Reckless Behavior

by L. A. Witt

“Yes, sir.” I ended the call and was a little amazed at how much better I felt. There was something about Vic, about the constancy of him, that was incredibly reassuring. Everything could be chaos—shit, everything was chaos—but Vic stayed solid, even when he was in mourning. He was exactly what I needed, and if that wasn’t the ideal parent, then nothing was.

  “Hey.”

  I turned toward the door fast enough to make my neck ache, anxious to get my eyes on Andreas. “Is everything okay?”

  He looked—well, he looked exhausted, which wasn’t surprising. “I managed to talk Marcy out of calling the governor, if that’s what you mean.”

  “What good would that do?”

  “Absolutely none, but she’s desperate. Lisa’s handling it better.” Or at least not letting on if she isn’t, Andreas’s shrug said loud and clear.

  “We’ll have them back. Soon.” I tried to keep my voice confident.

  Andreas grunted noncommittally. He was probably tired of hearing platitudes. “How did the party planning go?”

  “Thibedeau’s going to coordinate from inside the house. He’s trying to find something casual enough to wear to a party. He looked like Paula was asking him to jump in a dumpster when she said he had to change.” That got a little smile, so I continued. “Paula and I will go in, armed, while you keep the car running. As soon as we give the signal that we’ve got the kids, Thibedeau’s people will take Blaine down.”

  “You think his people can handle that?”

  “Blaine’s played things carefully, but he’s just one guy. According to Gary, he’s in this alone now. Internal Affairs might not get a lot of action, but they should be able to handle him, and we’ll have backup nearby.” I got up and walked over to him, took his hand, and leaned my forehead against his. He pressed a kiss to my cheek but didn’t speak. His arms trembled a little around the crutches. I wanted to ask him to stay behind and rest his ankle, but I might as well ask him to stop breathing. He had to see this through.

  When this was over, we were going on vacation for another fucking month. They didn’t count if you were too injured to enjoy the time off.

  If Gary Blaine’s neighborhood had been creepily Stepford, the house that Howie Blaine was squatting in was on the other side of the spectrum. The sidewalks were cracked, the grass was dying, and the fence was missing enough posts that, forget using the gate, Paula and I were going to be able to walk right through it to get to the back door.

  The party was in full swing, and if it lacked a little enthusiasm in the people department, the music was loud enough to make up for it. I picked up my radio. “Is Blaine even going to be able to hear a fight going on over all that, Thibedeau?”

  “The music choice was Paula’s, so blame her if your ears bleed, and yes.” He sounded dry but assured. “The sparring pair is actually a married couple that’s worked for me for five years, and they’ve assured me that when they fight, they’re impossible to ignore.”

  “And they’re still together?”

  I could almost hear his shrug. “It takes all types. They’ll be heading outside in just a moment, stand by.” We waited for a moment, and then—

  “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ISAAC, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

  I winced. “Damn.” She was on an entirely different street than the one we were parked on, music still going, and I could still hear her as clear as a siren. “How is that possible?”

  “Kristy minored in opera,” Paula said. “As soon as Thibedeau clears us, we go.”

  I patted my vest and took in the comfortable weight of my gun and nightstick. I didn’t usually carry a stick since making detective, but today was an exception. The fight raged on and on, and for a minute I wondered if Blaine wasn’t just going to try to ride it out, hedging his bets and not intervening.

  “WHAT, A KNIFE? YOU THINK YOU’RE MAN ENOUGH TO COME AFTER ME WITH A FUCKING KNIFE? YOU CAN’T EVEN STICK ME WITH YOUR DICK!” There was a scream, and then—

  “He’s coming out, go now,” Thibedeau said. “Squad Two, maintain your position until I tell you we need you.” Squad Two was our backup, waiting in case things got crazy. Crazier. Paula was already out of the car, and I paused just long enough to squeeze Andreas’s hand before following her.

  We were through the fence and at the back door in under ten seconds. There was plenty of ambient noise, but I was still careful as I broke out the glass pane closest to the handle. I reached inside and unlocked the door, then led the way in.

  The place smelled like it had been empty for a while, dust and a hint of mildew in the air. There was a full trash bag in the kitchen, though. I moved into the living room, looking for the stairs. The kids would be in the basement, that was Blaine’s MO. More secure, easier to keep them quiet . . . My heart pounded as I approached the basement door. We were so close—

  “What the hell is that officer doing out there? Squad Two, I told you to hold your position!”

  “He’s not with us!” the man in charge of our backup exclaimed. “I don’t know who that is!”

  “Wait, I recognize him.” Thibedeau sounded tense. “It’s Officer May.”

  Paula looked at me, shocked. “Blaine’s partner.” Fuck.

  “They’re talking,” Thibedeau continued. “May is trying to reason with the man—he must be out of his goddamned mind. We’re as good as made. Squad Two, prepare to—” The rapid crack of gunfire cut Thibedeau off. “Officer down! Officer down, I repeat, Officer May is down, my people are returning fire, Squad Two, get in here! Blaine is heading for the garage!”

  It was like getting a cattle prod to my spinal cord, shocking me back into motion. I turned to the basement door, unlocked it, and jerked it open. I went down a few steps, and inside, I found—nothing.

  It was empty. The kids weren’t here.

  Blaine had already moved them. They had to be in the car. That meant—

  “Hold your fire!” I shouted as I pounded back up the stairs, Paula close on my heels. “Do not fire on the garage, do not fire on Blaine’s vehicle, the hostages are in there!”

  “What the hell?” Andreas growled. I’d almost forgotten he had a radio. “What the fuck are you saying?”

  I didn’t answer, already sprinting toward the door to the garage. I opened it just in time to see Blaine back out, tires squealing. In the backseat I saw Emily, tucked protectively into the curve of Casey’s body, staring right back at me. Her eyes widened as they pulled away.

  “No.” Absolutely not. He wasn’t getting away with this, he wasn’t disappearing with the kids. Not again.

  “Get the car started!” I shouted into the radio as I ran for the back of the house. By the time I cleared the fence, Andreas was revving the engine so hard I could smell motor oil in the air. I jumped in and slammed the door shut just before he started to move.

  We weren’t losing them this time.

  We weren’t.

  Darren was barely in the car before I gunned the gas and tore after Blaine. Fortunately, this car had a light bar, and I switched on the blue strobes.

  Beside me, Darren radioed everyone else. “Blaine is headed south on Jenner Street. The minors are in the car. Repeat, the minors are in the car. Use extreme caution pursuing.”

  I gritted my teeth and accelerated. His radio crackled with voices and updates. I didn’t understand much of what they said, though. Blood was pounding too loudly in my ears, and my entire focus was on closing the distance between us and the man who had my kids.

  One tinny voice broke through: “I’ve got a visual at Jenner and Third. Vehicle is southbound at a high rate of speed.”

  My mental map only took a second to calculate, and I turned hard down a side road. Darren said nothing even though he must’ve known I was heading west now instead of south. Three blocks later, I turned down Division, which was wider, less encumbered by other vehicles, and didn’t have so many lights. And it intersected with Jenner. As soon as I was around the corner, I put the pedal to the floor.

  After sever
al blocks, Darren said, “Next light is Jenner. He’s coming up to Division, and— There!” Darren pointed ahead. “That burgundy sedan! That’s him!”

  The car flew through the intersection. I made a hard left to go after him. There weren’t many cars, but there also wasn’t much space. I had to swerve around two cars, just missing one in the oncoming lane, but I recovered and flew after Blaine. Now that I could see him, I wasn’t losing him. Darren kept everyone else updated on the radio, and I was vaguely aware of other units saying they were almost in position to head off Blaine, but mostly, I focused on that car.

  Blaine hung a right onto another main road. Now we had more room, but the traffic was thicker. Shit. On the bright side, he had to slow down to get around a clump of congestion at an intersection, which gave me time to catch up. Once he broke free from the congestion, I was hot on his tail.

  Beside me, Darren fumbled with his seat belt. His radio was nonstop chatter. Other units were closing in from all directions. All we had to do was get a few cars in front of him, and he’d have no choice but to stop.

  Blaine tried to lose me on a series of sharp turns. When that didn’t work, he sped down an alley that nearly clipped the side mirrors off our cars. At the end of the alley, he hung a sharp left so we were going the wrong way down a one-way, and two blocks later, he tore onto a four-lane highway. Some drivers tried to get out of our way. Others seemed oblivious, or panicked and didn’t know what to do, but I managed to get around them and stay on Blaine’s bumper.

  In the rear window, I could see the outline of my son in the backseat. He was hunched over, probably protecting his sister.

  Up ahead, a light turned yellow. Cars started to slow down. I laid on the horn to get the other drivers’ attention. Several swerved out of the way. Others stopped where they were.

  The light turned red.

  Cars from the cross street started to go.

  Blaine and I both tore through the intersection. Brakes squealed. Horns blared. A pickup truck turned so hard it nearly rolled and just barely missed my car. A minivan tried to avoid Blaine’s, but they swapped some paint before Blaine gunned it and kept going. He didn’t even hesitate.

  My heart jumped into my throat. “Shit.”

  “If he’s got half the force descending on him,” Gary’s words echoed in my ears, “suicide by cop is not below him.”

  My pulse pounded and my stomach somersaulted.

  “And at this point, I can’t promise he won’t take the kids with him.”

  Son of a bitch.

  I took my foot off the gas. To Darren, I said, “Give the order to stand down.”

  He stared at me for a second, and I thought he might question me, but instead he clicked on his radio. “All units, stand down. Repeat, all in pursuit, stand down.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Copy that. Standing down.”

  “Copy that.”

  In my mind, I could see them, one by one, backing off and letting Blaine and my kids disappear into the distance. Destination . . . God knew where.

  Our one shot, and it was gone.

  I nosed the car off the road, put it in park, and let the engine idle. I rubbed my hand over my face, and when I tried to curse again, my voice was thicker than I’d expected.

  “Get a helo on that car,” someone crackled on the radio. “Set up a roadblock and—”

  “No,” I snapped. “We box him in like that, he’ll hurt the kids.” I’d seen that happen before. A driver being pursued. Panicking. Nothing left to lose. I didn’t need to find out how unhinged Blaine was by seeing how he’d handle hitting a spike strip in front of a police roadblock.

  There was silence for a moment, then a heavy sigh from someone. More chatter followed. The order for the helo being called off. No roadblock. No spike strip. A lot of frustration over letting this asshole slip away.

  I heard most of it, but only registered the very basics. Sitting there in the car, I was trying to keep myself together, but failing miserably. The cop in me knew I’d made the right call. Really the only call that wouldn’t result in my kids or some innocent people getting killed.

  The father in me, though . . .

  I knew right then and there that if one single memory would haunt me all the way to my grave, it’d be the moment I watched that car disappear. No matter how this played out, no matter how things finally ended, nothing would ever erase the guilt, the horror, and the bone-deep fear of knowing I’d let a madman get away with two of my kids. Again.

  Darren’s hand materialized on the back of my neck, and he kneaded gently. “You made the right call.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes. It was getting too dangerous.”

  “But how the hell do we find them now? They could be headed God knows—” My voice cracked, and my composure wasn’t far behind. I swallowed, not that it helped. “Fuck . . .”

  “We’ll find them.”

  Part of me wanted to lash out that he had no way of knowing that, and no cop could promise any outcome of any search. But dear God, another much more vocal part of me needed to hear it. I needed to believe I hadn’t just torpedoed our last chance at saving Casey and Emily.

  I turned to Darren. His expression was impossibly stoic despite the dark lines under his eyes and the lack of color in the rest of his face. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

  And it was then that I remembered he probably hadn’t slept any more than I had recently. Fresh guilt balled in the pit of my stomach. I had no right to be leaning on him now. Not when he was grieving his brother.

  I put a hand on his leg. “I am so sorry I’m dragging you through all this right now.”

  Darren shook his head. “Don’t. Just don’t. We need to focus on finding your kids.”

  “I know, but . . .” I sighed. “I’m barely keeping it together. I don’t even know if I should stay on this, or back off and let more objective cops handle it. Before I make a mistake and—”

  “Andreas.” He put his hand over mine and squeezed. “Your cop instincts are still there.” He nodded toward the road in front of us. “If they weren’t, we’d still be chasing them, and someone would get killed. It was a hard call to make—and God knows I wouldn’t want to be a father making that call—but it was the right one.”

  My eyes stung, and I stared out the windshield, but didn’t let go of his hand.

  “If you want off the case,” he said gently, “you know the captain will understand. Everyone will. But I think we both know you’ll just drive yourself insane.”

  “I think that’s a given no matter what.” I swiped at my eyes, still trying to hold myself together and still failing miserably. “If there’s ever been an investigation I cannot fuck up, it’s this one. Some crazy fucker has my kids, and I—” My voice broke again, and this time, so did I. “I have no idea how to get them back.”

  “I know.” He brought my other hand up to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “But you’re not doing this alone. Half the force is on top of this.” He gave my hand a firm squeeze. “We’ve all got your back, Andreas.”

  I sniffed sharply and cleared my throat. “Yeah. Half the force who still blames me for—”

  “They can be pissed about that bust all they want, but these are good cops. They’re not going to let petty shit get in the way of helping kids.” He paused. “Some of them probably still think you can go fuck yourself, but you better believe they’d take a bullet to save Emily and Casey.”

  I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. “God, I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. Now let’s get back to the station and regroup with—”

  My cell phone chirped to life. Fuck. What now?

  The number was unrecognized, so I answered with a terse, “Ruffner.”

  “Dad?”

  My stomach lurched. “Casey?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.” His voice was uneasy. In the background, I could hear the distinct if muffled sound of Emily crying. And an engine. They were still moving
. “We’re okay. We’re—”

  “Where are you?”

  “Detective Ruffner.” Blaine. Fuck. “Nice try with that party.”

  I closed my eyes and put the phone on speaker. “What the fuck do you want? They’re kids, Blaine.”

  “Yeah. Sucks when a cop fucks with another cop’s family, doesn’t it?”

  It took all I had to keep my voice level. “Enough games. They’re kids.”

  “And they’re disappointed as hell in their father. She’s been crying ever since you pulled over.”

  I very nearly vomited at the thought of my kids watching me back off. “I didn’t want to get them killed,” I growled through my teeth.

  “That’s not how they see it.”

  I wanted to tear into him, but this wasn’t an opportunity I was likely to have twice. As long as I had him on the phone, I had to keep my cool. Detective, not Dad. “I want to negotiate.” The words came out, and I didn’t take them back.

  Blaine was quiet at first, and I thought he might’ve dropped the call. Then, “Go on.”

  “What is it you want out of this?”

  He laughed, the condescension palpable on the line. “I’m getting what I want, Detective.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Yeah? And how does this end? You just keep taunting me with my kids until . . . what, exactly?”

  Again, silence. Beside me, Darren squirmed.

  “There’s got to be something we can negotiate,” I said into the phone. “All I want is my kids, Blaine.”

  “And we’re not negotiating a goddamned thing over the phone.” His voice was icy and sharp.

  I bit down on a sarcastic observation that nothing he said now could be any more damning than the mile-long list of charges already against him. He was getting paranoid like a nervous, cornered animal, and I didn’t dare spook him. “Fine. When and where?”

  The silence dragged on, and I was about to snap my phone in two from pure frustration when he said, “Midnight. Tonight.” Then he rattled off an address. “Come alone, Ruffner. I so much as smell another badge—even that detective you’re fucking—and you won’t like what happens to your kids.”