Tactical Pursuit

by Lynette Mae

  On the police radio, an officer confirmed that the police vehicles at the scene were to be sealed and transported to the police lot as evidence. Devon sat fifty miles away feeling as alone and helpless as she’d ever felt in her life.

  Finally, Nate pulled up behind her. She met him at the front of his car and they embraced fully, drawing strength and comfort from each other.

  “She’s okay. You know how tough she is,” he said firmly in her ear. Devon swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and nodded.

  “TAC Two?” the SWAT commander called.

  “TAC Two, go ahead.” Nate kept a hand on Devon’s shoulder as he responded. “I’m with TAC Nine. We’re ready to go, Captain.”

  “Good. Orange County is sending a team to meet us. They’re setting up a command post near the suspect’s location.” Nate took down the location information and signed off.

  “Listen,” his eyes held a warning, “the only reason the captain isn’t pulling you off this deployment is that he doesn’t know who Jessie is.” Devon cut her eyes to the ground. Nate lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I want you with me. But you have to promise me now that we do this by the book. Devon?” he pressed. “I can’t go in there worrying about you doing something nuts.”

  “I’ll play by the rules he sets once we’re there. That’s all I can give you, Nate. If he hurts Jessie—”

  “Yeah.” Nate’s jaw clenched. “I know. You ready?”

  “Let’s do this.”

  Nothing in heaven or hell was going to keep Devon from Jessie tonight.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  HONEYCUTT’S LETHAL STARE found Jessie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He smiled at her as sweetly as cyanide. “Nice to see you again, Officer Kilbride.”

  His captive didn’t answer. Instead, she struggled against her bindings, letting out a low moan every so often as she shifted in the seat.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of using your handcuffs, since they were handy. Oh, and sorry about your shoulder.” He snickered. “We’ll just call it even for my broken arm.”

  She remained silent, but the fear in her eyes made him smile. He watched her searching intently out the window, looking for clues as to where she was, no doubt. It didn’t really matter if she knew. She wouldn’t be able to call anyone for help.

  The radio on the seat next to him startled both of them with a burst of static. This far out the reception would be spotty. He only hoped to hear enough. Interference covered most of the transmission, but he heard the name James before the signal broke up again. In the rearview mirror, Honeycutt saw the way his captive’s face lit up with hope.

  “You want her to show up? Me, too. She and I have a score to settle. Maybe she’ll bring her degenerate friends with her. We’re here in Gray’s backyard.” He stopped as a thought occurred to him. “You know her? Gray? They have a history, you know. They were screwing long before you came along. Do you ever think about that when she’s with you?” He eyed her in the mirror and laughed in satisfaction when she looked away.

  He veered off the highway at the last minute onto his exit, making a quick left at the bottom of the ramp. The momentum caused his passenger to fall against the opposite side, eliciting another pained groan. Honeycutt sneered at her in the mirror. “Hurts, don’t it, bitch?”

  She stared past him out the windshield, out at the deserted stretch of road. He slowed and turned again. The narrow dirt road was almost completely concealed by overgrowth. It was tough to spot the drive even when you knew where to look, and he knew in the darkness she couldn’t make out anything beyond the beam of the headlights.

  “Don’t get any stupid-ass cop ideas,” Honeycutt said. He stopped at the metal chain that was strung across the path. A rusted sign declared the area to be private property. He got out, opened the lock, and dropped the chain to the ground. Once he pulled the car on the other side, he reversed the process. Moments later he stopped in front of the rundown cabin, killed the engine, and sat listening. Satisfied for the moment that they had not been followed, he threw open the driver’s door.

  “We’re here, bitch. This is it. End of the road.” He tossed the words over his shoulder at her like a live grenade. Jerking open the passenger door, he snarled, “Get out.” She moved too slowly, so he snatched her by the hair and dragged her inside.

  He didn’t have time to waste. Things had changed in the past couple of weeks. Scooby had gotten popped on a weapons charge and Roy was suddenly trying to get in contact again. As though Honeycutt was going to call him. Roy was an idiot if he thought Honeycutt hadn’t already figured out that he’d flipped. It was obvious. He knew eventually someone would dig deep enough to uncover this place in his family’s records. James and her friends weren’t stupid, just depraved.

  The cop he hoped he’d killed had been on edge, as if alerted to additional danger. He guessed they had put enough of the puzzle together that a police response was imminent. Good. He had preparations to make for the showdown with James. Honeycutt had watched her. He knew all about her SWAT status, and his father’s notes painted the picture of an arrogant, hotheaded bitch. Fate had placed her little girlfriend in the right place at the right time. Now he had what James wanted most in this world. Oh, she was coming all right, and he would be ready.

  THE COMMAND POST was set up at a gas station just off the interstate. Devon was stunned by the police presence as she approached. Close to a hundred police vehicles from what looked like every agency between Tampa and Orlando were represented in the massive assembly. Brown and tan highway patrol cars, unmarked cars, and marked patrol cars of every color and style combined in a sort of law enforcement mosaic. This had grown into more than a police shooting in Tampa.

  Most cars represented smaller agencies without the manpower or equipment to handle such a momentous task—not without leaving their own jurisdictions unmanned. These cops had simply responded to the call of an officer down, and were here to do whatever they could, even if it would only be moral support.

  She pulled up to an Orange County deputy who was stopping cars. “Corporal James, Tampa SWAT.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “That’s my partner behind me.”

  His eyes were compassionate within the professional posture. “Tampa’s SWAT team is forming up with Orange County’s unit in the area nearest the command post. Good luck, Corporal.”

  The deputy directed her to an open field about halfway down the street that was already filling up with patrol cars. From what Devon could see, she and Nate were the first two Tampa units to arrive. The black BDUs of Tampa’s team contrasted with the county’s green. Just ahead of her, next to the designated lot, a large RV-type vehicle painted in the colors and the large gold star of the Orange County Sheriff’s Office was parked and set up as the command post. She heard helicopters hovering and looked up, hoping Mac was still with her. Devon wished she could talk to Mac and ask her what she saw from the sky.

  Nate had parked next to her and was already suiting up. He nodded in her direction when she jumped out of her vehicle and moved to the trunk. Wordlessly, she pulled on her knee and elbow guards, flak jacket and Kevlar helmet. She checked the pistol in her thigh holster. Satisfied that it was locked and loaded, she added two magazines to her gear. Next, she opened the locked compartment to extract an M16 assault rifle, slapped a full magazine into place, and again placed two additional clips into her pouches.

  “I just got word,” Nate said somberly. “Berringer didn’t make it,”

  Devon grimaced. “I didn’t know it was Berringer out there. Damn.” She remembered working a detail with him earlier in the year. They didn’t know each other well, but he’d always seemed like a stand-up guy. “Do they know if he stopped the car randomly or if he knew it was the stolen vehicle from the murder scene?”

  “I didn’t get that much. Steph wanted us to know that the chief made the announcement a few minutes ago. His wife is at the hospital, devastated, of course.”


  Devon took in the news silently, struggling not to imagine how she’d cope in that situation. Nate squeezed her shoulder and Devon shook off the morose thoughts. She took a deep breath and told herself to get her shit together.

  “So, what’s the plan?” she asked Nate, refusing to allow her emotions to take over. They had a job to do, and never had a job been so important.

  “Boss said to suit up and meet down by the CP.”

  Devon scanned the street. Several vehicles with Tampa PD logos on the side approached. The familiar sight of her team was reassuring. A dark-hairedwoman climbed into the command post, bringing a flicker of Jessie’s face to her mind. Battling injury and in the presence of a madman, would Jessie remember all the things they’d taught her in the academy about survival? Never give up. Keep fighting to survive. Do whatever you have to do, Jessie.

  “Looks like it’ll be us and Orange County running this show tonight.” Nate’s voice brought her back to the task at hand. He fell into step alongside her.

  They passed a couple of county guys pulling on green ballistic vests and checking their weapons. “Sarge says this is a joint operation,” the taller one said, “but Tampa will be calling the final shots. After all, the fucker did shoot their people.”

  “Any word on that?” the second guy asked.

  “One dead. We just got word. The other one is the hostage we’re going after tonight. They don’t have a condition, but they know she’s been hit.” He said it without feeling and Devon bristled. She had to remind herself that they didn’t know Jessie or Berringer. No doubt they would do a good job, Orange County had one of the best SWAT reputations in the state. Every cop took it seriously when a fellow officer was assaulted or killed.

  Devon searched the crowded area, hoping for a sign of Jillian, but didn’t see her anywhere.

  “C’mon,” Nate said. “Captain Rogers is right over there.”

  A crowd of officers overflowed the space outside the command post. Portable lighting was being set up, powered by a generator on the side. In the center of the activity, Orlando and Tampa’s SWAT commanders were conferring over a rough map that was based upon aerial photos of the property where the suspect was hiding. The pilots had confirmed sighting of the blue Taurus on the property.

  Now plans would be drawn to execute a rescue operation. Captain Rogers had been a SWAT officer in Tampa for nearly twenty years, and Devon had complete confidence in his leadership. Captain Helms was his Orlando counterpart. His people appeared equally loyal to their commander. Devon knew the way these operations worked, every eventuality had to be planned for. She only wished the process wasn’t so tedious. Jessie was quite possibly fighting for her life, and with every second that slipped by, Devon’s anxiety increased. She stared down the road in the direction of the target sight, desperate for a sign. Any sign that Jessie was okay.

  She heard the drone of vehicle engines around her and saw nothing but dark woods punctuated every so often by a flicker of light from the recon team’s flashlights. They were like oversized fireflies, but much more blinding. She paced in a tight circle, unable to stand still as the waiting eroded her control.

  Captain Rogers said, “I’ll put my best entry team in position as soon as we have confirmation that the area around the structure is secured. What about your entry team?”

  “They’re arriving as we speak.” Captain Helms gestured toward the approaching pair decked out in green BDUs, flak jackets and helmets. “My team leader and assistant team leader.”

  Rogers nodded in their direction. To Nate he said, “Spencer, I’ll leave you and James to get acquainted with your counterparts. We’ll work out the entry strategy as soon as we hear from the recon team. I’d like input from everyone.”

  “Yes, sir,” Nate said.

  Devon listened to the exchange in a detached way while she stole glances in the direction of their destination. The advance team had already headed into the night to take up perimeter positions around the property. She turned at the sound of approaching footsteps in the grass and recognized Bert from the SWAT school several months before. Devon was grateful to have someone with his skill level with them tonight.

  “Good to see you again, Devon,” Bert said.

  A female voice from behind him said, “I heard you might need a hand.”

  Devon’s heart leapt when Jillian smiled at her from beneath a large green helmet. They shared a long look while the guys got acquainted. Devon remembered a time when Jillian could have almost read her mind. She was fairly certain even now that Jill could see something was terribly wrong.

  “What’s the latest?” Bert asked.

  Nate said, “The first team is setting up a perimeter around the structure. We still don’t have a condition on the officer inside, but we’re sure he has her in there.” Nate’s voice wavered as he finished the sentence.

  “Is the officer a friend of yours?” Jillian asked Nate, but kept her eyes fixed on Devon.

  “Yeah, I trained her, but she’s—” he looked nervously in Devon’s direction, “she’s Devon’s…uh…”

  Devon bit the inside of her lip, feeling emotionally exposed in the face of Jillian’s scrutiny. She watched the recognition dawn in Jill’s features.

  “Give us a minute, okay?” Jillian guided Devon away to a stand of trees. Devon peered into the darkness beyond before focusing on Jill. She’d taken her helmet off and and looked at Devon compassionately.

  “The officer is Jessie?”

  Devon nodded.

  “Jesus.” Jill ran a hand through her hair. “That changes the dynamic quite a bit. How the hell did this happen?”

  “I wish to God I knew. She was supposed to be off shift. Somehow she ended up backing up the officer that was killed.” Devon closed her eyes. “Now he’s got her, and I feel so fucking helpless.”

  Jillian pulled Devon into a tight hug. “I’m here. But, listen, are you sure you can do this?”

  “Yeah.” Devon pulled back. Her tone was sharper than she’d intended, but if Jillian noticed, she didn’t react. What the fuck else was she supposed to do? Stand around and wait to see what happened? If Nate or Jillian were in her shoes, they’d feel the same way, and they wouldn’t stand aside for anything.

  She glared at Jillian. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Okay. I had to ask. I was watching you and trying to imagine what it would be like if Mac was in that cabin.” She shuddered. “Honestly, I’m not sure I could be standing here the way you are.”

  Devon looked at her evenly, struggling to hide her emotions battling for release. She realized that was impossible at this moment, and definitely not with Jill. Jillian could always see. “If I let myself think too much I feel like I might go insane.”

  “Sounds normal. If you didn’t tell me that, I’d be more worried.”

  “Sergeant Gray.” Both women turned in the direction of Jillian’s captain. “I need to see both of you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Two additional men had joined the staff assembled at the command post. One was a major from the sheriff’s department and the other was Tampa’s assistant chief. Captain Rogers looked upset, making Devon wonder what had happened since the chief’s arrival.

  Jillian’s captain said, “Chief, Major, these are our team leaders who will be coordinating the entry for this mission. Sergeant Gray and Detective Reinhardt, and you know Corporal James and Master Officer Spencer.” Devon impatiently endured the formalities of the introductions. Behind them, the hostage negotiator was setting up with a couple of his people. She checked her watch again. Three-forty. We need to move.

  The chief said, “We’ve decided that it would be best to wait for daylight and have the negotiations team take a crack at talking to this guy. That way, we can say we tried everything possible before deploying our highest level of force.”

  Devon thought her head might explode. Who decided? The two administrators with no tactical experience? The fucking bureaucrats always wanting to take the cautious
approach—no the politically correct approach—regardless of the situation. This wasn’t some dog and pony show media event. This was as real as it gets. Her rage surged to the surface again. “No way. We can’t wait,” Devon blurted out. “Our officer might be bleeding to death!”

  The chief shot her an angry glare. “Excuse me, Corporal?”

  Jillian put a hand on her arm. “Sir,” she tactfully ignored the Tampa chief and addressed her commander, “we have an advance team in place. It’s my professional opinion that we need to move quickly. From what we know, the Tampa officer left a lot of blood at the original scene. She’s injured—probably seriously. This subject already has killed one of us. He knows that because he’s got a radio. He’s not going to be talked out of there. This guy set this up because he wants this standoff. If we wait until daybreak, the officer is likely to die.”

  Devon shifted uncomfortably with that statement, her blood near a boil. Jillian gripped her arm tighter as she finished. “I don’t want the officer’s death on my conscience, sir. And I don’t think you do, either. Right now, the darkness gives us cover. He can’t see what we’re doing. I agree that the negotiators should take a shot at talking him out, but only while we get assets in place. We respectfully disagree with waiting to deploy SWAT.”

  The chief looked at the SWAT commanders. “Do you agree with the sergeant’s assessment?”

  “Yes,” they said in unison.

  He looked at the major from Orange County, who nodded once in agreement. The chief relented. “Then do it.”

  “Thank you, Chief. We’ll do everything in our power to bring Officer Kilbride out safely.” She turned to address her SWAT commander. “Sir, we’ll just need a few minutes to coordinate and then we’ll be ready to go.”

  Jillian cocked her head toward the road, and Devon followed her again away from the group. She leaned against a crooked tree. “So, how do you think we should handle this, Devon?”