My Pretties

by Jeff Strand

  She'd been out for almost an hour. Maybe she should quit for the night. She felt bad that Charlene was just sitting in a car, waiting for updates. This was a pretty damn big favor from somebody she'd just met. And technically, Charlene wasn't in her debt, she was in Charlene's debt for the lasagna vengeance.

  She wasn't going to catch anybody tonight.

  She knew that.

  She should just go home. Or out for sushi. Though the alcoholic milkshakes had been expensive and she couldn't really afford sushi until payday. So she should just go home.

  Maybe in another ten minutes.

  Less than ten minutes later, she saw a man walking toward her. He was holding the hand of a little boy, maybe six years old. The boy had a teddy bear and a couple of balloons.

  Why was a kid this young out after midnight?

  The man avoided eye contact as Gertie walked past them. And he looked kind of nervous.

  The kid didn't seem scared, though.

  Still, the teddy bear looked brand new. And why would the kid have balloons? A child's birthday party wouldn't end this late.

  It was probably completely innocent, but it didn't seem right. Gertie took out her phone and called Charlene.

  "What's up?" Charlene asked.

  "Could you do me a quick favor?" Gertie asked. "Could you check for an AMBER Alert in this area? It would be a five or six-year-old boy with black hair. With a man in his thirties, also black hair, glasses."

  "Do you know the license plate?"

  "They're walking."

  "Okay, sure."

  "I'm going to follow them."

  "Are you—"

  "Yes, I'm sure it's a good idea. Let me know as soon as possible. Thanks."

  Gertie turned around and walked after the man and child. If they looked back, they might wonder why she'd changed direction, but if nothing criminal was going on they had nothing to worry about. They certainly wouldn't think that she was going to mug them.

  She wasn't sure how far back to stay. She didn't want to raise suspicion, but she didn't want to lose them. Gertie had no experience in trying to follow somebody; one turn and she might not be able to find them again.

  They turned right at the next corner.

  Shit.

  Gertie picked up her pace.

  Her phone vibrated. "Yeah?" she whispered.

  "No active AMBER Alerts around here."

  "Doesn't mean the kid wasn't kidnapped, though."

  "What exactly did you see?"

  "It's a man walking with a little kid. The kid has balloons and a teddy bear. I know that doesn't sound like much, but—"

  "—but it's midnight. I get it. You think the kid was bribed with gifts?"

  "Maybe. I mean, parents are allowed to have their kids out late. I got a weird vibe from him is all."

  "I'm pretty sure an AMBER Alert only goes out if the kid is in physical danger. Call 911 and see if there have been any reports."

  Gertie turned the corner. She hadn't lost the man and boy yet.

  "I will," she whispered. "Stay put. I'll call you back."

  * * *

  Charlene's stomach had somehow twisted into even tighter knots. There were plenty of reasons a man might be out this late with a balloon-holding little kid. She had no idea what time Chuck E. Cheese closed. Could be a divorced dad who had to drive several hours after work to pick up his son for visitation. "Child abduction" was one of the less likely explanations.

  And suppose it was an abduction. The guy wasn't going to turn around and kidnap Gertie, too. She'd call the police and let them do their jobs.

  Gertie, who did not have her own ringtone yet, called.

  "I need you to pick me up right away," said Gertie, sounding panicked and out of breath. "They went into a parking garage."

  "Where?"

  "It's...no, don't pick me up in the garage. There's a café called Four Umbrellas. GPS it and pick me up right outside of it. I'm switching back to 911. Bye."

  Charlene quickly pulled up the café on her phone. Only a few blocks away.

  A couple of blocks later she stopped at a red light. There was no other traffic, so she went ahead and ran it. If a cop pulled her over, that'd be a good thing, right?

  Gertie stood outside of the café. There was street parking right in front of it, so Charlene pulled up alongside the sidewalk and Gertie got into the car.

  "They haven't come out yet," Gertie said. "Looks like there's only one exit, so we'll see them."

  "What's going on?"

  "A dad who was denied custody took his kid. Beat the shit out of the mother before he left. She literally called the cops a couple of minutes before I did. We can't let him get away."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Okay, all right," said Charlene. "Do you know for sure that he's getting in a car? The parking garage could be connected to another building or something."

  Gertie shook her head. "All I know is that he went in there with the little boy. I assume he's getting in a car."

  "Then we'll wait. We can wait. That's no problem. He'll pull out right in front of us, we'll get a description of his vehicle, hopefully get the license plate, and pass that on to the police. Easy."

  "And then we're going to follow them," said Gertie.

  "Right. Yes. Of course. We'll follow them from a safe distance."

  "Unless you have to bash the car off the road."

  "I'm the one who's supposed to make inappropriate jokes," said Charlene.

  "That wasn't a joke. If we have to stop him from getting away, you may have to bash the car off the road." Gertie fastened her seat belt. "Don't worry. It'll be a last resort. And they aren't going to raise your insurance rates if you did it to save a child."

  "I wasn't worried about my insurance rates. I was worried about death."

  "We're not gonna die."

  "I know, I know, I know. Shit." Charlene took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm totally focused now. The son of a bitch isn't going to get away. But promise me you aren't going to start shooting through windows and stuff."

  "I'm not."

  "Swear to me. I don't want you getting caught up in the heat of the moment and opening fire and accidentally killing an innocent little kid. If they get away, they get away. No gunfire."

  "I'm not going to shoot the kid."

  "My point is that you might try to shoot out their tires and hit the kid. We will follow them. But don't start shooting. In fact, throw your gun in the backseat."

  The gate lifted and a silver car pulled out of the parking garage. Charlene could see a couple of balloons floating in the back seat.

  "That's them! That's them!" said Gertie. She put the phone to her ear. "It's a silver car. Two-door. I don't know the model—no, wait, it's turning around. There's a Chevrolet logo on the back. No license plate." She waved to Charlene. "Go, go!"

  Charlene pulled back onto the road and followed the silver car. It was going thirty-five, the speed limit. This might not be so bad.

  "We're headed east," said Gertie into the phone. "Just passed 12th Street."

  The car stopped at a red light. Charlene stopped directly behind it.

  Did the guy suspect that he was being followed? What would he do if he figured it out?

  "We're right behind him," said Gertie.

  Charlene wiped some perspiration from her forehead. Her underarms were soaked. Maybe Gertie should shoot out the car's tires. It wasn't moving right now.

  No, no, no, no, no. The guy could come after them. Or hurt the kid. That was an astoundingly bad idea and Charlene was glad that she hadn't suggested it. Gertie didn't reach for her gun, so the astoundingly bad idea probably hadn't occurred to her.

  The light turned green and the car went through the intersection. Charlene followed.

  "Let him get ahead a little bit," said Gertie. "We don't want him to know we're following him."

  "How close are the police?"

  Gertie asked the same question to whomever she was speaking to on the phone. After a m
oment, she looked at Charlene. "They're on their way. Shouldn't be long."

  A siren sounded off in the distance.

  Gertie smiled. "Not long at all."

  The silver car sped up, rocketing forward and running a yellow light.

  "Shit!" said Charlene.

  "He's speeding off!"

  "I see that!"

  "Follow him!"

  Charlene floored the gas pedal. The light was now red and she cringed as she sped through the intersection, waiting for another car to plow into her. Fortunately, the large truck that could have t-boned them was half a block away.

  "Don't lose him," said Gertie.

  "I'm not gonna ram him."

  "I'm not asking you to ram him. I'm asking you not to lose him."

  "Shit."

  The sirens were getting closer. Any moment now the trained professionals would take over the situation, and Charlene could go somewhere to throw up and tremble for a while.

  The silver car ran another red light. Charlene followed.

  Then the car pulled over to the side and slammed the brakes, tires squealing and smoke billowing into the air. The man got out of the car and hurried around to the passenger side.

  "Slow down, slow down!" said Gertie. "He may be running from the sirens, not us. We're just a normal car."

  Charlene applied the brakes, not quickly enough to make them squeal. Her hands were sweating so badly that she almost lost her grip on the steering wheel.

  The man opened the passenger side door. He reached inside, scooped up the little boy, then ran off, leaving both doors open. He didn't look back at Charlene's car. As she pulled up behind his abandoned vehicle, he ran into an alley.

  The sirens were really close. The cops would catch this guy for sure.

  Without discussing it, Charlene and Gertie both opened their doors, got out of the car, and chased after him.

  The man tripped and fell. The little boy cried out as his father landed on top of him. The man frantically got back up, grabbed his son's hand, and pulled him to his feet. He spun around and saw Charlene and Gertie standing in the alley entrance.

  "He's my fucking son!" the man wailed at them.

  Charlene took a step forward. "I know you love him. Just let him go, okay? The cops are almost here. It's over."

  The man reached behind his back.

  It's gonna be a gun, it's gonna be a gun, it's gonna be a gun, thought Charlene.

  It was indeed a gun. The man pulled his son close and pressed the gun against his head.

  Charlene fought back a scream.

  "I'll do it!" the man warned. "I'll kill both of us before I let anybody take him again!"

  Charlene had absolutely no idea what to do. She was not a trained negotiator. She could completely mess this up if she said the wrong thing. She wanted to believe that the man was bluffing, that he'd never consider murdering his own son and then committing suicide, and that if she and Gertie just stood there the cops would quickly take over. But the man sure as hell didn't seem like he was bluffing. He looked legitimately ready to pull the trigger.

  The boy was crying.

  "You're scaring him," said Charlene. Had that been a stupid thing to say? She wasn't sure.

  She glanced at Gertie, desperately hoping that Gertie wouldn't go for her gun. Gertie stood motionless, watching the man in horror. If she was planning to shoot him, she was doing an amazing job of not giving away her intention.

  "This is fucked up," Charlene told the man. "No matter how bad things are in your life, and I can tell they're really bad, this is not the way to handle it. You get that, right?"

  Was she being patronizing? She didn't want the man to feel like she was talking down to him. If he blew out his son's brains, would it be her fault? What the hell was she supposed to say to him?

  "He's not going back to her," said the man. Tears began to stream down his face.

  He was still talking. That was good. She just needed to keep him talking until the cops could get a sniper or something in place.

  "I'm not going to pretend I have any say in that," Charlene told him. What a dumb thing to tell him. Of course she didn't have any say in it. Why would anybody believe that she did? "We were out here for something completely different. We're just bystanders who got involved. But I can tell you, watching from the outside, that this is fucked up. C'mon. Put the gun down. You don't have to let him go, but put the gun down."

  "There's no way out," said the man. "The cops'll show up, they'll take my son, and I'll go to prison. You explain to me how that isn't the best-case scenario here!"

  Should Charlene ask him his name? Isn't that what a professional negotiator would do? Try to form a personal connection?

  Gertie was scratching her arm. Maybe she had an itch, or maybe she was planning to go for the gun. Charlene tilted her head toward Gertie and tried to shake it, just enough to send the almost-imperceptible message that she should not go for her gun.

  Gertie lowered her hand. Either the itch was gone or she'd received the message.

  Charlene returned her full attention to the man. He was absolutely right that prison was his best-case scenario here. To try to convince him otherwise would be a transparent lie. Unless...

  "Let the boy go and run," said Charlene. "You can get away if you don't have him slowing you down."

  The man let out an incredulous laugh. "I can't run away from the cops like that! They'll have helicopters and everything! My only hope was to drive out of town before they set up checkpoints, and that plan has turned to complete shit!"

  "Fine. So the best-case scenario is you going to jail. That's still a better scenario than murdering your son and killing yourself."

  "Better for who?"

  "For you and your son! Jesus Christ, how can you not see that?" She hoped her tone didn't set him off.

  The man said something, but he said it quietly and Charlene couldn't hear it over the sirens and his son's sobbing. Suddenly the sirens turned off and she could see the blue and red flashing lights reflecting off the brick walls of the alley.

  "Tell them to stay away!" the man shouted. "I'll shoot him! If I see so much as a shadow of a cop, I'll pull the trigger!"

  Gertie turned and waved her hands. "Stay back!" she called out. "Please, stay back!"

  "I mean it! Don't think I won't do it!" Spittle flew from the man's mouth and he was pressing the gun so tightly against his son's head that it looked like he could accidentally break the boy's neck.

  "He's serious!" Gertie shouted at the cops.

  "Neither of you have to get hurt," Charlene said. "Let him go. Surrender to the cops. Don't give this a permanent bad ending."

  He hadn't shot the boy yet. That meant he didn't want to shoot the boy. But if the cops didn't heed Gertie's warning, he might very well do it.

  "She can't have him," the man said.

  Charlene could hear commotion outside of the alley. She didn't know what procedure the authorities would use for this sort of thing, but she did very much believe the man when he said that he'd pull the trigger if he saw so much as a cop's shadow. Did the cops understand this? The bustle just out of her line of sight was really making her anxious.

  "Can my friend talk to them?" Charlene asked the man. "Make it clear how serious you are?"

  The man nodded. "She's not a hostage."

  Charlene turned to Gertie. "Don't let them come in here."

  Gertie hurried out of the alley.

  "They're not going to try to take you by surprise," Charlene promised. "Now you should let your son go."

  "No."

  "What's his name?"

  "None of your fucking business." There was snot pouring over his mouth, but he didn't have a free hand to wipe it away.

  Maybe it was time to lie. "My father is a lawyer," Charlene said. "A fantastic one. If you let him go, and let the police take you away peacefully, I promise he'll get you the best deal possible, pro bono. He's good. He won't make this problem go away, but he'll make it better."r />
  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  For one very brief moment Charlene thought she'd actually talked the man out of his murder/suicide. But then he shook his head. "I've already gone through the courts. They took him away from me before this. I don't care if your dad is Atticus Finch. He's not going to fix this."

  Atticus Finch had lost the case he was known for, but this was not the time to point out the flaw in the man's literary reference.

  Charlene wondered what the police were doing. Getting a sniper into place? Waiting impatiently for Charlene to talk him out of pulling the trigger? How the hell had she gotten herself into this? She was a restaurant server!

  She had no idea what tactic to use next. Reverse psychology? Offer him a sexual favor? Just walk away and let the people who knew what they were doing resolve the situation? Try to disarm him herself?

  Maybe that last idea wasn't so bad. Not in a "charge him and tackle him to the ground" way, of course, but if she moved slowly and carefully...

  "May I walk over there?" she asked.

  "Why?"

  "Because I'd like to look into your eyes when we talk, and the cops are less likely to try to shoot you if I'm in front of you."

  "Yeah, go ahead," he said. "But stop when I tell you to stop."

  Charlene walked toward him, hands out to show they were empty and that she meant no harm. She had absolutely no intention of making any sudden moves, so in theory, the worst possible outcome for her personally would be a close-up view of a child getting shot in the head. That was a pretty damn bad outcome, but if she got closer maybe she could convince him to hand her the gun.

  "That's close enough," he said when she was a few feet away.

  She stopped.

  "May I make a presumptuous statement?" she asked.

  "I guess."

  "The fact that you let me get this close means that you want a peaceful resolution to this. Why would you bother granting my request if you didn't think there was another way out? And now that we've established that you don't want to kill anybody, including yourself, why not lower the gun?"