Melanie clutched her son’s forearms, and Peter gripped her under her biceps.
“Pull. I’ve got her,” he said.
She could see Mia and Michael on either side of Peter, grasping him tight as they began to pull both of them up. Michael wrapped both arms around his brother’s middle and braced himself against the wall. It creaked, but it held and gave Peter the leverage he needed to pull Melanie up into the stairwell. Once Melanie’s body was safely through the manhole, Mia started back to the rooftop.
Michael said, “Climb over Peter. Follow Mia up the stairs. We’re right behind you.”
Melanie looked up. She could see her daughter had already made it to the widow’s walk, her tiny frame silhouetted against the starry winter night. She clambered over her son and made her way up the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Four
JOHN WAS FRUSTRATED. “I’m going in there. Maybe I can at least create a diversion so you can get a shot at him, Joe.” He started out across the street, when his cell phone rang. He stopped, and all the men took one step closer to him.
John looked at the number and recognized it as Seeley’s. “Yeah?”
“I don’t want anyone to do anything, Chief,” the man said. “I’m getting angry. I don’t believe you’ll let me go. I don’t deserve to have my life ruined like this.”
“Look, Seeley, let me come in and talk. We can work this out. You don’t need to panic.”
“Panic? I’m not panicked. I’m angry!”
“I’ll do my best for you, Seeley. Right now, you accidentally killed a man. That’s not first degree. You’ve got bargaining power here.”
“You bet I’ve got bargaining power; I’ve got Strand and your wife.”
John began walking toward the house, the cell phone to his ear. He could see Seeley in the window, talking to him on the telephone. He could see the revolver in his hand as he wiggled the gun barrel up and down, side to side. John’s skin prickled with some desperate emotion he did not give himself the luxury of identifying. He could not see far enough into the room to guess where his wife or Gabriel were. Once again, he could only assume.
Then he could make out the form of Seeley peering out one of the long front windows.
“I can see you coming across the street,” he said to John. “I’m going to throw my car keys out to you. Go start my car.”
“What’s your plan, Seeley?”
“I’ll let you know along the way. Just do what I say.” The man’s voice rose. “Just someone do as I say.”
“Okay,” said John. “Throw the keys out. I’ll stop right here until I see you do it.”
“That’s better.”
John tried to gauge the movements he saw inside. He still couldn’t see anyone except Seeley. The door opened a fraction, and light from the front hall spilled out onto the porch. He heard the keys hit the sidewalk leading up to the building’s entrance. He waited.
“You there, Chief?” Seeley said through the phone again.
“Yes.”
“Do I have your word that you will do exactly as I tell you?”
John was silent. His fear was fading as his anger increased.
“Do I have your word? Answer me.”
“I’ll do as you say.”
“Start my car and back it out into the street. Park it so the driver’s side is facing the building and leave the door open. Then get out and leave it running. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.” John took the keys. He opened the driver’s side door to the rental car, a late model Oldsmobile. He got in, started it up, and backed into the street as instructed.
“Now get out. Leave the car running. Tell your posse across the street that I’m coming out with Strand and your wife. If anyone so much as twitches, I’ll kill them. This isn’t a bluff, Giamo.”
“Understood,” John said. He only wanted to lay eyes on Melanie.
Over the phone, he could hear voices and shuffling. Then he heard a sort of strangled roar and a crash, as though someone had stamped hard on the floor or put a fist into a wall.
“Damn it!” Seeley shouted.
“Seeley,” John barked into the phone, “what’s going on? Seeley, if my wife so much as breaks a nail, my men will mow you down so fast, you won’t know what hit you. That’s a fact.”
“She’s gone!” Seeley’s voice shrieked into his ear. “Your wife got away, Chief, but she’s done more damage than she realizes. Just stick to the plan and back away from my car.”
John’s mind raced, exhilarated that she’d been able to escape, but she and their children weren’t out of danger yet. Making Richard Seeley angrier wasn’t part of the plan. He tried to keep his voice calm as he said, “Let me talk to Strand.”
“No way, Chief. You stand back. I’m coming out. I’ve still got Strand.”
John clicked off the connection and rejoined his men across the street. “He’s bringing Strand out,” he told them. “Nobody move.”
The group of officers, standing in the shelter of Cully’s cruiser, lifted their arms in acknowledgment. All except Joe, John noticed. The officer had kept out of sight, and now, slowly, hidden by the night shadows, he’d leaned on the hood of his own cruiser and lifted his rifle to his shoulder. Luckily, Seeley’s request for positioning his car on the street ensured Joe’s line of sight was clear. The weather had calmed, but there were no clouds overhead to hold in what little warmth the pale winter sun might have imparted during the daylight. The night was becoming bitterly cold. The snow squeaked under his feet as John shifted his weight in anticipation.
The front door opened slowly. The first person John saw was Gabriel. He walked slowly out onto the porch, with Richard Seeley close behind him. Gabriel’s right arm was twisted up in back of him. Seeley obviously had it in a death grip as he pushed the musician along ahead of him. He also had the gun pressed to Strand’s head, just at the back of his ear. Melanie and the kids were likely hiding on the roof or in back of the house. Either way, they were smart enough to stay hidden. John figured his best option was to go along with everything Seeley demanded and hope that a chance to overcome the gunman would avail itself. Unstable as Seeley was, there would be no second try. John stood still beside the car as Seeley and Strand approached.
Finally, they were close enough for John to make out their faces in the darkness.
“Are you okay, Strand?” he asked.
“Shut up,” said Seeley through his teeth, but Gabriel managed to nod his head. “Stay away from my car.” The man pivoted so that Gabriel faced the chief as he walked to the passenger side and backed up to the open door of the idling car. “I’m going to leave you with two things, Chief: a corpse and a bullet in the brain.”
The words had barely left Seeley’s lips, and John did not hesitate a moment longer. Any further attempt at negotiation might prove fatal for someone. He leaped the ten or so feet that separated him from the gunman and his hostage. He grabbed Gabriel, holding him in his arms as he kicked out at Richard Seeley. He heard a strange explosion, like a gunshot and yet different, followed by a cry as he and the musician crashed to the ground.
In the next few seconds, many things went through John’s head. He thought he might have been shot, or maybe it had been Strand. They both lay face down in the street, his arms still wrapped around the young man. John rolled over just in time to see the car, with Seeley behind the wheel, speed down the road. Steve Bruno and Joe Bernard took off in pursuit in Bernard’s cruiser.
There was a warm feeling on his exposed hand. He sat up and, by the street light, saw a dark pattern on the pavement. Blood. He knew by then that it wasn’t his blood. He gripped Gabriel and pulled him into a sitting position.
“Where are you hit?” he asked, his voice urgent.
“I—I’m not hit. I don’t think so.” The musician was gingerly looking at himself.
John stood. On the ground near where the car had been parked lay the .22 caliber revolver. The old gun had misfired and exploded. The blood was
Seeley’s. John grabbed Strand by the shoulders and pulled him to his feet.
“Where is my wife? Where is Melanie?”
“I don’t know. She said she had to go to the bathroom before he got on the phone with you. When he smashed in the bathroom door, she wasn’t there.”
Melanie was safe; the kids had rescued her and knew enough to stay out of harm’s way. The relief that John felt made him feel lightheaded.
“John! Are you all right?” Firefighter Caleb Cochran was now standing in front of him, searching his face with worried eyes.
John nodded.
“Take care of Strand, Caleb,” he said. “Get him checked out.”
Caleb nodded his acknowledgment. He stepped up and put a blanket over the shoulders of the shivering musician. John ran to his Suburban and climbed in. Patterson and Cully were already there. He flipped the lights on, and the bulky vehicle careened down the snowy road, south out of town. Its sturdy snow tires allowed them to catch up to the chase underway. Ahead of them, they could see the Oldsmobile going too fast for the conditions, slipping around on the slick pavement. Joe Bernard’s cruiser, its lights flashing and siren blaring, was bearing down on it.
“He’s trying to get to the interstate,” said Cully from the back seat.
“He can’t go that way,” Jason said. “The bridge is out.”
The bridge was out. John had forgotten. Already, he could see the yellow warning lights as they flashed in the darkness. The Oldsmobile was speeding right toward them. Just ahead, they saw Joe abruptly turn his cruiser into a side street.
“He’s giving him room to turn down River Street,” Jason said.
John slowed the Suburban to a stop in the middle of the street. The lights flashed their eerie blue light on the snowbanks.
“The fucking idiot is going right through the lights,” muttered Cully.
Joe’s cruiser poked its head out of the mouth of the side street. Helpless, they all watched the Oldsmobile ram through the barricade. The yellow warning lights sailed into the night sky and shattered as they hit the street. The wooden barricades splintered, and the fluorescent orange and white barrels bounced frenetically in every direction. The Oldsmobile disappeared into the darkness.
“Fucker’s in the water,” Cully yelled, vaulting from the vehicle and grabbing the emergency bag. He raced down the road on foot, the others right behind him.
John held the huge spotlight.
They made their way through the wreckage of the barricade as quickly as they could manage. Standing on the edge of the damaged bridge, John swung the spotlight down into the river. Fifteen feet down, they could make out the rear end of the car. It had gone nose first through the ice, and the current had wedged the vehicle up to the back doors under broken ice pieces. The black water swirled around the wreck, piling the ice higher and higher.
Cully was pulling on a harness. “Lower me down there,” he said, tossing the end of a rope to Jason.
John stepped forward. “You can’t do that, Cully. Not in that water with no protective gear. You know that. There’s a guy at the fire station who’s a diver. They’re on the way.”
Cully writhed and struggled with the harness.
“Cully, stop.”
The younger man looked at John and finally ceased his efforts. He took a deep breath. “Ken Fellows,” Cully said, still looking down into the water.
“What?” John asked.
“The diver’s Ken Fellows.”
“Hmm, okay,” John said.
He put his hand on Cully’s shoulder and turned him back toward the street. As they all turned, the ambulance came shrieking up the road and stopped at the junction of River Street and the damaged bridge. The diver, unrecognizable in his wetsuit, was already being lowered down the steep river bank by the time the group of police reached them. Caleb stepped up to John.
“Strand will be fine, John,” he said. “He’s dealing with a little bit of shock, but otherwise seems okay. I had him taken to the hospital to get checked out.”
John and Caleb stood side by side as the men on the road lowered a basket-like stretcher down into the ravine. The diver, steadied by ropes held by more men on top of the embankment, pulled the stretcher toward himself with one arm. Now they could see by the sporadic illumination of the several hand-held spotlights that the diver clutched a man with his other arm. With a great effort, the diver heaved the body onto the stretcher and waved. Slowly, both the stretcher and the diver were pulled up out of the river.
John and Caleb walked over to the diver as he peeled back the head covering of the wetsuit. The three of them looked in the direction of the ambulance. Inside, first responders were working on the man furiously. The drivers were closing the doors. The lights began to flash, the wailing of the siren split the frigid air, and the ambulance pulled away, headed for the hospital.
“What’ve we got?” Caleb asked the diver.
“I think we got a corpse,” he answered.
There was a clanking and grinding and the sound of a large laboring engine behind them. John turned around to see Larry Sample and his beast of a wrecker. The wrecker came to a tenuous stop and stood shuddering on the bank of the river. The door of the cab creaked open, and Larry jumped lightly to the ground. He was dressed in the same greasy hat and clothes he’d worn days ago when he hauled Melanie’s Jeep away. He sauntered over to the men, the ever-present tobacco wadded in his cheek.
“What’s going on?” he said to John.
“We were in pursuit of a suspect, and he screamed right through the barricade and into the river.”
“I gotta get inside,” said Ken. “Good to see you, Larry.”
Larry nodded as the diver left the group. “Dead?”
“We think so. Ambulance took him away.”
“Hmm. Think it was an accident or suicide?”
“I don’t know, Larry,” John said, shaking his head.
“Well, I’ll get the winch cranking and drag her out.” He spat reflectively over the bank and walked back to the truck.
“Chief?”
John looked up. “What is it, Cully?”
“Becky radioed in and said your whole family is stranded on the widow’s walk.”
John wiped his hand across his face, but he smiled. “Think you can get me a ladder, Caleb?”
Caleb smiled back. “Right away.”
John turned to Steve Bruno. “I’m going back to get my wife. Wrap things up here.”
The young officer nodded acknowledgment.
Chapter Twenty-Five
JOHN WALKED UP THE DARK ROAD and got back into his Suburban.
Caleb climbed into the passenger side. “I’ll ride up with you, John,” he said. “We’ll meet the guys up there.”
John nodded and turned the vehicle around, heading back into town. They could see the small fire truck as they approached. Two men were carrying a long ladder over the deep snow to the south side of the big brick building. John parked the police vehicle and left the lights flashing, and he and Caleb climbed out. They ran to catch up to the two men carrying the ladder—Cully and Strand. He wanted to ask the musician what was he doing here when he was supposed to be getting checked out at the hospital, but he didn’t care anymore. The four of them lifted the ladder into place.
“I’ll go up,” Cully said and was three rungs up before John could comment.
He watched as the young officer scaled the ladder and reached the top. Looking up, he saw the enormous sweep of the Milky Way. He could see the outlines of his family against the starry sky. The next thing he saw made his heart leap: Melanie was stepping over the railing and coming down the ladder.
“John,” she called before she had reached the bottom.
“I’m right here.” He held his arms up.
She turned on the ladder, two rungs from the bottom, and he caught her as she reached out to him. They held each other.
“The kids are okay?” he said in her ear.
“Yes, the kids are won
derful.” Her tears were hot on his neck, but her body shivered.
“You’re freezing,” he said, pulling off his jacket. Her teeth were chattering. He wrapped the jacket around her and held her close.
“So, the guy went into the river?” Peter asked.
John looked up and saw his two boys approaching. Beyond them, he could see Cully and Mia standing close together. Some dim realization raised itself in his mind, and his forehead furrowed, but he squelched the feeling immediately. Whatever it was, it would have to wait for another day.
“Peter,” he said and wrapped an arm around his youngest son. “Yes, he drove into the river. The diver thinks he’s dead. I’m going to have to go to the hospital and confirm it, but I’m going to get you all home first. Where’s Gabriel?”
“I don’t know,” Michael answered. “I kinda forgot about him. He was with Caleb. Do you know, Mom?”
“He was here, I thought, a minute ago.”
“I had sent him to the hospital,” remarked Caleb as he, Cully, and Mia joined the group. “I don’t think he went. He was here helping with the ladder a minute ago.”
“I’ll have to talk to him at some point,” John said. “Let’s just get home. Michael, leave your car here. We’ll get it tomorrow. Is everyone all right?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Mia said. “Everybody’s fine.”
On the way out of town, up the hill to their home, John’s family filled him in on the details of the rescue.
He shook his head and fought back tears of emotion. “You were all very brave, very brave,” he said, “and it’s hard for me to even think about any of you being in that kind of danger. Michael, you were driving. You didn’t do what I told you to do. You could have been killed. That person was certifiably insane. He wanted to kill someone and it could have been you.”
His three children were silent.
His wife said, “John, I—” and then was silent too.
John held up his hand. “It’s all right. It’s all right,” he said. “I’ve had to develop a certain resiliency with this job. Mostly, for me, as long as you’re all safe, it’s okay. And I am proud of the way you executed your plan, foolhardy as it was.”
Keeping the Peace Page 24