Murderers Creek (Maggie Blackthorne Book 2)

by LaVonne Griffin-Valade

  I felt a palpable tension, heard Shannon exhale at length.

  He passed me a cold, hard look. “I wish it had been you out there, Maggie Blackthorne. I would’ve enjoyed cutting your throat and gutting you. Sawing away your ear. Maybe raping you first. Yeah, that would’ve been totally worth it just to wipe that smirk off of your face.”

  He laughed before going on.

  “The guy begged me to put away the knife, that beautiful, jagged shaft of metal. He said he knew you, said you’d come after me if I killed him.” Shannon spoke in a kind of singsong voice he’d not used before. “And I guess you did come after me, didn’t you?”

  We sat in the silent, fetid room until Hollis calmly took the lead. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Oregon State Police Sergeant Jeremy Lake.”

  Once Chief Deputy Weldon escorted Shannon from the interview room, Holly and I sat silently in the heat, listening to the creak and pop of the aging building.

  “That was hard,” I finally whispered.

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “You should go home.”

  “I want to sit for a while.”

  “Yeah, like a month or two.”

  There was a hard knock at the door. A different sheriff’s deputy opened it and stepped into the room.

  “Sergeant Blackthorne, your prisoner has managed to escape. He’s on the roof threatening to jump.”

  “How in Christ’s name?” I shouted.

  “Don’t know for sure, ma’am, but he knocked the chief to the ground, took off with his service revolver, and ran up the utility stairs to the roof.”

  We followed the deputy downstairs and outside. Shannon stood at the top of the building screaming profanities and aiming the weapon at those gathered below.

  A couple of sheriff’s deputies led the non-sworn county employees and members of the public across the bridge over Canyon Creek, escorting them to safety on the other side of Highway 395, behind a cordoned-off barrier another deputy had already erected.

  In the meantime, several deputies had positioned themselves around the courthouse and were now pointing their various pistols and long guns directly at our escaped prisoner. In the distance, sirens howled as more emergency vehicles moved south toward us.

  Despite the commotion and cacophony, Shannon didn’t appear to be in a mood to surrender or negotiate. He continued to swear loudly and brandish Weldon’s handgun.

  The confrontation was being carried out in the still-sweltering sun, and that alone brought rise to the potential of stupidity and deadly escalation. I mentioned this to Chief Deputy Weldon when he joined us minutes later, carrying a megaphone and a long gun.

  “May we borrow your megaphone?”

  “I don’t know,” Weldon put in. “I should call Sheriff Rhinehart. He’d be here, but he’s at a law enforcement convention in Reno.”

  I passed him one of my blank stares.

  Weldon eyed me but handed over the megaphone. “I know there’s no love lost between you and the sheriff.”

  “And he’s out of town, isn’t he?” Which meant I had more seniority than any of the officers gathered outside the courthouse on this now weary day. But I didn’t need to remind Weldon of that.

  I suggested we move to a small area behind a row of sheriff’s vehicles in the front parking lot, next to a couple of dumpsters, and in the shadow cast by the building itself. The spot didn’t offer much relief from the heat once we got there, but if we ducked down, we were out of the line of fire.

  Weldon pointed up at Shannon. “I don’t know the guy well at all, but I never would’ve expected him to barricade himself on the roof and point a gun at police officers.”

  “I’ll just say this, Mr. Shannon is under a lot of stress,” I answered obliquely. “Where might you be able to find protective vests and helmets for your people?”

  Weldon pulled up his radio and contacted someone inside the building. They chatted back and forth, and soon two deputies, each wearing one of those vests and helmets, opened a door and began distributing the rest to their fellow officers. In the meantime, Hollis retrieved two of the four sets I carried in my Tahoe and my long gun.

  About that time, I saw Duncan pull up in his Feed and Tack delivery truck on Humboldt Avenue to the west of the courthouse. He’d no doubt heard about the ruckus from one of his customers, but I’d have to find out later how he knew I was involved.

  “Shit,” I mouthed to Hollis, nodded toward Duncan and his truck, pulled on a vest, and locked my head into a helmet.

  I thumbed a speedy message. “Get the hell out of here. I need to concentrate.”

  He continued on Humboldt, driving slowly.

  “Hollis, I want you to try and talk Shannon down.” I was the last person who should attempt to reason with him. “Chief Deputy Weldon, please alert your folks that we’re going to try to negotiate with Mr. Shannon.”

  I handed Hollis the megaphone. He was likely leery about the possibility of being shot a second time during a violent confrontation, but he stood up. He was still largely behind a dumpster, but not invulnerable. I pulled up my long gun and moved to stand beside him.

  Hollis looked to me for the go-ahead, and I nodded.

  “Dave! Mr. Shannon!” he called out, his Barry White voice echoing from the courthouse building and the cottonwoods along Canyon Creek.

  Shannon moved to the edge of the roof nearest the front parking lot. “What can I do for you, Trooper Jones?”

  “The better question is, what do you need from us?”

  “Don’t make me laugh.” He held up Weldon’s handgun, which likely inspired every officer out here to assume a defensive position if they hadn’t already. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

  Shannon meant the weapon and whatever kind of power he perceived it gave him. There were at least a dozen of us down here surrounding the perimeter of the building. Most were behind some kind of barrier. No wonder he suddenly felt powerful. He even had command over his own life or death.

  “Let me get you some food and water at least,” Hollis said through the megaphone.

  “Ah, Trooper Jones, the good cop. I’ve spent about all the time I want to spend with you today. I mean, you’re okay, but I’d love it if your boss came up here with some food and water.”

  “Come on, Dave, you know that’s not going to happen. Besides you’ve also spent a lot of time with Sergeant Blackthorne today.”

  “It’s little Miss Maggie or nobody.”

  Weldon was suddenly standing next to me with a phone in his hand. “Sheriff Rhinehart’s on the line. He wants to speak with you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Does he know what’s going on here?”

  Weldon nodded.

  “Tell him I’m busy.”

  The chief deputy put the phone to his ear and listened. “All right, I’ll pass along the message.” Weldon was clearly embarrassed at being put in this position, but I could see he was a guy who always followed orders. “The sheriff says you’ve usurped his authority, and he’s going to file a complaint with the Public Safety and Standards Board.”

  “Tell him to be my guest,” I said and popped out in front of the dumpster beside Hollis.

  32

  Late Evening, August 21

  “Miss Maggie! Miss Maggie!” Shannon howled from the rooftop when he saw me. He also aimed Weldon’s Glock my way.

  I brought up my long gun and pointed it at the bastard.

  Hollis stepped out beside me and spoke through the megaphone. “Please put the gun down, Dave. You’re already in enough trouble. No need to make it worse.”

  Weldon joined us, stood on the other side of Hollis, and sighted Shannon through his long gun.

  “Chief Deputy Weldon. You’re just pissed because I made off with your revolver,” Shannon taunted.

  Weldon whispered something to Hollis, who then handed over the megaphone.

  “Mr. Shannon, my handgun is not loaded.”

  “Oh, well, let’s see
about that.” Shannon stuck the revolver under his chin.

  “Stop!” Weldon screamed.

  That sent Shannon into a fit of deranged laughter.

  Weldon lowered the megaphone and passed it back to Hollis.

  “Maggie,” he said. “Please go back behind the barricade and let me handle this. You too, Deputy Weldon. Please.”

  “Only if you come with,” I said.

  “Dave, I’ll be right back,” Hollis assured Shannon.

  The three of us moved to our station behind the dumpsters and crouched close to the ground.

  “I thought of something, Hollis,” I said. “Despite the trouble Shannon’s gone through to pin Sergeant Lake’s murder on Robbie Cole, maybe we should ask him if he’d like to speak to the boy.”

  “Are you asking me if that’s what I should suggest to him or telling me?”

  “Well, we’re not really going to invite Robbie over here. But it might have a calming effect if we offer it up as a possibility.”

  “That’s smart, Maggie.”

  I turned to Deputy Weldon. “What do you think?”

  “I guess I don’t understand. I’ve arrested Robbie Cole on a number of occasions, wouldn’t think it prudent to invite him to a standoff.”

  “He’s also Shannon’s half brother and somebody the guy’s been fixated on for some time. It’s a long story.”

  Weldon nodded. “I see.”

  “So, Maggie,” Hollis began. “Let me try something here. I’ll tell Shannon you’ve decided to stand down, and I’ve taken over the situation. I think he’ll be less agitated if you’re out of the picture for a while. And then if your Robbie Cole idea does calm him further, maybe I can actually make some headway.”

  “Brilliant.”

  “Okay, here goes nothing.” He stood, moved further into the open, and brought up the megaphone. “Hey, Dave, I’m back. Sergeant Blackthorne has bowed out. I’m in charge of our discussion now.”

  “I hope I didn’t upset her,” Shannon shouted sarcastically.

  Hollis went on. “I was wondering if you’d like to be able to talk to your brother.”

  It took a bit for Shannon to grasp what was being offered. “You mean in person?” he yelled.

  “Yeah. We might have to talk his dad into it, but we can give it a try.”

  “He doesn’t live very far from here, either.” The dude was clearly excited about the prospect. “Would I have to give up the gun, though?” he whined loudly.

  “His dad might insist on that, but let me put in a call.”

  “Okay. And I think I’ll take that water now. And maybe a candy bar or something.”

  “Sure. What’s your favorite candy bar?”

  “Anything with chocolate and nuts.”

  “Comin’ right up,” Hollis said. “I’ll send an unarmed deputy with the water and candy in a bag, but you’ll need to set the weapon aside while the deputy opens the access door and places it there on the rooftop.”

  “Okay, Trooper Jones, but promise me there’ll be no funny business.” The guy’s voice was giving out.

  “On my honor, Dave.”

  “I’m going to deliver the water and candy bar to Shannon. And don’t argue with me,” I warned Hollis.

  He ignored me. “Excuse me, Chief Weldon, this might be a good time for you to check in with your deputies.”

  “I think you’re right.” Aware that he needed to remember the madman with a loaded weapon on the roof, Weldon made sure he took what precautions were possible in order to safely leave us.

  “Chief Weldon’s a nice guy, don’t you think?” Hollis asked.

  “I do. But I sense you don’t believe I should be the one to deliver the candy bar and water to Shannon.”

  “I do not.”

  “But the man even said he’d love it if I brought some food and water up there.”

  “I know. So he could shoot you.”

  “Well, he could shoot whoever brings him his snack.”

  “He could, but I don’t think he would. Unless it was you doing the delivering.”

  I studied him briefly. “Say, is your reticence based on the fact that I’m pregnant?”

  Holly said nothing.

  “Hmm, how very chivalrous of you. And sexist.”

  One of the deputies who’d been tasked with passing out protective gear arrived at our huddle space carrying a paper bag with the candy bar and water for Shannon.

  “The chief asked me to bring this to you.” She handed me the bag, but her name tag was hidden by her vest.

  “Thank you, Deputy…?”

  “Brown. Traci Brown. You’re welcome, Sergeant Blackthorne.” She gazed at Hollis. “You’re doing a good job calming the guy.”

  “I hope you’re right, Deputy Brown,” he said.

  “Gotta get back. Hope to see both of you after this is all over.”

  After she left, the chief returned with news.

  “Two deputies have been able to place themselves on a fire ladder at the back of the building,” he said. “The ladder leads to the roof.”

  “How close to the roof are they?” I asked.

  “Near it, at the top of the ladder. And they can see Shannon walking around.”

  With this latest info in mind, the three of us discussed various scenarios that might bring the standoff to an end. We also strategized about the best way to go about making sure no one was killed or seriously injured. Including our prisoner.

  In the end, and despite Holly’s objections, I decided he would keep Shannon occupied while I delivered his snack and Chief Weldon kept in radio communication with the deputies on the ladder.

  We were all spent, and I thought about breaking into the candy bar in Shannon’s snack bag so the three of us could share a pick-me-up, but I was also determined to get this fucking day over with.

  Hollis positioned himself with the megaphone outside our crude barricade and again engaged Shannon in a conversation. “Okay, Dave. How’re you doing up there?”

  “I’m hot and thirsty,” he called down.

  “I’ve got two pieces of good news for you. First, Robbie is on his way to the courthouse, but you need to put down the gun while you’re talking to him. That’s the only way his dad will allow it.”

  “Bob probably won’t let him come up here either, will he?”

  “No.”

  “And what’s the other good news?”

  “The candy bar and water will be there shortly. You’ll hear a knock at the door, the door will open, and the deputy will place the bag on the rooftop and close the door. Count to five, then put the gun down before you walk over to retrieve the bag.”

  “Why do I have to put the gun down?”

  “So nobody out here gets nervous when you get near the door and possibly shoots you. Now promise me you’ll put the gun down before you walk over and pick up the bag.”

  “All right, all right.”

  That last set of Holly’s instructions to Dave Shannon rang out as I made my way toward the back door of the building where Deputy Brown stood ready to let me in. Once inside the courthouse, she led me to the utility stairs. I climbed them quickly, knocked, opened the door, and set the bag on the roof. Then I waited inside at the top of the stairs, my Glock drawn.

  “Put the gun down, Dave,” I heard Hollis say over the megaphone. “If you don’t put the gun down, you won’t be able to talk to Robbie.”

  “Where is he? Where’s Robbie? Robbie, don’t be afraid, this is all just a misunderstanding!”

  I could hear him pacing on the other side of the door to the roof, but I couldn’t tell if he had picked up the bag containing his snack or what might be going on with the deputies clinging to the fire ladder.

  “Robbie! See, I put the gun on the ground,” Shannon shrieked, his voice raspy, raw. “Everything’s okay. Please come out and talk to me!”

  I heard one of the deputies on the fire ladder ordering him to place his hands over his head, and then Shannon’s dogged refusal. />
  I had promised Hollis I would stay in the stairwell with the door locked until Shannon was subdued. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do as a cop, to just wait, not knowing if the bad guy was about to kick in the door.

  Outside on the rooftop, Shannon had apparently made a move to go back to fetch Weldon’s revolver because one of the deputies was warning him not to move any closer to the weapon. Next, I heard the sound of a stun gun being deployed and Shannon screaming in pain.

  But I hadn’t detected the sound of Hollis racing up the utility stairs until he was suddenly standing behind me.

  “Is it over?” he asked, breathless and audibly drained.

  I slipped my gun back in its holster. “Yeah.”

  “An ambulance is already waiting.”

  I turned to face him.

  “Why, Maggie Blackthorne. You’re crying.”

  “Just a little.”

  When Hollis and I joined the deputies on the roof, they were attending to Shannon, removing barbs from his clothing and coaxing him into sipping some water, but he remained in obvious pain and would for a while.

  The ambulance crew arrived shortly after, clanking up the metal utility stairs, lifting Shannon onto the gurney, and navigating the awkward small space as they moved him back down the stairs.

  Hollis and I followed the ambulance crew and their sobbing patient and met up with Chief Deputy Weldon as we were leaving the building.

  “I’ve assigned a couple of deputies to stay outside Shannon’s hospital room,” he said. “And to bring him back to jail once a doctor signs his release.”

  Deputy Brown strode down the steps in our direction and pulled me aside. “Your fiancé is here, Sergeant Blackthorne. He seems pretty anxious.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Hollis and Weldon and followed Brown inside the courthouse where she directed me to the visitors waiting area.

  Duncan looked the worse for wear, and I prepared myself for some recrimination for having caused him a buttload of worry. Yet when he saw me, he smiled and loped my way.