Not since that obsessed fan turned stalker Thomas Northcliffe had broken into her apartment and tried to murder her.
Chapter Two
Anthony Corbett, a lieutenant with the Waco Police Department, hated few things more than when he was called to execute an arrest warrant. Especially in this particular neighborhood. In this older part of the city, the houses all tended to be smaller and most of them in need of work. The neighborhood was also blessed with trees and shrubs and lots of places where a cop such as himself could, if need be, conceal himself. Sadly, that also meant someone not as friendly to the concepts of law and order could hide there, too.
This is right up there on my personal hate list with breaking up a domestic dispute. Anyone who thought the life of a lieutenant on the city police force was all lights and glamor ought to shadow him for a few days. Because the subject of this warrant that they were about to execute was a person suspected to be dangerous, he and his partner, lieutenants and detectives both, would do the honors of entering the house, instead of a uniformed team.
His was a sometimes dirty, sometimes dangerous job. But it was his job, one he’d been doing for the past fifteen years—and really, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Two months ago, he might have said that the only thing that could have made his professional life better would have been to have a partner with whom he clicked, one who could become a solid, good personal friend. He hadn’t had a partner, per se, in years. Not until the man the rest of the guys called Wyoming came to town and joined the force.
He looked over at his new partner. Toby Kendall met his gaze and nodded. They’d discussed the plan to get this done as they’d driven here. Sylvester Gilmour had missed two court dates and was now wanted in connection with an armed robbery committed just the day before. The most recent information they had informed that he could be armed and was considered very dangerous and that his grandmother lived in this little house. An anonymous tip had come in that he was currently hiding there.
They had backup, of course. Several uniformed officers waited out of sight a few blocks away, and the moment he and Toby breeched the residence, they would arrive, ready to help if need be.
Because he and his partner would go in together, the first thing their backup would do would be to surround the house.
Just do it. “Go.” Anthony said the single word softly, knowing that his partner and their backup would have heard it clearly through the communications equipment they all wore. Then, as one, he and his partner left their concealment and converged on either side of the front door of the small house. In his head, he counted down the seconds from the moment they both broke cover to the moment they crouched only a couple feet apart and bracketing that door. They had to move fast, because the neighbors in the area were nosy and might, at any time, decide to protest an arrest by using knives or guns, or both, depending.
There was an outside door with a screen, which Toby pulled open even as Anthony stepped forward, leading with his left foot to gain entry. Their timing was impeccable. One kick, and the door burst open.
“Waco PD! Hands up! On the floor!”
The lone middle-aged woman in the house’s living room dropped to the floor, her arms outstretched. She met Anthony’s gaze. Then her fear-filled eyes looked toward the only possible hiding place in the room proper—a door that was either another very small room or a closet. Her slight nod told him all they needed to know.
Toby took up position, left of this inner door, his weapon held in a two-handed grip. Anthony reached forward, grabbed the handle, and turned and yanked in one smooth move.
The man hiding inside never had a chance. Toby moved so fast it was like watching the best kind of dance. Sylvester raised his right arm, knife extended, and Toby brought his weapon up so that his gun’s barrel rested on the left side of Gilmour’s head.
“Give my partner your knife. Carefully. Now.”
Fortunately, Gilmour understood he had no chance and no choice and immediately surrendered. Toby yanked the man out of the closet and forced him onto the floor, face down. It took him only another moment to pull Gilmour’s hands behind his back and secure the handcuffs.
Anthony helped the woman—likely Gilmour’s grandmother—up off the floor.
“Are you all right, ma’am?”
“No, sir, I am not. I am very disappointed.”
Since she didn’t seem inclined to say anything more to him, he turned his attention to his partner and their perp. Gilmour was a big dude, weight-wise, so Anthony helped Toby haul Sylvester Gilmour to his feet.
The man’s grandmother stepped forward, her finger already wagging at her grandson.
“You bring the police to my house? I am very disappointed in you! There’ll be no birthday present for you this year, Little Sly.”
It was hard not to laugh, especially because Gilmour, for all that he truly had been a dangerous fugitive, wore a look of utter shame and embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, Granny. I was scared.”
“So was I, just now. Only I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
It didn’t take long, once they were outside, to turn their captive over to a couple of uniform officers, who immediately read the man his rights as they led him off to a waiting cruiser.
“Now all we have to do is go back to the station, write this up, and call it a day.” Anthony hoped to hell that was all that was left of their workday. They didn’t usually work on Sundays but had been asked to cover for a couple of their colleagues who’d booked the day off. Considering that and the fact that they weren’t actually working any other priority cases at
