by Nikki Wild
If I had any hope of stopping this, I needed to get my hands on the video before Captain Pierce realized I wasn’t quite dead yet. My survival was an advantage, but it wouldn’t last.
The engine roared as I stepped on the accelerator, spinning the old Crown Vic around and leaving the Irishman in my rearview mirror.
16
Dark thoughts filled my head as I reached down and flipped on the old police CB. Before I even had a chance to consider whether or not I should use it to call into the station, I got caught up listening to the chatter.
Captain Pierce had wasted no time. He had issued an APB on Nathaniel Hale, and men were being stationed around the city even as I battered the poor car on the uneven dirt. Squinting, I could see the highway that loomed ahead, and with it, the end of this journey.
Don’t use the radio. Don’t let the Captain know you’re alive. Get the video. Get yourself some proof, first.
As I swerved the car onto the asphalt and floored it, I wondered where Nathan was. We had scheduled a meet at a small diner on Fourth Street, but he wasn’t supposed to show up there for hours. I only hoped he would keep his damn head down until all of this was over.
There had been so many fuck-ups today already. I didn’t want him to be another one, maybe one that I couldn’t fix. There had to be a way to make things right, and I was determined to find out how to do exactly that.
The miles ticked by as I hit traffic. It was nearly rush hour. That would slow me down getting out to Nathan’s mansion, but it wasn’t about to stop me. I reached over, flipping the switch on the dash that lit up the siren and lights hidden behind the grill. Like Moses parting the red sea, cars began to move aside.
I’m coming, Nathan…
I had to ignore my fears and reservations. I needed to get to the t22 receiver from the undercover car and bring the evidence to someone I trusted. If I could get to the video, maybe I could fix this.
The off ramp was coming up fast, and I brought the car swerving down and into the upscale residential neighborhood, its houses getting more and more expensive as I approached Nathan’s mansion. Turning onto a side street, I came up quickly to the car we had parked to serve as a recording station. Inside, I knew the small receivers were doing their job, but what I needed was the USB drive they were piping the information into.
Without a key, I used the butt of the shotgun to smash in one of the windows, ripping the usb drive free and returning to my car.
I was hyperventilating as I tossed the small portable hard drive into the passenger’s seat. This was it. But what exactly did it buy me? A chance, sure, but if the Captain was compromised, how high did this go? Was the commissioner involved? The mayor?
And even if I found someone to trust, what good would it do if Wallace could still strike at us from behind bars?
No. I couldn’t take this to the police. Not when it was possible that this infection ran rampant throughout the entire department.
My thoughts flashed back to the white envelope and the press. I could bring it to the Times. I still knew a person or two on the inside. They could keep me safe and break this case wide open. The FBI would be all over it within a few weeks. I could start again with a new name and a new life… WITSEC protection and the whole nine!
With Nathan at my side? We could run away together. Surely he had some money stashed offshore.
I took a deep breath as I got nearer to my car, trying to soothe my nerves. Everything was going to be okay. A short drive, a few words with a reporter, and we could let the feds sort this whole thing out. I was done.
Before I could even get to the door, I could hear it. The police radio was going crazy. Opening the door and leaping inside, I froze in place, my mind decoding the various messages cross-firing over the speakers.
Code 999, officer needs help urgently. 10-59, hostage situation exists. Swat team en route. Police surrounding a building on Elm Street. Suspect deemed armed and extremely dangerous… Officer involved shooting…
I was gasping for air in the driver’s seat, desperately trying not to pick up the radio. My hand gripped the wheel so hard it was sending pain shooting up my arm. God help me if Nathan was involved. Did the damn fool go and poke his head up? Had he killed someone? What the hell was he doing on Elm?
“Oh, Christ…” I said aloud, throwing the car into gear. Captain Pierce’s house was on Elm Street. I’d told him the Captain was after him. Was Nathan trying to settle the score? My mind reeled as I tried to make sense of it, but a moment later, everything clicked into place.
Nathan must have left someone to watch the house. He must have known Captain Pierce took me out of there. He must have thought I was as good as dead, and that made him extremely dangerous.
Without a second thought, I floored it. Lights on and siren blaring, I flew along side streets, blazing a trail toward Elm. SWAT would be out in force, and if they went into that house and found Nathaniel Hale with Captain Pierce, they wouldn’t be so sympathetic. Despite everything the Captain had done, Elm Street was his home. He had a wife and a kid.
First rule of the force: nobody messes with a cop’s family. Crooked or not, it didn’t matter. Nathan would never even have a chance to explain himself before they took his head clean off. If I could get there in time, maybe I could stop it. Speed blurred my vision as the trunk slammed open and closed with every little bump.
I’m coming, Nathan. I’m coming.
17
Breathe… Just breathe…
I tried to keep my cool as the Crown Vic swerved onto Elm, coming to a hard stop just shy of the police line. I practically leapt out, shouting at the Lieutenant to let me through as he trained a gun at me. His eyes flashed with recognition and he gave me a wave, my hand reaching back into the seat to pull the tactical shotgun out of the vehicle. I slung it over my shoulder, crossing the police line with purpose and intent.
“Detective, where the fuck have you been?” Lieutenant Daniels shouted as I stormed past him. At least one cop wasn’t in on this little scheme.
“Enjoying the roomy trunk of my cruiser,” I shouted back, walking straight past the line of police before breaking into a run.
“Detective! Stop!” Daniels shouted, but I wasn’t giving him a chance to slow me down. He was a good cop, but I had no way of knowing how far the corruption had spread. Any of these men could stop me from getting into that house, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. I needed to keep moving.
Captain Pierce’s house loomed at the edge of the cul-de-sac. The police had formed a semicircle around the front as a pair of helicopters thumped through the air overhead, blades chopping at the clouds almost as fast as my heart was beating.
I held my breath as I passed SWAT, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while still moving at a good clip. For my sake, and Nathan’s, I hoped to God that the corruption hadn’t spread to their snipers, wherever they were. Thankfully, nobody stopped me as I stepped away from the perimeter and headed straight for the house.
I reached the captain’s stoop and racked a round into the shotgun before bursting through the door, ready to rain down lead justice on anyone who stood in my way. If Nathaniel Hale was here, I needed to understand. I needed to see him, and if necessary, I needed to stop him. Someone needed to take Captain Pierce down, but not like this. Not with murder, and not in front of his wife and kid. I half expected carnage… What I found instead was a woman tied to a chair, screaming.
“Upstairs! Oh, God, they’re upstairs!” she shrieked, frantically motioning toward the living room with her head.
Confused, I aimed the shotgun toward the stairwell. “Who’s upstairs? Who the hell is up there?” I asked her, adrenaline surging through my body. Behind me, I could hear cops shouting, their voices strained. They knew I’d breached the house. I kicked the door shut and stepped away. I wasn’t about to give anybody a clean shot.
“My husband. My son. Please, help them!” she begged me, tears streaming down her pale face.
“Who’s up t
here with them? Who has your husband?”
“A man.”
There wasn’t time for more explanation, and I doubted she was capable of giving a coherent one, anyway. Poor woman looked shell shocked, like she was just hanging on by a thread. I nodded to her and rushed past.
I stormed the stairwell. I couldn’t stop myself. Whatever was happening here, I was the only one who could fix this. I was the only one on the force who I knew for sure wasn’t some Irish puppet. I was the only one I could trust. It was a terrifyingly lonely feeling.
I hit the landing, careful not to let my desperation get the best of me. I couldn’t go into this half-cocked, and I was dangerously close to doing just that. I had no backup, no one to cover me if things went south. I had to be more cautious, more patient. I had to plan ahead.
Gun drawn, I edged around the corner of the hall, sweeping my gun toward the door. When no one moved, I moved quickly and quietly past the family portraits hanging on the walls, all signs of domesticity passing by me in a blur. This wasn’t a house to me anymore. This was a war zone.
I stopped in front of the door. I knew I should have waited, should have listened for who was inside, but there was only so much time I could waste. If Nathan was in there with the Captain, then I needed to intervene as soon as possible, and even if he wasn’t, the cops outside wouldn’t wait forever to come and get me.
I took a deep breath through my nose and let it out between my trembling lips. This could have been the last thing I’d ever do. Was I prepared for that? Was I ready to die today?
No, I decided. Stop thinking like that. You fight. You fight smart, and fight hard.
I nodded to myself and faced the door. Here goes…
I kicked the door wide open. It swung inward with a crash, burying its knob inside the interior wall as I raised my gun again, throwing myself over the threshold.
“Police!”
Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as the little boy came into view, cowering in a corner. The Captain was just to the left with his hands in the air, the long barrel of a handgun pointed at his head. We stared at each other in shock.
It wasn’t Nathan inside with them. It was one of the phony Irish policemen. I was hit with a sensation that was equal parts relief and cold, hard dread. I was glad it wasn’t him, but at the same time, the fact that it wasn’t created a new set of problems. I could have talked Nathan down. This guy? Probably not so much.
This was not the situation I had expected to walk into.
“Drop the weapon,” I growled, training my shotgun on the Irishman. Behind him, I could see the shattered window and the shell casings scattered on the floor. He must have fired at least half a dozen rounds toward the officers on the street. Clearly, this was a man who had lost control of the situation.
That, at least, partially worked in my favor. It meant that corruption or not, the men and women on the street would be aiming at this asshole and not at me. Most of them, anyway.
“I said, drop it!” I shouted, wincing as he jumped, his finger resting firmly on the trigger.
“You should be dead,” the man offered up, glaring. He shot me his best sneer, but I could see the tremor in his hand. “You should be fucking dead. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. This isn’t my fucking fault!”
He looked scared and way too young to be up here with that weapon in his hand. He was quickly devolving, his trembling now so obvious that he was knocking the business end of his gun against the Captain’s skull.
This wasn’t good. A calm, cool, collected criminal was bad enough. But a man who thought he had no way out, who believed he had no option except to choose his own death? Those were way more dangerous, and any attempts to talk them down almost always ended in blood.
“There’s a SWAT team outside,” I began, “and every officer in a twelve-mile radius is parked down there. They’ll be coming through the door downstairs any second now. You’re not walking out of here. They won’t hesitate to kill you.” I took a breath, trying to offer him a little bit of hope in the face of overwhelming odds. “But if you drop the weapon and let me take you out of here, maybe none of this has to happen. Cooperate, and we can work out a deal. It doesn’t have to end this way.”
“No!” the man shouted, swinging the Captain around to put him between us. “You think I’m gonna let you put me in prison like you did Wallace? I’m not half the man he is. The things they’ll do to me in there…”
He trailed off, lower lip quivering. “I know how things go with your boys down there. I won’t be in my cell for a week before some guard looks the other way while I get shanked to death as I’m takin’ a piss.”
Okay. This wasn’t working. It was time to change tactics. I wet my lips.
“That asshole you’re holding tried to get me killed,” I said, lifting the gun higher. “And this shotgun is loaded with slugs. Do you think I won’t hesitate to put one right through both of you right fucking now?”
He blinked at me. I saw his eyes dip to the shotgun, then back up to me. There was uncertainty flashing across his face now. It was time for me to make the decision for him.
I stared him down with all the viciousness I could muster, my body taut as a bow string.
“Put the fucking gun down!”
I let out a breath as he dropped it, the metal clattering against the wood floor. The captain kicked it across the room, quickly moving away from the Irishman.
“Get to your room, get under your bed,” he shouted at his son, and the boy fled from the corner as fast as he could, shooting past me to do as his father bade him.
I’d done it. I moved forward and tossed my handcuffs at the cowering Irishman, snarling as they skittered across the floor to his feet.
“Put them on,” I demanded. I left no room for argument in my tone. This fucker needed to know he had no options left now.
We’d have to act quickly. The SWAT team would be prepping an entry, especially after I went and burst into the house prematurely. I watched the man pick up the cuffs, preparing to strap them onto his wrists, his fingers trembling and his shoulders slumped as he resigned himself to his fate.
A gunshot shattered everything. The Irishman was stock still for a moment, as though time itself had stopped at the colossal sound ripping through the air. Then he collapsed, his face slack, eyes rolling as he hit the ground.
I watched him fall as if in slow motion, crying out as I spun toward the Captain. He stood there without a hint of remorse, holding the gun the Paddie had discarded only moments before. He was still aiming it at him like a cobra waiting to strike.
“What are you doing?!” I asked him as the sound of crashing windows and shattering wood rose up from beneath us. The SWAT team must have taken the shot as their cue to enter.
“I’m protecting my family,” he replied, leveling the gun at me. There was no joy behind his eyes. No care or compassion.
I tried to spin away, my head turning as he fired. A flash of pain seared through me and I collapsed, my legs simply refusing to carry me any farther, my body failing as I hit the ground.
I didn’t even feel the impact. I knew it should have bothered me, knew part of my brain was screaming that this was bad—really bad. I’d been hit. I was in shock, probably, which often did more damage than the bullet itself. I had to maintain my grasp on reality. I had to…
But it was no use. Every attempt I made to hold on to my life slipped through my fingers like sand sifting back into the shore. I expected my life to flash before my eyes, to see Momma and Jenny, to see Nathan’s face one last time, but all I saw was darkness closing in from the outer corners of my vision, creating a tunnel with no light at the end of it.
The very last things I saw as I drifted into unconsciousness was the Irishman’s gun skipping across the floor toward his corpse, his cold face staring at me in a way I knew we’d soon share. Darkness took me as the rush of boots clambering up the stairs filled my ears, then silenced.
18
Cold
. Darkness. Pain. I had known these things before, but time seemed to stretch out as my senses began to wake from their unnatural slumber. Everything felt slower, almost as if I’d been taken out of the normal world and thrust into something supernatural. I could feel my heart racing in my chest.
My heart… A heartbeat… I’m alive!
The realization seemed to sweep through me, connections turning on as I could feel myself moving, little sensations of touch filtering through the fog. Where the hell was I? What was going on? I forced my eyes open, the blurry brightness causing them to clamp back shut immediately.
Oh, fuck. I’ve been drugged!
I had to get out of here. I had to do something to run, to save Nathan, to escape this place. I began to thrash in place, even as a pain shot out from my arm, searing into my shoulder and neck. I reached across my body blindly, feeling the tubes, struggling to understand what the hell was happening to me in this terrible place.
“Nurse!”
The voice was strange, almost ethereal. I thrashed harder as I felt hands pinning my shoulders down, but then a strange sense of calm flooded over me like the gentle lapping of the tide coming in. I felt warm and light, like I was soaring beyond myself, back into the blackness I’d fought so desperately to escape.
They were drugging me again! No!
But as hard as I tried to claw back toward the light, it faded again, and there I was in the cold, the darkness, the pain…
The next time I woke was different. It wasn’t the hard beating of my heart that brought me back into the world; it was the soft touch of someone’s fingertips on my palm, and the overwhelming scent of flowers.
“You’re going to be okay…”
The whisper was nice. The voice was soft, and each syllable seemed to caress me, wrapping me up in a warmth I’d almost forgotten existed. I took a chance and fluttered an eye, glad to be shrouded in darkness. I could feel my hand being squeezed.
