by James Hunt
Jim filled Glenn and Connie in on the case. They were already aware of their efforts to find the Broker by means of using a joint task force. It was a way to better coordinate with the department, harnessing the resources of the entire city to catch who the mayor had deemed a threat to public safety.
“And you think Vinnie used the services of the Broker to abduct Ricky Teller?” Glenn asked, and then he grimaced. “I don’t know; subversion has never been Vinnie’s style.”
“It’s the next link in our evidence chain, and we have to follow it,” Jim answered. “I’m hoping we can use what information you have on Vinnie as a bargaining chip with the Feds to get after him.”
“It could be the key in finding Ricky,” Kerry said.
Glenn and Connie exchanged another glance. They had always been team players, but every detective was hesitant to share information with the Feds. The Bureau tended to overshadow the department’s hard work when it came time to give credit where credit was due.
“How desperate are you right now?” Glenn asked.
“Very,” Jim answered.
Glenn drummed his large fingers over the filling cabinet and nodded to Connie, who nodded in return.
“All right, Jim,” Glenn said. “We’ll turn over our files. But when it comes time to bring Vinnie in, we want to be there.”
“I’ll make sure you get a spot right up front.” Jim shook Glenn’s hand and then did the same to Connie. They collected all of their files and brought them to Mullocks as an offering.
The lieutenant examined the spread and nodded. “This might be enough. I’ll make the call.”
Jim and Kerry waited anxiously at their desks as Mullocks continued her meeting with her FBI contact. Jim knew he was staring, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the closed office door.
“You think he’ll budge?” Kerry asked.
Jim bounced his knee nervously. “I’m not sure.”
The man in the lieutenant’s office was the Director of Missing Persons for the FBI. Jim had met him before, and the two men had always butted heads. But Jim was hoping the director’s pride would lean in their favor.
The door opened, and Mullocks poked out her head, looking at Jim and Kerry. She gestured for them to come inside, and Jim was quick to hop out of the chair. He was the first one in the office, and Kerry shut the door behind her.
“Well?” Jim asked.
“I like how he’s to the point.” Director Chad Hickem kept his back to Jim as he remained in his chair.
Even from a sitting position, Jim knew Hickem was a mountain of a man who towered at over six and a half feet and was built like a linebacker. Hickem had always tried to hide his bulk behind his clothes, but it never worked. It was like trying to hide a whale in a swimming pool.
“Well?” Jim asked.
“Hickem agreed to throw his weight around at the Bureau, but the FBI will be taking full credit for the raid,” Mullocks answered.
“So VICE just gets left in the dust?” Kerry asked.
“Hey, you wanted my help,” Hickem answered, finally standing up and revealing his true height. “That’s the price of admission.”
Jim hated the way Hickem handled his business. The man cared about nothing except advancing his own career. But while Glen and Connie would be upset with him, Jim couldn’t turn down the opportunity to save Ricky.
“Fine,” Jim said.
“Excellent,” Hickem said, buttoning his jacket. “I’ll call when we have something.”
Hickem walked out of the office, and it took all of Jim’s remaining willpower not to chase after him.
“Son of a bitch,” Jim said, muttering beneath his breath.
“We’re getting what we want,” Mullocks said. “I think we should take that as a win.”
“And what else are we going to have to sacrifice to win?” Jim asked, turning his anger onto the lieutenant. “Because I don’t think we should have to give into the whims of someone who puts their own career before the cause.”
“Jim, you’re stepping over the line,” Mullocks said bitingly.
“Am I?” Jim asked.
Kerry intercepted Jim before he could do any more harm to himself. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.”
The lieutenant didn’t push the issue anymore as Kerry led Jim out of her office and then to the back of the building, where they were alone.
“You need to calm down,” Kerry said.
Jim paced like a lion in a cage. All of the anger and resentment and doubt that had plagued him since the moment Amy Fuller had died was reaching a crescendo. He wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to hold it in before he imploded on himself.
“Talk to me, Jim,” Kerry said.
“Talk about what?” Jim asked angrily. “Talk about how the Broker has been playing us for fools since all of this started? Talk about how we let a girl die?”
Kerry winced, and Jim knew he had picked at a scab that refused to heal. But he was too angry to stop now.
“We haven’t done enough!” Jim said.
“But we’re doing what we can,” Kerry replied.
“And look at how far it’s gotten us?” Jim asked. “We keep doing the same thing, over and over, and over and over—we’re just spinning our wheels! The man responsible for all of this is still a free man!”
“And you think you’re carrying all of this on your own, Jim, is that it?” Kerry spat back at him. “You think you’re the only one frustrated or hurting? What about Emma Fuller? What about Ricky Teller or all of the other children we recovered from the pedophiles who used the Broker’s services? You don’t have a monopoly on pain, Jim. And if you took just a moment to step out of all the self-pity you’re wallowing in, you might be able to see that.”
Kerry stormed back inside after her outburst, leaving Jim alone next to the dumpster. He knew he had allowed his anger to get the better of him, but he was still so upset that he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.
When Jim finally returned to his desk, Kerry was on the phone. He sat down just as Kerry hung up.
“We have our warrant,” Kerry said, getting up and grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair. “SWAT team is also ready to go.”
Kerry said nothing else as she stood and headed for the door. Jim knew he needed to apologize, but he chose to focus on the work, just as he had done for the past three months, and he knew it would only make his relationship with Kerry suffer, just as it did with Jen.
As expected, Glenn and Connie from VICE were disappointed about not getting credit for the raid, and Jim felt their glares even as Hickem led the debrief on the raid.
“Vincent Marcus is one of the city’s most formidable mob men,” Hickem said. “The FBI, along with various other departments and local task forces, have been building a case against him for years, and with our collective efforts, we have enough to bring this man down.”
Glenn and Connie were standing close to Jim as Hickem spoke, and Jim heard Glenn scoff. He apparently didn’t enjoy being referred to as a “task force.” But Jim kept his focus on the main problem at hand and that was getting to Vincent Marcus, which would hopefully lead them to Ricky Teller.
“When we enter the building, we are to expect resistance,” Hickem said. “Marcus’s men are armed and have a reputation for being violent. So, everyone should keep their heads together on this one. I’ll turn it over to our SWAT sergeant leading the charge with our FBI agents. Sergeant Martinez, the floor is yours.”
Martinez stepped forward, and he didn’t have the same flamboyance as Hickem when he spoke. The SWAT sergeant was curt and straight to the point. “We will be entering an establishment called Corner Pocket, which is where our target is currently located. The building is two stories, and we will have snipers positioned on the adjacent roofs on the south and east sides to provide cover and let us know who might be waiting for us up top,” Sergeant Martinez said. “We believe no more than five combatants are inside the building, but this is a pool hall, s
o we will be dealing with a situation where civilians are present. Everyone mind your trigger finger. We also have possible intelligence that tells us our suspect might be harboring a child. For that, I’ll turn it over to Detective North.”
Jim stepped forward from the line of officers and agents. “Our victim is Ricky Teller. He is a seven-year-old male with blond hair and brown eyes. I’m not sure what kind of shape he’ll be in if we find him, but he is our priority.”
Kerry passed around a photograph of Ricky so everyone knew who they were looking for. Once everybody had a good look, the teams broke off to gear up for the final raid.
Jim grabbed his bulletproof vest from the back of their interceptor’s trunk and strapped it on. Kerry walked up beside him and did the same. There was a stiffness between them, uncomfortable and awkward. Jim knew he should say something, but his own pride caused him to hold his tongue.
“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” Kerry asked.
“I’m fine,” Jim answered, making sure Kerry couldn’t see his trembling right hand.
“Jim,” Kerry said, speaking his name in a way that forced Jim to look at her. “I don’t want to go in there angry.”
“Then don’t,” Jim said, and he grabbed a few extra rounds of ammunition and left her by the trunk.
It was the pettiest thing he’d ever done, and the moment he walked away, he knew he’d made a mistake. He hadn’t acted this childishly since he was a teenager. He stopped to turn around, but when he did, Kerry had already joined up with the SWAT unit they were attached to for the raid.
Jim walked over to join her, and Jim felt the coldness between them. Just before they headed into the building, Jim whispered “sorry” into Kerry’s ear, and she nodded in response.
Both of them were a flurry of nerves. Regardless of how “routine” this might have been for SWAT, it was never the case for Jim and Kerry. If experience had shown either of them anything, it was that routine had a tendency to turn into the unexpected without warning.
Jim and Kerry brought up the rear of the SWAT pack as Martinez led them between the buildings and over toward Corner Pocket. They approached from the rear, and when they neared the building, the team split into two units, Jim and Kerry sticking with Martinez in the back.
They huddled behind a dumpster and waited for the other unit to move into position. “Copy that, unit one.” He looked back to Jim and Kerry and the two other SWAT members who stayed with them. “Stay sharp. Let’s move.”
They emerged from the dumpster and then headed for the back door without hesitation. That was the key for a raid. Once you moved forward, you never wanted to lose your momentum until the area was secure.
The backdoor was breached with a coordinated entrance from the front, and the moment they were inside, Jim was assaulted by the smoke and stale beer, but as orders were shouted for everyone to get down, there was no resistance.
“What’s this all about?” a man asked, flanked by a pair of bodyguards.
“Vincent Marcus?” Jim asked, gun up and aimed as the rest of the patrons inside remained on the ground.
“Yeah?” Vincent asked.
“You’re under arrest for the assault of Marcia Teller,” Jim answered, and we have a warrant to search this place.” He flashed the warrant to the others.
“Well, go ahead,” Vincent answered. “I don’t think we have anything to hide.”
Jim didn’t like how confident Vincent was in his response, but he motioned for Martinez to secure the area while Jim and Kerry searched.
The pool hall wasn’t very big, and there were only two other rooms, besides the restrooms, on the first floor. Jim grew antsy as they made their way up to the top floor and had a sinking suspicion that they wouldn’t find anything upstairs.
And he was right.
“Shit,” Kerry said, lowering her weapon now that the building was secure. “Kid’s not here.”
Jim spun around, heart hammering faster in his chest even though he was standing still. “No. That can’t be right.” He spun around, hyperventilating. “Ricky has to be here.”
“Jim,” Kerry said, reaching for his arm. “Why don’t you sit down.”
Jim’s heart pounded faster, and a heavy pressure against his chest. “It’s hard to breathe—I can’t breathe.” He choked for air, collapsed to his knees, and then fell onto his back.
Jim lay on the floor, the crushing pain in his chest worsening, his vision blurred as Kerry and others hovered over him. He didn’t understand why Ricky wasn’t here, and if he weren’t here, then where was he? The questions circled Jim’s head as the pressure continued to push him into the floor and he passed out.
14
Some kind of weight kept Jim pinned down. It was like an elephant was sitting on his chest and his eyes were glued shut. Jim thought it was a dream at first, that he was stuck in some kind of dark purgatory nightmare where he was blind and paralyzed.
But when he began to hear familiar voices that sounded close, Jim knew he was awake. Jim panicked, his heart rate spiking as he struggled to move, and then a pair of hands were on him.
“Relax, Mr. North,” a woman’s voice said.
“I can’t—I can’t move,” Jim said, his speech slightly slurred.
But that wasn’t entirely true. He managed to wiggle his toes, then his fingers, and finally, some light broke through the darkness. It was nothing but strange shapes in the beginning, but they started to come into focus the longer he kept his eyes open.
The woman holding Jim’s arm was an old nurse, her gray hair trimmed in a pixie cut and a friendly, well-worn smile. Jim glanced down at his body and saw nothing on top of him except for the thin hospital blanket. But he was starting to be able to move more now.
“What… happened?” Jim asked.
“You collapsed,” the nurse answered. “You were severely dehydrated. We think it was a stress-related event.”
“Did I have a heart attack?” Jim asked.
“No, but the doctors said your body was extremely fatigued,” the nurse answered.
Jim relaxed a little bit, trying to remember where he was and what he was doing before the collapse. But the harder he tried to concentrate, the less he was able to focus.
“How are you feeling now?” the nurse asked.
“Tired,” Jim answered, his voice croaking like a frog, but then he tensed again. “How long have I been in here?”
“You were brought in an hour ago,” the nurse answered.
“An hour?” Jim sat up, but the nurse tried to keep him back down.
“You really need to lie down,” the nurse said.
Jim blinked. His vision was still a little fuzzy, but he saw his clothes on a chair nearby. “I need to get dressed.” He struggled to swing his legs over the side of the cot, but he managed.
“Sir,” the nurse said, growing increasingly agitated over Jim’s actions. “You need to lie down.”
“Good luck with that.”
Jim and the nurse both turned toward the door and saw Kerry standing in the threshold. She was smiling a little, but it vanished quickly.
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Kerry said, walking into the room.
The nurse was skeptical, but Jim wasn’t the only patient she had on her rounds who needed assistance, so she nodded and then left them alone.
Once the nurse was gone, Kerry stood at the end of the bed and crossed her arms. In all of their time working together, she had never looked more like a stern mother than she did right now.
“I’m—”
“Fine?” Kerry asked, finishing the sentence for Jim. “No, you’re not. Because if you were fine, then you wouldn’t be stuck in the hospital after collapsing from exhaustion.”
Jim stared at the hospital gown he was dressed in. “Okay, so I’m tired.” He looked up at her, hoping she couldn’t see how exhausted he was or how much of his energy had been sapped from the ordeal. “But there isn’t any time for me to rest, Kerry.”
“
There is if that’s what the doctor ordered,” Kerry said. “You know what the doc said when we brought you in? He said you were one day away from a cardiac event. The only reason you didn’t have one was that your nervous system shut you down before it could overheat.”
Jim had never been in this situation before. He had never not been able to hack it, and he had never felt more weak and insecure in his life. “If I can’t do this job, then what good am I?” He looked to Kerry and saw the understanding on her face.
Kerry sat next to Jim on the edge of the mattress and clasped her hands together. “When we were first paired together, I thought it was a mistake, and I know you did, too. I’d heard about your reputation, and I knew you’d heard of mine; everyone had. And during that first case we worked, you proved all the rumors true. You were cold and calculated, and the only thing you cared about was bringing home the missing child.”
“If this is supposed to be a pep talk, I don’t think that you’re doing a very good job with it,” Jim said.
Kerry grinned. “But you were also the smartest detective I’d ever seen. The way you worked a case, you saw things other people didn’t. You looked at things in a way other people couldn’t. And your dedication to the victims and the family of the victim was relentless.” The smile faded. “But what made you so good, Jim, was the sharpness of your mind and your keen instincts. And you’ve run yourself ragged so much over the past three months the sharpness which makes you so effective has dulled.” She took a breath. “Sometimes, we have to take a step back in order to take a step forward. But the older we get, taking that step back becomes even more terrifying because we are never sure if we’ll be able to take that step forward again.” Her gaze grew more distant. “Because we never know if we’ll ever get back to what we were.”
Jim knew she was right, but he also recognized she was talking about herself as well. “Is that how you feel?”
Kerry wrung her hands. “I just keep thinking about how close we were to finding Amy Fuller alive. Three minutes, Jim. Three minutes separated that little girl from going home with her family and suffocating to death.” Tears formed in her eyes.
