Speak in Winter Code

by S. M. Harding

  Two deputies ran out the front door with Caleb on their heels. “No!” I yelled. The word had barely left my throat when the first deputy fell. Then the second. Then Caleb. We heard the shots.

  “Oh my God,” Sarah whispered as she stood at my shoulder.

  “Snipers, Sarah! Get the rifles and John Morgan. Get to the roof and shoot those fuckers.” I turned to her. “You’re sure you can shoot with that damn wrist?”

  She nodded, her gaze still on the street outside.

  I shook her shoulder. “Sarah! Now.”

  “But Caleb and—”

  “I’ll get them. Where’s the key to the BearCat?”

  “On the board, but—”

  “Go, Sarah. Please. Put the plan into action now.” I heard more rifle shots.

  John appeared on the steps, two Mark 12s in his hands. “Ready?”

  I pushed her toward the stairs and grabbed the key for the BearCat. Stopped at dispatch. “Call the ambulance services, the hospital and fire department. No personnel in the square, no vehicles. Shut it down. Have them stop at the corners until we give them the all clear.”

  As I approached the back door I had my weapon drawn. No snipers on the building behind the station were visible, so I made a mad zigzag dash for the armored vehicle. Dove in. The thing handled like a fucking tank, but nothing under a .50 mm round could penetrate it.

  I manhandled it to the street, then took a wide turn toward the wounded men. Shots peppered the windshield. Pulling the BearCat in front to protect the wounded, I crawled out the back and saw Caleb smile up at me. He rolled over so he was well behind the open doors. “Got my vest on. Sore ribs, but I’m okay.”

  “Help me get these guys in, if you can.”

  He pushed himself up with a groan. We got both of the men in.

  I heard two quick shots. Then two more almost in unison. Heavy weaponry like a Mark 12.

  Caleb closed his door and I picked up the mic. “Closest ambulance?”

  “Back up to the corner behind you. They should be there,” dispatch said.

  The firing had stopped. I turned the corner and saw a couple of ambulances, their lights flashing, parked at the side of the street. “How are the deputies?” I asked as I locked down.

  “Not good,” Caleb said. “Safe to open the doors?”

  “Yeah. Just don’t go dancing in the square.”

  Sarah

  When the ground shook, my first thought was an earthquake. Then I saw the cloud from the explosion. An explosion? I couldn’t believe what I saw. Win was saying something. She pushed me toward the stairs where John gave me a Mark 12. I took it and he turned and pelted up the stairs. I followed him.

  On the way to the roof, I tried to unscramble my brain and remember our plan. Snipers would be on rooftops and we were to snipe the snipers.

  “The parapet’s only three feet tall, so stay down. I think one of them is on top of Korhner’s, one on top of Tillie’s. The third one could be on top of the old Masonic Lodge. I’ll take closest guy, you take farthest, then we’ll meet at the one at the diner.”

  He nodded and stoop-walked to the front of the building as I did the same to the rear. I peeked over and saw a guy on the roof below, dressed in full battle gear. I looked at John. With his weapon ready at a crenellation, I caught his eye. “Go!”

  I popped up, rested the rifle on wall and found the shooter’s head in my scope. I fired. John fired. Then I moved the weapon to the middle of the block. That shooter was aiming at John. I fired again. Not a kill shot, but John finished the job.

  My hands began to shake. Fight it, Sarah, fight it. Your duty isn’t finished yet. John came up to me and held out a hand to help me up. “Good shooting, John.”

  He nodded. “This time.”

  We headed back downstairs. “There are wounded on the front steps of the courthouse—civilians,” dispatch said.

  “Let’s make sure all the snipers are down before we send anybody out,” I said.

  I heard a loud diesel engine and saw another armored vehicle head toward the front of the courthouse. Was this the next thing they were going to throw at us?

  “Marines have landed,” dispatch said. “You want to talk to them?”

  I nodded and took the headset. “Sheriff here.”

  “All of you okay?” It was Bill’s voice.

  “Three officers down, don’t know how seriously wounded. Three snipers down.”

  “Good work, Sarah. We’ll get the wounded at the courthouse secured and then you can send in the ambulances.”

  “Thanks.” I handed the set back to dispatch. “Stay on the line. Bill will tell you when it’s safe to send in medical personnel. How many of our units are close?”

  “One at each corner of the square.”

  I nodded. “Get additional units back here. There’ll be wounded snipers on top of the old Masonic Lodge, Korhner’s and Tillie’s diner. We need to collect them.”

  Dispatch nodded. I was still gun-shy, so I went out the back door. When I got to the street, I saw our BearCat at the corner. Our wounded men weren’t on the street and I hoped they were getting medical attention. Had Win succeeded in moving them out of the line of fire?

  I hurried down the street and saw Win talking to Caleb.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Win

  The two ambulances took off with sirens shrieking. The medic left to deal with other injuries but said she thought Caleb had cracked ribs.

  “I’ll stop by the hospital after we know what happened,” he protested.

  “Go now,” I said. “Otherwise, you’ll be useless. A hindrance to any mop-up.”

  “Shit, Win. You sure know how to make a guy feel good.”

  I grinned at him then caught sight of Sarah. She still looked dazed. Wait until she saw the back of the courthouse, or what had been the back of the building. She walked up.

  “You get the snipers?” I asked before she had time to turn around and look at the mess.

  She nodded. “First time I’ve ever aimed at a man’s head. They were in full battle gear, Win. There was no other way to stop them.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “I hope you didn’t hesitate.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. With all the body armor, there were heads or legs left. Legs wouldn’t have stopped them from firing.”

  I pulled her to me in a brief embrace. “I heard the marines arrived.”

  Sarah nodded. “A little after the fact, but they secured the wounded in the front of the courthouse.”

  “Let’s check it out,” I said. “But first, would you order your chief deputy to go to the hospital and get his ribs taped up?”

  Sarah turned to him. “Taped?”

  “My vest caught the bullet but I’m a little bruised,” Caleb said.

  “Go,” Sarah said. “There’ll be plenty to do when you get back.”

  Sighing, he saluted.

  Sarah turned around and got a full view of the damage. “Oh my god!”

  I examined the gaping, blackened hole that had been the back of the building. “Without that solid stone facade, it would’ve been a lot worse.”

  Sarah started jogging toward the front of the building. I’d heard shots after the three cops had been hit. Four ambulances were pulled up on the square, Marines still watched the perimeter. I saw Bill on the lawn. It was a long time since I’d seen him in full battle gear.

  Sarah charged up to him. She leaned into him, said in a low voice, “I thought you were supposed to have eyes on these bastards.”

  “Not here,” he said. “I’ll give you a debriefing tomorrow.”

  “What the hell do you mean—”

  I grabbed her arm, tugged her back. “We’re needed at HQ, double-time Sarah.”

  She looked furious. I tugged again. She finally turned on her heel and followed me back to the station.

  I could see her rage, ready to strike out at anyone who came within range. I felt the same and recognized the pain below it. Figured th
e safest place for Sarah was in her own bailiwick. But, like Sarah, I wondered, how he’d lost the shooters.

  * * *

  We didn’t get home until midnight. I’d made a run around dinnertime to let Des out and feed her. The rest of the time had been chaos. At times, controlled chaos. But shit, I didn’t envy Sarah her job.

  When Sarah just stood in our entry hall, I collected her jacket and duty belt. I got two beers from the fridge, walked to the couch and handed one to Sarah. I thought I saw a slight tremor in her hand. “You want me to light a fire?”

  She nodded. Sat with the beer in both hands, stared into space.

  I got the fire started, returned to the couch, put an arm around her. Felt her trembling. I pulled her to me, held her tightly. She started sobbing. The storm lasted a long time. I don’t think she felt my arms around her, nor heard the comforting sounds I made. Finally, it abated.

  “What are you feeling, Sarah? Right now?”

  “Everything, all at once. Terror. I couldn’t even believe what I was seeing. Rage. I could’ve killed Bill. I did kill the snipers. Numb. Just fucking numb.”

  I kissed her forehead. Took the beer from her hands and set it on the side table. “All the feelings all mixed up? Sweeping over you like waves?”

  She nodded.

  “You’ll probably find more and they won’t let you alone for a while. You need to talk to Emily.”

  She kept her face buried, but shook her head.

  That was a battle for another day. I rubbed her back with both my hands. I felt her quiet down. The fire popped and she started.

  “What the hell did they prove, Win?” She sat up, ran her hands through her hair. “Three civilians dead and one of my officers. So many civilians wounded and some critical. For what?”

  I started rubbing her back again. “Fanatics pave their way to heaven with dead bodies. For them, there is no collateral damage.”

  What I didn’t say was that “heaven” meant sheer power to some. And they never quit.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Sarah

  Saturday morning, I handed the investigative lead to the FBI, assisted by ATF. Homeland Security had put pressure on me to do their bidding. I told the special agent in charge our suspicion that this wasn’t just a local plot and gently steered him toward the information we’d gathered. I omitted everything Bill had found, figuring it was his job to disclose his findings and share intel. Explaining the decision to let the FBI lead to the media, who were buzzing around like flies to a corpse, was trickier. It was especially hard with Lloyd and Zoe, who had more questions than I had easy answers for. Between the bombing and the previous assault on the station, we were national news and the Greenglen Sentinel wasn’t good at printing guesses.

  I wore my full-dress uniform and campaign hat for the funeral of Billy Weber, my deputy who’d died in the street in front of the station. The mix of emotions I felt during the proceedings was almost overwhelming, but it was my duty to execute the complicated funeral of a law enforcement officer. We had representatives from all over Indiana and Kentucky, plus a good sprinkling from the rest of the states. I only lost it once—when the riderless horse passed by. Tears crept down my face regardless.

  Win was my rock over the following weeks, beside me when I needed her and not pressing me about seeing the new shrink. Finally, though, she got tired of my nightmares and maybe my shot of bourbon before I could sleep.

  “I get it, Sarah,” she said. “You were ticked at Emily for saying you needed therapy. Get over it. You do.”

  I’d told Em I wasn’t going to do therapy for the long run. “This is our standard after-incident clearance, nothing more.”

  “I won’t do it, Sarah,” she said. “You need to unpack what you’re feeling and a couple of sessions just aren’t going to do it. I gave you the name of a therapist. Use it.”

  I stomped out of her office but when I told Win, she sided with Em. “Look at the major cases you’ve had lately. Not the usual run of domestic homicides and drug busts most county sheriffs come up against.” She’d started enumerating, holding a finger up for each. When all five fingers on one hand were open, I’d stopped her. “I’ll think about it, Win. Right now, I need to concentrate on the bombing until all the federal charges are filed.”

  I had thought about it and all the feelings I was dragging behind me, rather like the warrior brother who’d drug rusted armor up a jungle trail in The Mission. It kept dragging him back down the mountain. I didn’t want to find myself up to my neck in mud, unable to move forward. But right now, I needed to hang on and not fly apart in the face of horror.

  Win didn’t hassle me, but kept her distance. Most nights, after my bourbon, I fell into bed and into immediate sleep. I hadn’t had a day off since the bombing, almost three weeks now, and we hadn’t made love since the explosion and its aftermath. Win stayed beside me during the day, when she could, and yet disappeared beneath covers at night. The only comment she’d offered was that she didn’t like bourbon and had a particularly bad memory associated with its taste. She wouldn’t tell me what.

  The Feds were trying to tie in our prisoners from the station attack to the bombing. I reluctantly gave them what we had on our attackers and even if the Feds didn’t come up with extra charges, we had enough to put all the felons behind bars for the rest of their lives. The judge was tired of the defense team’s delaying tactics and had set the station attack trial for early May.

  Then their glitzy defense team had abandoned the cause and left their clients to local lawyers.

  Spring began to stick her toe tentatively in the stream of changing seasons. The first flush of buds on trees, the early breaking of soil by the heartiest of sprouts. But I knew spring was a tease and didn’t trust the warmer weather. I felt I didn’t trust much at all.

  One Friday I came home, exhausted by the continuing questions from federal agents. Win was already home and I detected something in her demeanor that said her days of “hands off” my exhaustion were over. We ate dinner with minimal talk and I was thinking about going to bed when Win brought her laptop to the couch.

  “I want you to look at this,” she said, opening to a commercial page.

  “French Lick?”

  “I have an ultimatum. Either you go into therapy now or we go to French Lick next weekend. I’ve made a reservation at a place that has cabins and a spa package for the resort. We leave next Saturday morning, come back Tuesday night.” She turned to me. “I realize the strain you’re under to present the perfect case to the Feds. But I can’t take your silence anymore. You need to seek treatment. If you won’t do that, at least try a temporary fix.”

  “French Lick is a temporary fix?”

  “A completely new environment, no hauntings.”

  “Win, I don’t have time—”

  “Make it.”

  “Or?”

  Win took my hand, rubbed her thumb over the back of it, fingered my wedding band. “I want us to walk the long road together. But I’m tired of this distance between us. Tired of your denial of the trauma you experienced. We have to do something to get out of this rut.”

  * * *

  We arrived at the Springs Cabins early this morning. When Win gave me her ultimatum, I’d caved and I’d never asked her the “or what” question again. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.

  “What are we going to do besides spa stuff?” I asked as we unpacked. “I mean, other than mind-blowing sex?”

  Win laughed. “Relax, Sarah. It’s warm enough to go hiking and cool enough at night for a fire. We can visit a winery. Get a tour of the restoration of the grand hotel. I suppose we could go gambling.”

  “I gamble every day when I strap on my weapon,” I said.

  “I know,” Win said quietly. She hung a pair of slacks in the closet. “Anyway, we’re due for our first soak in the medicinal waters in half an hour. Pick up some brochures at the hotel. We’ll go over them tonight.”

  I was imagining an erot
ic exchange in a pool with the hot spring waters lapping the edge. What I got was my own tub. Tub? Damn. But I had to admit, I did manage to relax a bit into the experience, letting my head rest against the pile of towels on the lip. When time was up, I was whisked into a thick terrycloth robe and led to the massage rooms. Again, not what I’d imagined for a “couples massage.” Two tables, with Win close enough to hear my masseuse’s running commentary on my tight muscles and general state of tension. I heard her laugh at a couple of the remarks.

  We had lunch at a vegetarian place and Win actually drank one of their special juices, though I’m not sure she enjoyed it.

  “I packed for a sexy vacation,” I said as we walked to the hotel for a second round of soaking and massage. “Is it going to happen?”

  She took my hand. “You need to relax, Sarah. You’re wound so tight, you’d come if I looked at you naked. I want all the pleasure of a slow dance.”

  “I just want to dance.”

  We’d done our second massage round and I did find myself easing off the treadmill the bombing case had become. I welcomed the work that had begun to reconstruct the destroyed back of the courthouse. One reminder going away, so many more to go.

  Win treated me to a scrumptious dinner at the West Baden Springs Hotel, where I gawked at the Atrium like an out-of-towner with neck cramps in New York City. To think this extravagance had existed among corn and soybean fields for a hundred and twenty-five years boggled my mind. “This is some place, Win. Thanks for bringing me here. It must be costing you a bundle.”

  “Naw,” she said with a grin. “Military discount.”

  * * *

  Win bent over the kindling in the fireplace and coaxed a flame into existence. She was good at that, building all kind of fires. She walked back to the couch, took my hands and pulled me to my feet. “Feel like some slow dancing?”

  “I’m so stuffed, I’m not sure I can do more than lean against you.”