Those words would haunt him for the rest of his life. Of course, if he hadn’t let Arnold take the lead that night, Gonzo would be dead. His son would be fatherless, and his fiancée bereft. The thought of those scenarios was only slightly less agonizing than the loss of Arnold had been. He didn’t like to think of Alex or Christina grieving him, but he’d almost rather be dead himself than have to live with the way his partner had died.

The gurgling sound of blood in Arnold’s throat gave Gonzo nightmares in the rare instances when he actually slept. In a career filled with things he’d much rather forget than remember, it was the single worst sound Gonzo had ever heard, the sound of life leaving his partner, one desperate gasp at a time.

He shuddered, thinking of it now and reached for the bottle that was never far from his grasp. The whiskey burned on the way down, his empty stomach protesting its arrival. Powering through the gut pain, he took another gulp, looking for the sweet oblivion he only found at the bottom of a bottle.

It was almost five now, and he had to work at seven. He’d missed his shift yesterday. That was a first. Under normal circumstances, he’d be freaking out about screwing up at work. Under these circumstances, he couldn’t find the wherewithal to give a shit about his fucking nightmare of a job. He could no longer remember what he’d ever loved about it.

In what other career could you be gunned down on a sidewalk simply because you carry a badge? In what other career did you risk your life every day for people who didn’t give a shit about you?

These days, cops were viewed as the enemy because of a few bad ones who couldn’t control themselves. Did anyone other than his family and friends and colleagues in blue even care that a young man named Arnold John “AJ” Arnold had been gunned down on a sidewalk simply because he’d approached a suspect on a cold, dark night?

Life had gone on for everyone else. Six weeks later, it was like it never happened for the rest of the world. Despite his best efforts to carry on, to be brave and strong for the people who were counting on him at home and at work, Gonzo could still hear the echo of the gunshots, smell the blood, taste the fear and panic of knowing there was nothing he could do. He could still hear that god-awful gurgling noise.