolen car and an abduction, that's what dispatch called out. Doesn't mean that’s what we're going to find. Might be a carjacking. Where is it?

West Chestnut and Bay Street, Conklin said, excited. That's just two blocks from here.

Almost, McDaniel called back over his shoulder.

It would have been two blocks if they were walking, but because of downtown Bellingham’s one-way streets, they would have to drive one block north then three blocks west, then one block back south. If she had been a more seasoned officer, McDaniel might have sent Conklin the two blocks on foot while he brought the car around the other way. But he wasn't ready to trust her with that yet.

He had been ahead of her, but his door was on the far side of the car. He slid into the driver's seat as she slid into the passenger seat. He slammed the door, hit the lights, and reversed out of the parking slot. Conklin tried to yank her seat belt into position, but the jerky motion of the cruiser caused the belt to lock up.

Radio, McDaniel said. He threw it into drive and shot down Railroad Avenue, siren wailing. Hail pellets rattled off the lightbar. Used rain sprayed out from under their tires.

As the passenger, it was Conklin's job to run the radio. As the trainee, she would be the passenger until she could run radio comms without even thinking about it. Now, she grabbed the mic and notified dispatch that she and her partner were responding to the report of a stolen automobile at Bay and Chestnut.

McDaniel grinned, but with only half his mouth. She had gotten the codes right, but she still sounded like a rookie, a little bit too much adrenaline in her voice. He hung a hard left onto Holly. The cruiser evened out on the three-block straightaway. Conklin had just managed to get her seat belt secured when McDaniel threw the car into another left on Bay Street. A second later, he screeched to a halt at West Chestnut.

At this intersection, West Chestnut was an elevated overpass, soaring nearly thirty feet over an abandoned industrial area below. The city was in the early stages of planning to repurpose the area as some sort of BMX park. But currently, the lot below the Chestnut overpass was a mess of abandoned factory buildings, condemned warehouses, and silos.

Beyond the buildings, a fury of wind chased herds of ragged clouds out across Bellingham Bay. Radiant sunbeams shot through holes in the tattered cloud cover here and there. It was an amazing spectacle, but McDaniel almost didn't notice. What captured his attention was the woman and the child huddled together on their knees in the middle of the street, drenched to the skin under the pelting rain.

Chapter 2

McDaniel jumped from his vehicle and moved towards the two. Behind him, Conklin did the same. He called back over his shoulder, Check traffic. In tense situations like this, he had seen tunnel vision cause more than one trainee to walk right out in front of oncoming vehicles. From the corner of his eye, he saw Conklin's head bob, acknowledging his admonishment.

He moved in quickly, coming up beside the woman. She sobbed uncontrollably, shuddering and huddled over the