Also by Alex Ander
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Vengeance is Mine
Defense of Innocents
Plea For Justice
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Word of Honor
A Vow to the Innocent
Above & Beyond
Jessica Devlin - U.S. Marshal Action & Adventure
Trust Fall
No Good Options (Coming Soon)
Let the Hunt Begin (Coming Soon)
Patriotic Action & Adventure - Aaron Hardy
The Unsanctioned Patriot
American Influence
Deadly Assignment
Patriot Assassin
The Nemesis Protocol
Necessary Means
Foreign Soil
Of Patriots and Tyrants
Act of Justice
The Last Kill
Standalone
The President's Man
The President's Man 2
Special Agent Cruz Crime Series
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Watch for more at Alex Ander’s site.
Trust Fall
Jessica Devlin - U.S. Marshal
Action & Adventure (Book #1)
By Alex Ander
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Trust Fall
Jessica Devlin – U.S. Marshal
Action & Adventure
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This story proudly
Made in the U.S.A.
Copyright ©2019 Jason A. Burley
All rights reserved. No portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be published in a newspaper, magazine or electronically via the Internet.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarities to real events or locations or actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
“Virtually every federal law enforcement initiative involves the Marshals Service. If a federal criminal jumps bail, violates parole, or escapes from prison, tracking him down and recapturing him is your responsibility. When an order is issued by a federal court, it's your job to see the order is carried out. You're protecting the courts, judges, attorneys and witnesses, and overseeing dozens of tasks essential to the functioning of the justice service. This all adds up to a heavy burden of responsibility.”
— Former President Ronald Reagan
Speaking at the U.S. Marshals Service
National Conference
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Chapter 1
Not Forgotten
25 april—12:21 p.m.
alexandria, virginia
“...Gone,” in full uniform, standing before a flag-draped casket, the Alexandria Police Department’s Chief of Police folded hands in front of his body and bowed his head, “but not forgotten.”
Seventy-five feet away, a firing party of seven uniformed officers—lined up from shortest to tallest—stood on the side of a slight incline.
Firing Commander: “Ready...Aim...Fire!”
Seven M14 rifles discharged.
Facing the Police Chief from across the width of the coffin, wearing a black dress, black nylons, and black high heels—her father holding an umbrella over her head—Jessica Devlin felt relief from the spindly arms gripping her right leg. She glanced down.
With both hands pressed against her ears, Cassandra looked up at her mother. “It hurts.”
Devlin scooped up the four-year-old. Hugging her child, stroking the little girl’s hair, “It’s okay, babe,” she gazed beyond the far end of the casket, at a white marble headstone flanked by two, neatly trimmed evergreen shrubs. She squinted at the inscription: In Loving memory of Jonathon J. Devlin. A devoted husband and loving father, he gave everything for his God, his family, and his country.
Commander: “Ready...”
With a light mist tapping at the protective covering above her head, Devlin brought Cassandra’s face to her chest. “It’ll be over soon, Cassie.”
“Aim...”
Struggling to tamp down the emotional mass in her throat, Devlin clutched her girl and put her lips to the top of Cassandra’s soft, wispy hair.
“Fire!”
The girl flinched.
Devlin squeezed her offspring.
Cassandra’s tiny fingers crumpled her mother’s dress, as she drew closer to her remaining parent. “Mommy, are you going away?”
“Ready...”
Pressure built behind Devlin’s eyes, as she recalled what she had said on that day. Daddy had to go away for a little while. But you’ll see him again. The death of her husband had shaken her to the core. A devout Catholic, never missing Sunday Mass, Devlin had lost her faith—her trust—in a benevolent god. She had spoken those words to her daughter to bring comfort, but her mind had questioned their value, their validity. She remembered thinking to herself: How could a loving god take such a good man from me?
Devlin cradled Cassandra. “I promise you, Cassie. I’m not going anywhere. I will always come home to you. It may—”
“Aim...”
She shut her eyes, held firm to the one in her care, and braced for the final volley.
“Fire!”
Seven reports broke through the light rain.
“It may not be when you want me to, but I will always come home to you.” She kissed her child’s head. “I love you.”
Standing next to the firing party, an officer raised a bugle to his mouth and played the long, first note of “Taps.”
Devlin’s face twisted. Her breaths became erratic. Her shoulders rocked.
On her left, her father gave her a one-armed hug.
Unable to maintain the strong facade any longer, she cried into Cassandra’s hair, her mind showing her images of her late husband. Why? Why did you leave me? What am I going to do without you? She felt Cassandra squirm. And what about Cassie? She’s going to need a father. She’s going to need you, Jon.
The bugler held the final note before letting the instrument go silent.
The rain grew in intensity, pelting the black umbrella protecting Devlin and her daughter.
The widow sniffed. Damn it, Jon. How could you do this to us? She envisioned her husband lying in a hospital bed—I.V. tubes taped to the backs of his bruised hands, machines beeping, oxygen coursing through the large tube attached to the mask covering his face. He was fighting for his life as bravely as he had fought the criminal who had shot him. Devlin knew her feelings were irrational, even cruel. To believe this was somehow Jonathon’s fault was insane; however, the sudden cutting short of a young life would be enough to drive anyone to the edge of insanity.
Devlin glimpsed the flowers on the casket, the hanging flag, and the grave marker. Her eyes settled on the vessel that held her husband’s body and where his face would be inside. I love you, Jon. Cassie and I will never forget you.
Their rotors thumping, three helicopters approached the ceremony, flying in a ‘V’ formation.
Breaking into her thoughts, the sudden, rhythmic droning grew to a crescendo before fading away. Devlin swallowed, and the simple act seized her throat. Seeing the
