Thin Blue Crimes

By Kevin Conzo

Derek Green had achieved his lifelong dream of becoming a police officer. He had everything he ever wanted: a wife, a son, and the respect of his fellow officers. Everything changed for Derek when his family is ripped apart. His son is murdered on the very streets Derek had sworn to protect.

Ashamed, desperate, and under pressure from his wife, he attempts to involve himself in the murder investigation. Under this pressure, he cracks and is suspended for excessive force. It takes him months to get his badge back; however, once he does, there will be nowhere any of those involved can hide. Criminals beware. Justice will be swift and unmerciful. For Derek, there is no longer any reason to hold back on his twisted thirst for justice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781645841586

Book preview

Chapter One

Derek’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. The tension in his shoulders and the sweat of his palms belied his nerves. He had to focus, to swallow the anger that was inside him.

He was more than ready. It had been months since he was last in uniform, and his thirst for the power his badge brought was strong. It had been three long months since he was forced to take a leave of absence from the police force because of a complaint about excessive use of force. It had been torture not having his badge. He had jumped through all the necessary hoops and done everything his patrol captain had required of him to get back on the street. With this one last task, he would finally be certified fit for duty. He smiled at the thought of what he would be doing once his boots hit the ground.

He steered his SUV down Adam’s Avenue in La Grande and parked just in front of the Umpqua Bank. He was there to see the department psychologist hopefully for the last time. Derek disliked the purpose of these trips. He didn’t mind the forty-five-minute scenic drives from Baker City though. Eastern Oregon was beautiful most any time of the year. The hills gently touched the sky, and the rolling green fields were well manicured by the many grazing cattle and wild herds of elk. He found the many drives to be relaxing, but he didn’t like the reason he now had to make them.

Like most officers in small-town departments, he was a private guy. Thoughts and emotions were best kept under wraps so those who wished to step over you on the ladder wouldn’t have the means to do so. His father was also in law enforcement, so this was usually an easy task for him. He had learned from the best. Men in his family and those of the thin blue line didn’t share or talk about their feelings. You either stuff your feelings deep down or work them out on your own time. This self-treatment would not work for him now, not with what he had been through the past year. If he wanted his career back, he had to present himself as an open book to the doctor he was about to meet with and then his superiors. After what had happened to him and what he had done, they would expect nothing less than full cooperation. They wanted to make sure they didn’t have a loose-cannon cop on their hands.

He grabbed the door handle, took a deep breath, and stepped out of his black four-wheel drive Explorer. He looked nonchalantly in front and then toward the back of his vehicle. He kept his line of sight at the passing traffic, but out of the corner of his eyes, he was checking to see who and what was around him. This was a common practice not only for Derek but officers in general. The world was a threat, and you were constantly on alert. Now for him, it was even more so.

There were some men in their twenties exiting a business to the left of him carrying a rolled-up carpet. They had the worn-out look a few stints in jail can do to a man. They must have been doing a renovation, Derek assumed, since he noticed the new carpet hanging out the open rear door to their work van. Keeping his eyes on them, he reached into his upper jacket pocket and pulled out a dark pair of sunglasses. He placed them on his face and headed for the discretely marked entrance. The men looked in his direction, and Derek knew they were bad news when they looked away from him quickly. As easy as it was for cops to pick out the bad guys, the bad guys could pick out the cops from a mile away as well.

Police work emanated from Derek, like the sweet smell of fermentation from a drunk. After all, the work was in his blood too, no matter how he disguised himself or tried to cover it up. He was thirty-eight years old and six feet and two inches, and he kept his dark-brown hair trimmed close with weekly visits to the local barber. He had to keep his physical appearance just as well-kept to be one of Baker City’s finest. Like most of the guys, he had spent the majority of his lunch breaks in the department gym. Over the past few decades, workouts had become part of the culture. In Baker City, the police department functioned like an extension of the small town’s high school football team. Workouts were competitive and had replaced the doughnut shop for where the guys talked about everyone and everything.

Derek had been out of the loop for the past few months. He slowly drifted away from the department gym, mostly from the silence that flooded the room when he entered it. He knew he was the subject of most of the conversations. Silence has a strange way of telling someone they’re being discussed, especially when it is abrupt. The hard truth was he was benched from police work due to the excessive force complaint and depression related to his son’s murder. His injury was one that was stigmatized. He didn’t like the looks, the silence, so he just stayed away.

He put on a few pounds because of this. It was hardly noticeable on his large stature, which gave him a useful sort of presence in his line of work. In police lingo, he naturally had command presence. It didn’t take him long to hone his instinctive ability with the police tactical training he learned at the academy. His stature was a great asset to have on the job, and he was a reassuring presence for those officers around him. He could stand erect with his chest out and walk into a hostile bar fight and punches would stop on a dime. He was known to slam a few drunken tough guys to the ground once in a while—sometimes warranted, sometimes not, depending on his mood and how much he wanted to keep them on their toes. He wasn’t messed with much, if at all. His arms were solid and well-defined. Those who lived around town knew him from his years as a high school linebacker. He had the height and speed required to catch the guy with the ball—and now in his career, the guy with guilty written on his forehead, which was why the news of his son’s murder came as such a shock to everyone. No one dared cross him, let alone have the balls to kill his son. This was why the investigation had run cold. The suspect must have been from outside the close-knit town.

Derek kept walking across the street but was sure to use his ears to keep an eye on the sketchy carpet guys. He opened the glass door at the entrance and ascended the set of stairs to the top floor. The hallways smelled of wet dog, and the carpet was well-worn from shuffling shoes leading to the doctor’s office—no doubt from the crazies who stumbled down the hall pissing themselves with a poor me complex. He walked up to the door, took a deep breath, and went into the office.

There was a small waiting area inside, with a clock on the wall obviously manufactured by Ambien. It was 3:25 p.m., and like a good cop, he was a few minutes early. In the corner of the room was a small table with some old magazines on it, obviously wrinkled from snot.

Derek took his sunglasses off and sat down on one of the two seats. He was alone in the small room. There wasn’t even someone to greet him behind a desk. The doctor handled all his business in his office. He leaned back and took out his iPhone. He could hear the muffled baritone voice of the doctor talking to another patient. There was sobbing from a woman.

Great, Derek mumbled to the empty room. It would be a long wait before he could get in there and get this over with. He began to browse his Facebook. He noticed there was a memory notification from three years ago. He clicked on the notification. It was a trip he had taken with his son, Nick, and wife, Mary. They had taken a weekend off and traveled up to Mount Hood for a camping hiking trip. The picture of the three seemed so fresh, so close, so timeless. He clicked Share and posted it on his timeline.

Remembering what once was. I miss them every day, he posted as the caption. He then continued to scroll through his newsfeed. There were many smiles and happy lives, happy couples, and happy families. His was in the past. The door opened to the office, and a woman with Kleenex came out. She looked to be in her midforties, and her bleached blond hair was frizzed out. She was a regular basket case it seemed. She was thanking the doctor and nodding while saying, Okay, I will. You are right. The doctor told her he would see her next week. Derek gave her a courteous smile and opened the office door for her. She went into the hallway and smiled back at him. Derek liked the crazy ones. They were the wildest in bed. The doctor turned to Derek.

Come on in, he said as Derek stood back from the door and shook his hand. How are you feeling, Derek? the doctor asked, placing his hand on his shoulder.

Dr. John Davis was a quiet, timid shrink. He was short, with thinning hair and glasses. He was about fifty and taught psychology at the local community college at night. He needed to do this as he was twice divorced and made child support payments to two separate ex-wives. He kept his sessions simple. He would ask a few leading questions and then just let you ramble for the whole session. Derek wasn’t much of a rambler, so there were a lot of breaks where the two would ponder a feeling or two. Derek pulled feelings out of his ass sometimes just so he had something to talk about. For the most part, Derek was numb. He didn’t feel. He just existed, and he just wanted to get back to work.

I am feeling good, Doc. Really good, Derek replied as he sat down on the couch. I think I am ready to get on with my life, get back to work, get around people again. Derek sat back and laid his arm on the back of the couch. Dr. Davis grabbed his notepad and pen and crossed his legs. He looked up over his glasses.

You feel you are ready? After all, you said you were ready to go back after our first session.

Yes. I feel that my healing is being hampered by not returning to work, Derek replied.

I see. Dr. Davis began writing down on his pad. There was a short pause, and then his eyes lifted back up.

Are you exercising? Laying off the booze? asked Dr. Davis

Yes, I go to the station workout room three times a week now, Derek said, leaning back as he embellished. I haven’t been drinking much. Well, a few beers here and there, but nothing hard. He folded his arms and shrugged his shoulders.

The doctor continued writing. He began clicking his pen again, looked up at Derek, then put his pen back to his pad.

Okay. I think getting back to work will be a good thing for you. I will clear you for service, Dr. Davis said. He made a final scribble, and he clicked his pen and looked up at Derek.

Derek, it is okay to seek help. What you have been through is traumatic. You will need regular sessions with me. I want you to come at least once a month to check in. Can you do that for me? Well, for yourself? Dr. Davis asked.

Yes, once a month. I can definitely do that, Doc. Thank you.

Derek unfolded his arms and stood up from the couch. He shook the doctor’s hand and walked out of the room. He took his sunglasses out and put them on as he went down the stairs. He could not wait to put that uniform back on and bring justice down hard on those responsible.

Chapter Two

The time had come to get back into the swing of daily life for Derek. The day was half over, but Derek’s workday was just beginning. Being back on the street would be a relief for everything that had been boiling inside him. He had been thirsting for this day. To be able to take them down was a well-played-out fantasy playing on repeat in his mind. He had feared having his livelihood stripped from him due to some supposed mental health issue, so he had swallowed his indignation and complied. Derek went upstairs to the locker room, opened his locker, and pulled out his shirt.

Derek had to keep it cool and keep himself together to avoid suspicion from his superiors. He wanted to be free from the pain that was boiling within him like an overflowing pasta pot. He needed to keep the pot stirred and content as the temperature rose inside him. Only the thoughts of torment inflicted on them brought satisfaction and tamed it. The fantasies had become all he kept going for. They were the only thoughts that brought a sense of purpose to him now. He either would get busy with it and live or get busy dying. That would be the easy way out and the way his wife had found relief. This was not the option for Derek. It was his duty and responsibility as a man to seek justice for his family. He was far from ready for the street, and he knew it. There was no way he should be carrying a gun on his hip again. The thoughts that were stewing in his mind were not something that could be discussed with anyone. If they really knew what was inside him, they wouldn’t let him near a gun—he would spend the rest of his days drooling under sedation. He had to just suck it up though. His gun seemed to taunt him, calling him to pull it from his holster and just end the pain. He shrugged the thoughts out of his head. He wouldn’t let anything stop him from ending those who were responsible.

Derek had spent months putting on a good face for those around him. He started going to church regularly and showed the community he was building his faith back in humanity and divinity. He told Captain Burke that everything happens for a reason, and it was his honor to return to work, to serve and protect—all the verbal bullshit that enabled him to get back to the street, where the knowledge of his son’s murder could be found and he could bring justice upon them.

Derek slammed his locker shut and walked to the stairwell. He looked across the hall at the detective division. The guys in that division were responsible for the investigation, one they couldn’t solve. Derek shook his head and went down the stairs and into the guardroom. This was the area in the department were roll call was taken and officers hung out and wrote their reports. The room went quiet when he entered. There were six other guys in there, and conversation came to a stop. Derek sat down at the tables facing the podium in the room and took out his pen and notepad. He looked down at the desk and brushed off some crumbs. Just as he looked up again, the clapping started. They walked over, and each one of them shook Derek’s hand. They were glad to see him back.

Yes, he had been suspended, but not for anything any one of them would not have done. His son was murdered in this town. The brass pushed politics and agendas. The cops on the street had a code outside the hierarchy. The door to the room swung open, and the desk lieutenant walked up to the podium.

All right, All right. Guys, let’s get going. Derek, glad to have you back, the lieutenant said with a nod. Derek nodded back, and the lieutenant continued roll call.

Derek was told many times to keep out of the investigation into Nick’s death. Death was not the right word. He hated the word. It was not a regular death—it was coldhearted murder, not just some sad disease where a person eventually succumbs. It was an ending of a life at the hands of another. This was what Derek couldn’t shake. It was some drug-addicted waste of life wasting Nick’s life for a few dollars, some scumbag looking for his next high. That was all Nick’s life amounted to.

What caused Derek to break was the lack of movement in the investigation. Truth is, there was movement, but Derek, since he was the victim’s father, was not privy to any of the steps the investigation was taking. It would hurt a conviction if the information was divulged to him. This was something the captain tried explaining to Derek. But how can a father be told to not get involved with an active case when it was so close to work and home? Derek was caught roughing up one of Nick’s so-called friends. He was patrolling downtown one afternoon, and he saw the kid alone in the skate park. Derek parked his cruiser and didn’t radio off that he was going to speak to someone in the park. He was hiding his moves from the rest of the department.

All he was trying to do was get information out of the kid. Derek knew there was information on the street. This was a high-profile case in a small town involving the son of a cop. What was frustrating for Derek was everyone went silent around him. Everyone went silent. They just didn’t know what to say. He needed information, and Derek would get it any way he needed to. When the kid saw Derek approaching, he tried to run, tripping over a divot in the sidewalk. The intensity of the chase raised Derek’s heart rate, and well, he did rough him up pretty good. He did get what he needed though and a little of what he didn’t need when the little shit’s parents came to the station and reported the assault. That was when Captain Burke suspended him. The captain tried to keep the suspension quiet, but it didn’t help much. Derek was accused of excessive force, and the mayor was coming up for reelection and didn’t want the whole PTA to vote against him. Since he was suspended, he was forced to restrain himself, and he realized there was nothing he could do to meddle in the investigation. The suspension cut Derek’s authority from him. That was when Mary and Derek started fighting. She really hated Derek for not using the power of his badge more to solve their son’s murder. She just didn’t understand the police department didn’t work that way. If you are personally involved with the case, any evidence you get can be called into question by any defense attorney who knows their shit. Derek thought it was that helpless feeling which had brought Mary to the edge of the cliff. He couldn’t really blame her. If she didn’t beat him to it, that might have been where Derek ended up, steering his car off the cliff. Before Mary died, he was focused on finding justice for Nick. Now all bets were off with justice. What was justice anyways? Revenge was what he wanted, punishment, pain for them.

The lieutenant called out Derek’s name, and when he was finished, all the guys got up from their chairs. The sound of metal sliding on tile indicated it was time to hit the street. Suspension was over. There wasn’t a soul on earth that could have imagined what was really in Derek’s head. There wasn’t anyone who knew how he was now going to handle the crime in his city—the lengths he was going to take with his application of the law on those who violated it. He knew he would find them, those who had killed his family. He would find them by any means possible. It was actually much easier than he thought it would be. The detectives were investigating for a conviction. Derek was investigating for retribution, and his threshold of guilt was not that tough to get.

As he drove south on Haden Road, the dirt created a cloud of dust, marking his trail behind him. It would settle to the ground