Tim rolls his eyes as he checks his phone to see the fifth message from his sister in the last hour. She has been texting him regularly since he and Lucy got home from the hospital three days ago. But what started out as texts checking in and offering help, as they continue to recover from the effects of their kidnapping, have slowly shifted to focus heavily on wedding planning.
“Genny’s sent links to five different wedding venues now,” Tim says to Lucy, “should I be worried. Are we already behind before we’ve even started planning?”
“She’s probably just trying to give you something to do so you don’t go too stir crazy waiting to be cleared to go back to work,” Lucy laughs, “So what did she send?”
Tim answers by turning his screen towards Lucy to read.
“I didn’t know they did weddings at the zoo,” Lucy beams as she takes Tim’s phone from his hand and opens the link.
Tim rolls his eyes once more, “we are not getting married at the zoo.”
“Why not?” Lucy asks, “who wouldn’t want these little guys being part of their big day” she adds showing Tim the phone screen with the LA zoo event brochure cover, featuring a picture of meerkats.
Tim chuckles, “for one I don’t think Kojo would be allowed at the zoo.”
“Fair point,” Lucy concedes as she exits the website and navigates back to the message app, “I guess that means Dodger stadium is out too.”
“What! They do weddings?” Tim asks as he grabs the phone and excitedly opens the link, earning a laugh from Lucy.
He scrolls through quickly, excitement evaporating, “I know we haven’t decided on a wedding budget yet but I don’t think this will work unless we want to work triple overtime for the foreseeable future. As much as I hate to admit it,” he sighs handing the phone back to Lucy.
Lucy shrugs, “true, but they don’t know that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe we could still check it out. Get a tour. You know, before we make our final decision,” she finishes with a wink."
“You think they’d give us a free tour if we say we’re considering having our wedding there?”
“We can’t know unless we try. Touring prospective wedding venues is a thing.”
“True. But most venues aren’t Dodger Stadium.”
“Also true,” she laughs, “I still think it’s worth a try.”
Tim nods, “where else is on Genny’s list?”
“Malibu pier.”
“I already wasn’t a huge fan of the ocean or beach and the last time we were there we got drugged and abducted so I’m going to have to veto that one. Sorry, not sorry.”
Lucy laughs, “fair, city hall?”
“Did she actually include that”
“Yep.”
Tim rolls his eyes, “what’s the last one, the police station?”
“Santa Barbara Botanic Garden.”
“Who would want to drive all the way out to Santa Barbara?”
“It’s only like an hour and a half,” Lucy rolls her eyes, “and that might not be the worst thing. Decreases the chance of work following us.”
“That’s true,” Tim concedes, reaching over to click the link.
“I like it,” Lucy says after scrolling through a couple pages, “at least as a possibility.”
“It is pretty nice,” Tim agrees, “we can tour it after Dodger stadium,” he finishes earning a playful shove from Lucy before she gets up and heads to the kitchen to refill her water.
'Thanks for the links, 2/5 aren’t bad. But again don’t feel you need to take care of me. I’m fine. I won’t go crazy from a couple weeks of sick leave,' Tim types then quickly hits send.
Unsurprisingly, Tim has been having a hard time accepting help from others. Not that that has stopped his loved ones from giving it. In fact the last time he told Angela he didn’t need her help, her response was, 'the more you fight it the more I’m going to help. You might as well just accept it.' Which begs the question of whether she’s actually trying to be helpful or just trying to bug him. As if on cue there’s a knock on the door followed instantly by a call of, “I hope everyone’s decent,” as the door swings open and Angela walks in. She’s carrying a large casserole dish and a couple of grocery bags, which she immediately sets on the counter and starts to unpack.
“I told you you didn’t have to do that,” Tim says.
“And I told you I was going to do it anyways,” Angela shoots back as she opens the fridge to put away a carton of eggs.
“Well I’m grateful for the help,” Lucy smiles as she unpacks another grocery bag into the cupboard, “what is this?” she asks bringing out a white cake box.
“An extra special dessert,” Angela smiles as she presses the buttons to preheat the oven before going over and taking the box from Lucy.
“That sounds suspiciously vague,” Tim comments as he hobbles over to join them in the kitchen, “is the special ingredient lethal?”
“Not this time,” Angela teases, opening the box to reveal 6 mini cake samples, “I saw them in the window of the bakery on my way to the grocery store with a sign saying wedding cake tasting boxes 25% off and it was just too tempting.”
“They look delicious,” Lucy says.
“Right?” Angela says, “I’m starting to think I planned my wedding all wrong. Window shopping is the way to go. Today I found these and yesterday I saw the perfect wedding suit for Tim,” she continues pulling out her phone to show them pictures she took of a window display featuring mannequins in three-piece grey suits and white collared shirts with matching ties and pocket squares in various shades of blue.
“Which one?” Tim asks.
“Depends on what we decide for your color scheme.”
“We?” Tim asks.
Angela nods, “although it’s ultimately up to you and Lucy, what kind of best woman would I be if I didn’t offer my assistance?”
Tim rolls his eyes but before he can rebutt his phone dings with another message from Genny, 'I know but I’m your sister and best woman. It’s my job to help you. Both with the recovery and wedding stuff.'
Tim rolls his eyes again as something clicks, “do both Genny and Angela think they’re my best woman?” Tim whispers to Lucy as he shows her his phone screen, while Angela is busy putting the lasagna in the oven to heat.
“Seems like it,” Lucy laughs.
“Isn’t there usually only one best man, or best woman?”
“Usually. Yes.”
Before Tim can answer Angela turns her attention back to them. “That will be ready in about 20 minutes and I put the rest in the fridge. There should be enough for another couple meals.”
“Thanks so much, Angela,” Lucy replies.
“My pleasure,” she says fixing Tim with a teasing stare, “I’ll just throw the salad together and then I really should get home to help Wes with the kids.”
“No need,” Tim says practically pushing Angela towards the front door, “we’ve got it under control. Empty the bag into a bowl, add the toppings and the dressing. Presto-chango Cesar salad.”
“Are you okay?” Angela asks, “is this part of your concussion.”
“I’m fine,” Tim assures her opening the door, “just think it’s important you spend time with your kids.”
“Okay?” Angela questions stepping out the door as she waves goodbye to Lucy, “let me know if you guys need anything else.”
“Will do. Thanks again,” Tim says as he quickly closes the door behind her.
“What the hell was that,” Lucy laughs as Tim comes back to the kitchen to make the salad.
“I think I panicked.”
“You think?”
“It’s just. I didn’t know I had a best woman, let alone two.”
“You didn’t ask either of them?”
“No I guess they both just assumed. Do you want one of them? As your maid of honor?”
“I can’t. I already asked Tamara.”
“Really, when?”
“At the hospital, the first time she came to visit. I also asked Celina and Nyla to be bridesmaids.”
“You did?”
Lucy nods, “did you think about who you were going to ask?”
Tim shakes his head. “I was just focused on asking you to marry me. I didn’t think about anything beyond that.”
“That’s sweet,” Lucy says kissing his cheek, “what do you think now."
“I don’t know,” Tim sighs, “I mean Angela and Genny are the two most important people in my life, after you. I don’t want to hurt either of them.”
“Who was your best man or woman at your wedding to Isabel?”
“Isabel’s cousin, Mark,” Tim rolls his eyes, “long story, don’t ask.”
“Okay,” Lucy laughs, “Now I’m intrigued but we’ll put a pin in that and come back later. Maybe you could ask them to be your co-best women?”
“I mean that would be perfect but do you think they’d be offended to have to share the role?”
“I doubt it,” Lucy starts, “don’t get me wrong I’m sure there’s many people out there that would be but I don’t think Angela and Genny are those people. Plus, being part of a wedding party can be a lot of work, as you’ve seen. It’ll probably be nice for them to split the load.”
Tim nods, “ Speaking of which am I the only one who hadn’t started thinking about wedding planning yet.”
“Seems that way,” Lucy smiles.
“In my defense, I only proposed a week ago and since then we’ve spent the majority of our time kidnapped or in hospital.”
“There’s no rush Tim,” Lucy assures him, “I’m just excited to spend the rest of our lives together. And our friends just want us to be happy, especially now after everything we went through.”
Tim nods. Just then his phone dings with another notification. 'Genny has added you to a new group: Tim and his best women.' Then another ding. 'Angela changed the group photo'. Tim looks to find a selfie featuring his sister and best friend with him in the background asleep in his hospital bed.
“Did you know about this?” Tim asks Lucy, not accusatory, purely curious.
“No,” Lucy shakes her head and laughs as she takes in the picture, “but now that I think about it. The topic of wedding planning did come up when we were in the hospital and I may have mentioned that I assumed they would both be in your side of the wedding party,” she adds coyly, “I had no idea they’d run with it.”
Tim shakes his head with a smirk.
'You’re both fired,' he sends into the group.
'No we’re not,' quickly comes Angela’s reply.
'You know you love us,' from Genny follows right after.
And he does. Besides the woman currently sitting beside him reading over his shoulder, a look of pure amusement on her face, those are his favorite women (and people) in the world and he can’t help but think just how lucky he is.
The Rookie: Echoes of the Past - Chapter Eight - 6:00
Previous Chapters: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven
Spotify Playlist for The Rookie: Echoes of the Past - HERE
Song that inspired this chapter: "6:00" from Grandson (a modern tragedy vol. 1 - on the playlist)
TW: T2Diabetes, ambush/shootout scene, cursing
Previously on The Rookie
Using the tip of a pen, Angela gently slid the crooked drawer out further. Tucked beneath a stack of folded bandanas was a neatly folded piece of paper—stark white and completely out of place in the messy room.
She pulled it out with tweezers and unfolded it on top of the dresser. It wasn't a note written in blood this time. It was a printed map of Los Angeles, with a heavy red circle drawn around a very specific, high-end commercial address in downtown LA: The Vanguard Vault & Safety Co.
Beneath the circled building, written in Victor's chaotic, jagged handwriting, were a single name and a timestamp:
MARCOS CALDERON — 1800 HRS.
“Okay, here’s what we know,” Nyla started, pulling the evidence up onto the smartboard in front of the team and some of the other officers, her expression steely. "Marcos Calderon. He's the main shot-caller for the entire Sureño 13 operation in California. He doesn't just run drugs; he manages the cartel's local financials."
Angela checked her watch. 17:12. "We have less than an hour before Calderon is scheduled to be at that vault," Angela said, changing the slide on the board, “now, we believe Calderon to be the last hit that Victor Martin has here. If Martin is successful, we believe that he may skip town altogether, and he is good at disappearing.”
Harper clicked another slide, “evidence that we gathered at the previous scene at Hector Ruiz’s residence suggests that Victor is planning on neutralizing Calderon at The Vanguard Vault and Safety Company downtown at 1700 hours. I need everybody here to listen up closely. Victor Martin is armed and dangerous. He has already proven that with the last two homicides. Everybody assigned needs to have a partner and know how and when to call for backup,” she said, turning off the board, “Lopez, Chen, Bradford, Nolan, Moore and I will be going in for when this goes down. I want a car at each possible exit. I want air support. If we do not capture Victor before he neutralizes Marcos, Sureños 13 will start an all-out war, and that is not what we want nor need.”
She looked around, “does everybody understand their assignments?”
Everyone affirmed with nods and “yes ma’ams”.
“Head to your waypoints and wait for our signal. Dismissed.” Angela commanded, watching everyone disperse.
Nolan and the team walked over.
“Alright, we’ve got a van waiting near the entrance where Marcos will enter from the parking garage. Nolan, Moore, we’re going to have you set up there. Bradford, Lucy, you guys will be a floor below, unmarked cruiser. Harper and I will be in another van. Once we spot both targets, we’ll need to act fast.” Angela explained the plan.
“Aaron and I will also be in the van with Harper and Lopez running communications,” Sargeant Grey spoke up, “let’s go.”
The team all went their separate directions, each having their own missions while secretly praying it all went right.
There's no difference between you and I
We share the same sunshine from the same sky
When it rains, it rains on both you and I
Gotta sink or swim, now it's do or die
It goes "hashtag, body bag"
Toe tag
Shot in the chest
"Hashtag, body bag"
Even when I'm on my last breath
The concrete parking garage of the Vanguard Vault was as expected. Full, damp and too silent. They were like ghosts, hiding, waiting. Hunting.
“It’s getting close. How are you doing?” Nolan asked, sensing something in his rookie.
“Good. I’m ready to get this over. He’s been a threat for way too long.”
“Keep your focus. Throw everything personal about this whole case out the window. Do not let it cloud you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. It’s almost showtime.”
There's no difference between you and I
Same space and time that we occupy
We all just looking for a piece of the pie
We went blind, gone eye for an eye
An unmarked armored van pulled into open.
“Calderon,” Ellie spoke into her earpiece mic. “I recognize the driver; it’s one of his bodyguards.”
One by one the bodyguards exited the van, each with a large cash bag. Then came Marcos.
“He’s exiting.”
Marcos and his bodyguards headed towards the bank building, each on high alert, waiting for something to happen.
Ellie looked down at her watch. 1700 hours. She straightened up, ready for the ambush.
“Martin is heading your way now guys,” Lucy’s voice came in their ears.
She was right, tires screeching, engine revving came Victor’s dark SUV. Calderon’s bodyguards turned and took a defensive stance, protecting their client.
Victor and his men jumped out, guns at the ready. A shot was fired and one of his men went down.
“Now!” Harper’s voice boomed through, and everyone acted.
Throwing open the van door, Ellie yelled out, “LAPD, Drop your weapons!”
Both sides’ attentions were drawn to her, before shots rang out. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder and tire smoke.
Yesterday, I turned on the TV
I saw another man down
He was screaming
He can't breathe no more
He held his hands high
But then he got struck down
Oh, he got struck down
I saw the body drop
On the 6 o'clock
I saw the body drop
On the 6 o'clock
Struck down, struck down
Martin shot Calderon, wounding him in his arm. Calderon's bodyguards lay motionless on the oil-stained concrete. Victor, wearing a tactical vest over his dark hoodie, was advancing on a wounded, crawling Calderon, his weapon raised to deliver the killing blow. The others were advancing on Victor’s team, while Ellie focused her sights on her target.
“Victor Martin, drop your weapon, now!” She yelled out.
Victor looked over at her. Taking advantage of the chaotic scene, a bloodied Marcos Calderon scrambled to his feet, threw himself into a secondary vehicle, and slammed on the gas, roaring out a side exit.
“Not yet, Moore,” he called back, raising his gun towards her, “see you soon, kiddo,” Victor grinned before pulling the trigger.
Ellie went to dive to avoid Victor’s bullet, but it was futile. As she moved, she felt the sudden sharp impact of the bullet hitting its target, her chest. She watched as Victor ran to his vehicle and peel out of the parking garage.
Cause
"#bodybag"
Toe tag
Shot in the chest
"#bodybag"
Even when I'm on my last breath
“Officer down!” came Nolan’s sudden yell. He hurried over to his downed rookie. “Ellie, come on, talk to me.”
She gasped, her hands flying to her tactical vest as a dull, blooming ache radiated through her ribs. “My vest, it’s in my vest.” Ellie choked out, taking a ragged, painful breath. "It caught it. I'm okay. Just...ow."
Nolan was undoing Ellie’s uniform shirt, leaving her in her tactical vest and undershirt. Undoing the vest, he pulled it from her, inspecting it. Sure enough, Victor’s bullet caught in her vest.
In her earpiece, she could hear Lucy announce that they and the other backup team were going to go after Victor, with air support as ordered.
“Paramedics are already en route for a couple of Calderon’s bodyguards that are left, they’re checking you out first, boot,” Angela said, also inspecting the vest, “no arguments.”
“None here,” Ellie breathed. “Son of a bitch that hurt.”
“Do you feel like you could sit up?” Nolan asked, wanting to get her sitting up if possible.
“Yeah, help me over to the van, I’ll sit against it.”
Nolan and Angela helped Ellie over to the van for her to sit on the concrete leaning against the tire well.
“Your numbers are holding.”
“Huh?”
“Your monitor. Your numbers are holding.” Nolan explained.
Ellie gave a light chuckle, “probably the only thing to go right this whole day.”
He smiled back.
Hearing the sirens of the ambulance sound closer, everyone regrouped near her.
“Just got word from the air ship. They lost Martin,” Harper announced.
“How the fuck did that happen?” Ellie ground out, her tone filled with anger.
“Hey, calm down,” Nolan put his hand on her shoulder, “at least until we get you checked out.”
“They said he just went off radar. Maybe underground. Tim and Lucy confirm as well.”
Ellie let her head fall back against the van in frustration.
T
At that moment, the paramedics arrived, the first team making their way over to her.
“Hey, Ellie. I’m Adam, how are you holding up?”
“I’m alive, I guess,” she chuckled.
“I’ll take that. Do you think we could check you out in the ambulance?”
Ellie nodded, letting Adam and Nolan help her up and over to the other medics.
“So, she was shot, close range, bullet lodged in her vest,” Nolan explained, “She’s a diabetic.”
“Oh hey, so am I,” Adam looked at Ellie, “What type?”
“Two. Semi-controlled.”
“One, also semi-controlled,” he lifted the side of his shirt, showing his insulin pump.
“Ouch.”
“Eh, it’s not so bad. Alright let’s remove your shirt if you’re able to. We’ll take a look; get you hooked up and make sure everything else is good.”
She nodded, then looked at her T.O.
“I’m going to go check things out with the others. I’ll be right over there if you need me,” Nolan said, making sure she could see the others before making his way over to the team.
I saw the body drop
On the 6 o'clock
I saw the body drop
On the 6 o'clock
Struck down, struck down
“So you pissed someone off, eh?” Adam asked, with slight humor as he examined her.
“I guess so. Kinda happens when you put a badge on, I think.”
“I’d say,” he agreed, looking over her cardiac readings. “Alright, so, EKG is decent, slightly elevated, but I think given that you just went through a shootout it’s expected. Your chest is going to be bruised. You also might experience some swelling in your chest and ribcage. Close range shots like that, you tend to feel it in more than one area.”
“Figures,” she snorted.
“Surprisingly your numbers aren’t looking too bad. Slightly elevated, but again, a shootout will cause that stress and raise it. You know what to do if it gets too high, I’m sure.”
Ellie nodded.
“Alright, I don’t see any other issues. Well, except for one.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t have your number.”
She laughed, thinking it was rather cute. “Here, let me see your phone.”
Adam gladly handed over his cell phone to her, letting her put her contact information in.
Ellie Moore (Type 2 girl)
323-555-8735
He laughed when he saw what she put in.
“Okay, I’m officially clearing you and releasing you into your T.O.’s custody. Expect a call, type two girl.”
“I will. Take care, hopefully I don’t see you again like this, but something tells me I will,” she joked on her way over to her team.
“All clear?” Sargeant Grey asked as he looked up at his officer.
“All clear. Bruising and adrenaline.”
“Good. Let’s all meet back at the precinct, debrief and go home.”
A bunch of ‘sounds good’, ‘aye, sirs’ came from the others as Nolan and Ellie headed back to their respective vehicle.
“You sure you’re good?”
“I am. Nothing a hot shower and some Chinese takeout won’t fix tonight.”
“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go.”
The atmosphere within the Mid-Wilshire precinct was suffocatingly tense by the time the team returned from the parking garage. The clock on the wall of Sergeant Grey’s office clicked past eight, casting a sterile, fluorescent glow over the exhausted group. Everyone was covered in a thin layer of dust and dried sweat, their uniforms rumpled from the sudden violence of the ambush.
Ellie sat stiffly in one of the metal chairs, the massive bruise beneath her ballistic vest throbbing with every breath she took. Nolan stood just behind her, a protective, grounding presence, while Angela and Nyla leaned against the edge of Grey's heavy oak desk.
Grey didn't ask them to sit. He stood with his hands braced on his desk, his face set grim. "We lost them," he said, his deep voice cutting through the hum of the precinct's air conditioning. "Calderon is in the wind, which means the Sureños are going to lock down their entire operation, and Victor Martin is still out there, armed and frustrated.”
Before anyone could musser up a response, the desk phone shattered the silence with a sharp, piercing ring. Grey didn't hesitate. He snapped up the receiver and hit the speaker button. "Sergeant Grey."
For a long, agonizing second, there was nothing but the hollow hiss of open static. The silence in the room stretched so tight it felt ready to snap. Then, a flat, chillingly mechanical voice vibrated through the small speaker. The computerized modulation stripped away any trace of human inflection, leaving only a cold, electronic drone:
"You shouldn't have done that."
The line went completely dead with a sharp click.
The team stood there looking at the phone in shock.
“We won’t be able to trace that, not without a lot of work,” Ellie said, her voice barely above a whisper, “that call wasn’t long enough.”
“We’ll still send it up for tracing, they might be able to pull something from it.” Lopez said, already messaging the SID team.
Grey stared at the dead phone for a long moment, then looked over at his battered team. "It’s late," Grey ordered, his tone softening just a fraction with genuine exhaustion. "Go get out of your gear, go home, and get some sleep. We reset and hit this fresh next shift. Dismissed."
The precinct emptied quickly as the day shift officers retreated to the locker rooms, anxious to shed the weight of their duty belts and head home. Ellie walked out with Nolan, nodding quietly as he gave her a tight, paternal hug by the exit, repeatedly making her promise to put ice on her ribs and monitor her sugar levels before going to bed.
She smiled, promising she would, and watched him walk out the glass doors into the dark L.A. night. But Ellie didn't go to her car. As soon as the lobby went quiet, she quietly slipped down the rear hallway and bypassed the locker rooms, heading straight for the secure, dimly lit corner of the records room.
Her chest throbbed with a dull, burning ache where the Kevlar had saved her life, and the lingering adrenaline kept her heart hammering. She wasn't tired. She was wired, hyper-focused, and fueled by a sickening gut instinct she couldn't shake.
“Not yet, Moore,”
“See you soon, kiddo,”
Victor’s words rang through her head.
She sat at a secluded terminal, the stark white glare of the monitor reflecting in her wide, blue eyes as she logged into the encrypted database. She bypassed the standard patrol logs and went straight into the federal gang intelligence archives. She pulled up the Sureño 13 manifests first, scanning the names of local enforcers, before opening a separate, more restricted file. It was a file she had looked at a thousand times in private, but never with this much dread.
The digital folder opened to display a standard inmate profile and a stark, unsmiling mugshot. It was her brother. The text beneath the photo confirmed his status: Inmate active. Serving a twenty-five-year sentence at the London Correctional Facility in Ohio.
Ellie stared at her brother's face, a heavy lump forming in her throat. He had been young, desperate, and easily manipulated when he fell into Victor Martin's orbit years ago. Victor had been the older, calculating leader of their crew—a man who recognized weakness and exploited it perfectly. When the federal authorities had finally closed in on their operation, Victor hadn't panicked. He had meticulously altered financials, planted evidence, and manipulated the narrative until her brother took the fall for the vast majority of Victor's crimes.
The system had locked her brother away, while Victor walked away into the shadows, entirely free to build a deadlier empire. Ellie leaned closer to the monitor, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she began cross-referencing Victor’s recent inter-state movements with the targeted executions of the Sureño 13 members in Ohio through to Los Angeles. The rest of the LAPD, including Angela and Nyla, believed Victor was operating as a highly efficient, chaotic contract killer executing a standard gang vendetta against his former crew. It made sense on paper.
But as Ellie mapped out the timeline of the bodies, the locations, and the specific message left in blood at the Ruiz house, a cold, suffocating terror pooled deep in her stomach. Victor hadn't just come to Los Angeles to wipe out the Sureño 13 drug tier. He was clearing the board of anyone who could connect him to his past. He was eliminating his old business partners and rivals, ensuring no loose ends remained. And as Ellie stared at the final, unresolved branch of Victor's digital footprint, the pieces of the puzzle slammed into place with horrific clarity. The cartel members along the way weren't the endgame. They were just the warmup. Once the streets were clear, Victor's ultimate, final target wasn't a gang member at all.
He was coming for her.
Faced with this reality she had decisions to make. Does she tell the team her revelation, or does she take matters in her own hands and risk her career and life?
Regardless, this was something she was going to have to end herself.
With a determined resolve, Ellie logged out of the system and headed for the precinct’s gym.
I won't give no fucks
I won't take no shit
Try to burn me down
Get this whole place lit
I won't give no fucks
I won't take no shit
They said they want war; this is it
Let the body drop
Then let the body drop
Then let the body drop
Then let the body drop
Authors Note: So, I believe this is my longest chapter in the series at 3008 words.
Look, I’m flawed. Is my story turning into a “hurt oc”? I guess, yeah. I mean, I have reasons for it. Anyways.
I went in and edited chapter 7’s ending, instead of 1700 hours, I used 1800 hours for 6:00pm as the time of the shootout for a reason. This chapter was inspired by Grandson’s “6:00” from his album “a modern tragedy vol. 1”. You can find this song as well as others from him on my Spotify playlist The Rookie: Echoes of the Past.
As always, I love feedback! Thinking of cross posting this to A03 and ff.net.
Also, I do not have a beta. All mistakes are beautiful mine.
Chapter Seven
Previous Chapters: One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six
Spotify Playlist for The Rookie: Echoes of the Past - HERE
TW: T2Diabetes, uh murder/descriptions of murder (nothing insane, maybe?
Previously on The Rookie
“You alright?”
She turned to find the source of the voice. John had got in the driver’s seat. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a long day.”
“Understandable. Let’s head back,” he said, his tone light.
Ellie nodded, picking up the mic, “7-Adam-15, show us returning back to precinct.”
“7-Adam-15, copy that.”
Nolan pulled the shop into the garage and turned the engine off. He and Ellie both sat in silence.
“You know we’re going to get Martin.”
“I know.”
John looked over at his rookie, noticing her determined tone.
Ellie looked back, a resolved look on her face.
“I got him before in Ohio,” she paused, “and I’ll get him again here. It’s not a matter of if, but when.”
“He’ll get sloppy eventually,” Nolan said, his tone encouraging, “they almost always do.”
“Victor Martin doesn’t get sloppy. He’s too smart, too cunning for that.”
He noticed the tone in her voice.
“What’s going through that head of yours?”
Ellie shook her head, “nothing concrete. The evidence will hold clues, I’m sure of it.”
“Let’s get inside and check it out.”
Ellie and Nolan headed straight for Sargent Gray’s office, after offloading their bags, weapons and bodycams. Angela and Nyla were already sitting down.
“Moore, Nolan,” Grey greeted.
“Sarge,” Nolan returned.
“SID has already sent digital evidence over. You’re going to want to see this,” Grey turned his monitor around to present to the others. “The polaroids. Some are pictures of brick walls, there’s one of Anton’s house, and the scene,” he said, going through the photos until one landed on one in particular.
“What the hell is that?” Ellie spoke up, curious.
“This,” Grey paused, “is another scene.”
Nolan furrowed his brows, “one of ours? Dispatch hasn’t logged any 187’s today.”
“Not one we’ve received yet. My guess is, he hit and it hasn’t been called in yet,” the sergeant stated.
Ellie leaned in to get a better look, “that’s Hector Ruiz. Third in command. Anton was fourth. He’s counting down. Hitting, photographing, and counting.”
“You’re familiar with Ruiz?” Grey asked, eyebrow arched. Nolan, Lopez and Harper all looked at Ellie.
“Unfortunately. Back when I worked with CPD on taking the original gang down back in Ohio,” she paused for a moment, thinking. “If he’s counting down, starting with Anton, and now presumably Ruiz…he’s going to go after Calderon next. Marcos Calderon. Marcos oversaw financials.”
Ellie looked over at the detectives sitting in their seats, “do you guys have any sort of a timeline set up between each of the murders?”
“Unfortunately, Victor isn’t providing a specific timeline. At least not one that we have running right now. Depending on Ruiz’s time of death, that might give us something,” Angela provided.
“The only thing we have right now, is Victor’s prints in the sedan at the mini-mart, polaroids of random buildings that SID is trying to track down their locations, the messages “GiVe Me MoRe” are each written in their victim’s blood.” Harper explained.
“Any specific cause of death? I can’t imagine they’re all bleeding out from their hands being nailed to these makeshift crosses,” Ellie asked.
“Headshot from the side. He lets them suffer from being nailed before he puts the poor bastards out of their misery.”
The team became silent, going over all the details in their minds.
Sargeant Grey’s door opening tore them from their thoughts. Tim, Lucy and Aaron entered.
“Heard about everything from earlier. What do we got?” Bradford inquired.
Nolan stood up, ushering Ellie to do the same, “we have some evidence. I think Moore and I are going to go check out Ruiz’s place, try to confirm if we have something there.”
“Harper and I are going to go dig into Marcos, I’m sure he’s got a record here.”
Sargeant Grey nodded, “Bradford, Chen and Thorsen, take a seat and I’ll fill you in on what SID gave us. Nolan, you guys run into any trouble, you call for backup.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nolan, Ellie and the two detectives left Grey to fill in the others.
“Hey, seriously, Grey’s right,” Nyla started, “if you guys run into anything, call. In fact, call us when you find out if he’s there or not.”
“Will do, thanks Harper.”
Nolan nudged his rookie, “let’s go check out Ruiz.”
Pulling in front of Hector’s house, Ellie looked around. Everything was quiet. Almost too quiet.
“What’re you thinking?”
“I’m thinking it’s too quiet here. I don’t have a good feeling about it,” she paused, “honestly, I feel like we already know what’s going on, and we’re delaying the inevitable.”
“I feel it too, but we can’t assume anything right now, not when it’s not safe to.”
“Oh, I know,” Ellie nodded, “alright so, you take left, I take right, find any evidence that Victor’s been here?”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Be careful, keep your radio near,” Nolan commanded, following Ellie’s lead. The very thought of her knowing who Ruiz was as well as Calderon made him question even more about his rookie’s involvent back in Ohio. Shaking his thoughts out, he approached the left side of the house looking for any clues.
The home was very well kept, surprisingly for a member of a gang. Bushes neatly hedged, decorative brick, flower beds done, and grass neatly cut. Did Ruiz do the upkeep or did he have a landscaper?
“Nolan, no sign of Victor or that he was even here. Everything’s pristine,” came Ellie’s voice over the radio.
“Same here. Anything around back?”
“Negative.”
“Alright, meet back around the front. We can treat it as a reasonable cause, due to the photo and circumstances.”
“Copy that.”
As Nolan approached the front of the house, Ellie met him by the front door.
“So, given everything, I say we try the door, announce ourselves, if no answer we canvas inside,” she suggested.
“Agreed.”
Nolan knocked on the door, “LAPD, we’d like to speak with you,” he announced.
No answer.
“Should we try the doorknob yet? What if there’s prints?”
“Good thinking,” he nodded and tossed her the keys to the shop, “glove up and give me a pair. If we’re right about this whole deal, I imagine SID will want to try and get some.”
Ellie took the keys and headed for the shop. Getting into her gear bag, she grabbed a couple pairs of gloves before shutting the hatch and returning, passing a pair to Nolan.
As soon as he was gloved, he took hold of his service weapon and opened the door.
“LAPD, anybody home?” He shouted.
No answer. Only the low, steady hum of an air conditioning unit inside.
They crossed the threshold in a tactical stack, each clearing the living room and kitchen. The house was entirely void of anyone, but a heavy, metallic scent began to fill the hallway as they approached the upstairs hallway of the home.
Ellie pushed the master bedroom door open, and the breath left her lungs. The bedroom was a horror show, unlike the previous scene. Blood covering every inch of the room. Stretched out in the center of the space, Hector Ruiz was dead, his body horrifyingly mangled, and "crucified" onto a makeshift wooden cross constructed from heavy construction timber. Dropping her gaze from the gruesome sight, Ellie's eyes locked onto the wall directly above the headboard. Written in thick, dark smears of Ruiz's own blood was a chilling message: GiVe Me MoRe.
Ellie could feel her vision tunneling, a suffocating wave of nausea hitting her like a physical blow.
“Oh god,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth as she started running down the stairs and out the door, ignoring her T.O.’s calls. Reaching the front yard, she collapsed to her knees becoming violently ill, her body shaking and heaving as she threw up anything she’d consumed that day. She barely missed the hand on her back, rubbing it.
“It’s okay, Ellie. I got you, you’re okay,” Nolan soothed his rookie, guiding her to sit. Pulling out her glucose monitor from her pocket, he could see her numbers start to dive. “Ellie, your numbers are plummeting. I’m going to call Lopez and Harper for backup and have them to bring you something to get you stable.”
Ellie nodded, putting her head between her knees. She watched Nolan walk a few feet away to call the detectives. Hearing the words “hypoglycemia, puking and bloodbath” made her want to crawl into a hole of embarrassment.
What a partner she was.
Within minutes, Ellie could see an unmarked car and another police cruiser pull up. She assumed one of them were Angela and Harper, but she was too lightheaded to tell who was in the cruiser.
“Hey, Boot. Boss man here told me about your crash. I brought you some juice and a cookie from lunch,” Angela offered, bringing a bottle of Orange Juice and a chocolate chip cookie to the rescue.
Ellie blushed, embarrassed.
Lopez and Nolan motioned to Harper that they were heading back into the house.
“Hey, you can’t help it. Nolan filled us in on your type 2. You’re good here, girl,” Nyla sat next to her, offering support. “There’s absolutely nothing to be embarrassed of.”
“Thanks,” she spoke quietly, drinking the juice slowly while taking bites here and there of the offered cookie. “It’s bad in there. The smell of everything...” she trailed off.
“Been there, done that. I get it,” Nyla said, “you’ll eventually get used to it. I don’t think you’ve really had any cases like that before.”
Ellie shook her head.
“Hey, Grey got us up to speed on everything,” Lucy and Tim started heading in their direction, “woah, are you okay?”
Nyla stood up, walking over to Lucy, “upstairs is gruesome, a ‘bloodbath’ as Nolan mentioned. Moore here decided she was gonna keep the scene uncompromised by running out here to empty herself and plummet her blood sugar,” she gave a soft smile to Ellie.
“Upstairs with Angela. I think SID is on their way now,” Ellie offered.
“I’ll head up there. Harper?”
Nyla looked down at Ellie.
“I’ll stay with her. We dispatched ourselves here, once we heard the call, you guys go up,” Lucy said, sitting next to her friend. She wrapped her arm around the other woman, watching Tim and Nyla head into the scene.
Upstairs Nolan, Lopez, Bradford and Harper stood, looking around. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the stagnant air, competing with the hum of the overhead ceiling fan.
“Poor girl, this is bad.”
“The other scene was not like this, why is this one so much more…” Nolan trailed off.
“Bloodier?” Harper filled in the blank, “vendetta? Did Ruiz piss him off?”
“Definitely looks that way, but the question is ‘why?’” Tim asked.
"He didn't just rush in here," Nyla murmured, walking into the room, snapping on a pair of latex gloves and crouching near the nightstand. "He had time. He knew Ruiz's schedule, and he knew exactly how much noise he could make without alerting the neighbors."
Angela didn't answer immediately. Her eyes were fixed on a small, dark wooden dresser tucked away in the corner of the room. One of the top drawers was pulled out about an inch, resting crookedly on its tracks.
"Look at this," Angela said, gesturing to Nyla. "Ruiz was a high-ranking enforcer for the Sureños. The file says that he kept his stash and his burner phones in a lockbox. The lockbox is gone, but it looks like Victor left something else behind."
Using the tip of a pen, Angela gently slid the crooked drawer out further. Tucked beneath a stack of folded bandanas was a neatly folded piece of paper—stark white and completely out of place in the messy room.
She pulled it out with tweezers and unfolded it on top of the dresser. It wasn't a note written in blood this time. It was a printed map of Los Angeles, with a heavy red circle drawn around a very specific, high-end commercial address in downtown LA: The Vanguard Vault & Safety Co.
Beneath the circled building, written in Victor's chaotic, jagged handwriting, were a single name and a timestamp:
MARCOS CALDERON — 1800 HRS.
Authors Note: Annnnnd I leave chapter seven here. Don’t worry, I’m already halfway through chapter 8 as I post this.
It helps when I’m on a Rookie binge and can’t sleep. Please send all the caffeine.
See y’all next chapter!
Edit: Changed 1700 hours to 1800 hours due to chapter 8. You'll see why.
