Harris quickly turned his attention back to the hallway in time to see Carlos coming towards him from down the hall. The drug dealer had a shotgun leveled at him. Harris quickly lay back, offering only a prone profile. He heard the roar of the shotgun and felt a stinging in his left foot. The wall behind him exploded with chunks of drywall as small ball bearings missed his head by inches.
He looked up and saw Carlos pump the shotgun to send another shell into the chamber. Quickly, he leveled his own pistol holding it with both hands. He fired three rapid shots, making sure to aim low. Two of the shots flew harmlessly past Carlos’ legs but the third connected, sending the man spinning to the carpet in a crumpled heap.
Carlos landed facing the opposite way and he quickly looked back over his shoulder at Harris, surprise registered on his face. He then looked down at his leg with a puzzled expression, shock protecting the man from feeling the pain normally accompanied with having your knee blown out. Harris scrambled to his feet. He sprinted towards the seated man, ignoring the burning pain in his foot.
Carlos looked up and saw Harris coming. He began to raise the shotgun that he still clutched in his hands, but there was no time. Before he could bring it around, Harris placed a swift and powerful snap kick to the drug dealers jaw. The shotgun flew from the man’s hands as his head hit the carpet. Carlos was out cold.
Good Cop Bad Cop
38
Bonnie sat in her 2011 Ford Fusion and stared down at the phone in her hand. Sitting in her mother’s driveway, she had excused herself from the dinner table and walked out the door. Nobody had said a word.
She’d started to call Jimmy several times and each time stopped short. She knew what she wanted to say, but not how to say it. Jesus, she thought to herself, this is just as difficult as actually having him in front of me.
Communication had always been a sticking point in the marriage. Although she wasn’t physically intimidated by her husband, his over the top personality was so strong that she often became tongue-tied when trying to get a point across to him. He had a way of making her doubt herself, when even moments before she knew with absolute clarity what it was she had wanted to say. Those piercing eyes could cut right through her.
Bonnie let her hand drop into her lap and leaned her head back against the headrest so that she was looking straight up. She closed her eyes and thought back to the days before marriage and their son Danny. She’d met Jimmy on St. Patrick’s Day of all things. He had been with his buddies in an Irish pub doing what Irish boys do best on any given day of the week, much less on St. Patties Day. Her girlfriends had just taken their place at the bar when a couple of Jimmy’s drunken friends had begun making highly suggestive and inappropriate comments to them. The girls were ignoring the young men as best they could when she saw her future husband for the first time. He was walking towards them from the back of the bar to rejoin his friends. She was taken by the way he walked, confident and self assured without being cocky. He had the type of jaw line a male soap opera star would envy and his blue eyes sparkled with just a hint of mischief. But what happened next caused her heart to skip a beat.
Back within earshot, he now heard what his inebriated friends were saying to Bonnie and her companions. Although they were his buddies, she saw his look changed from carefree joviality to a menacing dark cloud instantly. He grabbed both of the loudmouths by their necks and pushed them roughly against the bar. There was a brief struggle but Jimmy possessed the strength to hold them both. He snarled that if he ever heard them speaking like that to ladies in his presence again, it would be the worst day of their lives. Both young men immediately fell into line and apologized to the man. He barked at them that they were apologizing to the wrong person upon which both of the offenders walked over to her and her friends and apologized. Afterwards, she sat in stunned silence while her friends crowded together and gushed over Jimmy in hushed whispers.
Sometime later, Jimmy came over and apologized for his friends as well. They were good guys, he explained, just a little liquored up. She and Jimmy ended up spending the rest of the evening together talking as both his friends and hers went their separate ways.
That chance meeting led to a whirlwind romance in which they were inseparable for the next two years. And then came the fateful day when Jimmy broke the news to her. He had joined the military and was going to fight in Iraq. This had crushed her and after a short discussion, they agreed to marry before he left. The families arranged a hasty, yet intimate, back yard wedding and a week after that Jimmy had left for basic training and then the war.
When he came back he was a changed man. Although still the same deep down, there was now an intensity that smoldered just beneath the surface. He wouldn’t open up to her what he’d experienced but she saw the pain in his eyes whenever the subject of the war came up. If they were watching TV and a news story about the Middle East came on, he would leave the room. He started drinking more than he ever had and when drunk he would rant about the evil in the world and how it was up to good men to fight it. After a year of heavy drinking, she’d finally gotten him to realize that he was heading down a dark path and just like that, he stopped. He still had a drink on occasion but it was if a switch had been flipped and he finally understood his role in life. It seemed to help quell the demons in his head.
Shortly after that he joined the police force.
Bonnie was horrified when he told her what he’d done. She was three months pregnant and knew the risks involved in fighting crime in New York City. Although she’d pleaded with him to reconsider, there was no changing his mind. Over time she learned to live with the fears that haunted her every time he came home late or was involved in an altercation or shooting.
As the years passed and Jimmy rose in the ranks, he became something of a minor celebrity in the underground world of cops and their families. It was whispered that he was something of a loose cannon and that he did things that were against the code. He went through several partners although none would ever give him up to internal affairs. And he had become more distant. Although it happened gradually, his marriage had become less and less to her, and more and more to the force. He became a cop first and a husband second. Countless arguments did little to make him understand the wedge he was driving through the heart of their marriage.
And now it had come to this.
Bonnie opened her eyes and stared back down at the phone. She opened her texting and began hitting keys. She typed furiously, drafting a long message. Before she could chicken out she hit send and then exhaled a long rush of air as she realized the implications of what she’d just done. It was a long text but it explained that they needed time apart. And maybe, even the rest of their lives. Bonnie began to cry.
Good Cop Bad Cop
39
Christi spun on her heel and faced the house, her eyes wide. She stood rooted in place as fear gripped her. Her first impulse was to run, but she didn’t move. She couldn’t move. Not towards the cab in any case. Her reaction was so foreign to her, so out of character that she actually paid it mind despite the fear she felt. She had never thought of herself as the type to brave the front lines or to report in the middle of a war zone. And although she knew that this didn’t quite qualify, she absolutely knew that whatever her next move was, it would alter her entire career, for better or worse.
And then, she surprised herself again. She darted towards the home, towards the gunfire, stopping at the chain link fence. She could see the shades were drawn in the front windows so she did exactly what Harris had done. She quickly scaled the short fence and headed for the backyard. Sprinting the length of the house, she turned the corner and saw that the back door was ajar. She paused and listened. There had been several shots fired, most loud cracks but one louder boom mixed in the middle of the fight. She thought she had heard a man yell but it had all happened so quickly that she was unsure.
Now, standing at the back corner of the house and peering around and through the sliver of an op
ening in the cracked door, there was only silence. With her heart pounding, she stepped onto the cement porch cautiously. And then she heard the familiar voice of Lt. James Harris.
“All right, scumbag,” came the low angry voice. “Wake your ass up.”
Christi let out a long sigh of relief as she recognized the voice, only then noticing that she’d been holding her breath. She crept up and poked her head cautiously through the rear door. Stepping into the kitchen, she heard a loud thump which sounded like a sack of potatoes being dropped to the floor.
“I said wake your ass up,” she heard Harris speak again, this time more forcefully and with greater volume.
She heard a man moan low and deep. It was immediately followed by a loud scream.
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” Carlos wailed in pain as regained consciousness. “Oh my God, you motherfucker! My leg!”
This was followed by the sound of a loud slap.
“Shut your filthy mouth, maggot. You took a shot at me! You put your dog on me!”
“Rojo!” The man cried loudly, suddenly remembering his pit bull. “You killed my dog, you asshole!”
“You should have thought about that before opening the door and having him attack me!”
“You broke into my house!”
“Shut up,” Harris answered. “Now I want some answers and I want them now!”
“Fuck you, pig! Call an ambulance!”
“Oh no, Carlos,” Harris spat angrily. “It doesn’t work that way. You’re going to answer a few questions and if I like the answers then I call for help.”
Christi listened intently as all of this went down. She had removed a small, digital tape recorder from her pocket and had started recording just as Carlos had been slapped.
“You’re fucking crazy man, call me an ambulance!” Carlos screamed.
“Time to set some ground rules,” Harris spoke calmly. He placed a foot on the man’s ruined leg.
A loud shriek filled the air and caused Christi to jump. She flinched and retreated a step, her back coming into contact with a pot handle that lay close to the edge of the kitchen counter. The pot lifted slightly and when she moved forward again, rang down with a metallic crash. She spun around to try and silence it but was too late. She heard a loud click from behind her. Wheeling back around, she saw a bewildered Harris pointing his gun at her.
“You have GOT to be fucking kidding me?!” Harris exclaimed as he recognized the reporter.
“I’m sorry!” Christi pleaded quickly. “I heard gunshots!”
“So you headed towards them?!”
“Uhmm….yes,” she stammered, not knowing what else to say.
“Jesus Christ,” Harris muttered. He lowered his gun, which he finally realized he was still pointing at the frightened woman. “Go wait in the back yard. Do NOT call for help. I will be with you in a minute.”
“No,” Christi answered meekly.
“No?” Harris repeated. “Did you just say no?”
“I’m not leaving. I’m involved now,” Christi continued.
“You are impeding a police investigation.”
“It sounds to me like you’re torturing him.”
“Lady! Call for help!” Carlos screamed from the other room. “This guy is loco!”
“Shut up, dirt bag!” Harris barked over his shoulder. “I’ll get back to you in a second.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m not going to let you do this,” Christi continued.
“Do what? Do you have any idea what it is you’re interfering with?”
“No, but I know this guy has rights.”
Harris stood silently as he sized up the situation He looked for an out, something he could say to her to get her to just go away, to understand the bigger picture. In the end, he realized the truth was all he might need.
“Christi,” he spoke softly. “Do you know the D.A.’s daughter Emily?”
“I’m familiar with her of course. Why?”
“She has been kidnapped. The kidnapper is torturing her. He has already raped her at least once and has used electricity to hurt her badly. This guy might be a key to locating her.”
Christi felt the air rush out of her lungs. She stared at Harris in disbelief.
“How can you possibly know this?” She finally asked.
“He is sending videos. Sending them directly to the Blumquist’s.”
“Oh my God,” Christi spoke, throwing a hand over her mouth.
Harris saw the effect his words had.
“That’s right. I have a feeling it was this scumbag’s sister who helped kidnap her. If I call for help now, this guy lawyers up in a heartbeat and we might lose our best chance of getting to Emily before the kidnapper kills her.”
“He’s going to kill her?” She asked with a hush. “Surely there’s a ransom involved. What if they just pay it?”
“This guy doesn’t care about money. He’s after something else.”
As soon as he said it, a tumbler fell into place and the picture became a bit clearer. Through all of the subterfuge, smoke and misdirection he finally realized what it was that hadn’t made sense. There had been no point in the rape, no point in the torture, at least not if the end game was collecting ten million dollars. The kidnapper didn’t want money. Harris looked to the floor and suddenly realized what this was about. He knew. He knew with absolute clarity what the kidnapper wanted. It wasn’t about the money. It never was. But why?
Christi watched in silence as the cop sorted through his thoughts. She could see him piecing together an unknown mystery and then she saw it in his face as he had his epiphany.
“Motherfucker,” Harris hissed between clenched teeth. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He looked back up and locked eyes with Christi.
“What is it?” She spoke in a hushed whisper.
“Please,” he said softly. “Help me save her.”
“How?” She asked with a hoarse whisper. Her face was ashen and she saw the torment in Harris’ eyes.
“Go wait outside.”
Christi paused momentarily. She studied the man’s face and saw the truth. He wasn’t some violent rogue cop. He was a warrior. And this was a war.
“Christi,” Harris continued somberly. “There were probably neighbors who heard the shots. If they called it in, we don’t have much time.”
Christi nodded her head slowly. “Okay.”
“Don’t you leave!” Carlos screamed, the panic clear in his voice. “Don’t you leave me, you bitch!”
Christi turned and exited the kitchen. Closing the door behind her, she turned and sat down on the back step. This was insane but somehow she felt she knew who Harris was. It had taken only that moment for her to understand what made the man tick. She saw his internal struggle and the look on his face. In those brief seconds she knew what type of rare man he was and why he did what he did. She would never look at him the same way again. Christi wanted to smile but could not force it upon her face. The rest of the situation was too grave.
She closed her eyes tightly and threw her hands over her ears as she heard Carlo’s desperate shriek yet again. And then after a moment, she surprised herself again. She lowered her hands. And she listened.
Good Cop Bad Cop
40
Emily stared vacantly at the floor of her cell. Her eyes were wide and hollow. The corners of her mouth had cracked and her lower lip bled from where she’d been nervously chewing it. Her fingernails, once perfectly manicured and polished, had been bitten down and her fingertips were raw and scabbed from dragging them across the cement floor.
Emily knew the end was near. She wasn’t sure how she knew, she could just sense it. Her entire existence had reverted back to animal intuition. Stripped of the basic essentials such as warmth, food, dignity and control, all Emily had left was her gut, primal instinct. Her life was all she had left to lose, there was nothing else. Her mind, while focused in one respect, was leaving her. She remained sharp with the oneness of herself. Her sight, sound and touch
all heightened through sensory deprivation. Gone however, was the fun loving, pre-med student with the zest for life. There was nothing left of that girl. She didn’t even fantasize about, or try to imagine, freedom any more as it was too ridiculous. Too impossible. She thought of her parents and even that brought very little emotion. They were gone, part of her past. She had accepted it.
From time to time, Emily heard her captor moving around just outside of her makeshift cell. She flinched whenever a sound entered her private little world because other than those brief times, it was almost completely silent. Other than the muffled sound of very distant automobile traffic there were no noises at all. She had stopped wondering where she was because it didn’t matter anymore. She was with him and he would kill her soon. She knew it. She had surrendered to it.
Earlier, Emily had thought that when the time came, she would fight. Fight for her life, for her freedom. Fight against the inhumanity that had plunged her into this nightmarish hell. But even anger took too much out of her. Also, she had eaten so little that she lacked the physical strength to do much of anything, much less fight.
All of these factors had brought her to the state in which she now existed. She was resigned to her fate and that alone, brought a certain degree of comfort. She hoped it would be quick. That he wouldn’t make it last too long, but even if he did, it would be a feeling. And feelings were life no matter whether they were pain or pleasure. She looked forward to it in a small way, one more interaction, one more feeling. Another small glimmer of life before leaving this earth.
Good Cop Bad Cop
41
“You two had a chance to redeem not only yourselves but this department and you’ve done nothing!” Commissioner Gerland screamed, his face red with the exertion. He paced behind his desk, turning his head to glare at the two men who stood before it.
Good Cop Bad Cop (A James Harris Series Book 1) Page 12