Sins of the Fathers

by David Howells

detonation. That path is likely to end all life left. The female hostage was sighted and imaged. Her ID is now being chased down. She looked vaguely familiar; mid-twenties, slender, brunette, shoulder length hair, slacks, sweater. Bracelet of some kind noted on the right wrist. Don’t call the perp yet. High emotions post killing are too unstable, for both sides. Best to wait for some kind of perspective. I can’t help anyone in there yet. I couldn’t help Miriam either. Penway is an obvious death, with that wound to back of skull and no motion on the ground. This is out of my league, but it’s too late to call in super-negotiator…never get here in time.]

  Minutes passed. The phone buzzed. Captain Burhans opened the connection, but let the perp lead the dance for now. He said nothing.

  “That’s one debt paid. Justice with a bang. You’ve dealt that a few times yourself, if the papers got anything right over the years. Guess now we got even more common ground. You and I…peas in a pod.”

  [Vengeance is the overriding motive. More than one target for him, it seems. Are the two hostages inside also targets? I’m certainly one. Arrange a trade? He identifies with me now, with killing someone being the key connection.]

  “You crossed a line, son, and you just brought a whole world of hurt on yourself. We need to change the game board, for everyone’s sake. Tell you what, dealer. I’ll make YOU an offer. Release the other hostages and take me instead. Justice is what you’re dealing? Seems I’m in line for that, in your opinion. So, let the others go. You’ll have me. How about it?”

  Captain Burhans was handed a note, not wanting any conversation in the background to break the connection to the perpetrator. It read, ‘Checked missing persons, no one showing up as woman’s ID. Calling local businesses for typical job descriptions in her gender/age demographic. Sorry.’

  He had a strong gut feel, and wrote, ‘Get a run down of Miriam Pendleton Park’s relatives, especially children.’ The next line in the play was read by the protagonist.

  “Captain Burhans. I’m touched. Really. Maybe we can work out something later. But the game’s still in play.”

  “Son, it stopped being a game four minutes ago. This is reality. I’m the only way you have out of this alive, if that’s a goal of yours. If not, then I’m the main one here that deserves your wrath. Either way, you win by upgrading from what you have to having me. Do the right thing and the smart thing. Please. There’s been enough death for one day.”

  A sheaf of papers was handed to the Captain by Sgt. Cannes. He used the time waiting for the reply by flipping through the data that could be scraped together in such a short time. Miriam’s file didn’t have anything on it he hadn’t already seen, but he had to start somewhere. What else could he do?

  [Husband Jack: in prison. Model prisoner. How nice. Taking college courses. Whoopie.

  Two sons: Damon and Derrick. Suggestive names. Damon’s the only one with any police data, though both graduated high school the same year. Derrick’s lack of blotter information suggested he came through the trauma at least salvageable. Damon was another story. There’s enough on him to warrant a mug shot. Kid seemed to follow in his father’s footsteps. Got in trouble with a rowdy crowd from tenth grade on. After school, he went from job to job. Two DWI’s, suspended license. Still working, though. Wouldn’t you know it? He’s a counter person at Package Liquors. Minor assault charge, dropped. Picture of Damon showed a lot of Miriam’s features, except for the eyes. They were Jack’s eyes, brown. All of Jack’s family were brown-eyed. The boys had a younger sister, a year younger. She had a clear record, steady employment. No other information was available.

  Perp’s voice was about right on the age estimate. His motive was pretty strong for a surviving son of a murdered mother. The father’s being put away took away the main hate object from attack, so secondary targets would take priority. It seemed to fit, but it all was still too iffy. It needed nailing down.]

  “No, Captain. There hasn’t been enough. Jack deserved to die, and he got off on an ‘altered mental status’ plea. He chose that altered mental status with a clear headed decision to take those drugs, like a drunk chose to drink knowing he was going to drive. Jack’s still alive, and I can’t get at him thanks to your system. He’s studying to get a degree in social justice. How’s that for ironic?”

  [Perp knows a lot about Jack. Would his son call the father ‘Jack’? Estrangement can do that. The perp was keeping tabs on Jack, knows about the educational program Jack’s enrolled in. Is the perp known to Jack? Are they in contact? Keep the perp talking, develop a relationship. Keep a paternal flavor since the father failed the kid, if that’s who it is. Become the perp’s father.]

  “Tell you what, though, Captain Burhans. A trade-up sounds ok to me, but I don’t do two-for-one sales. You get the lady, I get you. She’ll be in a rolling chair, bound up. You come up the elevator, we’ll have you roll her onto the elevator, send it down, you stay. She gets rolled off. Bring the elevator back up or I shoot the other prisoner. Secure the door again, then we’ll have a lovely conversation about old times. Now, what do YOU say, Captain Burhans? Deal?”

  Sgt. Cannes could overhear, as she was meant to do for a second opinion. Her negative shake of the head wasn’t strong, for no option seemed all that good. He thought about it. The bargain and logistics to accomplish it were sloppy on the details. If the guy was true to his word, he could at least get the girl out of harm’s way. That would be half of his primary objective accomplished. The perp’s next statement came as a surprise.

  “Excuse me a sec. I’ll call you right back. Meant to call in to work. Can’t be truant, can I? That would look bad on my resume.” Click.

  [Resume? Was the guy losing it, or was he just joking around. Truant? Fear of losing his job? A little late for that, wasn’t it?]

  Sgt. Cannes was walking a line between supplying logistics and pleading. “Captain, you can’t just go in there. He’ll have all three of you in range for a large detonation. If you’re all three targets, then that’s his best opportunity to kamikaze all his enemies except for Jack Park.”

  “Thought about that. Ester, this is our only chance though. All other routes lead to a guaranteed loss of all the hostages.”

  Another officer came in at a crouch behind the cruiser and reported, “Sir? We called Damon Park’s employer. Damon has not reported in. It’s unusual in that he’s got a clean attendance record there. We got ahold of Derrick by his cell number. Sounded like we woke him up. Derrick said he called in sick yesterday and again today. That was confirmed at his work place. Derrick asked if we wanted him to come in and help in whatever it was we were investigating. I told him no, but that we’d be in touch. You think that’s Damon in there? Can we use his brother to talk him down?”

  The phone buzzed. “Sorry about that. OK, where were we?”

  “I don’t know, Damon, you tell me.”

  [Silence. He’s chewing on that. Was I right? Derrick. Use him? Only close relative other than father and sister I know of. Things are in motion, now. There may not be time to call in the brother.]

  “Well, Captain, congratulations. Not a bad bit of deductive work. Knew you had it in you. Doesn’t make a difference, though, that you see the obvious. Our deal still on? If so, start walking. If not, call our local mortuary and see if they do a group discount.”

  “Our deal is on. Damon, do you want to die? Is this suicide by cop?”

  “No, Captain. I can tell you in all honesty that I have no desire or intention on dying today. I might be killed, sure. Anything’s possible, but that’s not my goal. Hey, any chance you can get me into the same prison as Jack?”

  [Perp wants revenge on father. I can’t promise it, as that would wind up being twisted by some lawyer into some liberating codicil.]

  “Damon, I can’t promise it, but between you and me? I’d not be sad to see it happen. I’m walki
ng now. Let’s do this.”

  “Let’s go, daddy-o.”

  The rules had to change again. Sharpshooters would still have their orders, but only if a clear shot presented itself. At least they had an ID on the perp now. Burhans didn’t take off his service weapon. Damon hadn’t requested he do so. He had also stated he had no wish to die. What else could it mean but that either the guy was nuts, or honestly ready to give up the fight in exchange for a slim chance to get at his father? Maybe it was a post-killing realization that he just wanted to survive this day. Actually there were all too many other possibilities, but there just wasn’t time to consider them all. He walked into the front door of Penway and Grostic.

  Burhans heard the elevator machinery start up. Damon either punched it, or forced one of the hostages to do so. From what he recalled, the elevator would open upstairs into a short hall. There would be a turn to the right to get at the main office through a door on the left of the hall.

  The elevator indicator light shown a light green accompanied by a tolled bong, heralding the arrival of the vertical chariot. Two seconds later, the doorway opened. No grenade, no hostage, no nothing. Empty. Ominously empty. He stepped in and punched the button ‘2’.

  Stepping to the far right, he had