by G. O. Grason
“I’ll see her soon,” Christine said flatly. “After this is over.”
Baggins raised one of his big bushy eyebrows. “Sure you will Christine.”
There was a loud crash of glass in Thompson’s office followed by the creak of his door.
“Sorry,” he murmured to everyone in the precinct, then closed the door.
“Tell me about this clue,” Baggins said finishing his drink and immediately pouring himself another one. “Wait a second.... somebody bring me some goddamn ICE!” he yelled
Someone in the squad room yelled ok followed by some hurried footsteps.
“The bridge sniper asked Thompson a question,” Christine informed him. “One that he couldn’t answer unfortunately.”
“What kind of question?” Baggins scoffed. “Like a fuckin’ riddle?”
“The sniper’s exact words were, where is little Harry’s favourite place in the world?”
“How old is the kid?” asked Baggins.
“He’s like seven or eight years old, something like that.” said Christine. “Short and well built like a normal kid. He’s got brown hair and fair skin. I personally don’t know him.”
“What did Thompson say when the sniper asked him?”
“Nothing,” said Christine. “He froze up.”
“I didn’t freeze up,” Thompson said entering Baggins office. Immediately, he spotted the bottle of bourbon on the table and the glasses in their hands. “You guys having a little party.”
Christine eyed Baggins. “He is. I’m just following direction.”
“Glad you guys see this moment as a time to celebrate,” Thompson spat sitting down. “While my little nephew has been taken hostage and my sister is on the verge of killing me.”
“Tell me why you froze,” Baggins said. “You’re not one to freeze up.”
Thompson bit his lip. After a moment, he leaned forward, took the bottle of bourbon, and poured some in a small paper cup. He threw it back and exhaled.
“Everything about me is this job,” Thompson said.
Christine watched him out of the corner of her eye, somewhat jealous at the immediacy with which he could be vulnerable. Admitting something like that to a room was horrifying to Christine. Short, simple answers was the way she was raised. Everything else was fluff. Still, Christine couldn’t help but watch Thompson, almost trying to see how he was speaking. Maybe one day, Christine would do the same. Not today though. There was still more work to do.
“And when that bastard asked me about my Harry I - “Thompson dropped his head between his legs and exhaled deeply.
“It’s ok partner,” Christine said patting his back.
Thompson stood straight again. “I didn’t have an answer and I was afraid if I lied, he would hurt that damn kid.”
Baggins nodded. “Christine was telling me about a clue the perp may have given you.”
“A clue?” asked Thompson. “He just asked a stupid question to give us the run around.”
“He gave us something,” Christine smiled. “Whether he meant to or not is irrelevant.”
“Well?” asked Thompson.
“Where’s your nephews favourite place in the world? Think!” Christine barked.
Thompson, like he did on the boat, froze. He thought of every birthday party he missed of Harry’s. All the letters he forgot to mail back home. All the birthday packages he should have sent; all the moments he should have had but didn’t. Who was Thompson to them but a stranger? Shame and guilt overwhelmed him.
“I don’t know,” Thompson admitted slumping again. “I’ve been a horrible uncle, a horrible brother, and now, on top of all of this, I’ve done this to them. It’s all my fault.”
Christine eyed Baggins. He signalled for her to say something as he tipped back his shot. Christine poured the rest of her drink back, shook her head in dismay, and pulled Thompson up.
“We’ve all done things we regret, for this job,” Christine said. “And even if your family says they don’t understand right now, they do, deep down. This is not your fault Thompson. It’s those psychopaths out there’s fault. You’ve been training your whole life to get little Harry back.”
Thompson looked into Christine’s eyes. He saw nothing but determination. If Christine was nothing else, she was his rock.
Chapter 6
Thompson’s older sister Katie and her husband Frank lived in Jericho, New York. It was a small suburb of about fifteen-thousand people an hour or so outside of the city. Thompson never understood the move but that was only because he hated the slow pace of the community. He was addicted to the excitement, and the danger. Yet, a small part of him was envious of his older sister’s life. There were no headaches, no stress, at least not like the one’s he experienced day to day. All of this was the case before little Harry got kidnapped of course.
Halloway and Christine pulled up to Katie’s modest four bedroom house. The green lawn was pristine and finely cut. In the centre was an apple tree. Katie and Frank were standing in front of their front door. Both of their arms were crossed. The look on Frank’s face was of obvious concern, but not angry or disdainful. He looked truly afraid and hopeless. Being a solid six-five, two-fifty man, he looked truly afraid and hopeless at that moment. Thompson had never seen his brother-in-law like that. Katie on the other hand was white knuckled and looking like she was ready to fight.
Christine got out of the squad car first. “I wish the two of us could be seeing you under better circumstances. I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.”
Frank sighed. “If you two are on the case, it will make me feel a whole lot better.”
“We are,” Christine reassured him. “We demanded our commander to leave us on it, even though it technically is a little too close to him.”
Christine turned around and looked at Thompson.
“That bastard going to come out and say hello?” Katie snapped. “Or is he going to sulk in the car like he did when he was kid after he pissed his pants.”
“Katie,” Frank said trying to take her hand.
“I’ll put on some fuckin’ coffee.” Katie slapped Frank’s hand away and went inside. “We’re outta’ cream so you’re having it black!”
Thompson pulled himself out of the car and walked towards Frank. Frank put out his hand to shake Thompson’s but instead, he threw himself into Frank’s big arms. They embraced as Christine hovered in the background.
“We’ll get your boy back,” Thompson promised.
Frank patted him on the back. “We know you will.”
They separated and adjusted themselves awkwardly.
“Katie still mad at me?” asked Thompson.
“She’s making coffee,” Frank said. “And yes, she’s obviously upset.”
“Let’s get inside so we can start doing our job,” Christine suggested. “The sooner we do that, the sooner we can get Harry back.”
They sat in the living room with a L-shaped couch and a flat screen mounted on the wall. Along the sill were family photos. One of them had Thompson included, the one on the far right next to a statue of a bunny. They had taken their boots off on account of the white rug that stretched to every corner of the floor. Christine was embarrassed about her mix and matched socks. She couldn’t remember the last time she had her shoes off in front of other people.
“If you want sugar, I’ll get it for you.” Katie said putting the coffee down. “You won’t know where it is seeing you’ve only been here once.”
“Katie…” Frank groaned. “That isn’t helping.”
“We will do everything we can to help?” Christine said. “That’s why we’re here.”
Katie cleared her throat and closed her eyes, gathering herself. Thompson sipped at his coffee, never taking his eyes off of her. She exhaled and regained her composure.
“On the phone Christine, you said the man who took Harry asked a question. I’ve been thinking about it a long time, trying to dig in my memory of all of Harry’s favourite pla
ces but, I don’t know. He says everything is his favourite.”
“Does he keep a notebook or a journal?” Thompson asked.
“We’re not sure…” Frank said hesitantly. “If he did, we’ve never seen it.”
“Do you mind if we look upstairs?” Christine asked politely.
“Of course,” Katie said. “Just make sure to leave your shoes off.”
Harry’s room was not unlike other little boys. There were posters of super heroes, mostly Marvel ones like The Hulk, Iron Man, and Thor. Christine made a joke about there not being any lady superheroes. Scanning a poster with all of them in it, she pointed out one.
“Wayyy in the back,” she chided.
“Let’s focus on this instead of cracking jokes,” Thompson advised. “I don’t want my sister coming up here and catch us laughing.”
Christine agreed. She looked in his closet, surprised at all of the hanging clothes and the shoe rack underneath of it. Everything was so organized. On the windowsill stood soldiers all lined up in a row. The bed was perfectly made. Morning sunshine poured through the window, through the shades. On the nightstand, was a lamp and a small journal. Thompson flipped through its pages.
“Blank,” he said. “That’s strange. Frank told me that Harry loved to write.”
“Guess he was lying,” said Christine. “But why would Harry lie about something like that?”
“He wouldn’t…” Thompson mused. He stuck his hand underneath Harry’s pillows.
“I hope you washed your hands Thompson.” Christine peaked out the window. She saw Katie and Frank arguing in the driveway. She decided not to say anything and turned back to Thompson.
“Find anything?” asked Christine.
Thompson lifted the mattress, pressing it against the wall. Christine helped. For a second, their hands brushed up against each other. Both of them felt a flutter of their hearts and their breath drop into their chests. Christine stepped away when Thompson took a second journal resting on the bed frame and let the mattress drop.
“I knew that boy wasn’t lying,” said Thompson. He cracked it open and began to read aloud.
Mom told me today that I can do whatever I put my mind and heart to. If that’s the case, all I want to do is write. I want to write about everything. I want to write about people, I want to write about places, and everything in between. My pen will be my sword and I will be a knight fighting for the rights of the story! Where should I write though? I guess I can write anywhere in the world but a writer should always have a safe place to write. They should have a place where their ideas can be safe and have the freedom to explore their ideas. That’s what I want…but where? It’s got to be a favourite place of mine. But where is that? Mom and Dad have been so busy lately, they haven’t taken me to anywhere fun lately. There was that one trip though…last year…that was so fun!
“I think I found it,” Thompson said. “He’s telling me right here.”
“Go on,” said Christine.
I can’t remember the name but it was a place deep in the woods. We learned about all kinds of animals and insects and the wild life. There were amazing bridges and big lakes with crazy buildings! There were other kids there too. I remember talking with them and feeling so excited. I never saw anything like that before. I have only ever been to the city, with big tall metal buildings made of concrete and thousands of people all crammed together. There was so much space there. UGH. Why can’t I remember the name? Oh! I know what I’ll do. I’ll go ask Mom. Duh!
And that’s what they did.
“Do you have any idea what Harry may be talking about?” Thompson asked Katie.
“Harry loved that trip,” Katie said wiping away a tear.
“I never saw him so excited.” Frank took Katie in his arms.
After a minute of silence, Christine stepped in. “Do you remember the name?”
“The Wild Center,” Katie said. “That’s Harry’s favourite place in the world.”
Thompson’s phone rang. “Sorry, it’s my lieutenant.” He looked at Christine. “Let’s take this together, ok?’
“It’s fine.” Frank led Katie back into the house. “Get our boy back.”
“We will Frank,” Christine reassured them. “I promise.”
“Baggins,” Thompson says getting into their squad car. “We got a lead.”
“I got a better one,” he said. “We got somebody I’d like you to meet.”
Chapter 7
Halloway and Thompson stormed into the precinct. Baggins had not clarified exactly who they had, but if it was linked to the case, they wanted to know. The other officers all eyed them as they walked through. Their eyes were nervous. Most of them were on edge. Why? Thompson cleared his throat and double-checked that the safety was turned off of his pistol. If the perp was with the two snipers, they were highly trained and ready to kill in the blink of an eye.
“After you,” Thompson suggested waving Christine into the double mirror room.
The perp wouldn’t be able to see them behind the glass, though he knew that someone was there of course. Everyone knew that. They just wanted to watch what the perp did and said under pressure with Baggins in the room.
“Tell me how you ended up with your two friends,” Baggins asked. “They don’t seem like the best people to have as friends.”
“From the smell of your breath I bet you have trouble keeping friends.”
Baggins took a pen from his breast pocket and slammed it between the perps fingers.
“What was that?” sneered Baggins. “Because I’m pretty sure you want to be cooperating rather than pissing me off. Are you going to talk to me?”
The perp said nothing. He stared at the pen but didn’t touch it. Instead, he slowly pulled his hand down into his lap.
“I want to know what I’m doing here,” the perp said.
“You’re here because we found you in an apartment in Union Square with a laser identifier, a telescope, a handgun, and a .50 caliber sniper rifle.”
“I’m not allowed to have those things?” the perp said jokingly.
“What were you doing with them?”
“I was cleaning them.”
“Bullshit,” Baggins snapped. “Keep it up and I’ll throw you into Rikers and throw away the keys.”
“You think I didn’t know that going into it?”
Baggins stood up and looked at the two way mirror.
“You getting tired of me already?” the perp chuckled.
“I need a break from your face. If I keep looking at it, I’ll probably have to punch it.”
Baggins signalled for Thompson and Halloway to have a go.
“How you want to do this?” Thompson asked. “Good cop, bad cop?”
“Bad cop, bad cop,” Christine snarled. “I don’t want this to last five minutes. Turn the cameras off.”
“What?” the tech in the corner asked. “That’s…illegal.”
“Then report me,” Christine barked. “I don’t give a shit.”
Thompson followed Halloway into the interrogation room after she kicked in the door. The perp jumped in their chair, bringing both of their hands back onto the table. He swivelled his head back and forth to look at both of them, but before he could take a defensive posture, Christine slammed Baggins’s pen down hard into the perps hands.
“Ahhhhhhhh!” the perp screamed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Who are they!” Thompson screamed. “Who are the snipers!”
Christine held the door back as Baggins tried to punch through. They could hear their screams on the other side. Neither of them cared. If they did it their way, if they did it by the law, they would never get what they wanted. Criminals live outside the law and sometimes, to get at them, the law needs to get outside of itself.
“Get this pen out of my hand and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“Do it yourself,” Thompson spat. “I’m sure you’ve caused enough pain in your miserable life. Sucks when it gets
thrown back into your face, huh?”
Slowly, the perp shakily pulled the pen out with his other hand. He moaned like a dying lamb, but eventually got the entire thing out. It was covered in rich bright red blood. The perp tossed it to the floor, then looked into Thompson’s eyes. The perp smiled.
“You know why we took the little boy?” asked the perp.
“His name is Harry,” Thompson said.
“You know why we took little Harry? They don’t give a shit about you Detective Thompson, they did it to get to her. To get to your Christine.”
Christine turned and charged, but Thompson stopped her.
“Such fire,” the perp sighed. “It burns so bright and so fast but, one day, like all things, it will burn out. It’s never a matter of if, but when.”
“Tell us who they are and we can make a deal,” Thompson stated. “I’ll see to it myself.”
“You can’t make a deal with a dead man,” the perp said. “But I will tell you one thing: the snipers are brother and sister and they want you to find them. They are just like you - warriors. All they know is fighting. That’s who they are. Christine is a worthy opponent but they never would have gotten to her without you Thompson.”
“Are they at The Wild Center?” asked Christine.
“Wouldn’t hurt to look,” the perp shrugged. Then, he smiled and opened his mouth. On his back molar was a cap of potassium cyanide.
“No!” Thompson and Halloway screamed trying to stop him, but he quickly bit down, crushing it between his teeth.
In a matter of seconds, the perp was dead.
Christine released the door and Baggins burst in.
“What in the…how did…” Baggins hit the wall hard with an open hand. “Jesus Christ! Did he do that to himself?”
Thompson looked over the body,
“I’ve only heard of people doing this,” he said. “Whoever this guy was, he was committed to their cause.”