by Chris Culver
That was why I couldn’t shake the feeling we were running into a trap.
30
After getting a team together, I grabbed my bulletproof vest from the women’s locker room and then went back upstairs. Agent Lawson stood beside the front desk, signing a piece of paper. He glanced at me and then slid his paper to Officer Patricia.
“Sheriff Delgado wanted my request for additional manpower in writing so he can bill the federal government for services rendered.”
“That sounds like something he’d do,” I said. My team was assembling at the park, but I hesitated before leaving. Lawson noticed and nodded toward me.
“You ready?” he asked.
I blinked and thought before answering.
“The Apostate’s not an idiot.”
“I agree,” said Lawson. “He has goals, and he’s capable of enacting rational plans to attain them.”
I hadn’t put it in those words, but I nodded anyway. He knew what he wanted, and he made reasonable plans to get it.
“Why did he contact me?” I asked.
Lawson straightened and drew in a breath. “He’s got an interest in you, so it’s possible he wants to keep you safe.”
I nodded. “It’s also possible he’s setting us up. This could be a game to him.”
“Even if that’s true, it changes nothing,” said Lawson. “He made a threat, so we’ll follow up.”
“Have you seen Magnolia Park?”
“I’ve driven by it,” said Lawson.
I looked to Officer Patricia and asked for a pen and piece of paper. He handed me both, and I drew a rectangular shape on the paper.
“The park is about two hundred acres. It has six tennis courts, a softball field, a pavilion, playground, and trails through the woods. Waterford College is to the west, there’s a creek to the south, a road to the north, and a residential neighborhood to the east. The main entrance and parking lot are on the north side, but there are pedestrian entrances from the college and neighborhood.”
I updated my drawing with the locations I had mentioned. Lawson nodded.
“It’s bigger than I thought.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice park,” I said, looking at my crude map. “A bomb wouldn’t work here. People are too spread out. I’m not too worried about a truck, either,” I said. “Even if the Apostate stole a semi and tried to run people down, there are plenty of trees to hide behind and plenty of open space to escape to. If he comes, he’s most likely going to have a gun.”
Lawson nodded.
“I agree,” he said. “What do you plan to do?”
I looked at my map. “Three teams with three officers each. One will set up near the road. I’ll assign a second team to the neighborhood entrance and a third team to the entrance near Waterford.”
Lawson pointed to the south end of the map.
“What about this creek?”
“This time of year, the creek is twenty feet wide and six feet deep. The water moves quickly, too. I doubt he’d come in from that direction.”
Lawson straightened and nodded. “It’s a fine plan. If he comes, you’ll stop him.”
“Which he knows,” I said. “That’s the problem. He wouldn’t have told me to stay away from church if he planned to hit a church or a church event. I’m not buying this. We need to rethink what we’re doing.”
Agent Lawson’s lips curled into a tight smile. It reached his eyes, and then it disappeared.
“Suppose we keep your team members downtown instead. What will happen if he shows up at the park with a tactical rifle?”
I leaned against the counter and sighed. “He’d shoot a couple dozen people before we got there.”
“And that’s why you’re going to the park,” said Lawson. “There are no right answers. We’ll bring the resources we have to as many locations around town as we can. We’ll do our best.”
I sighed. “Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. Is that about right?”
Lawson shrugged. “Not necessarily. This may be his idea of a joke. Or maybe he’ll show up somewhere, and we’ll make an arrest.”
I raised my eyebrows and nodded. “I guess that’s possible.”
“It’s more than possible. Everything’s going to be fine,” he said. “Good luck, Detective.”
I sighed and checked to ensure I had an extra magazine for my firearm and that the straps of my tactical vest were tight before nodding.
“You, too, Agent Lawson,” I said. “Looks like I’ll be spending the day in the park.”
Agent Lawson nodded, and I started toward the front door. Despite his reassurances, I suspected we were making a mistake. Something would happen today. The Apostate had something planned, and nobody would escape unscathed.
Glenn held up the anemometer and watched as the fan turned. Then he looked to Helen, who sat with her back to the water tower and her knees to her chest. She held a pencil in her right hand and a notepad in her left. Glenn didn’t need her calculations, though. At this range, he could do everything in his head.
“Temperature is eighty-four degrees; wind speed is four and a half miles an hour from the east. Distance to target is approximately nine hundred meters.”
She nodded and wrote down the information.
“Near threats?” she asked.
Glenn focused first on the base of the tower and then to the surrounding buildings.
“None within five hundred meters. Multiple within a thousand.”
Helen nodded again. “Reference points from left to right.”
Glenn swung his rifle to the left and looked downfield through his scope. Then he swung it to the right as he called out landmarks.
“Left side intersection, a thousand yards. Gray brick structure, eight hundred yards. Red bed and breakfast, nine hundred yards. Mississippi River, seven hundred yards.”
He looked up to see Helen writing the information down.
“We have three sections,” she said. “Section one is from the intersection to the gray brick structure. Section two is from the gray brick structure to the bed and breakfast. Section three is from the bed and breakfast to the Mississippi River.”
“Subdivide them by Fourteenth Street,” said Glenn. “Near targets alpha, far targets bravo.”
“Understood,” said Helen, nodding and writing. “With the subdivision, we have six sections. One, two, and three Alpha, and one, two, and three Bravo. Shooter, lock and load.”
Glenn didn’t know where his sister had learned to call targets, but she did it well. He inserted a magazine into the weapon.
“Got it,” said Glenn, focusing downfield. “I’ve got movement in section two-bravo. Female, fifteen to sixteen years old. She’s one of my students. She’s walking her dog.”
“Confirmed,” said Helen. “Check parallax.”
Glenn adjusted the parallax compensation knob on his scope to sharpen his view.
“We’re good.”
“Shooter, hold over two point four,” said Helen.
Glenn relaxed his muscles and slowed his breath as he squeezed the trigger. His target was named Madison, and she was fifteen. She had enrolled in pre-algebra her freshman year, although Glenn thought she could have handled a more advanced class. Her father and mother were both alcoholics.
“Ready,” he said.
Glenn’s lungs were empty, and his heart slowed. He would squeeze the trigger between beats. Madison was smart, but she had a devious mind. Two weeks before summer break, she had come to his office with tears in her eyes and a sob story on her lips. She said her English teacher threatened to flunk her if she didn’t give him a blow job in the bathroom.
Unknown to Madison, Mr. Janikowski’s urologist had recently diagnosed him with testicular cancer. He was on so many painkillers he wouldn’t have been able to get it up even if he’d wanted to. He hadn’t propositioned her. Madison was mad at him because he wrote her a demerit for showing up late to class. That demerit gave her ten for the year, which resulted in an automatic two-
day suspension. Glenn would lose no sleep over taking her out.
“Relax, shooter,” said Helen.
Glenn drew in a breath and took his finger from the trigger. He almost felt disappointed, but shooting her wouldn’t have accomplished anything. His real targets were still unavailable.
“We’re dialed in,” he said, looking at his sister.
Helen nodded. “Now we wait for the guests of honor to arrive. This will be fun.”
Glenn doubted it would be fun, but he had a job to do. Soon, a lot of people in St. Augustine would die.
Magnolia Park wasn’t far from my station, so it only took four or five minutes to drive there. The parking lot had spots for twenty cars. All were occupied. Several young people carried coolers and lawn chairs toward the pavilion, while others stood in small groups and talked to one another. My team of eight officers stood on the grass beneath a big silver maple at the edge of the lot.
I parked about a block away on the side of the road and jogged to meet them. I split them into three teams, one led by me and the other two by officers with sergeant stripes. Delgado had wanted them to wear civilian clothes, but they had all been on patrol when Doug called them. All of them wore uniforms and tactical vests, but none carried long guns. I would have liked each fire team to have a rifle, but we’d work with what we had.
Before we split up, I took questions.
“Do we have any idea what this guy looks like?” asked Sergeant DeAndre Simpson.
“White guy, probably twenty-five to fifty-five. He’s likely physically fit,” I said. “And if he’s here, he’ll be shooting at you. You should be able to recognize him.”
Two officers laughed, but it was a serious warning. Nobody else had questions, so I looked at each of them in the eye.
“Okay, everybody, you know your assignment. We’re here to keep people safe. The Apostate’s probably not coming here, but if you see someone aiming a weapon at you or the civilians, put him down. This guy is smart, armed, and ruthless. Watch each other’s backs. We’ll pull out as soon as the picnic is over.”
The team nodded and split apart, but we stayed within radio contact. Officers Emily Hayes, Gary Faulk, and I took the entrance near Waterford College, while the other teams took up positions on the north and east. For about an hour, my team and I sat and watched the kids play volleyball and set up their picnic. Then Emily and Gary’s radios emitted an ear-splitting emergency siren. All three of us stopped moving at once and listened. I held my breath.
“All available units, we have reports of multiple shots fired at the chapel at Waterford College.” Trisha’s voice was calm, but I could sense the undercurrent of fear. “I repeat, all available units, we have an active shooter at Waterford College.”
Multiple officers reported they were moving toward the college. I looked at both Gary and Emily.
“Did you guys hear gunshots?”
“No,” said Gary. Emily shook her head.
“I didn’t, either,” she said.
This wasn’t right. I dialed the station’s back line, but it was busy. Then I called Trisha Marshall’s personal cell phone. She didn’t answer, either, so I called Sheriff Delgado. His phone rang twice before he picked up.
“We can’t talk, so—”
“Shut up and listen, George,” I said, interrupting him. “My team and I are at Magnolia Park. We’re right on the edge of Waterford’s campus. We didn’t hear any shots.”
Delgado paused for a split second.
“I don’t care what you heard. Three people reported a shooter at the chapel. Get your ass and your team over there now.”
He hung up, and I pulled the phone from my ear and looked around. We were about a hundred yards from the pavilion at which the high school kids were having their picnic. They laughed in small groups and played volleyball as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Smoke and the smell of grilling meat wafted on the breeze.
“What do we do?” asked Emily.
The college had its own police force, but they only had two or three officers on duty at one time. I didn’t even know if they carried guns. None of us had heard gunshots, but Delgado had given me a direct order.
“Emily, you stay here and call our other teams and tell them to hold their positions in the park. I know Waterford’s layout, so Gary and I will run to the chapel. I don’t know what’s going on yet, but Sheriff Delgado says there’s an active shooter. If he comes this way, shoot him. We’ll have a lot of officers in the area soon, so you won’t be alone long.”
Emily nodded, so I looked to Gary.
“Let’s go,” I said, already running toward the path that led to the college. We made it about a hundred yards before we heard the first gunshot.
It didn’t come from the college.
31
Glenn blew the air out of his lungs and held it. His finger hovered over the trigger.
“Shooter, target in section one-bravo,” said Helen.
Glenn swung the barrel to the left until he saw the section.
“Contact,” said Glenn. “I’ve got a middle-aged man. Gray suit, white shirt, red tie. He’s coming down the stairs.”
“Confirmed target,” said Helen. “Wind speed is five miles an hour. Engage when ready.”
Glenn tracked the FBI agent with his rifle. At this distance, it would be too hard to hit a target on the run. He had to be patient.
“Multiple targets exiting the police station,” said Helen. “Engage at will. I don’t have a rappelling rope, so I’m getting out of here.”
Glenn didn’t take his eye from the scope. “I’ll see you later, Helen.”
She disappeared down the ladder with silent footsteps. The agent stopped at the foot of the steps and looked over his shoulder. Glenn saw his chance and pulled the slack out of the trigger.
Then he fired.
The sound reverberated against the metal structure behind him. Nine hundred yards away, the FBI agent fell down. It was a good shot, but Glenn didn’t have time to savor it. He slid the bolt back on his rifle and chambered a second round before finding a second target. It was a woman in a light blue Highway Patrol officer’s uniform. He centered the reticle on her chest and squeezed the trigger. She, too, fell down.
Five times he pulled the trigger, and five times someone fell. When his magazine ran dry, Glenn breathed again. His heart raced. He hooked himself to his rappelling rope and backed up to the ladder and touched off. The descent was fast but controlled. His feet hit the ground thirty seconds after his last shot. Faintly he heard screaming but none of it near him.
When he reached the bottom of the tower, he unhooked himself. Helen was on the ground.
“Come on,” she whispered. “We’ve got to go. You did beautifully.”
“I didn’t get her,” he said, already running toward his car. On any other day, he would have looked suspicious running downtown while wearing climbing gear, but with people screaming at the police station, no one noticed him today. When they reached his car, he opened the door. Helen dove across the driver’s seat to the passenger side. He sat down and closed his door.
“You did everything you could,” she said, beaming at him. “I’m proud of you for trying. We’ll go to her house and kill her. Don’t worry.”
He nodded, turned the keys in the ignition, and pulled away from the curb. Then he looked at Helen. She was radiant as she patted his shoulder.
“This was more fun than I thought it’d be,” she said. “Let’s do this again.”
I stopped running midstep. The shot came from the downtown area, so I whirled around. Gary slowed and stopped beside me. Emily wasn’t far away, so she ran toward us.
Then another shot rang out. A kid at the volleyball court dove into the sand, but it didn’t look as if he were hurt. The other kids froze. My breath caught in my throat.
Then another shot rang out. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I pointed toward the kids at the volleyball court.
“Everybody, get o
n your bellies now. Make yourselves small.”
The kids dove. Then another shot rang out. Emily, Gary, and I crouched low.
“Where are these shots coming from?” I asked.
Gary pointed toward town and grimaced as the gunman fired for the fifth time. Emily pulled her radio from her utility belt and turned up the volume. It was silent, which I appreciated. Our officers knew enough to stay off the radio during an emergency. We had little cover in the park, but the shots sounded at least half a mile away.
After the fifth shot, we waited, expecting more. The kids looked up at us. Gary looked around before focusing on me.
“What do we do?”
“We stay and wait for an update,” I said. The moment I spoke, the breeze shifted, allowing me to hear helicopter blades cutting through the air. The Highway Patrol’s blue and gray helicopter streaked through the air maybe two hundred feet above the tree line seconds later. It was close enough that Emily covered her ears.
“They were in a hurry,” she said.
“They must be looking for our shooter,” I said, feeling a worried pit grow in my stomach. I looked at Emily. “Are you sure your radio’s on?”
She looked at it and nodded. “Yeah.”
I licked my lips and tried to slow my breathing. If she had an update, Trisha would have radioed us already.
“What do we do?” asked Gary.
“We hold our positions,” I said. “We’ve got forty or fifty kids here. We need to keep them safe.”
So we waited. Five or six minutes later, a single-engine plane flew overhead at a low speed. I watched as it banked over the town and turned around. It was a search pattern. Shortly thereafter, a blue medical helicopter streaked overhead.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked.
Gary shook his head but didn’t stop looking around. Emily shrugged. A moment later, sirens shrieked in the distance.
“Can I have your radio?” I asked, looking to Emily. She nodded and handed it to me. I hit a button to talk. “Dispatcher, we need an update.”
