by Shawn Keys
Cara squinted in confusion, “Is the front door ajar?”
“Yep. Don’t suppose that this means we can go on in?” Tricia waffled despite her words.
Drake pointed around the side of the house. “I’m going to circle around and see if I can peer through a window. Listen at the door. If you hear anything bad, well, do what you think is right. If you hear me call for help, well… do what you think is right.” He shrugged. “Let me take the lead. If the cops blame anyone, it can be me. They already hate me.”
The girls looked ready to object, but he wasn’t listening. He jogged across the grass that had a small dusting of snow still on it. They were on the edge of town; the temperatures were a touch lower here than in the middle of the city. The crunch of his boots on the stiff grass echoed in the still air. It sounded loud; he was sure he would be giving himself away with every step.
As he ran in a semi-crouch, his hip complained a little less. Adrenalin was beginning to kick in, smoothing over the edges of pain. Part of him felt like his old self: the RECON marine ghosting along the perimeter of an enemy encampment on a scouting mission. The other half of his brain was yelling at himself for being sloppy, stiff and slow.
First window: nothing. It was a library or a sitting room or something.
Second window: Maybe the kitchen? Or a bar area. Lights were off. Empty.
Third window: An expansive living room with towering ceilings. He could hear the sound of muffled shouting. Multiple voices all piled on top of each other. First angle gave him no view of any bodies. He veered left, stooping further, and caught sight of a colorful robe. A female body blocking two smaller ones. He couldn’t see Tully, but Hanna… assuming that was his soon-to-be-ex-wife… was positioned to block his sight line. She was dressed as you would expect to see from someone opening presents with her children on Christmas morning.
He stopped, straining to listen to those voices.
A woman first, probably Hanna. “…need to understand this can’t help you! Why are you doing this?”
A male. Had to be Patrick. “Why? What do I have left? You decided to cash me in. Then I tried to cash in, and the whole fucking universe decides to blow my plan out of the water! It was so simple, and now everything’s wrong. Everything is wrong! I’m going to be arrested, Hanna. I’m going to go to prison. I can’t go to prison!”
Hanna screeched back at him, “You burned down the mall, Patrick! What did you expect? Now put the gun down! We can deal with this! You’re scaring the kids.” She huddled the kids further behind her, doing what she could to shield them from danger.
The kids were confused. Both looked somewhere around eight to ten, in pajamas of a Christmas design. If they were talking or crying, it was too quiet to be heard through the thick glass.
Patrick yelled, “They should be scared! They’re about to lose their father for, oh, I don’t know, ten to twelve years! But you don’t care, do you? You were about to ditch me anyway!”
Drake had heard enough. Patrick wasn’t getting talked down, and this was going to get worse. Patrick had already killed the guard. Ten to twelve? He was going down for a lot worse than a little arson.
Alright… a lot of arson. But still, manslaughter is a tad worse.
He ran to the side, heading for the back door. His first thought was to take it quiet, but there was no reason to play this anyway but loud. The back doors were French doors, which meant they gave way to his shoulder barrage without much effort. Bursting in, he charged a dozen running paces past the mudroom and into view of the living room.
Old instincts fueled his actions. His stolen pistol was loaded and up on point before he was even thinking clearly. Drake called out, “Stop where you are, Tully!”
Patrick was at the top of the stairs leading into the sunken living room where the rest of his family cowered. He was lording his position over them, enjoying the power it gave him to be so much taller than them. Unlike Drake, who held his gun like a professional, Tully was waving his gun with every word and gesture, using it for emphasis.
At Drake’s call, Patrick darted his gun toward him, then back at his wife. The brief threat nearly made Drake take him out. Tully brayed, “Stay back! Whoever you are, stay back! This isn’t about you. This is between us!”
Drake’s answer was cold, delivered sharply, trying to pierce the madness. He was no negotiator or psychiatrist. He wasn’t going to try. “What did Phillip do, huh? Wrong place, wrong time? Lot of that going around. Surrender now, you murdering bastard!”
“You don’t understand!”
Hanna was gasping. “What did you do to Phillip? Patrick, did you hurt him? Who are you? Where’s the man I married?”
Patrick screamed back, “I’m right here! Why can’t you see me anymore?”
Drake raised his voice, trying to break up his rant. He also wanted to make sure the girls heard him. “We all see you, buddy! I can see your kids, too. If you want any hope of ever seeing them again, you need to calm the fuck down right now. Get on the ground, and let’s wait for the uniforms. Trust me, you do not want to be holding a gun when they show up. Things could get real bad, real fast!”
Patrick blasted back at him, “Shut up! You have no idea! You’re a stranger. Just shut up and –”
From behind him, Tricia’s rich alto cut through his rant. “Hiiii-yaaaah!” Her attack wasn’t clean. She tackled him, more or less.
Cara was right behind her. She grabbed at his arm, wrestling at his gun.
Patrick was barking at them incoherently. His hand twitched, and a lethal bang! ripped across the room, startling everyone.
Except Drake. The only one who had heard the roar of a gun in combat. It didn’t scare him. It might give him nightmares again later, for right then… he might as well have been at home. All the rest of them were moving in slow motion. He speared his way across the room, smashing the hammer of his hand against Patrick’s gun hand with a precise, crippling strike. Patrick yelled in pain and released his grip on the weapon.
Drake kicked it away. Patrick tried to strike back, flailing kicks and punches toward him. Drake intercepted a few, then growled, “Help me flip him over!” The girls worked with him, turning the frantic man onto his stomach. While they laid across his limbs, Drake put his weight on Patrick’s back. He yelled at Hanna, “Rope? Tape? Anything?”
His harsh tone prompted the woman from her shock. She dashed about while the trio struggled to keep the struggling Patrick pinned down.
Finally, she came back with some cargo straps she had found in the garage. “Will these do?”
Drake grasped at them. “Yes! Call 9-1-1! Our other friend is already on the line with them, but they need to know what’s going on here! We didn’t really know!”
With shaking hands, Hanna dialed the number. “Hold him tight! Kids… kids, listen, go to your room!”
“But M-mom, is… Dad, is… what…”
She shrieked again, “To your room! Both of you!” She looked ready to explode, cry, and collapse all at the same time.
Drake wasn’t the one to help her. He had no idea how to start. He cinched one of the straps down tight, then whispered, “Cara. Tricia. Can you take Hanna to the other room? Help her calm down. Help the kids. This is just getting started. You know the circus is about to start.”
Both women nodded. Tricia asked, “Can you handle him?”
He nodded quickly. “When you hear the cops come, one of you get back out here. If Michaels comes in first, he’s as likely to shoot me first, whatever they’ve been told. I want a witness.” As if to prove the point, he tossed the gun he was still holding over by Patrick’s. With Patrick strapped down, he figured he didn’t need it anymore. Being armed was going to get himself killed.
As the two women retreated with the others, a strange sort of calm settled. Patrick’s panicked strength was ebbing, reducing him to nothing but a sobbing mess.
Drake dropped his forehead to his back. “Why’d you do it, you fool. There had to be a bett
er way.”
“You don’t know. It was all over. I had nothing!”
Drake gave a helpless laugh. “Nothing, huh? Well, you got that wrong. I know all about having nothing. I know others who have nothing.” He didn’t want to judge the guy, but he found himself shaking his head. “Nothing? You had so much. And now you’ve thrown it all away, you dolt. What I wouldn’t give for even half of what you have.”
Drake closed his eyes in pity. “Welcome to rock bottom, Patrick. I’d like to say it’s going to get better from here. But I try not to lie.” He slumped down, and just hoped the police got there before his own calm wavered.
Eventually, he heard noises from out front. Cars pulling up along with sirens.
Drake called out, “Cara? Tricia? You in there?” Something was keeping them, and he hope this didn’t go badly.
The front door opened with a sharp bang against the inner wall. A strident voice barked out, “OCP!” A few uniformed officers streamed in, turning left and right. A few others marched down the main corridor, weapons at the ready. They took in the sight of Drake laying with his back to Patrick, sprawling his weight over the other guy, pinning Patrick in place with his arms tied behind his back.
“Don’t move!” The lead police officer called out. “Drop your weapons.”
Drake grumbled. “Guessed that one. Already dropped.”
“Shut up! Hands out! Don’t you dare get up, whoever you are! Roll off him and put your face to the floor!”
Drake resisted the urge to ask how he could do all that at the same time. Snipes of humor seemed like a bad way to go. Instead, he stretched his hands above his head and barrel rolled to the side. That seemed like the least threatening version of what he could do. Trying to get up in any way might be taken as a threat. He felt Patrick bucking underneath him, but Drake didn’t fear him getting away or doing any damage. The officers were right there. The best thing Drake could hope for was for Patrick to prove how violent and dangerous he was.
Unfortunately, Tully chose to scream out, “Get him off me! He’s crazy! He pointed a gun at me!”
Drake kept his mouth shut. He had to trust in what Tully’s wife would say.
An officer started to pat Drake down. “Do you have any weapons? You better tell us!” The voice was female, a little to his surprise.
Drake glanced over his shoulder, seeing an intense face with vivid blue eyes staring back at him. Drake rumbled back, “There are only two weapons, the two pistols lying by the wall over there.”
Of course, the officer didn’t believe him. She shucked his hands up and down Drake’s clothing, feeling for any signs of weapons.
Drake smirked.
He must have made a noise. The officer heard him. Twisting his arm a little, she demanded, “What’s so funny?”
Despite his better judgement, Drake blurted out, “Normally you get charged for this kind of treatment. More action than I’ve had in months.”
“Funny guy. Want me to really rough you up?” She suddenly twisted his first arm behind his back, then grasped the other one so she could handcuff his wrists together. Her words might be flirtatious on the surface, but she showed absolutely zero nonsense as she restrained him.
Grunting with a touch of discomfort, Drake managed to say, “Yeah, I’ll pass.”
She planted her knee in his back to pin him in place. “Smart choice.”
Drake glanced back. “Unless we can switch places later?”
She glared down at him.
Drake dropped back to the ground. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”
From the door, Karin’s unmistakably emotional voice called out, “What are you doing? Hey! Get off him! Why are you arresting him? It’s the other guy who did it!”
One of the other officers held her back by the door, “We’re just getting control of the scene, Ma’am! Keep back. There are two guns and two possible shooters!”
Things got even more out of control as Tricia emerged from the back rooms. She took one look at Drake being pinned on the ground with Patrick rolling around free, not yet grasped by any of the other officers. She lost her mind. “What are you doing? He saved the woman! That idiot there was the one who nearly killed her! You got the wrong guy!”
Two of the officers swept up and pushed her heavily against a nearby wall. They spun her around and began to put her in handcuffs as well.
“What are you doing?” Tricia yelled out.
“Calm down, Miss! We have no idea what is happening! We’ll sort this out at the station! This isn’t your house!”
In the back, they heard even more officers encounter Hanna and Cara along with the children. One called out, “Which of you is the owner of the house? Are you on the phone with the 9-1-1 operator, Ma’am?”
“Yes!” Hanna called out.
“Stay on the bed! Stay with the children. Ma’am, get down on the ground!”
Now it was Cara’s turn to sound out. “What do you mean?”
Even Hanna snapped back, “She’s helping! She saved me!”
The officers weren’t having any of it. They were in total suppression mode. The only one safe was the Lady of the House and her children. Everyone else was going into handcuffs. “Down! On! The ground!”
The sound of a minor scuffle came. Not long after, Cara was muscled out of the back bedrooms, hands behind her back, looking pissed off like nothing else.
One by one, the women were hauled out. Karin was held back, the only one not put in cuffs, probably because of her own time spent on the 9-1-1 line and not trespassing. Her proximity to the dead guard might have hurt her, but she didn’t have a pistol to make her a suspect.
Michaels strode into the house just after Tricia was hauled out. Drake heard the brunette scream at him, “Tell them about Patrick! He’s dangerous, you moron!”
Michaels totally ignored her, standing just inside the door. He looked left, then right, considering Karin. “All three of you are here?”
Karin clenched her jaw, then spit in his face. “You bastard. Why are you doing this?”
Michaels’ flushed red. He pointed a fat finger into her face. “Do that again and you’ll join your friends in a squad car, Missy! This whole fucking scene is a mess! All I have is a bunch of suspects and trespassers. Hell, I should drag the kids down to be questioned!”
Hanna came storming from the back room. “You will do no such thing, Detective!”
Michaels held up his hands, knowing he had gone too far. “My apologies, Mrs. Tully. Just a figure of speech. We need to work this out.”
With a waspish retort, Hanna snapped, “You know damned well what happened, Hargrove!”
Drake snorted from the ground. “Hargrove?”
Michaels stomped over, looking ready to kick Drake where he lay. “Enough out of you! Sanchez, get him the hell out of here!”
The woman officer pinning Drake down said, “You sure, Sir? Do you know what’s going on here?”
Hanna poked Michaels in the arm. “I’m sick of this protectionism. Why are you still on the case? Why hasn’t your connection to him as lodge members disqualified you? My children were nearly killed today! I’ll have your badge if I find out you’re dragging your feet on this!”
Drake was snickering despite his best advice to himself. “Hargrove Michaels?”
Sensing this was not getting any better, the officer Drake had addressed as Sanchez pried him up toward his knees and then toward his feet. “Come on, you. Before you talk yourself into way more trouble than you’re in.”
She pushed him for the door.
Behind, Michaels reassured Hanna, “We’re just taking them all down to the station. We’ll take statements and get this all sorted out. I’m not taking any chances.”
Drake didn’t hear anymore. He was pushed past Karin.
The officer watching Karin wasn’t paying much attention. She was able to break past the control and hug her arms around Drake. “I heard a gun go off! I was so terrified!”
Drake whispered,
“Just part of the struggle. Nothing at all, really.”
Karin pulled back, tears in her eyes and her heart in her throat. “I’ll be right behind you all. I’ll tell them everything.”
Sanchez said, “Out of the way. Please?”
Karin glared at her. “You handle him nicely! He saved that woman’s life! And her kids! And he saved us last night! I don’t get why you can’t understand that!”
Her emotional pleas softened Sanchez a little. “Look, I get it. We’re calming things down. He’ll be released later, alright? If the lady doesn’t press charges, then nothing is going to stick. This is just the way things work.”
Karin turned back to him. “Drake?”
He nodded confidently. “Really. It’ll be fine. Come after us with the car. Cara will be livid, and Tricia might start tearing people apart before too long. Come keep them down to earth, alright?”
Karin nodded fast. “I’ll talk to them. Promise!”
With enough time given, Sanchez pushed him out the door and marched him down the steps. She was quiet for the first dozen steps. Then, she whispered from behind him. “That all true? I heard some of it when I came on shift. That was you in the fire last night?”
Drake shrugged.
Taking that for admission, she snorted. “Get into trouble a lot, don’t you?”
“What can I say?”
“Nothing. You have the right to remain silent.”
“Yeah, guess I do.”
A pause. Then, Sanchez said again, “Anything you do say can be used against you.”
“Yeah?”
“Not just in a court of law. Could be in private.”
“Huh.” He said that with a suggestive attitude. In playful revenge, she twisted his arm a little sharply. He winced even as he chuckled while she shoved him into a squad car, playing the game of uber-officer a little further. He knew there was no way this could go anywhere, but it was fun to flirt. Damn, he liked feeling human again.
Holding the door, the attractive Latina let a very human smile creep onto her face. “Take it easy. We’ll look out for you. The bosses are going to insist we clear this up, but we won’t let you get railroaded. The other officers know what you did last night. They told me. And I heard that woman. We’ll look after you. Now, watch your head.”