by Elicia Hyder
She winked up at him and smiled. “You look great.”
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face.
Kara’s heels clunked across the hardwood floor inside. “Hey, Journey, where do you keep the…” Her words trailed off as she stepped onto the deck. Everyone was silent. Kara laughed and covered her mouth with her hands.
Justin’s face was a hodgepodge of different shades of red. “Sorry I’m a little late, babe,” he said.
Kara put a hand on her hip as she looked at the photographs. “What is this?”
Justin looked down the line and everyone turned their photos around. Each person held a different letter and spelled out “MARRY ME”. Justin held up a question mark in one hand and a ring box in the other.
Tears spilled out of Kara’s eyes as she laughed. Journey nudged Justin with her elbow. “Get up there and ask her,” she said.
He handed her his question mark, and he took the steps two at a time to where Kara stood crying. He got down on one knee, held out the ring, and said, “Kara, will you marry me?”
Kara giggled and nodded her head. Everyone cheered.
Marcus slipped his arm around Journey’s waist, and when she looked up at him, she saw tears in his eyes. She rested her head against his chest. “You planned this?” he asked, looking down at her.
She nodded. “Yeah. We’ve been talking about it for weeks, and I snuck out this morning to nail down the details.”
After they kissed and Justin put the diamond on her finger, Kara pointed down the steps at Journey. “You tricked me, you little tramp!”
Journey laughed and held up her hands in defense. “Just a little friendly meddling my dear.” She pointed toward the house. “Now you know why I bought champagne!”
20
Lights Out
Journey and Marcus spent Christmas day at home with Genna and celebrated with her family on the day after Christmas. Before dinner, they opened gifts in the living room in front of the Christmas tree, as the roast finished cooking in the oven. Genna was sitting in the middle of the living room floor in a mess of torn wrapping paper and mangled bows. Marcus was videotaping her with the video camera Journey had given him for Christmas the day before. “I think she likes the wrapping more than she likes the gifts,” he observed.
Carol laughed and crawled toward her granddaughter. “Babies usually do,” she said.
Journey smiled up at Marcus when she realized he had turned the camera on her. She waved him away. “Turn that thing off,” she whined.
He stepped closer and zoomed in on her face. “Come on, Mama. Say hello to the camera,” he said.
She put her hand in front of the lens and giggled.
“Let me see that thing,” Randall said, extending his hand.
Marcus paused the recording and handed it over to where her dad sat on the sofa. Then he plopped down next to Journey on the floor. “It’s the latest model,” Marcus told him. “I’ve been wanting one for a while.”
Elena was sitting on the loveseat with Derek. Journey really liked him a lot. He was a studio drummer in Nashville. “Journey, what did Marcus give you?” she asked.
Journey and Marcus exchanged smiles, and he put his arm around her. “He’s taking me to Cozumel, Mexico in a couple of months,” she replied.
“How romantic,” her mother said. “Randall, why don’t you take me anywhere romantic?”
“I bought you a lake house, my dear,” her dad replied, not looking away from the camera which he was studying.
She laughed, balled up a piece of wrapping paper, and threw it at his head. “I don’t remember ever asking for a lake house, smarty-pants!”
“You have a lake house?” Derek asked.
Carol shook her head and pointed at her husband. “Randall has a lake house.”
“You know,” Elena began. “We should do Christmas there next year. We’ve not done that since I still lived here. It’s really beautiful in the winter.”
Carol nodded in agreement. “That would be lovely.”
“We could go hunting,” Marcus agreed.
Journey laughed. “No firearms on Christmas.”
“Why not?” her dad asked. “Your mother bought me a Browning .30-06 hunting rifle for Christmas.”
“Sweet,” Marcus said, nodding his head. “You should’ve brought it over. I would have set up the targets.”
“Maybe tomorrow?” Randall suggested.
Marcus grimaced. “I’ve got to work tomorrow. This is going to be a crazy week. Maybe this weekend though.”
Randall gave him a thumbs up. “Absolutely.”
“Dad, what did you buy for Mom?” Elena asked.
Carol tilted her head back to show off her new shiny necklace. “It’s a diamond,” she said dramatically.
They all laughed, and Journey leaned forward to take a closer look. “It’s really pretty,” she said.
“Speaking of diamonds,” Elena said. “Justin’s proposal the other night was so sweet.”
Journey smiled and nodded her head. “Yeah. He did a really good job. She was shocked.”
Carol sat up a little. “Justin and Kara are engaged?”
Journey nodded. “He proposed at our Christmas party the other night.”
Carol’s bottom lip poked out. “Oh, that’s so sweet. Why didn’t you call and tell me?”
Elena laughed. “Mom, why are you surprised? She didn’t tell us when she got engaged, remember?”
Marcus laughed. “We didn’t tell anybody for a long time. I was too afraid Journey would change her mind.”
Journey cut her eyes at him, and he kissed her nose. “Marcus didn’t actually propose,” she interjected. “He sort of burped out syllables for around a half an hour. ‘Uh, do you, ummm… think you might wanna, uh, maybe uh… you know we’re having a baby, and uh...”
He pinched her sides, making her squirm. “You said ‘yes’ didn’t you?”
She playfully rolled her eyes. “It was a miracle.”
He nodded. “I’ll agree with that.”
She put her arms around his neck and leaned her head against his.
“This has been a wonderful Christmas,” her father stated.
“Here, here!” Derek agreed, raising his glass of sweet tea.
Marcus’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Journey shifted so he could retrieve it. He glanced at the number and said, “Excuse me. I’ve got to take this.”
She slid off his lap and stretched out toward Genna. “Mama,” Genna said, slapping a bow on Journey’s forehead.
“I’m gonna get you,” she teased, pinching the fat on Genna’s inner thigh making her roll over laughing.
Marcus disappeared to the bedroom, and a few minutes later, he called to Journey. She excused herself and walked out of the living room. When she reached their room, he had his shirt off, and he was strapping on his body armor. She was surprised. “What are you doing?”
“You were right,” he said, securing a strap of velcro around his waist.
“About what?”
He checked his Glock and secured it in his waistband holster. “After our conversation the other day, I talked to the task force lead guy. They had the prison send over all of the records of Steven’s visitors and phone calls while he was locked up. Brian stopped all contact with him about two years ago. Since then, a man named Travis Morgan has visited Steven once a month like clockwork. Guess who Morgan is affiliated with?”
“The Aryan Brotherhood,” she answered.
“Guess where he’s from?”
“Atlanta?” she asked.
He shook his head. “He’s originally from a small town just outside of Savannah.” Marcus buttoned up his shirt. “And guess where he lives now?”
Journey’s stomach tightened. “Here in Emerson.”
Marcus nodded as he draped his badge, which was attached to a long silver chain, around his neck. “As of two years ago,” he said. “Morgan has a lease on an apartment in East Emerson, right off the in
terstate.”
She gasped. “That’s where Brian is.”
Marcus nodded his head again and shrugged into his leather jacket. “We think so. A couple of the Marshals have been sitting on the building for the past two days and have seen Steven’s Chevelle coming and going from the residence. They have enough probable cause that Brian is inside to move in today.”
Journey covered her mouth with her hand. “Why do you have to go? You’re not a Marshal,” she said. “Isn’t this their job?”
He nodded. “Yes, but it’s my job too, honey. They need local support, and I’m the one who has been working on this case all year. Besides, if I make this bust, that promotion is mine.”
She smiled. “That promotion is yours regardless and you know it.”
He kissed her. “I also want the personal satisfaction of putting him away.”
She nodded. “I know. Just please be careful.”
He cupped her face in his hands and looked carefully into her eyes. “We are going to have a whole team. I promise you; I will be careful.”
She nodded as he drew her in for a long kiss. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him just below his ear. “Slap those cuffs on him extra tight for me.”
He pulled back and smiled before returning to the hurried task of packing his tactical bag.
He apologized to her family for skipping out on dinner and kissed Journey again at the door. She hugged him tight. “Good luck,” she said, kissing his neck. “I love you.”
He traced his thumb along her bottom lip. “I love you, too,” he said with a wink.
· · ·
The police station, which normally would be run by a skeleton crew on the day after Christmas, was pulsing with activity when Marcus pulled his new black SUV into the parking lot. His partner, Curtis, pulled in right behind him.
When he got out of his car, Curtis slapped the hood. “Today is the day, man. I feel it!” he exclaimed.
Marcus laughed. “God, I’m so ready for this to be done.” He pulled his heavy bag from the backseat.
Members of the Southeast Regional Fugitive Task Force were already at work when they got inside. A U.S. Marshal slapped Marcus on the back. “Good work, Detective,” he said.
Marcus dropped his bag on the floor and walked toward the conference room where several others were gathered and ready to go. “What have we got?”
The leader of the group, who Marcus knew only as Jones, pointed to the map spread on the conference table. “We already have two of your unmarked units here and here,” he said, pointing to each end of the street where the apartment building entrance was. “We have another surveillance van, two of our guys, in the parking lot. They haven’t seen any movement inside since the black Chevelle pulled in at 0900 hours.” He paused and pointed at a burly Marshal who stood a head taller than everyone else. “Campbell is going to be in the lead. He will kick the door in, if necessary. Garrett, you’ll be with me since you know these guys better than anyone else. If Drake is in the house, once we get a positive ID, Diaz and White will make the arrest. Everyone else will be crowd control and security. There is only one way in and out of that apartment, but we will have guns in the front and in the back.”
Marcus nodded. His heart raced with adrenaline. “Let’s do this,” he said, clapping his hands together.
Forty-five minutes later, he was riding shotgun in a black SUV with Jones and Campbell. It was just after 6:30 PM, and it was already dark outside. Marcus recognized Steven’s black Chevelle when they pulled into the parking lot. “That’s his brother’s car,” he said, pointing.
They parked, unloaded their arsenal, and Marcus checked his Glock. The team of six headed slowly up the stairs to the second floor. Marcus followed, third in line. When they reached the door to apartment 17B, everyone behind Marcus fanned out with their weapons pointed at the door.
Jones rapped on the door with his fist. When there was no answer, Jones pounded on the door again. “Police, U.S. Marshals. Open the door!”
Someone’s radio transmitter went off. “A light went out inside,” a distant voice told them.
“Open the door or we are going to take it down!” Jones shouted.
A second later, the door opened just a crack, and Campbell pushed his way inside. Marcus and Jones trained their sights on Steven. “Put your hands up!” Campbell shouted.
Steven obeyed.
“Step slowly out of the apartment! Is anyone else inside?” Campbell asked.
Marcus scanned the dimly lit room. He saw empty pizza boxes on an old table, some shabby furniture, and plenty of beer bottles but no other signs of life.
Steven stepped cautiously out into the breezeway. “There’s no one else here!” he shouted.
Campbell and Marcus pushed forward inside as two officers cautiously moved to secure Steven into handcuffs.
Suddenly, the lights inside the apartment flickered out, cloaking the room in a sinister darkness. The whole scene unfolded into slow motion chaos.
Steven hurdled over the two-story hand railing.
Shots rang out from down the hallway, and the distinct sound of a door flying off its hinges and slamming into a wall echoed throughout the room. Flashes of light sporadically lit the room as Marcus and Campbell returned gunfire.
A bullet burned through Marcus’s thigh, dropping him to his knees. He kept firing. A flashlight flicked on in time for him to see Brian Drake leering down the barrel of an AR-15.
Another bullet slammed into Marcus knocking him backwards, and the light flickered out.
· · ·
Journey wasn’t able to eat the dinner that had been slow roasting in the oven since earlier that day. The house smelled like Southern home cooking and Christmas, but she didn’t have an appetite. She checked her cell phone again. It had been nearly two hours, and she still hadn’t heard from Marcus. Her stomach was in knots.
Her mother placed her hand on top of Journey’s. “You really should try and eat something. It’s delicious.”
Journey sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried. I wish I knew what was happening.”
Suddenly, an idea came to her. She jumped up from the table and ran down the hall to their bedroom. She flipped on the light in the closet and opened one of Marcus’s safes. After digging around for a moment, her fingers found his spare police scanner in the back. Marcus had made her promise, on more than one occasion, that she would never try to use his radios, but she didn’t care. She clicked it on, but the battery was dead. She carried it to the bedroom and placed it on the charger. After a few seconds, she tried again and it came to life.
The familiar shrill beep from dispatch rang out over the line. “All units, 10-3 clear the line for emergency transmission.” The shrill beep came again. “All lines cleared,” a female voice said. After a couple of beats of silence the voice returned. “All available units, 10-39 immediate backup to 1747 West Copeland Avenue. Shots fired. Repeat. All available units, 10-39. 1747 West Copeland Avenue. Shots fired.”
Journey’s stomach lurched. “Dad!”
A moment later, Randall crossed the bedroom. “What is it?”
She sank down onto Marcus’s side of the bed.
Other voices came through. “Unit 622 en route.” A moment later, “Unit 34 en route.” And again, “Unit 138 en route.”
Another breathless voice came over. “Suspect, possibly injured on foot heading westbound through the woods behind West Copeland toward the interstate. White male, black jeans, white t-shirt, dark brown hair in a ponytail. Repeat. Suspect heading westbound on foot from West Copeland Avenue. Considered armed. Two officers currently in pursuit.”
Her whole family gathered in the room. Elena was bouncing Genna in her arms.
“This is unit 832. One suspect inside confirmed dead at entryway. Gunshot wound to the head. Another suspect unaccounted for.” There was so much commotion on his end of the radio that it was hard to decipher his message, but Journey recognized Curtis’s frantic voice. “This is
unit 832. 10-00. Two officers down inside. Second suspect confirmed dead. Repeat. Two officers down. 10-52. We need Medic!”
The dispatcher came through again. “Medic en route. Officers down. Repeat. 10-00. Officers Down.” There was a brief, loaded pause. “Unit 832, Can you confirm is it Emerson PD? Is it our officers?”
“One confirmed EPD. 10-45 Critical condition.”
Journey doubled over and dropped her face into her hands. Her father knelt and put his strong arms around her.
“10-00. Repeat. Officer down.”
Journey worked herself free from her father’s grasp. “Where are my keys?”
Randall stood to block her path. “Sweetheart, no.”
She pointed at him. “I’m going! You can come along or you can just get out of my way, but I’m going!”
He reached into his pocket for his keys. “I’ll drive.”
Five minutes later, she was strapped into the passenger’s seat of his sedan with a firm grasp on the police scanner. Randall spun up gravel from her driveway as he peeled out onto the main road. Her legs and hands trembled uncontrollably. The ride was a blur, and the noise from the scanner was a flurry of confusion.
“Dad, you have to go faster.”
The drive to West Copeland would normally take twenty minutes; they made it in ten. Her dad put the car in park behind a spectacle of fully lit emergency vehicles. Journey was out of the passenger’s side door before her father could stop her. She had pushed her way nearly through to the front of the line of frantic officers and EMTs before a pair of strong arms intercepted her. She didn’t recognize the man who held her in place as he yelled to get her attention, nor did she hear what he was saying.
“Let me through!” she screamed, pounding his bulletproof chest with her fists.
Her eyes fell on Curtis a few feet away. When he realized who she was, he crossed the gap in a matter of steps. “Journey!” he shouted. The man holding her released her to Curtis who pushed her back a few steps.
