“Pat down your cargo pockets for me too.”
I did. They were empty.
“Now, what about calling for backup, Lieutenant?”
“I didn’t call anyone.”
“Why not? I would have.”
“Because I want to be the one who kills you.”
“That’s not how a police officer should talk. Your job is to protect and serve. So far, you’ve been a little lacking in the protection department, though.”
“I’ll do my service to the community by putting you in the ground.”
He smiled widely. “Well, we have a predicament then because I don’t plan on dying just yet.”
“Put her down and get out of the tub.”
“Seems you forgot I am the one holding the gun. I’ll be the one giving the orders here. Get on your knees.”
I stood my ground.
Cross poked at the corner of Callie’s eye with the ice pick. A drip of blood trickled down her cheek.
“Okay, okay.” I went to my knees, one at a time.
“Reach up and take the bag of zip ties. Place two around your wrists and pull them tight.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Put them around your hands, slide them down to your wrists, and pull them as tight as you can with your teeth.”
I did as I was told. I sat kneeling and cuffed in front of him.
“Try to break free from the ties.”
I gave it a halfhearted attempt.
“You better try harder!”
I pulled my wrists against them as hard as I could, so the plastic cut into my flesh.
“Good.” Cross dropped Callie down into the tub and stood. He held the gun pointed at my head. “You make one fast move, and you’re dead.” He set the ice pick down and approached. He wrapped another zip tie around my wrists and pulled it tight. Three more zip ties were added around my ankles. Cross walked back to Callie at the tub and stepped in.
I knelt, wrists and ankles bound.
“Now you get to watch the process. Just remember, any sudden moves out of you, and I could slip, and she’ll be dead. Well, that and if you make a move, I’ll grab this gun here and shoot you. But I don’t want to do that. You see, I have plans for you.” He placed the gun on the vanity countertop next to him and picked up the spoon, ice pick, and hammer.
I needed to keep his attention focused on me and not Callie. “What plans are those?”
“I’m glad you asked, Carl. You don’t mind if I just call you Carl, do you? I think we’re to the point where we can be on a first-name basis by now.”
I didn’t respond.
“First, did you notice that I didn’t brand her?”
I nodded.
“I’m going to make you watch the entire process. After I get through with the little bar bitch here, I’m going to inject you with Xylazine and then lobotomize you. Tell me that won’t fetch headlines: ‘Psycho Surgeon Lobotomizes Cop Hunting Him’. Sounds like Hollywood to me.”
I said nothing.
“No response? Really?”
I remained quiet.
“Well, if you got nothing to say, I guess we can just get started, then.” He pressed the spoon against her eye.
“Please, Cross. Don’t do it.”
He ignored me and wiggled the spoon under her eyelid.
I shook my head. “Please! I’m begging you!”
He paused and rolled his eyes at me. “You’re begging me? Come on. Have a little respect for yourself.” He took the ice pick from the counter.
“Please!” I yelled. I jammed both hands down between my legs. My head touched the floor as I bowed to him.
“Geez. You’re pathetic. Are you going to cry next?”
I stuck my hands into the front of my shorts and down into my Ultimate Concealment holster—one of my purchases from the last gun show. It looked like a jock strap with a spot for a pistol that sat in front of my manhood. Then I raised my head from the floor and aimed the gun at his chest.
His eyes caught the gun, and he scrambled for his pistol on the counter. I fired. The bullet caught his left shoulder as he reached his gun. He stumbled in the tub and tripped over Callie’s body. He fired off a shot as he fell backward. The bullet hit the ceiling above me. I fired again, catching him dead center in the chest. His backward momentum sent him crashing through the window.
I used the bathroom counter to pull myself to my feet. I rummaged the drawers for anything that would cut the plastic ties. A pair of nail clippers caught my eye, and I snatched them up and quickly freed my hands and legs. I rushed to Callie and checked her pulse—it was strong. A pair of gunshots rang outside in succession. I pulled myself over to the broken window and looked out.
A body was lying on the grass along the side of the house below, but it wasn’t Cross.
“Awww,” the man said. He rolled backward and curled into the fetal position. It was Hank. “Son of a bitch shot me in the vest. I hit him. He ran,” Hank said.
“Which way did he go?” I shouted.
He pointed through the backyard as he tried to get to his feet. “Jones went after him.”
“I’ll be right down.”
I checked Callie’s pulse again—still strong. I rushed through the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door. An ambulance pulled to the curb right as I exited the house. The EMTs piled out.
“There’s a woman upstairs in the bathroom that needs medical attention. She’s been drugged.”
One of the EMTs gave me a nod, and they jogged toward the house.
“Where are you going to take her?”
“Tampa General!” he shouted.
Chapter 51
I rushed around the side of Callie’s house, looking for Hank. He was gone. I ran in the direction he’d pointed, through Callie’s backyard and through the yard behind that. Still no one. In the middle of the next street, I stopped and looked left to right. I couldn’t see anyone up or down the block. I continued through the yard in front of me. Someone called my name.
“Kane.”
I heard it again.
It was Hank’s voice in a hard whisper.
I looked to my right into the next yard. The shadows of two men waved me over. Hank and Jones were standing to the side of a house. I crouched and ran over.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Hit me in the trauma plate; otherwise, I’d still be lying there crying,” Hank said.
Jones pointed toward the back of the house kitty-corner to where we stood. “I think he’s in the lanai of that house there.”
“Think or know?” I asked.
“Someone went in from the outside and ducked into the corner. No lights ever came on.”
I nodded and looked to Hank, “You said you shot him?”
“Center mass.”
“So did I. He’s got to be wearing a vest. Keep it in mind.”
“Where did he get a vest?”
I thought about it for a second. “Donner’s.”
They both nodded.
“Jones, loop around the houses and approach from the other side. I’ll take the center. Hank, you take the left side. Stay low—be smart.”
Jones disappeared. Hank and I closed in.
“You have body armor?” Hank asked.
I shook my head.
Jones popped out on the right side of the house and took cover to wait for us. Hank and I stayed close to the ground and made our way into the yard behind the lanai where Jones had claimed Cross was. A motion light on the house’s back patio flicked on and lit us up like a spotlight. Two shots rang as the light from a muzzle flash appeared inside the lanai. We both dropped to the ground. Another shot sounded, and another flash came from the lanai. The bullet smacked against the back of the house, two feet from my head. We scrambled into the darkness on the side of the house next to Jones. The 10-71 call for a shooting came over the radio. We’d have backup in minutes.
“Hit?” I asked Hank.
“No. You?”<
br />
I shook my head.
Behind where Cross was pinned down, the lights in the house flickered on. The house was occupied and they were awake. Cross could turn him being cornered into a hostage situation. I hoped the people ran out their front door as soon as the first shot was fired.
“What the hell are we supposed to do? We don’t have a visual, and we can’t just fire into the darkness. We can’t risk injuring someone inside the house,” Jones said.
“Let me think,” I said.
“How much ammo you think he has?” Hank asked.
“Ten more bullets if he didn’t fire any before the first one at me—maybe an extra clip. He has Donner’s Glock.”
Four gunshots boomed, and I heard glass shatter. Nothing was hit around us.
“What the hell was that?” Jones asked.
I glanced around the corner of the house. I heard another shot and saw a spark off the patio. The bullet ricocheted into the house next to us. More gunfire came from the lanai aimed into the house—Cross was returning fire. I spun back around the corner.
“What the hell is going on?” Hank asked.
“Damn homeowner is shooting at Cross from inside the house. Cross is returning fire. Hank, get the people out of these houses back here. I don’t want a stray bullet catching someone in bed.”
Hank rushed off to the front of the houses. Cross was pinned down. He knew we were outside, and now he was taking fire from the homeowner.
I yelled across the yard, “Homeowner, this is the Tampa Police! Stop firing and leave the front of your residence immediately!”
I listened for a response but heard none. I caught the lights of squad cars pulling up to the front of the house. “Jones, call on your radio to get that dumbass out of the house before he shoots one of us or his neighbors.”
“Or gets himself killed.” Jones made the call and let the other officers know we were in the backyard.
A patrolman made his way along the side of the house. I assumed another was on the other side. I motioned for the officer coming at us to stop. He continued forward.
“Tell them to wait!”
Jones thumbed his lapel mic. “This is Detective Max Jones—hold your positions. Repeat, hold your positions.”
The officer stopped. Cross had nowhere to go. Hank came back to my side.
A call came over Jones’s radio, an 11-41. The homeowner must have been shot. The all clear for the house came a second later. We had officers inside.
“Tell someone to turn on the back lights,” I said.
Jones requested it over the radio, and the lanai lit up. I glanced around the corner to get a view but didn’t see Cross. A short brick wall and the back of an outdoor brick fireplace stood before a pool and a hot tub. Then I caught movement, the officers inside that lit-up house. The open-concept floor plan and giant glass windows in the back was presenting Cross with a shooting gallery. Cross fired three shots through the house’s back patio door at the officers inside. The door cascaded to the ground in a shower of safety glass.
“Shit. Tell them to kill the lights inside and get out of the house. Cross is going to pick them off one by one.”
Jones barked out instructions over his radio. The house went black inside. I caught movement in the lanai. Cross was taking cover in the corner behind the fireplace. He had himself a brick bunker. Two shots echoed, and the lanai went dark. Cross had shot out the outdoor lighting.
“Think he’ll surrender?” Hank asked.
I cupped my hands around my mouth to carry my voice. “Cross, you’re done. We have you on all sides. Give up now before someone else gets hurt.”
Bullets slammed into the side of the house next to us.
“Are you dead, Carl?”
“No. You’re a lousy shot.”
“Stick your head around the corner again and find out.”
“Doesn’t look like he plans on surrendering, Hank,” Jones said.
“How many shots does he have left?” Hank asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What are we going to do? Wait on SWAT?” Hank asked.
I nodded. “They’ll be here soon. Check on it, Jones.”
He thumbed his mic. The call came back. They’d be there in ten minutes.
I cupped my hands around my mouth. “SWAT will be here in a few minutes, Cross. What do you think your chances are?”
He didn’t fire at us. Cross didn’t say a word for almost a minute. “I give up.”
“Come on out. No gun. Lay on the grass facedown.”
“I’ll lay right back here on the patio. You come and get me. Just you. One more cop, and I’m shooting.”
“I don’t think you have any bullets left.”
“Are you willing to bet a life on that?”
Hank swiped at my shoulder. “Wait for SWAT. He’s just trying to get you over there to shoot you.”
I nodded.
“No deal. We’re going to wait for SWAT.”
“Fine. More people are going to die.”
The patrolman moved closer to the lanai on the side of the house. He was trying to look into the back, to get a visual on Cross.
“Get that guy back!” I yelled.
Jones called to him over the radio. In the middle of Jones’s command to the officer, Cross fired off three rounds at the cop, who dropped to the ground and pulled himself back to the side of the house.
“Are you hit?” Jones asked.
The word shoulder came over the radio, followed by moans of pain and profanities. Jones put out the call that an officer was down.
“He’s got another clip,” I said.
Hank shook his head. “Just wait for SWAT.”
“He’s going to kill one of our guys. Let me try to put an end to this.”
“I have to agree with the sergeant here, Lieutenant. Let’s just wait,” Jones said.
“Just let me try to talk to him.” I turned my head around the corner of the house. “Cross, I’m coming. Throw your gun in the pool.”
“Not until I see it’s only you.”
“Hold on.” I lowered my voice to give Hank and Jones their commands. They nodded and disappeared into the night.
“What are you doing, Carl? No tricks.”
“I’m not walking up there until you toss the gun.”
“I’m not tossing it until you walk up here.”
“All right Cross—just remember, I’m a better shot than you. If you fire, I’m putting one between your eyes.”
“Fair enough. Come on over.”
I crouched and rolled myself around the corner of the house. I could see the short brick wall he was hiding behind. I was confident that if he stood to fire, I’d get a shot off before he did. The back door of the lanai stood a few feet in front of me. I reached out with my left hand. My right kept the barrel of my gun pointed in his direction. I tried glancing into the house to confirm Hank and Jones had made it in—I couldn’t tell.
“I’m here. Toss the gun into the pool.”
“Just you?”
“Just me.”
A splash came from the lit-up pool. It sounded about the size of a gun. I waited for the ripples to subside and looked into the pool. A gun lay at the bottom. I entered the lanai.
“Are you facedown?”
“I’m shot, Carl. Come here, and let’s get this over with.”
I crouched at the corner of the brick bar and waited, ready to spring into action. Jones and Hank’s instructions were to light up the inside of the house and take cover. The light would get his attention, and I could get the drop on him.
“Are you coming or what? I need an ambulance. I’m losing a lot of blood.”
“Why would I give a shit if you bled out?” I asked.
He coughed. “Come on, Lieutenant. Think about all the television coverage of my trial if I make it that long.”
The lights inside flickered on. I immediately rounded and found Cross, aiming at his forehead. Cross sat hunched in the corner. His le
ft sleeve and left pant leg were soaked in blood. His hands were empty.
“Asshole in the house shot me in the leg. I think it hit an artery.”
“Good,” I said.
“I got him, though. Put two right in his chest through that window there.” He motioned to a sliding glass door that must have led to a bedroom. Shattered glass littered the ground.
“Lay down, Cross. Put your hands behind your back.”
He hunched over and moved his hands behind himself. He pulled his right arm from behind his back with a pistol.
“Drop it!”
I heard two shots—one right after the other. A flicker of light came from inside the house. A muzzle flash came from the barrel of Cross’s gun. I returned fire, hitting him three times in the chest. It was instinct—the thought of him wearing a bulletproof vest never crossed my mind.
Cross hunched over to the ground. Vest aside, the close range of my shots would have broken his ribs at a minimum. His pistol fell and skidded a few feet away. I went to kick it. Then I felt pain—burning, searing pain from the left side of my head. I reached for it and pulled my hand back—blood. I touched it again. It was hot. Hank and Jones rushed through the back patio doors of the house. Jones pushed Cross over and pulled his hands behind his back. Hank came to me. I touched my head again.
“Put one in him as soon as I saw the gun. He must have gotten the homeowner’s weapon somehow,” Hank said.
I didn’t respond. I poked at my head with my fingers then looked at them.
“Are you hit?” Hank asked.
I still didn’t respond.
He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me so he could see the side of my head.
“Whoa!” He poked at my head with his finger.
“Oww!” I jerked my head away.
“You got a four-inch graze across the side of your head above your ear. It’s charred. It’s like an inch wide.” He looked closer and raised his eyebrows. “It’s pretty deep.” He headed for Jones and glanced back over his shoulder. “It looks cauterized. You’ll be fine.”
I touched my head again. If that bullet had been a half inch to the left, I would have been dead. If Hank hadn’t shot him when he did, I would have been dead.
Cross lay facedown on the patio’s brick pavers. Still alive, he let out a moan. Jones was still pinning him down. I approached.
Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) Page 22