by James Hunt
The officers dispersed, and Jim was walking back up to the command tent when Mullocks arrived.
“Jim, what the hell is she doing?” Mullocks asked.
“She has it under control,” Jim answered.
“Bullshit she does,” Mullocks said, but then worry replaced her anger. “What’s the play?”
“Kerry will try to make a move, but we need to give her time,” Jim said. “Jamison wants an audience for his final act, and we need to make sure he doesn’t see it.”
“So we need to buy her some time,” Mullocks said. “If he wants a spotlight, he’ll need a camera and equipment, right? We can get that sent in, and it could provide Kerry the time she needs to make a move.”
“That could work,” Jim said, and then he turned around to face the house. “Hang on, Kerry. We’re on our way.”
Once Jamison had relaxed a little and no longer held Ricky, Kerry still maintained her distance. Every move she made, any subtle motion could set Jamison off. She was walking on eggshells.
“What can I do to help?” Kerry asked, hoping that offering to appease Jamison would continue to buy her some goodwill.
Jamison licked his lips and blinked, still holding the knife. It was clear he hadn’t thought this completely all the way through. He probably never believed he would have survived the raid from the SWAT, but now that it appeared he was getting what he wanted, he was thinking on the fly.
“I need to make the announcement,” Jamison said. “And that means I’ll need a way to communicate with the world.” He walked over to the computer on the desk. “I know they shut down my internet, so I need it turned back on.”
“Okay,” Kerry said, nodding along. “I think I can help make that happen.” She held up her hands, showing both of them to Jamison before she moved any further. “I’m going to reach into my pocket for my phone, okay?”
Jamison nodded, and a drop of sweat dangled from the tip of his nose. “Okay.”
Kerry reached into her pocket and removed the phone. She sifted through her contacts and called Jim. He answered on the first ring.
“That was dumb,” Jim said.
“I need the internet turned on,” Kerry said.
“If we give him his audience now, we run out of time,” Jim said. “Bargain for something more, make it look like you’re trying to help him.”
“And we want microphones, a camera, and lighting,” Kerry said. “With hookups that could run to the news trucks so they can broadcast.”
Jamison stepped forward, arm still tensed over the dead man’s trigger. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to help,” Kerry answered. “If you want to make a statement, it needs to be one people remember. Unless you want the media to manipulate what you were trying to say after you’re gone.”
Jamison grimaced. “No, of course not.” He nodded. “Do it.”
“Bring it to us immediately, leave it outside the door, and call me when it’s there,” Kerry said, and then she hung up to make it look more dramatic. “I think they’ll give us what we want.”
“Good,” Jamison said. “Very good.” He started to pace the room with nervous energy. “We’ll make them all understand. We’ll make them see the truth of what we’re trying to do.”
“Yes, we will,” Kerry replied, and then she looked to Ricky, who was still shaking in the corner. He had tucked himself into a tiny ball.
She couldn’t help but think of her own son, Jake, when she looked at him. Ricky was a little older, but she saw the same creativity in Jake that Ricky had. She imagined they would be good friends should they ever meet.
“It’s going to work,” Jamison said, muttering to himself like a madman now. “I’m going to make everything right.”
Kerry kept thinking back to the first case with Amy Fuller and how they had arrived too late, how Kerry had fumbled at the door and cost them precious moments before they had entered the house. If she had only been a little quicker, if she could have only foreseen the problem before it had arisen, then she could have done something to prevent what happened.
But now Kerry saw the situation unfold in front of her. She saw the equipment arriving. She saw the chief and the rest of the commanders growing impatient. She saw a botched SWAT raid that not only killed the officers involved but the suspect responsible and the child they were trying to save.
Kerry understood what needed to happen next. And she hoped she had the strength to see it through.
Kerry studied the room, along with the C-4 strapped to Jamison’s chest. She saw the walls around her and knew that if the bomb did go off, it would only take out the room and probably the hallway.
Jamison Kent wasn’t a large man, and Kerry was in good shape. She thought about what Jim said in buying time, and Kerry was confident she could buy Ricky the time needed to make a run for it.
But if she was going to make a move, she needed to do it now, while Jamison was pacing and distracted. She only hoped Ricky was brave enough to run when she told him to.
Kerry waited until Jamison had his back turned to her, and then she lunged forward, reaching for the trigger in his hand, and clamped down hard so he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to.
“No!” Jamison screamed and started to swing his body, thrashing Kerry around, but she never let go of the trigger.
“Ricky, run, now!” Kerry screamed.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ricky sprint toward the door and then fly out of the room. Jamison tried to lunge after him, but Kerry held him back, using all of her strength.
“You bitch!” Jamison yelled, and then he released his hand on the trigger, letting Kerry hold it with both hands herself. But because she held onto the trigger, she couldn’t defend herself from the knife attack as Jamison plunged the blade into her side.
Adrenaline numbed the pain at first, and Kerry focused her remaining strength on holding the trigger. She never considered letting go, not even to kill Jamison because it was better for him to be brought to justice, and she still wanted to make sure she gave Ricky plenty of time to keep running.
The moment Jim saw Ricky Teller sprinting out of the house, Jim and the rest of the SWAT team ran to intercept him. Jim let the other officers pull Ricky away while Jim sprinted into the house. He had his gun up and ready and led the SWAT team to the room, where they found Jamison standing over Kerry with a knife in her side.
Three men subdued Jamison while Jim clamped one hand over the trigger, taking it from Kerry’s weak grip, and placed his other hand over the bloody wound in Kerry’s side.
“Woah, woah, take it easy,” Jim said. “It’s okay. Everything’s all right; help is on the way.”
Kerry nodded, her complexion turning ghost white. “I did it,” she said, smiling. “I didn’t hesitate.”
Jim reciprocated the smile. “Yes, you did. Now, you need to hold on, okay, Kerry?”
Kerry started to grow limp. “I’m tired.”
“I know you’re tired, but you need to stay awake—Kerry?” Jim gave her a little shake, mindful of the detonator in his hand. “Kerry!”
19
The bomb squad handled the vest, and Jim helped the paramedics rush Kerry out of the house and into the back of the ambulance. Jim rode with Kerry, holding her hand as the paramedics did their best to stop the bleeding.
“Let’s get an IV going,” the female paramedic said, and then she shined a light into Kerry’s eyes. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”
Kerry remained unresponsive, and Jim squeezed her hand tighter, hoping for a reaction, but it didn’t help.
“She’s still unconscious,” the paramedic said as they slipped a needle into her arm. “Do you know if she’s allergic to anything? Has any pre-existing conditions?”
“Um, no,” Jim answered. “Not that I know of.”
And Jim suddenly realized that he would need to call Brian and tell him what was going on. It wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to, but it needed to be done.
&n
bsp; Kerry was still unresponsive when they arrived at the hospital, but she was alive, and the doctors aimed to keep her that way as they whisked her off to prep for surgery.
Jim was held back and finally forced to let go of Kerry’s hand as she disappeared through a pair of swinging double doors.
One of the nurses asked Jim a few questions, and he did the best he could to answer them but told the nurse that Brian would be able to answer them more thoroughly. He was about to call him when Mullocks showed up.
“How is she?” the lieutenant asked.
“She’s in surgery,” Jim answered.
“Christ,” Mullocks said. “What was she thinking?” The lieutenant was stressed, her tone more or less that of a concerned mother who was afraid of what might happen to their child.
“She was thinking she didn’t want another dead kid on her conscious,” Jim said. “I know because that’s what I was thinking, too.”
Mullocks rubbed her forehead. “I have the officers bringing Brian and the kids over.”
“You already talked to him?” Jim asked.
Mullocks nodded. “They’ll be here soon.”
Jim pocketed his phone. He was thankful he didn’t have to make the call himself. He looked back through the double doors where Kerry had vanished and then balled his hands into fists. “Where’s Jamison?”
“He’s being taken back to the station,” Mullocks answered. “Jim, wait.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “It’s over. Ricky is safe, and Jamison is arrested.”
“No, it’s not over,” Jim said. “Because we might have the abductor and the victim, but we don’t have the Broker.”
Jim was fuming by the time he returned to the precinct. All he could think about was how Kerry was in surgery and how it was because Jamison Kent had stabbed her. Going into the interrogation room, Jim only had one thing on his mind: finding something that connected him to the Broker.
“Detective North,” the officer said, “he’s in room two.”
Jim moved quickly past the officer and headed toward the monitors that had the recordings of each interrogation room. He stopped the recording for room two and then headed down the hallway. He locked in on the interrogation room’s door and then pushed his way inside.
Jamison Kent looked up at Jim with a deer in the headlights expression. His shirt was stained in Kerry’s blood, with some of it still smeared on his face and hands. He looked like a murderer, and if Kerry died, that’s how he would be tried.
“I’m sorry,” Kent said, still dazed and confused. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, I didn’t mean—”
Jim crossed the room with such speed that Jamison didn’t have a chance to reply before Jim lifted him up by the collar and pinned him up against the wall. With the cameras turned off, he knew he could do whatever he wanted, so long as he could live with himself after it was done.
“You’re going to tell me everything you know about the Broker,” Jim said.
“I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
Jim applied more pressure to Jamison’s throat, causing the man to gag. “We found the phone Ricky used to communicate with the Broker. We know you reached out to him. And when we scan your computer, I’ll bet we’ll find some visits to some sights you shouldn’t have been visiting.”
Kent slapped at Jim’s arms, trying to get him to stop choking him as his face reddened from the lack of oxygen.
“Do you know what they’re going to do to you when you go to prison?” Jim asked. “Do you know how they treat pedophiles on the inside? It’s the worst possible hell you could imagine, even worse than what you went through in your own childhood. I promise you that.”
“I didn’t—touch the kid,” Kent said, his voice cracking and wheezing as he struggled to speak. “I swear.”
Even if Kent didn’t touch Ricky Teller, it didn’t make him any less of a monster for reaching out to the Broker.
“Tell me how you contacted him!” Jim shouted, applying more pressure. “Tell me!”
When Jim saw Kent’s lips start to turn blue, he considered toying with the idea of crossing the line. After all, no one would miss Jamison Kent. The man had attempted to kill himself, a cop, and a child. He was a troubled man, but as Jim watched Kent squirm beneath his grip, saw the fear in Kent’s eyes, Jim let him go.
Kent collapsed to the floor, choking and gasping for air. Jim felt no joy in hurting the man; there was no release, no satisfaction. All he felt was shame for pushing himself this far.
“Why did you contact the Broker?” Jim asked one final time.
Once Kent had finally caught his breath, he shook his head. “I didn’t. I don’t know who that is. The only thing I know is that Ricky’s mother contacted me, told me she wanted me to hold him, told me she would give me one million dollars. I needed the money. That’s it.”
Jim shook his head. He felt as though Kent was telling the truth, but they still had overwhelming evidence that the Broker was still involved, but if Jamison Kent didn’t contact the Broker, there was only one other person who made sense.
20
Jim allowed himself to calm down before he walked into interrogation room three. The cameras were running this time, and Jim saw Mrs. Teller sitting pensively behind the table, head down, the bandages the medic had applied, covering her left eye, which was guarded with a patch.
“I just wanted to let you know that we found your son,” Jim said.
Mrs. Teller’s expression was either relieved or worried, probably a mixture of both. But regardless of what the mother told him, Jim knew there was only one way this conversation was going to end, and that was with the truth.
“Thank God,” Mrs. Teller finally said. “I was so worried—”
“Were you?” Jim asked. “Because I don’t see how a mother who reaches out to a known associate with pedophiles has their child’s best interest at heart.”
The look on Mrs. Teller’s face told Jim everything he needed to know about her guilt, but he wanted to hear her say it out loud. He wanted at least that little bit of justice done for both Ricky and Kerry, who was currently in surgery after risking her life to rescue Marcia Teller’s son.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Mrs. Teller said, shaking her head. “Don’t sit there and judge me like you know who I am.”
“I know exactly who you are,” Jim said. “I had parents like you more times than I could count when I was in the foster system. The only difference between you and the parents I had was they weren’t my biological parents. You betrayed your own flesh and blood.”
Mrs. Teller was either on the verge of tears or a violent outburst. She trembled, her lips quivering as she struggled to find her voice. “I have done everything I can to help my son. From the moment he was born, all I’ve ever done is try to build a better life for him. That’s all I ever wanted, and that’s all I ever tried to do.”
“He gave you up, Mrs. Teller,” Jim said. “Jamison told us it was all your idea, that you approached him, that you volunteered to give your son away.”
“That’s not true,” Mrs. Teller said, tears forming in her eyes.
But it was true, and it was a truth Jim was determined to convince Mrs. Teller of, no matter how long it took. Because as much as he wanted to find the Broker, he also wanted this woman, a mother who had forsaken her child, to acknowledge that she had done so.
“You wanted the money because you wanted to keep gambling because you’re an addict,” Jim said. “And you were willing to sell your own son for cash—”
“Stop it!” Mrs. Teller slammed her fists on the table and stood. The veins along her neck bulged, and her face was blood red. “You don’t understand! You would never understand!”
“But I do understand,” Jim said. “My mother sold me out, too. Granted, she didn’t string me along as much as you did to Ricky, but she still sold me out. But what you did, the falseness of your relationship with your son, that’s what makes me sick. And I think that’s the source
of your denial.”
“No,” Mrs. Teller said, shaking her head, “I love my boy.”
“Actually, I think you’re even worse than my mother,” Jim said. “At least my mother never gave me any false pretenses. From the day I was born, she didn’t want anything to do with me and dropped me off at the orphanage. But you… You actually made your son believe you loved him.”
Mrs. Teller could barely stand now, and she slowly sank back into her chair. The realization of the truth was overwhelming her. She had hidden from that truth for a long time, but with nowhere to run, no one to help cover for her lies, she finally had to face it head-on. And it was terrifying.
“I… didn’t…” Mrs. Teller grimaced, holding back tears, her voice barely a whisper, but Jim leaned close to hear what she said next. “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just… thought… it wouldn’t be this hard being a mother. All the time he’s there, expecting me to love him. And I know that I’m supposed to, but I just… don’t. I thought maybe if I pretended long enough that things would change, but I just couldn’t pretend anymore. And then when I got into trouble with the money, I saw the news coverage of that cyber pedophile, the Broker and I thought… I thought… maybe I can get something out of this—”
With that last bit of a confession, Mrs. Teller burst into tears, collapsing forward on the table. Jim sat there for a moment and watched her and waited for his own moment of recognition.
A part of Jim thought that making Mrs. Teller confess would relieve him of the pain he had held onto about his own mother, a pain he had not dealt with to date. And he knew that needed to change.
Jim left Mrs. Teller to cry, glancing at the camera that had recorded the confession. He would make sure Ricky never saw the video because as sick as Mrs. Teller was, she was still Ricky’s mother, and sons always had a special place in their hearts for their mother.
Jim walked back out to his desk and found Mullocks waiting for him. She had her cell phone to her ear, head down, pacing back and forth in short strides.