Troop 18 Read online

  “Yes, Dr. Morrison.”

  “How’s Shipman?” Andy said, deliberately allowing Foster to hear the question and Kate’s answer. Andy watched his reaction out of her peripheral vision.

  “Fine, just winded.” Andy read her expression and saw she wasn’t keeping any information back.

  Foster quietly shifted again and straightened slightly. Andy turned, her instinct twigged, just in time to see Shipman and Foster pass a look between them. Andy caught Foster’s questioning look, Shipman’s slight shrug of a reply. This didn’t seem like two people who had just been fighting.

  Diversion, thought Andy and she turned her body all the way, scanning the quad, trying to count the cadets in front of her. Many of them were moving, talking and regrouping, crossing the quad to talk to someone else. Very few were still, though their movements were slow. Too slow, deliberate. Choreographed. Andy couldn’t track the cadets easily enough. Les looked up and caught Andy’s searching look.

  “Roll call, Sgt. Manitou,” Andy called across the quad.

  “In formation, Troop 18!” Les called out loudly, and the cadets instantly began to fall into two neat lines in front of her.

  Foster hesitated and looked to Meyers.

  “Formation, Cadet Foster,” Constable Meyers said.

  Meyers followed Foster as he hustled back towards his troop. Andy hung back with Kate, watching, waiting to figure this out. As the troop gathered in formation, she saw who was missing. Petit.

  Just as Les was about to say something to the cadets, the door to the kitchen opened and Petit walked out holding a half-eaten banana. He paused comically at the sight of his troop in perfect formation before him in the quad. The screen door slammed loudly behind him in the tense silence.

  “No need to line up for me, friends,” Petit said.

  No one laughed, though Andy caught Shandly nervously biting her lip. Sergeant Trokof stepped forward.

  “Cadet Bertrand Jean-Pierre Petit,” Trokof started, his voice drippingly friendly. “Would you be so kind as to inform myself, your instructors, Sgt. Wyles, Dr. Morrison as well as the rest of your assembled troop as to exactly what you were doing in the kitchen after hours?”

  Petit stared at Trokof like he hadn’t understood the question, then he looked down at his banana then across to his troop. They stared back at him silently.

  “I got hungry?”

  “Are you asking me if you got hungry, Cadet Petit? Or are you telling me you got hungry,” Sgt. Trokof said, his voice implying he had unlimited patience. Everyone present, except possibly Kate standing curiously beside her, knew differently.

  “I got hungry, Sgt. Trokof,” Petit said.

  “Well, I’m certainly happy we could accommodate your appetite so late in the evening, Cadet Petit. But please explain to me how you came to the decision to satiate your hunger instead of breaking up a fight between your troop mates.”

  Petit clearly didn’t have an answer for this, either funny or straight. “I figured they would work it out, I guess,” Petit said nervously.

  “Work it out,” Sergeant Trokof repeated, his voice going quiet.

  “Yeah,” Petit said, shifting his weight from side to side, his nerves obviously heightened. Andy tracked his gaze to Prewitt-Hayes, like she could help him out of this mess. Andy couldn’t see her from this angle, but she could imagine the tense expression on her face. “Yeah,” Petit said again. “Sometimes Greg’s music gets on my nerves also.”

  Palpable tension rolled through the group. Andy had to see this for herself. With a quick look at Kate, she joined everyone in the quad, coming to stand between Petit and the rest of the assembled troop. She saw the bleak intensity on the right mark’s face, then caught Trokof’s eye. He gestured expansively towards the troop. Take it, the gesture said to Andy.

  “Cadet Petit, do you share a cabin with Shipman and Foster?”

  “No, Sgt. Wyles,” Petit answered immediately. Andy wasn’t watching him, though. She was watching Prewitt-Hayes who was glaring daggers at Petit. Andy waited. Prewitt-Hayes controlled her expression.

  “Cadet Prewitt-Hayes, perhaps you would like to explain how Cadet Petit knows what the fight between Cadets Shipman and Foster was about?”

  Tension, fear, nerves, Andy read all of these on every member of the troop. Frances, at the back left of the second row, even seemed to shake a little.

  Prewitt-Hayes shook her head, like she was unable to speak. Trokof yelled into the silence, startling everyone including Andy, who had been half-expecting it.

  “You will give Sgt. Wyles an actual answer with actual words, Cadet Prewitt-Hayes!” he roared.

  “I don’t know for sure, Sgt. Wyles. He must have heard it,” the right mark, leader of the troop, answered in a shaky voice.

  Andy considered her options. They were caught, but Andy had no idea what they were caught in. Frustrated, she let the troop suffer the silence. She followed the information backwards, thought about sitting in the kitchen, the sound of a fight, the scattering of the instructors, what she could now see as choreographed movements of the fight, the purposeful shifting of the rest of the troop, Petit coming out of the kitchen…

  Drill Sergeant Trokof was looking at Andy expectantly. She gave a slight shake of her head. No more interrogation, but there would be another inspection and Andy hoped like hell this would turn up something more definitive.

  It didn’t. The moon had descended past its peak in the sky by the time inspection was done, the troop standing in formation the entire time in the quad, even when the rain began just after midnight. Nothing. Not a sign, not a shred of evidence, not even a piece of paper this time. The cadets were clean, the cabin was clean, and overturning the kitchen turned up nothing.

  Andy passed the punishment of Troop 18 over to the instructors, heading wearily back to her cabin with Kate walking silently beside her. It was impossible not to hear Trokof raging at the troop behind them, but Andy blocked it out. She was tired, but her brain was on overdrive, thinking about Superintendent Heath arriving the day after tomorrow, trying to explain to him how this troop was continuing to defy them all. She felt annoyed, she felt worried, and above all frustrated.

  As she held the door open for Kate, Andy questioned her defense of this group. It didn’t make sense. She forced herself to keep her priorities straight. She was here to get to the bottom of whatever this troop was hiding, not to help individual cadets, not to get them back on the straight and narrow, not to punish them or shape them or encourage them. But it was hard. Something about this troop tugged at her. Cadet Hawke Foster, she had to admit to herself, was highest on that list.

  Kate was adding some small logs to the fire, pushing them in before locking the glazed door. Andy read a similar look of concentration on her face, though Kate’s was tinged with curiosity instead of Andy’s frustration. Kate stood, wiping her hands.

  “I don’t get it,” Kate said.

  “Neither do I,” Andy admitted, shoving her hands into her pockets, wishing the fire would hurry up and warm the cabin.

  “I get that it was a diversion, that they wanted us out of the kitchen cabin. At first I thought it was a prank, like they really did just get hungry. But the way they reacted…” Kate trailed off.

  “They were scared,” Andy finished for her.

  “Of getting caught?”

  It seemed like such a simple question.

  “Yes, of getting caught and all the consequences,” Andy said. “But I think they’re more afraid we’ll uncover whatever they’re protecting.”

  Kate tilted her head, seeming to think through Andy’s answer. She unconsciously tried to twist the absent ring on her finger again. Andy’s heart constricted, and she hesitated. Then she walked across the cabin, sifted through her bag by the door and pulled Kate’s sister’s ring out of one of her pockets. She handed it to her silently. Kate turned it over on her palm, studying the thick silver band with the simple, worn pattern. Then, to Andy’s surprise, she pocketed it just
like Andy had done so many times over the past two months.

  “I think I’ll give it to Tyler when I get home,” Kate said quietly, meeting Andy’s eyes.

  Andy’s heart lightened as another burden was lifted. It was a symbol of how far Kate had come in the two months she had been gone. For Andy, it meant Kate could let the past be the past and she could refuse to let guilt weigh her down. Andy couldn’t help smiling and pulling Kate into her arms, completely overwhelmed with just how in love she was with this woman. Kate clasped her arms around Andy’s waist, buried her head in her chest and they stood like that for a long time. Andy could hear the crackling of the fire, the click and hum of the hot water tank, Trokof’s distant, continuous yell. But she concentrated on the sound of Kate’s breathing, the smell of her hair, the incredible feeling of being held so tightly.

  Eventually Kate pulled back and looked up into Andy’s eyes. “They’ll come around,” Kate said.

  “What makes you so sure?” Andy asked, wishing in that moment she had Kate’s confidence.

  “Secrets don’t stay secrets. They can’t. Even I can see this troop is working overtime to keep up appearances. It takes a lot of energy,” Kate said evenly.

  “But they’ve been at it for months. Successfully. It’s like they’re getting better at it, not worse,” Andy tried to articulate her frustration.

  “I didn’t say you’d break them. I said they’d come around,” Kate clarified, and Andy thought again of the mantra she’d been trying to keep in mind since Lincoln presented her with this challenge a week ago. You won’t punish it out of them, you won’t force it out of them, you won’t trick it out of them.

  “Tell me why you think so.”

  “Because you are offering them a way out. They might not see it yet because they’re still so caught up in maintaining. But I saw the way you pulled back instead of going after that cadet, Petit. You saw right through Prewitt-Hayes, but you didn’t attack her. You let it go, you let them remain intact,” Kate said. “They trust you, I think. They’ll come around,” she repeated, her voice sure.

  Andy shook her head, wanting Kate’s confidence. But it was enough for now, that someone had it. It was enough that Kate was here with her. Andy kissed Kate lightly, even the gentlest brush of their lips making her heart hammer strongly.

  “Do you have any idea how much I love you, Kate Morrison?” Andy whispered to her.

  “Yes, I do,” Kate said happily. “I love you, too, Andy Wyles. And I missed you.”

  *

  Tuesday dawned sunny, the weather seeming to agree with Andy’s assessment that they needed to start fresh, move past the night’s turbulence and start again. While Kate showered, Andy went to the kitchen cabin, finding Sergeant Trokof alone with a coffee, toast, and a glass of orange juice.

  “Good morning, Sgt. Wyles. I trust you slept well after last night’s chaos,” Trokof said, still clearly annoyed.

  Andy looked closely at the drill sergeant. He seemed pale this morning, drawn. She considered the possibly that at his age, the man needed more than four and a half hours of sleep. She made a note to talk to Kate when she had a minute today.

  “Yes, fine thank you,” Andy said.

  “And the doctor? How is she faring this morning?” Trokof said. Andy, listening carefully for tones of disapproval, heard only inquiry and interest. She imagined either Les had discreetly filled in the other instructors, or they’d drawn their own conclusions as Kate and Andy had disappeared into a cabin together last night.

  “Kate’s good, she should be joining us in a minute,” Andy said, meeting Trokof’s eyes. She felt the brief awkwardness of her personal life and her work life colliding, but she navigated it with confidence, knowing others would be looking for her cue in how to respond. “She’s trying to figure out this troop like the rest of us,” Andy added, shrugging. She pulled two clean mugs off the tray and poured herself and Kate a coffee before walking them carefully to the table across from Trokof who was shaking his head.

  “Christ almighty, this troop is starting to piss me off. Part of me wants to tell the CO coming up tomorrow to just get rid of all of them, cancel all their training agreements and damn the consequences. It’s what they deserve after the shit they put us through last night.” Trokof was clearly angry now, the early morning sun streaming through the cabin windows apparently not having the same effect on him as it had on Andy. She didn’t offer her own opinion. Her contrary views seemed unnecessary. But Trokof looked across the table at Andy, as if sensing her disapproval.

  “You don’t agree, I can see that much,” he said, drilling her with a long look.

  “No, I don’t.”

  Trokof didn’t answer, but he did shake his head again before taking a fierce bite of his toast. Andy took a sip of her coffee, waiting for Trokof to add in his next two cents as she wondered idly what Kate would want for breakfast this morning.

  “Tell me why I’m wrong,” Trokof said suddenly, putting his toast down and picking up his coffee. Andy noted that his hand shook slightly, and she wondered again about his health. Or maybe it really was just anger.

  “I think your opinion this morning is based more on frustration than anything else. I’ve heard the way you talk about this troop, I can see how well you know these cadets. Having all of their training agreements revoked is the last thing you want.” Andy said it all in a very matter-of-fact tone, watching Trokof carefully. He didn’t say anything at first, then he lowered his coffee cup and passed a hand over his eyes.

  “I just…” Trokof started then paused, lining his spoon up with his plate, angling the handle of his white china mug so it sat directly perpendicular to the edge of the table before trying again. “I just worry about what we’re teaching them,” he said finally.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know that Depot isn’t the real world,” he said carefully. “I know that you and every other cadet who have passed through Depot in the twenty-two years I’ve been there forgot at least three quarters of the shit we drilled into you mere minutes after we handed you your medals.” He looked at Andy who gave a small grin, offering no objection. “And I know every cadet whines about how they’re not going to use drills and deportment when they’re out on the streets chasing bad guys, enforcing the law, upholding the peace, and everything else they want to learn to be Mounties.”

  Andy could detect no note of bitterness in the man’s tone, though given the length of time and energy and the sheer number of Mounties in training he must have seen over the years, Andy wouldn’t blame him one bit for being bitter. “But I know what my role is. I know I am trying to teach the cadets to listen for once in their young lives, to be able to follow an order with efficiency and precision, and to trust in the people around them so explicitly it becomes an unconscious thought. I may not have spent much time on the streets as a peace officer, but I know enough to believe to the depths of my Newfie soul that those ideals and skills are necessary out in the real world.”

  “I wish you’d been able to explain that to me as a twenty-three year old,” Andy said, smiling respectfully at her former drill sergeant.

  “Would you have listened to me?”

  “No, probably not.”

  “Exactly,” he said, taking another sip of coffee. “So I worry about what we’re teaching this troop. They keep getting away with,”—he waved his hand above him, etching frustration and futility in the air—“something and we keep punishing them to no effect and they carry on, day by day getting closer to the moment where we shake their hands, hand them a medal in their red serge, and send them off. So what have we taught them, Sergeant Wyles? What skills and ideals are the cadets of Troop 18 taking out into the so-called ‘real world?’”

  Andy had no answer, but she realized she had underestimated Sergeant Albert Trokof. He was not showing the simple frustration of this troop getting away with lying yet again. His concern for the troop went much deeper. Andy rearranged her thoughts and assumptions quickly, sorting th
rough Trokof’s views and judgements and landing on his final question. She still had no answer, so she posed her own question.

  “What is the best case scenario outcome for this troop?”

  Trokof seemed surprised by the question, and he leaned back in his chair, the sunlight from the window slanting in a bright, diagonal line across his uniformed chest. He was just about to speak when they both heard Kate coming in from outside. She was wearing jeans and a dark blue fleece, her damp hair caught in its usual twist at her neck. Andy’s heart gave a small, joyous kick at the sight of her, then a bigger one as Kate smiled at her before turning to Sergeant Trokof.

  “Good morning,” Kate said, giving her warmest, pre-coffee smile. “Am I interrupting? I can come back.”

  Trokof waved a hand at the seat in front of him. “Please, sit. Your Sergeant Wyles has just posed a question as to what I see as the best possible outcome for this troop.”

  Kate took the seat and picked up her coffee, giving Andy a quick smile of thanks before taking her first sip. As Trokof reordered his thoughts, Kate also gave Andy a look, raising her eyebrows slightly and giving the smallest shrug of her shoulders. Andy knew she was reacting to Trokof’s possessive and assuming use of the word ‘your.’

  “The best possible outcome would be if it is discovered that whatever the troop is hiding is a minor transgression only. The appropriate punitive measures would be put in place and Troop 18 can get back to their regularly scheduled cadet training program. Realistically however, I know that’s probably not the scenario we are dealing with. In that case…” he paused, sighed, and finished the sentence. “In that case, I guess damage control is the best possible outcome.”

  “Damage control,” Andy repeated, waiting for Trokof to complete the thought.

  “Yes, that we have to release the fewest possible cadets. And when I say damage control, I mean limiting the impact on both the RCMP and the cadets,” he said, looking across the table at both of them.

  Before Andy had time to comment, she heard more footsteps outside the door. Les entered first, holding the door for Meyers and Zeb who followed her into the kitchen cabin. Andy noticed both Les and Meyers also exhibited the same signs of being up late with the troop: haggard expressions and an automatic bee-line to the coffee machine percolating on the counter. Zeb, however, seemed utterly unaffected. He was full of energy, standing by the door, rocking on the balls of his feet then back down again. He looked like he would drop and give fifty push-ups if only someone would give him the excuse.