Derek Hartman Vanessa Sterling-Hartman NovelFallen Hero's Son

My father, Derek Hartman, was a DEA agent who gave his life on the front lines of the drug war. Since I was a kid, I had one dream: to restore his badge number and follow in his footsteps.

When I learned my scores were good enough to get into the federal law enforcement academy, I called my mom immediately to share the news.

Her response was harsh: "You? A cop? With your pathetic grades? Restore your fathers badge number. Dont embarrass him. Get lost!"

Her words hit like a sledgehammer. Devastated, I wandered home, only to be ambushed in Shadow Creek Alley by a group of thugs.

Word is your dad, Derek Hartman, was a DEA hotshot. Trained a bunch of agents and made life hell for us. Lets talk about that, shall we?

I refused to go quietly, fighting with everything I had.

But they were prepared. A knife pierced my lower back, draining me of all strength.

As my consciousness faded, I thought of my moms last words.
Mom have I disgraced Dad?

Content


In the early hours of the morning, Bayport police received a report about large amounts of blood found in Shadow Creek Alley. No victim was in sight.

The caller assumed it was a drunken brawl gone wrong and urged the police to find the injured person quickly.

Officers arrived to find the heavy rain had washed the blood into a chaotic mess. There were no signs of a victim nearby.

A thorough search of the area led them to Riverside Millworks, an abandoned factory where they discovered dismembered body parts scattered across the floor.

In the autopsy room, harsh fluorescent lights flickered on.

Whats the situation with this case?
A calm, authoritative voice broke the silence as a woman in a crisp forensic uniform entered, followed by two young officers.

It was Dr. Vanessa Sterling-Hartmanmy mother and the most respected forensic examiner in Bayport.

One of the officers said hesitantly, Dr. Hartman, the victims condition is bad. Maybe you should prepare yourself

My mom waved them off. Ive seen everything there is to see. Lets start the autopsy and solve this case quickly.

Indeed, my mother had seen it all in her two-decade careerdecapitations, dismemberments, even bodies dissolved in cement.

She was a consummate professional.

But Mom have you ever considered that the body on your autopsy table might be the son youve always ignored?

Floating above, detached and invisible, I watched her work without emotion.

When she unzipped the body bag, her brow furrowed deeplynot just because of the mangled remains, but because one critical part was missing.

Wheres the head?

We searched the entire factory, one officer stammered. Its likely the suspects took it.

Fine. Lets proceed.

She donned gloves and began sorting the remainsbones, flesh, fragments of fingers. Each piece she identified was meticulously placed in order.

The victim is male. Hes between eighteen and twenty-three, roughly five-foot-nine to six feet, based on the growth plates. Likely a student, she narrated with clinical precision.

Judging by the condition of the cuts, the killers broke the victims finger bones, radius, ulna, humerus, tibia, and femur while he was still alive. Then, they dismembered the limbs. It seems they werent satisfied and used blunt toolshis ribs and vertebrae are almost entirely shattered.

Her grim analysis left one of the young officers pale and trembling. He clutched his stomach, barely holding back nausea.

The unimaginable pain and despair the victim endured hung heavy in the room.

Mom turned suddenly. Were any weapons found at the scene?

Yes these, the officer stammered, handing her photos of a rusted, bloodstained saw and a hammer caked in blood and flesh.

The dull blade of the saw had been used to cut through every joint and bone. The pain it inflicted on a living person was beyond description.




Mom frowned deeply. This isnt random. What kind of grudge would drive someone to do this to a kid?

Even revenge killings didnt usually escalate to this level of brutality.

One of the officers responded respectfully, Dr. Hartman, Detective Sam Boones preliminary investigation ruled out robbery and random violence. This is a revenge killing. The team is cross-checking recent cases of missing persons citywide.

Good, she replied tersely.

She resumed reconstructing the remains, hoping to uncover clues. But her efforts were in vain.

Even dental recordsoften a surefire way to identify a victimwere useless because the suspects had taken the head.

Identifying a person from such a pulverized, unclothed body seemed impossible.

Floating nearby, I felt a strange mix of relief and sorrow. At least Mom didnt know it was me. If she did, shed only call me a disappointment one last time

With a heavy sigh, she muttered, Poor kid. Whatever grudge they had with his family, why take it out on him?

For a brief moment, her eyes shimmered with tears.

This was the mom I didnt recognize.

The meticulous forensic examiner piecing together every shard of bone.

The compassionate woman feels for an unknown victim.

It felt so foreign.

Id always known Mom didnt like me.

I remember one rainy night when I was in elementary school. I had a fever, and Mom rushed me to the hospital, letting Dadexhausted from days of overtimerest at home.

But she didnt know Dad got an urgent call not long after we left. He ran out without even grabbing his gear.

That same night, he was killed in a shootout with a cartel kingpin.

Mom was the one who handled Dads autopsy.

I was too young to understand death back then, but now I realize how traumatic that must have been for her.

Maybe Mom blamed me. If I hadnt fallen ill that night, Dad might still be alive.

Looking at her now, I couldnt blame her.