Rick continued speaking. “You’re my secondary for now. Take notes, keep me updated on new info as you gather it.” He clapped the surprised young man on the shoulder—he looked almost as young as Danny to him. “You’ll do fine. Let’s call the house.”
And in an instant, Rick had taken charge. As he’d done dozens of times in the past. It felt right. It felt comfortable.
The phone rang twice before the home owner picked up. Rick didn’t have a chance to say hello.
“I see you out there. Now get out of my yard.”
“That’s just what we want to talk about. I’m Rick. And you’re—” he checked his notes “—George. George Duncan. Do I have that right?”
There was no response.
“Can you give me an answer so the two of us can figure this all out?”
“Sure I can. And here’s my answer. I got a gun, just like you. And guess what, Copper, it’s loaded.”
“I’m not using my gun, George. Not at all. I’m not even holding it. How about you?”
“My wife—she hates the gun.”
George hadn’t answered the question. Assume he’s holding the gun. “Yeah. Most women hate them. So, what’s been happening in your life, George?”
“What do you care?”
“I want to help you work it out.” And keep him talking.
“No, you don’t. You just want me out there so you can arrest me.”
“I want to help you, George. Sometimes life’s tough, isn’t it?”
“Tough? Life sucks, ya know?”
“Sure I know. Sometimes it sucks big-time, with big problems.”
“Yeah.”
“Is that what’s happening, George?”
“Yeah—big problems.”
“Sometimes money can be a problem. But we can figure that out. Is it money, George?”
“A real man doesn’t have money problems. My wife…”
He fell silent. Not good.
“How’s your wife doing, George?”
“Better’n me. She’s got a good job. Pays the friggin’ mortgage. Do I need to see that every friggin’ month?”
“Oh, that could be tough. So what kind of work do you do, George?”
Rick eyeballed the area. It seemed the full crisis team had arrived. The young cop was going between him and the technical equipment van, and the perimeter guys were feeding him more information about the family inside.
Good. Rick could concentrate on his own part, his goals—to build a rapport with George, get him to surrender peacefully and get the wife out safely. If only the man didn’t have that gun. Time was Rick’s best ally, and he would take all the time in the world to make this go down right.
George threatened to use his weapon. Threats to the cops, threats to his wife. But he hadn’t used it. So something was stopping him. The money problems led to job problems, depression, fear, marital problems—all the gremlins came out little by little, as Rick asked probing questions and commiserated with him. The two-hour mark felt like ten.
“We can help you get a job,” Rick said. “That’s for sure. No problem there. We’ve got a whole committee of experts who specialize in jobs.” He could promise that because it was true. There were scores of social services in the area. “How does that sound?”
“A good job. With real money.”
They’d made significant progress and were bargaining now. They were heading to the termination phase, which was usually brief but could sometimes be violent.
“You’ll have job choices,” Rick said. “You pick.”
“Okay.”
Bingo. “So, George, this is what we do now.” He checked out the rest of the team. SWAT was there with their sharpshooters, his secondary was taking notes. Rick covered his phone and spoke softly to the younger cop. “Tell SWAT he might be coming out now, hopefully with no gun.”
He caught sight of a video camera. Geez. The media was there, too. When did that happen? He refocused on the hostage taker.
“George, this is Rick again. All you need to do now is leave your gun in the house, come to the front door and walk outside.” He spoke slowly, carefully. “Just hold your hands up to show they’re empty. You’re going to be okay.”
He waited. They all waited. The door opened. The threshold remained empty for ten seconds. A very long ten seconds. Then George came out, hands up, and surrendered. It was over. Some officers went inside to find the wife and retrieve the gun.
Rick leaned against the car, physically weak with relief.
“Good job, Detective Cooper. We’re lucky you happened to be around.” The incident commander who had orchestrated the entire encounter after Rick’s arrival extended his hand.
“Thanks. You have a good crew here.”
“Thank you. We need you to debrief with everyone else. Don’t leave.”
Rick nodded. “Understood.” He scanned the vicinity and spotted his car. “I’ll be right back.”
Kristin met him halfway. With arms wide, and a kiss as sweet as victory. He held on to her and felt her tremble. His doubts returned full blast.
“Krissy, Krissy.” So sweet, so giving. He didn’t want to leave her. But the truth had to be faced.
She beat him to it. “Congratulations on your new job! I guess you found what you’d been missing.”
“Crazy, isn’t it? Lost and found right where I began.” It seemed like some conspiracy, and a trite one at that. He shrugged.
“So, you’ll forget about security jobs, law school, music…”
“I know you’re thinking that this is no way to live,” he began. “You’re shaking, you’re scared. And this—” he gestured to the cordoned-off area “—is a typical situation. We get DV calls, uh, that’s domestic violence, all the time.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“This is my work,” he said apologetically. “I don’t know why, but it’s what I seem to do.”
She began to chuckle, and placed her palms on his cheeks. “I know why. You’re making a difference in this world. You just saved a life, Rick! In fact, two lives. And that is not a small thing.”
His thoughts raced. She was right. His sister was right. Being a warrior for the underdog was who he’d always been. Despite failure. Despite pain and major self-doubt. Somehow, he always managed to climb back on the stubborn horse.
But it was no life for a married man or a family. And certainly not for Kristin, who still seemed shaken by this incident.
“I’ve gotta get back,” he said quickly. But then he saw Ash and the shepherd coming toward him.
“Hey, kiddo. How’re you doing?”
She stared up at him with those big blue eyes. Uh-oh. He was back to being Santa Claus.
“Rick—you saved him and the lady. But I was so scared for her, and you, and your friends. For everybody.”
“We’re trained to handle this kind of situation, Ash.”
“Well, good job!” She gave him a high five, then pointed at the victim, the wife, who was surrounded by family and police. And who was crying.
“I think Quincy and I should visit her. She must be scared.”
He looked at Kristin, who, with mouth agape, simply stared at her daughter. He didn’t blame her.
“That’s one heck of a child you’re raising, Kris. I know she’s going to be just fine. In fact, she’s almost there right now.”
Even if they never caught the perp who’d hurt her, Ash was healing. She wanted to help others, and that would change a horrible experience into something positive. She’d also become a lot more self-confident.
He leaned down. “The lady has lots of friends with her, Ash, but I’m awfully proud of you. You’ll always be my special kiddo.”
She started to smile, then cocked her head. “You’re in a minor key again. You sound…sad.”
“I’m fine, honey, but the team is waiting for me.” He pointed back to the officers involved, then spoke to Kristin again. “Take the car. I’ll get a ride to Ripples and meet you when I�
��m done. You must be starving by now.”
“All right,” she said slowly, studying him. “We’ll see you there.” She motioned to Ashley, and they headed back to the car.
He watched them go, shaking his head at Ashley’s ever-sharp ears, and returned to the scene.
ASHLEY WASN’T the only person in her family with good ears. If ever Kristin had heard “goodbye,” today was the day. Now that Rick was back in work mode, his personal demons had come back to haunt him. Relationships, commitments, a “private” life away from the force. His divorce.
She blinked quickly, overruling the disappointment that threatened to submerge her. So what if his marriage hadn’t succeeded? Did that mean he could never love again? Never try again?
She started the car while a kaleidoscope of their life at the lake rotated through her mind. Rick and Ashley making music on the porch, Rick and Quincy jogging together, Rick coming from the lake a total mess, Rick directing traffic, Rick and she in each other’s arms.
He had a heart as big as New York itself, and she loved the man he was, cop or no cop. She certainly hadn’t been searching for love when she and Ash had gone to Morningstar Lake. She had actually never thought much about it since John had died. But with Rick, the joy had come back, and amazingly, love had bloomed again.
And Rick? She knew his feelings matched hers. He just didn’t say the words. But she’d seen the love in his eyes when he didn’t realize it showed. He’d dropped his guard the night they’d returned from the club, and when he’d looked at Ash and Quincy and her as a family.
As for today—so what if his doubts about them had resurfaced after he was back in action a little while ago? She had doubts, too—his job was dangerous. But she didn’t want to give up the love of a wonderful person because of fear. She was trying to teach Ashley not to give in to fear. She had to set an example. And loving Rick was the best example of all.
She could erase his doubts. She’d find the right words. Damn it. She wasn’t going to stand by idly and let him throw away a wonderful future together.
Kristin drove, tapping the steering wheel, trying to figure out how to convince him of that wonderful future she envisioned. She stopped at the last corner on the edge of the neighborhood where Rick was debriefing. She made a right turn onto the main road and glanced at her daughter in the front passenger seat. Ash was fiddling with the radio.
Kristin started to laugh.
“What, Mom?”
“Any other mother would know exactly what to expect when their kid got her hands on the radio. But you? I never know. Will it be Tchaikovsky, Stan Getz or rock and roll?”
Ashley giggled. “I like everything. But you know what, Mom?”
“What?”
“I think it’s time to choose,” she replied.
Great timing. A good conversation was exactly what they needed right now. Something to distract Ash when they drove past the mall and theater in just a couple of minutes. If this traffic would let up, she’d whiz by in a blur. She hoped she wouldn’t get stuck at a light up there.
“Why choose? Daddy said you never needed to. Just have fun with your music.”
Her daughter’s head was moving up and down. “That’s just it, Mom. I’ve been thinking about it ever since I yelled at Madison to get serious. Remember all the questions I had for Mrs. Shilling? Remember how I’ve practiced? It’s fun. I like practicing. I like getting better and better, and I want to be good—really, really good.”
“Carnegie Hall good?” asked Kristin, while dollar signs floated through her mind. The Juilliard School or the Boston Conservatory. A lot more expensive than a state college. She had to get her own career back on track. “So tell me more, Ash.”
“It’s like you and math,” her daughter replied. “You like complicated problems. The harder, the better. That’s how I feel. Daddy once said that if I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I should stick to the classics. So I will do that—because I just like them. Do you think I should ask Rick?”
“Oh, honey. Rick’s a jazz man. No secret there.”
“But I think he…Mom! Look! Look.”
Caught. The mall was on the right side, the entrance to the movies a mere half block away. She’d almost made it. “You’re in the car with me, Ash. It’s okay. We’ll be gone from here in a moment.”
But her daughter was leaning forward, straining the seat belt and staring out the window. Pointing. “That’s him! The man who hurt me. I know it. It’s him.”
Kristin’s blood turned icy. “Are you sure, Ash?” If so, then the guy must live in the area.”
“Yes, yes. We gotta do something!”
She couldn’t see clearly, but she believed her daughter. Where to park, where to park…
“Harry Potter’s playing and a new Shrek. Mommy, there’s lots and lots of kids going in there.” Ash’s shrill voice told its own story. Quincy leaned over from the backseat and started licking Ashley, already reacting to her distress.
Kris pulled the car into a bus stop and jumped out. “Call Rick on the cell phone, Ashley. Now! Stay in the car and lock the doors. Got it?”
HE WAS STILL ELBOW DEEP in forms and the personnel debriefing when his phone rang. Kris. Maybe plans had changed. Maybe the ice cream place had closed down. He looked at his team. “Hang on a sec.” Then spoke into the phone. “Cooper.”
He couldn’t understand a word. Ashley. That’s all he knew. Ashley screaming. Ashley hysterical.
His heart raced, but his words were calm and clear. “Slowly, Ash. Talk slowly.” He heard her take a huge breath. He listened in disbelief. “Your mother…what?” he almost shouted. So much for keeping his cool. “Sit tight. I’m on my way.” He jerked toward the others. “I need a driver. Now!”
“I’m with you.” It was his young secondary, who pointed at his car.
“Let’s go.” Rick started jogging. “Code three with lights and sirens. But we may need more.” He turned around. “The perp that raped Ashley McCarthy on your turf three months ago is back. At that mall. Joe Silva’s in charge. You can call him to check me out. I may need backup.”
Instantly, another squad car filled up and followed his lead, sirens blaring, lights flashing. The results were magical. Civilian cars disappeared and the road opened up. Beautiful.
He turned to the driver. “Step on it.”
IN HER RUNNING SHOES, Kristin approached her target from behind. She reached high to tap his shoulder.
“Hey, mister. You got the time?”
He half turned around, purple tattoo on his plump cheek. “What?”
“That’s him, Mom,” Ashley screamed. With the car window down, her voice was clear. “That’s him!”
His startled expression was shaded by a split second of recognition as he stared at Ashley. It was the confirmation Kristin needed, but the guy didn’t wait. He took off down the block, Kristin in pursuit.
Adrenaline gave her feet wings. She flew after him with Olympic speed. Pedestrians on the sidewalk began to take notice, moving out of the way.
“Stop him!” Kris shouted, just before she sprang onto his back like a jungle cat onto its larger prey. She punched his ears, grabbed him around the throat and pressed as hard as she could.
“For my daughter, you stinking piece of filth.” Soft spots, soft spots. Get his soft spots. She wanted the eyes, but she had no more fingers.
He kept running, but he pulled at her arms at the same time, as if she were nothing more than a mere annoyance. Her hold loosened and she felt herself slip. She landed hard on the sidewalk, her breath gone, but frustration giving her strength. He’d continued to run. She staggered to her feet, ready to try again—and felt a breeze touch her skin. A breeze from a silver blur.
With a feral growl, a hundred pounds of pure canine muscle whizzed by. In a nanosecond, Quincy leaped from the ground to the perp’s back and took him down. The man lay on the sidewalk, on his stomach, not moving. Just swearing, sweating and praying.
A circle formed ar
ound them, people steering clear of what seemed to be a very healthy gray wolf. Kristin trotted right over.
“Good job, Quince.” She petted him. “Oh, you’re such a good boy.”
Of course, the dog wanted to kiss her and play again. To him it was a game. She pointed at the suspect. “Stay, Quincy.”
The dog resumed guarding the prone perp. She stared at the man who’d caused so much pain. “Mister, you make one move and you’re dead. I don’t care about your rights. I don’t care about your health. Just like you didn’t care about my daughter’s.”
“You’re crazy, lady. Friggin’ crazy.” He had a low and gravelly voice.
“Crazy like a mother.”
People were talking, asking questions, using their cell phones. Sirens wailed in the distance. Thank God.
Kristin kept her eye on the perp and addressed the crowd at the same time. “I live in this town, just like most of you. He nabbed my daughter in this very movie theater three months ago and hurt her—badly.”
When a rumble ran through the group, she knew they understood. Where was Rick? Was Ash still in the car?
The sirens blared loudly now, and from the corner of her eye she saw red and blue lights. They seemed fuzzy. Someone was using a bullhorn. The noise hammered at her head. Nausea threatened. But through it she was able to focus on her daughter’s high-pitched voice. Ash had left the car. At least she’d waited for the action to be over.
“Rick! Rick! Quincy got him, Mommy got him. Come here.”
And then he was in front of her. “Kristin…”
“Thanks.” She felt herself go limp. “I can’t…”
HE CAUGHT HER before she hit the ground, but gave orders at the same time. “Cuff the suspect, search him, Mirandize him and take him in. Call an ambulance. Ashley, stay with me.” He motioned to Quincy to guard her.
Rick gazed at the woman in his arms, his stomach tight. He wanted to kiss her and kill her at the same time. What had she been thinking, to go after the guy by herself?
Someone produced a blanket and he began to lay her down. She stirred. Her eyelids flickered.
“Did you get him?”
Linda Barrett - Count on a Cop Page 19