The Brink of Minds | Tim Bradford ✓

── prologue

A crowd of police officers walked out of Mid-Wilshire Station, their bodies slumped and their faces tired. It had been a long shift for them, and they were more than keen to get home and fall right into slumber. Over the next hour, the day shift continued to filter out, making way for the night shift to clock in.

Sergeant Grey glanced at his watch on his wrist as he left the building. It was not too late, but the cases that day had been on the wild side, which sent their team on wild goose chases and whatnot; paperwork was also a pain in the ass.

His car was parked next to Captain Andersen's, who was searching for her keys. "You're holding the keys, Captain."

Andersen sighed at her error. "It has been a long day."

"That, it has," Grey agreed. "And tomorrow, it's going to be a longer one." He unlocked his car door and turned to the captain. "This batch of rookies better not be like the last," he heaved, "or the one before that... and the one before— Damn, do you get the idea that they keep coming in worse?"

Andersen smiled. "I'm confident that tomorrow's batch will be better," she affirmed, receiving an unbelieving chuckle from Grey. "Do you not agree, Sergeant Grey?" she asked, "You've read their files."

"Well," Grey breathed in, "for starters, how ever you managed to get the top two in their class here to Mid-Wilshire is beyond me."

"Are you surprised?" Andersen challenged.

"No. Impressed," Grey corrected before furrowing his brows. "And the one closing his expiration date?"

Andersen smiled, knowing that the Watch Commander had voiced his concern with that particular rookie when she first handed him the new cohort's files for assignment. "It's getting late, Wade. Perhaps a conversation for another day," she suggested, "Good night."

➤➤➤

The group of four had agreed to drinks in the pub to support/celebrate Ollie's breakup.

They thrusted their shot glasses in the air, howling out an excited series of Cheers! before downing the shot of fiery liquid. Jackson and Ollie's faces were quick to pucker up; Lucy and John laughed loudly back at them.

"Have I said that straight vodka shots are not my thing," Jackson coughed, "at all!"

John shrugged with a half-sincere smile. "Only about five times tonight," he pointed out. The younger man groaned in agony as the rest of the group chuckled amusedly.

The bar was swarmed with lights and music; the couple on the stage nearing the end of their song. There were conversations and laughter from by the door to the back of the bar. Refills were being called for by the bar, and waiters were manoeuvring from the kitchen and through the packed floor to deliver ordered snacks to tables.

Jackson was still complaining about the shot with his arms waving in all directions when John offered to buy them another round of drinks. No more straight vodka! Jackson had called out, but he was certain that they were going for yet another round of the very same liquor.

"Alright, next up... Lucy, Jackson and Ollie!" the woman by the stage called out, scanning the crowded bar.

Lucy perked up in an instant, her arms looping through a pumped Jackson and a resistant Ollie. "C'mon, Ollie, it's our turn!" Lucy chimed, and Jackson promptly helped her drag the woman up from their table.

"Guys, guys, can I pass?" the woman in the middle asked, gaining stern glares from her two friends.

"Hell no!" Lucy exclaimed, gripping the other woman on her shoulders. "Look, Mason's a dick for dumping you one day before our rookie period," she huffed, "but you shouldn't let that — let him — ruin your night."