Deadly Production (Mapleton Mystery Book 4)
Page 30
First rule of cop work. If the bad guy has a gun, you bring a bigger gun.
Of course, for all he knew, whoever was holding Colfax might have an arsenal worthy of the defense system of a small country.
He worked his way to the scene, stopping when he saw the SWAT team. Sighting the bomb squad vehicle and an officer suiting up sent another wave of fear crashing over him. He inhaled. Exhaled. Found his control. He waited a moment, until a SWAT officer turned and noticed him. Gordon raised a hand, then stepped forward. He kept his voice to a whisper. “Police Chief Gordon Hepler, Mapleton PD. I’m not going to interfere. But one of my men might be involved. Have you seen Ed Solomon?”
The SWAT officer motioned to a cluster of SWAT-clad officers and one man in street clothes. “Commander should know. He’s coordinating with the negotiator now.”
“Anything else you can tell me about what went down?” Gordon asked.
“We got the call Detective Colfax had been taken hostage. Not a lot more I can tell you. Until the negotiator gets whoever’s holding him to talk, all we have is what little intel we got from the blueprints of the house. Our recon guys are still working.”
SWAT had all the cool toys, but waiting for the team to put them into action had Gordon’s adrenaline surging to record levels. “It’s only Colfax and the one person inside?”
Where the fuck was Solomon? Given he wasn’t part of the County force, would anyone know his whereabouts? Could he be inside, another hostage? Gordon scanned the area again, but no sign of his officer.
Motion from the commander’s position caught Gordon’s eye. The negotiator held a phone to his ear. Progress.
Gordon realized if Solomon could be under the radar, so was he. Connie knew where he was, as did the deputy on perimeter duty and the SWAT officer he’d talked to. If something happened, would they know to look for him?
He wasn’t going to be a loose cannon, nor was he going to interfere with radio transmissions. He didn’t have a hand-held with him. Not part of his dress uniform. “I’d like to check in with the commander,” Gordon told the SWAT officer.
“I’ll pass the word up the line.” The officer moved toward another team member, tapped him on the shoulder, said something, and pointed at Gordon.
Gordon was glad he couldn’t see the officer’s expression, or hear what he might have said, because he was pretty sure it would run along the lines of What the hell does that Podunk officer think he’s doing here?
Gordon watched another SWAT officer approach the commander. He, too, pointed toward Gordon. The commander motioned Gordon to approach.
“What’s this about a missing Mapleton officer?” the commander said.
Gordon explained what he knew.
The commander let out a string of curse words. “I have no intel on anyone other than Detective Colfax. You go wait over there, behind the vehicles, and keep yourself out of the way. No radio, no cell phone. We don’t need anyone inserting himself into a perfectly orchestrated mission.”
Gordon understood the man’s anger. This was not the time to point out Gordon was a trained officer and understood how SWAT worked. He gave a brusque, “Yes, sir,” and headed to where the commander told him to wait.
Before he got there, an explosion shook the ground, lit up the sky. Gunfire reverberated through the air. Shouts of Go Go Go.
Gordon dashed to a position behind one of the vehicles. He crouched beside the trunk. SWAT officers rushed toward the house.
Feeling helpless and hating it, Gordon watched. SWAT would be clearing the house. He waited. Then, from the house next door, he caught what he assumed was a neighbor who wanted to see what was going on. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Gordon moved to intercept, to get the person to safety.
But the neighbor wasn’t approaching the hostage site. No, he was moving toward the street. Away from the action. Head lowered, a puffy down parka, hood pulled up obscuring both the wearer’s size and gender. Whoever it was wasn’t running, but the pace was faster than someone out for a stroll. Gordon’s radar jumped to red alert. He clutched his shotgun.
He ducked through the yard, down the sidewalk. Kept his distance for another moment. Parka-Person picked up the pace.
“Stop! Police!” Gordon shouted.
The figure stopped. Turned. Raised a pistol. Gordon saw nothing in the person’s eyes.
Gordon’s world shrank to the barrel of the gun pointed at him.
“Put the gun down,” he said. “There’s still time to work things out.”
A head shake. “It’s over.”
Gordon brought the shotgun into position. Squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 36
Gordon felt a hand pressed against his shoulder. Realized he was sitting on the ground. Looked up. Ed Solomon stood over him. The officer’s mouth was moving, but no sounds penetrated the ringing in Gordon’s ears. Gordon reached up, let Solomon pull him to his feet.
Ten feet away, medics were busy loading someone on a gurney into the ambulance. Someone in a body bag. How long had Gordon been sitting here? Then again, the medics were on site for the SWAT callout, so they could have moved right in.
Another medic jogged to Gordon’s side. “I need to check you out, sir.” At least that’s what Gordon thought he said.
Gordon waved the medic off. “I’m fine.”
“Chief, let him take a look. You were shot.”
Solomon’s words crept along the pathway to Gordon’s brain like a garden slug moving across the yard. When they coalesced into coherence, he jerked. Checked the ground around him. No blood. Shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”
The medic half-pushed him to a grassy spot under a tree. Unfastened Gordon’s vest. Opened his shirt. Gordon strained to make out the words. He caught hurt, X-ray. Only then did he feel the pain in his chest.
“Lucky for me, I was wearing a vest,” he said. He let the medic wrap his ribs as a precautionary measure, and promised to see a doctor in Mapleton.
The medic left. The ringing in Gordon’s ears faded. “You all right?” he asked Solomon. “What the hell happened?”
“I’m fine. But you—always grandstanding, aren’t you, Chief?” Solomon’s grin eased Gordon’s fears.
“Colfax?” Gordon asked.
“Dinged up a little, but he’s okay. Docs are going to check him out.”
A numbing weariness draped itself over Gordon like a heavy winter coat. “Let’s go home.” He wondered who he’d shot, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. Which puzzled him. He should care, shouldn’t he? He figured everything would fall into place once he had time to work things through.
“Sounds good to me,” Solomon said. “I’ll let Connie know everything’s copacetic.”
“I’m sure she’s been monitoring radio traffic, but yeah, let her hear your voice. I’ll do the same. Meet you at the station. There’s going to be a shitload of paperwork.”
Gordon’s memory of the events pieced themselves together as he drove to Mapleton. He’d shot someone. Killed someone. He gasped for breath, struggled not to hyperventilate. His hands shook on the steering wheel.
The breathing routine he’d practiced while he’d dealt with his eye issues helped calm him. He made it to the station, parked, noticed they hadn’t taken down the reserved sign. But then, since it didn’t have his name on it, it would work for whoever was Chief. Solomon took the slot next to his and hopped out of his car. Glad his hands were steady when he slotted the key into the lock, Gordon opened the door to his office.
Laurie burst in. “We heard. Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”
He smiled. And because he knew she needed to do something, he said a bottle of water would be nice. She whisked out. Gordon turned on the computer and pulled up a blank incident report form. Laurie returned with two bottles of water. Although he knew she was curious—more than curious—he dismissed her and told her he’d fill her in later.
“You first,” he said to Solomon.
Solomon unscrewed the cap
on his water bottle, took a sip, then closed it again. “We—me and Colfax—went to interview a potential lead. Colfax had traced someone who’d posted one of those suggestions for a Paula’s Places blog article to an Internet café, and then to who’d used the terminal.” Solomon pushed the water bottle from hand to hand. “Tedious police work, but County has the staff to deal with it. Anyway, we showed up, started asking questions. The lead took exception and the next thing I know, I’m seeing stars.”
“He got the drop on you? How? And how did he subdue both of you? Two cops against one civilian?”
“Two cops against one former Special Forces civilian. Two unsuspecting, taken-off-guard cops. One well-prepared former Special Forces civilian. Apparently the guy was a tad on the paranoid side and believed a concealed weapon—or three—was part of a normal wardrobe. Lucky for you, he didn’t include a vest in that wardrobe.”
“I’ll let you explain that when you write your report,” Gordon said.
“Admitting we were taken off guard, we can skip to the next part, where we were apparently alone in the house, tied and gagged with nylon ropes and duct tape. The guy was thorough. He tossed a flash-bang, and when the world came back, SWAT was there.” He gave a wry chuckle. “At least I can play the small-town bumpkin card, but Colfax is going to be taking a lot of ribbing. They cleared the house, and nobody else was there.” He opened his bottle and took another sip. “And now, it’s your turn.”
Gordon recapped what he’d done. “It was pure instinct. Something about the way the guy was walking. I didn’t even realize he’d pulled the trigger. But who was he? Did he tell you how Paula’s Places worked? Is it really an assassination clearing house for deadbeat dads?”
“Wouldn’t say a word. But according to Colfax’s intel, he has a daughter whose ex fits the category. And said ex is now totally ex—as in ex-living.”
“As in killed by your assassination ring?”
Solomon shrugged. “Unsolved homicide.”
“So, he fits the pattern, but didn’t admit anything.” Gordon shifted his weight and winced as his ribs let him know they didn’t appreciate the motion. “And because of me, we can’t find out anything more.”
“Hey, a live Chief is better than a live suspect any day.”
“About that Chief thing,” Gordon said.
Laurie’s timing, as always, was impeccable as she buzzed him to tell him the mayor was waiting to see him.
“Tell him I can’t make it now. I have to get to the doctor.”
“No, Chief, he’s here.”
Great. Gordon blew out a sigh. “Send him in.”
“Brace yourself,” Gordon said to Solomon. “And start thinking about a promotion.”
The mayor entered, carrying a large envelope. “The council and I held another meeting while you were gone. I’m prepared to renegotiate your contract.”
Gordon took the envelope from the mayor’s outstretched hand. “Thank you. I’ll read it over, get back to you when my probationary period is over. Until then, I’m suggesting Officer Ed Solomon as interim Chief of Police.”
Gordon took a moment to savor the shocked expressions on both men’s faces. He stood and, treading carefully to avoid aggravating his ribs, showed the mayor to the door.
“What the—?” Solomon said.
“Long story. But now, I promised to have a doctor check me out. We’ll talk later.” He buzzed Laurie. “I’m taking some time off. Show Ed Solomon the ropes while I’m gone.”
He handed Solomon his badge and let himself out the back, then headed straight for Daily Bread. There was an important question he needed to ask Angie.
Some days, it was better not to be the Chief.
A Note From the Author
I hope you enjoyed reading this book. One thing readers can do to let an author know they've enjoyed a book is to pass the word along. If you're willing to let your friends know you think they might like the book, or tweet about it, or post it to your social media sites, that would be wonderful. Also, the best way to help readers find authors is to post a brief review. If you have a minute, I'd appreciate it if you'd go to the site where you bought this book, or any review site such as Goodreads, and let others know you liked it. And, to keep up with future works and to have access to exclusive content, I'd love it if you'd sign up for my newsletter.
Thanks!
Terry
Acknowledgments
I'd like to thank the following folks for their willingness to help with advice, information, and everything else that went into creating this novel. I'm neither a police officer, a medical expert, nor involved in the movie industry, so when writing about these topics, I rely on the expertise of others.
First, to my wonderful critique partners, Karla Brandenburg and Steve Pemberton, whose helpful feedback always makes me think. And most of the time, they're right.
To Wally Lind and the rest of the gang at Crimescene Writers. Although the entire group is a gold mine, in addition to Wally, I'd like to give an extra shout-out to Joe Collins and Wes Harris who are always willing to share their expertise.
To Scott Silverii, Lee Lofland, Josh Moulin, and Mark Hussey for their help with law enforcement details.
To Drs. DP Lyle and Jonathan Hayes for their medical consults. To Josh Moulin for his assistance with things cyberspace.
Thanks to Jessica Odell, Steve Pemberton, and Ramon Terrell for their guidance when it came to portraying movie making.
To those who follow my Facebook page and are willing to jump in with advice and suggestions, especially when it comes to naming characters. Also, to Theresa K. Hurley for participating in a Booklover’s Bench contest and winning the chance to name a character.
And, to my beta readers: Kara Conrad, Pamela Hargraves, Roswita Hildebrandt, John Kandel, Mary Kennedy, Kathy Raepple, Theresa Russ, Heidi Skinner, Barbara Tobey, and Meg Trager, for their willingness to read and give feedback on the draft of the manuscript. And an additional thank you to Barbara Tobey for suggesting Seesaw for One as the title of the movie being filmed in Mapleton.
Finally, thanks to my editor, Brittiany Koren of Written Dreams, and Dave Fymbo, my cover artist.
About the Author
Terry Odell began writing by mistake, when her son mentioned a television show and she thought she’d be a good mom and watch it so they’d have common ground for discussions.
Little did she know she would enter the world of writing, first via fanfiction, then through Internet groups, and finally in groups with real, live partners. Her first publications were short stories, but she found more freedom in longer works and began what she thought was a mystery. Her daughters told her it was a romance so she began learning more about the genre and craft. She belongs to both the Romance Writers of America and Mystery Writers of America.
Now a multi-published, award winning author, Terry resides with her husband and shelter dog in the mountains of Colorado. You can find her online at:
Her website - http://terryodell.com
Her blog -http://terryodell.com/terrysplace
Facebook -http://www.facebook.com/AuthorTerryOdell
Twitter - http://twitter.com/authorterryo
Sign up for her newsletter
Booklover's Bench, where readers are winners
Other Kindle Books by Terry Odell
Finding Sarah (Pine Hills Police 1)
Hidden Fire (Pine Hills Police 2)
Saving Scott (Pine Hills Police 3)
Nowhere to Hide (A Pine Hills Police spinoff)
Finding Fire (Pine Hills Police—short story collection)
When Danger Calls (Blackthorne, Inc. 1)
Where Danger Hides (Blackthorne, Inc. 2)
Rooted in Danger (Blackthorne, Inc. 3)
Danger in Deer Ridge (Blackthorne, Inc. 4)
Dangerous Connections (Blackthorne, Inc. 5)
Windswept Danger (Blackthorne, Inc. 6)
Deadly Secrets: A Mapleton Mystery, #1
Deadly Bones: A Mapleton
Mystery #2
Deadly Puzzles, A Mapleton Mystery #3
Deadly Production, A Mapleton Mystery #4
What's in a Name?
Seeing Red: From the Case Files of Detective James T. Kirkland (short story collection)
Second Chance Rose and Other Stories (short story collection)
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
A Note From the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author