by Banks, R. R.
“Sir,” Frederick objects. “With all due respect, sending a civilian –”
“Perhaps you didn't hear me,” Davis says, “you two are benched right now. I'll figure out what to do with you in an official capacity later. But for now, you are both on standby. Take care of this dog while we're gone. Make sure you feed him, water him, give him treats, and take him out back so he can shit – but do not let him outside the walls. Am I clear?”
Neither man will meet Davis' eyes, no doubt bristling at the slap down he's giving them. I can see that their failure to protect Katie is eating them both up. They know they deserve to be sent to the sidelines. That doesn't mean they like it. Not that I blame them.
Davis turns to me and gives me a small smile. “Shall we go retrieve your lady love?”
“Thought you'd never ask.”
* * *
“I can't give you a gun,” Davis says. “Too illegal.”
“I'm not worried about it,” I reply. “Never fired one before anyway.”
“You're shitting me?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Not my thing.”
We're sitting in Davis' SUV in a turnout about half a mile to Victor’s hideout. I look down at the screen on the computer again and see that red light still glowing strong. It hasn't moved. Like, at all. Which sends a bolt of nervous energy shooting through me.
“This dot hasn't moved an inch,” I say. “You don't think –”
“Nope. I don't,” he says. “He's probably holed up for the night. Waiting until the heat's off before he slips out of town with her. That's what I'd do, at least.”
The trees are tall and thick in the field between us and the target house. Davis has a pair of infrared binoculars up to his eyes though, trying to cut through the gloom to see. Finally, he lowers the glasses and lets out a sigh of frustration.
“Too many trees,” he says. “I can't see shit.”
“Best way to see it is on the ground anyway,” I say.
He nods. “Yeah,” he replies. “But since I can't give you a gun, you are to stay behind me.”
We get out of the truck, and I meet him at the back. He opens the doors and then opens up one of the boxes. He hands me a Kevlar vest. I shake my head, but he presses it to my chest.
“I'm fuckin' serious,” he says. “Put this shit on. I'm not going to watch you get your ass shot because you're too stupid to wear a vest.”
I sigh and put it on, tightening down the Velcro straps. It's surprisingly lightweight and flexible –which makes me wonder just how bulletproof it is. Next, he hands me a pair of goggles. He pushes a button on the side, and the eyepieces glow green.
“Night vision,” he says. “Our approach needs to be silent. Can't afford to trip over shit we can't see. Keep your eyes peeled. When we get to the house, take them off. If you have them on and get hit with some light, you're going to be blinded and won't be able to see shit. We can't afford that either.”
“Got it.”
“Make sure you do,” he says. “I shouldn't be bringing you in on this, but I know I can't really stop you, either.”
“No, you can't.”
“Which is why you need to follow my instructions,” he says. “You're my best friend. My brother. I can't have something happen to you. And Katie sure as shit can't have something happen to you. Neither can your son. You got me?”
“Yeah, I got you,” I grumble.
“By the way, congratulations,” he says. “Since the little guy came so early, do you have a name picked out yet?”
I chuckle. “She says Dalton, I say Tiberius.”
“Tiberius, huh? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”
“So I’ve been told.”
I put my hand on his shoulder and give it a tight squeeze. I let out a deep breath and nod.
“Okay, you're in charge,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ll follow you. Let's go.”
He nods and leads me off through the woods. The night vision goggles are pretty amazing. They light up the world around us like it's the middle of the afternoon, and I can see everything clear as day. The pine needles and damp leaves on the ground cushion our footfalls, making them almost impossible to hear.
We cover the half mile to the house in under ten minutes. Creeping up to the edge of the tree line, Davis motions for me to take the goggles off. I do. There is a car – a twenty-year-old Cadillac with Georgia plates – parked to the side beneath a tree, nearly hidden from sight. The small dilapidated house sits in the middle of a clearing, the full moon overhead shining down brightly upon it. The silvery light is intensely bright, which would have given us problems had we still been wearing the goggles.
From where we are, I can hear Victor yelling like a maniac inside. Every now and then, his shouting is punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh. Hearing him beating Katie like that fills me with a fire that is threatening to burn out of control. My pulse is racing, and the hate is rising within me like a malevolent tide. I want to beat him to a bloody pulp with my bare hands.
Obviously sensing my distress, Davis puts a hand on my arm and squeezes it, doing his best to calm me down. He leans over to whisper in my ear.
“I'm going to circle around back and breach from that side,” he says. “I want you on the front porch, but you're only here in case of emergency. I don't want you in that house unless it all goes to shit. You got me?”
I nod. “I got you.”
“I'm serious,” he says. “I will engage the hostile from the rear of the house. I don't want you in there.”
“I said I got you, man.”
He looks at me a long moment and then nods. “Okay,” he says. “Be careful and be silent getting to the front. I'm going to use the trees as cover to circle around the back. I plan on breaching in thirty seconds.”
“Thirty seconds.”
He nods and pats me on the shoulder. Slipping his goggles back down, he disappears into the darkness of the woods as I turn and study the house in front of me. It looks pretty close to collapsing in on itself. I see light shining out through the boards over the windows, which tells me they're in there, and that spark of hope in my chest starts to burn a little brighter.
I check my watch. Davis should be breaching in twenty seconds. Slowly, I creep out of the tree line and make my way across the clearing, careful to avoid kicking any rocks or any of the multitude of cans and bottles that litter the ground.
I make it across without incident, look at the steps that lead up to the front porch, and grimace. The steps look rickety and uneven. I have no doubt that if I step on them, they'll either break or a loud squeak will give me away. Instead, I hunker down at the foot of the steps and wait. Davis should be breaching any second now.
Victor screams something about making Katie suck his cock, and though I hear a muffled reply, I can't make out the words. I clearly hear the slap that follows, as well as the sound of her sobbing. That son of a bitch. I'm going to fucking kill him.
“Who the fuck is out there?” I hear Victor shout.
Oh shit. I look down and see that there's no way he could have heard me. I'm not even standing on the wooden steps. Which means, he heard Davis approaching. The next thing I hear is the sound of a muted explosion, wood splintering, men screaming, and the thundering boom of gunshots. The sound of the blasts echo out into the night.
I hear Katie screaming, Victor still shouting, and another man grunting in pain. Davis. I don't know if he got shot or what, but it sounds like he's been hit. Which, to me, counts as everything going to shit.
I bound up the steps and crash through the door, which gives way easily beneath my weight. I stumble into a room to see Katie tied to a chair in one corner, her face bloodied and bruised. Victor is standing with his back to me, gun in hand, looking out at something beyond the shattered ruins of what used to be a back door.
When he hears me crashing through the front door, he wheels around, raising his gun at the same time. I dive to the side as he squeezes off a shot, the bul
let tearing a chunk out of the wall where I had been standing. Katie screams and calls my name.
Victor squeezes off a few more shots that are wildly off the mark. The bullets tear through the walls of the crumbling house as I scramble to my feet and launch myself at him. I close the distance quickly, but not quickly enough. He sights me up and squeezes the trigger again, a reptilian smile on his face.
The bullet takes me in the upper arm, just below the strap of the Kevlar vest. It knocks me flat on my ass, and the pain is instant. I feel blood running down my arm and for a moment, I don't think I can move it. I sit there on my butt, blood flowing down my arm, the pain so intense, it's making me numb. And as I look over at the man with the gun, see that greasy smile on his face, I realize this is how I’m going to die.
“You're fucking dead, man,” Victor sneers.
As Victor brings his gun to bear on me again, Katie's scream is blood-curdling and heart wrenching all at the same time. It also cuts through the web of pain I'm stuck in. I shut out the pain and move quickly, throwing myself forward into a roll that ends with me coming up inside the reach of Victor's gun arm.
His eyes widen as we stand face-to-face, and a look of near panic crosses his features. I lash out with my good arm, punching him square in the throat. He sputters and gasps, clutching at his throat with his off hand, trying to suck in air. I grab his gun hand and bend it backward at an awkward angle. He tries to scream, but all that comes out is a strangled, gurgling noise.
I keep bending the wrist until I hear it snap. The gun immediately falls to the ground, and his hand hangs at an unnatural angle to his arm. Victor is doubled over, still trying to catch his breath, gurgling and gasping in agony over his busted wrist. He remains hunched over, and I deliver a vicious kick to his face. He's out cold before he ever hits the ground.
Turning, I rush over to Katie and fall to my knees before her, quickly working the knots that bind her. She's sobbing as tears race down her cheeks. I get her bindings undone and pull her to me in a tight embrace. She cries against my shoulder, her whole body shaking.
I pull away from her, check on Victor and then rush to the back door, the knots in my stomach twisting painfully, not knowing what happened to Davis. When I get to the back door, I see him hauling himself to his feet, grimacing in pain. I rush out, put his arm around my good shoulder, and half-carry him into the house.
I set him down, and Katie drops down beside him, putting her hands on the wound in his stomach, trying to staunch the flow of blood. I feel sick looking at my dearest friend, seeing the life blood flowing out of him, and feeling powerless to stop it.
Once again, I'm not going to be able to stop somebody I care for from dying.
“Bullet went through the fuckin' vest,” Davis chuckles, his voice weak and hoarse. “Can you believe that shit?”
“Don't talk,” I say. “Save your strength.”
His breathing is ragged. “It's not deep,” he says. “Vest slowed it down. I don't think it hit anything vital. It just hurts like a motherfucker.”
I dig out my cell phone and call 911. The operator answers and I give her our location, telling her to send the police and an ambulance. My next call is to Sheriff Keller, to update him on what's happened. He's going to be pissed that we handled it on our own, but whatever. Least of my worries right now. At least he can close the books on the attempted murder of a local. That should count for something.
“You best secure that asshole,” Davis says. “Zip ties are in the third pouch on my belt.”
I grab the zip ties and secure Victor's hands and feet with them. When he wakes up, he's not going to be able to move. And, he'll be going to prison for a long, long time.
I look over at Katie, whose eyes are wide, her face streaked with blood and tears. I can see bruises on her face from Victor slapping her, which makes me want to walk over there and shoot him in the head.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
She nods. “I am. I'm fine,” she replies. “But you two need a hospital.”
“The ambulance is coming.”
“I'd appreciate it if they came a little faster,” Davis groans.
We laugh, mostly to break the tension. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the pain in my arm is starting to return.
“I thought I was going to die,” Katie says. “I thought Victor was going to get away with me. How did you find me?”
I give her a tight little smile and look down at my friend. I clasp his hand and give it a tight squeeze.
“Because Davis is damn good at his job.”
He gasps and shudders, the pain obviously growing worse. “Yeah, I'm attaching my hospital stay to your bill, asshole,” he says and tries to laugh.
In the distance, I hear the sound of sirens. It's not long before the blue and red strobing lights fill the derelict old house. Emergency personnel are swarming us, police, firemen, EMT's – there are a million different voices shouting a million different questions. Some at us, some to each other.
The feeling of the surreal is as thick as it is deep, and I'm suddenly taken back in time, transported to the night that Maddy died. I look around and find that I'm in Fleury House all over again, watching that same heartbreaking scenario play out once more.
I give my head a shake, and the image in my mind falls away. It's not the same scenario. Though some things are exactly the same, the key, most important element, is different.
As I let an EMT guide me out to a waiting ambulance, I look over at Katie, who's walking by my side. Unlike that night a little over three and a half years ago, this one has a happy ending.
* * *
After having our wounds treated – they were all superficial, thank God – we are at the hospital anyway, so we stop by the NICU. It's late, and visiting hours have been over for quite a while. We're alone in the hallway, standing at the window and looking in at our sleeping baby.
“He's perfect,” I say.
“Better than perfect,” Katie replies, before sighing deeply.
“It's over, Aidan. It's really over.”
“Yes, it is,” I say, feeling a blossom of hope – and love – filling my heart. “We are free to move forward with our lives. Together.”
Katie takes my hand and squeezes it tight, the most beautiful, radiant smile on her face that I've ever seen.
“Together,” is all she says.
But then again, that's all she needs to say. That one word says it all.
The night nurse in the ward waves to us from beyond the window, so we wave back. A moment later, she comes out and stands next to us.
“Visiting hours are over,” she says, though not unkindly.
“We know,” I say. “We were just being treated for some injuries of our own and wanted to stop by before heading home.”
“Oh, you were the couple that was attacked?”
“Something like that,” I say.
The nurse looks at Katie and gives her a soft smile. “Which one is yours, hon?”
Katie points to our precious son, that smile still on her face. “He is,” she says. “Our little Dalton.”
“Still going with that, huh?” I ask.
“Yes, we are,” she says, and laughs.
“Better learn to like it, hon,” the nurse says to me. “You're not gonna win this one.”
“Apparently not,” I say and smile.
The nurse looks around, slyly, and gives us a small smile. “I'll tell you what, I shouldn't do this, but I'll let you in to hold your baby, if you'd like.”
Katie and I look at her, barely controlled excitement coloring our faces.
“That would be so amazing,” Katie says. “We have yet to get to hold him.”
'Well, he's been coded down, so he's in pretty good shape,” she says. “But, I can only let one of you in. As much as I hate to do that to you.”
“You should go, Katie,” I say.
She looks at me, chewing on her bottom lip. I can see that she's torn. I know she wants to
– hell, I want to – but, I want her to experience holding her baby – our baby. I would never take that from her.
“A – are you sure?” she asks.
I nod. “Absolutely,” I say. “Go. Dalton's waiting for you.”
She gives me a smile that is pure gratitude, and practically sprints to the door the nurse came through. A few moments later, she appears in the nursery, dressed in a surgical gown, hat, booties, and mask. I can see the happiness shining in her eyes in the dimly lit room.
The nurse leads her over to where Dalton is laying and picks the baby up. She hands him to Katie, who holds him gingerly at first, then pulls him closer to her breast. I can see the mask moving, and know she's talking to him. What I wouldn't give to hear the first words she's speaking to our child.
Katie looks up at me, and I can see the tears shimmering in her eyes. I smile at her tears of joy and feel my own start to slide down my face as well.
It really is over. Our pasts are done. Buried. And we're free to forge ahead, building a new life, and a new future together.
Together. Just the three of us.
For now.
Yeah, I like the sound of that. A lot.
Aidan
Six Months Later…
I walk into the station and look around, admiring the decorations. It's completely decked out for Halloween – zombies, vampires, giant spiders, and a host of other garish monsters fill the squad room. They tend to get some of the local kids through here on Halloween night, doing some trick-or-treating, so they like to put on a show – the kind I had enjoyed putting on, once upon a time.
“Detective Brown,” I say. “It's been a while.”
“Four years to the day, I believe,” she says.
“Exactly right,” I reply.
“I heard you have a new baby,” she says.
“You heard right.”
“Congratulations, Aidan.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
She nods and gives me a tight smile. It's been nearly six months since the shootout with Victor, and life has moved forward. Katie and Dalton have moved into my place – which makes Oliver happy – and all of our wounds are healing. Both, inside and out.