the smooth finished surface of a wooden door.
Suddenly, I heard swift footsteps coming toward me. The light came on and the wooden door fell open beneath my hand. When the door gave way, it took me by surprise and I lost my balance. I had to grab hold of the metal bars to keep from pitching ass over teakettle back down the stairs.
When I righted myself and looked up, I found myself staring into the barrel of the biggest pistol I'd ever seen. From where I was, it looked a hell of a lot more like a cannon than a handgun. I was only dimly aware of the woman behind it, but her words came through loud and clear.
'Let go of the bars. Now!'
I let go and retreated down the stairs a step or two.
Her voice was steady even though the gun wasn't. 'Mister, if you've got a gun on you, you'd better shove it under this rail right now before I blast you into a million pieces!'
There was no doubt in my mind that Linda Decker meant what she said. Even if she didn't, I couldn't afford to call her bluff, not with a gun pointed right between my eyes from some three feet away. A shaking gun at that.
'Okay, okay,' I said. 'Take it easy.'
Cautiously I eased the Smith and Wesson out of my shoulder holster. I didn't want to do anything to alarm my captor. She was nervous enough already. Her finger was still poised on the trigger while the barrel of the gun trembled violently. It scared the holy crap out of me.
I slipped my gun, handle first, through a flat, clear space at the bottom of the metal bars. With a quick, deft movement she kicked it behind her, sending it spinning away across the linoleum floor until it came to rest against the bottom of a kitchen cupboard.
'Now take off your jacket and push it through here, too,' she ordered.
'Look,' I began. 'You're making a terrible mistake.'
'Shut up and take off the jacket.'
I did. 'What's going on? You already saw my ID. You know I'm a cop.' I finished poking the jacket under the bars and glanced up at the gun. It was still pointing at me, still shaking.
'I don't know anything of the kind,' Linda Decker answered. Without ever taking her eyes off me, she kicked my jacket away as well.
'Call my partner, Detective Lindstrom at Seattle P.D. He'll vouch for me.'
'Cop or no cop, you're still working for them,' she retorted.
I took a deep breath, summoned my most conciliatory tone, and tried again. After all, I'm supposed to be trained to talk my way out of tough situations. 'Linda, I already told you, I'm investigating the death of Logan Tyree. I thought you'd want to help.'
She winced when I mentioned his name, but she didn't back off. 'Cut the bullshit. You tried that line already. I called Seattle P.D. just a few minutes ago. You're not assigned to Logan's case, so what the hell are you doing here?'
There was no point in trying to explain that I was on vacation and looking into Logan Tyree's death on my own because I felt like it, because I didn't like the way the official investigation was going. She wouldn't have believed that in a million years. Actually, I hardly believed it myself.
'I just wanted to talk to you, to ask you some questions.'
'You went to a hell of a lot of trouble. I figured you'd show up today. I warned the kids to watch out for you, told them to come inside the minute they saw a strange red car.'
She must have noticed the puzzled expression on my face. She answered my question without my ever asking it. 'I talked to Jimmy last night. He told me all about you, about how you'd been so nice to him and given him a ride to the center. He told me you had asked about me, but he couldn't remember whether or not he'd given you my phone number. I guess we don't have to wonder about that anymore, do we. If you were on the up and up, you would have picked up a telephone and called.'
She jerked the gun in my direction and my heart went to my throat. 'Empty your pants pockets,' she added. 'Turn them inside out.'
'Wait a minute…'
'Do it!' she commanded. 'Now!'
I did. My car keys, change, and pocketknife ended up in a pitiful pile which I shoved under the grill.
The little girl appeared at her mother's side and clung to one leg, whining. 'I'm scared, Mommie. What are we going to do with him? What's going to happen?'
'I don't know yet, Allison. Go on outside and play with Jason. I'll be out in a few minutes.'
Allison backed away from the door, watching me warily through the bars as she did so.
'Now the ladder,' Linda Decker ordered.
'The ladder!'
'Go get it, bring it over here, and shove it under the bars. It'll fit.'
Linda Decker had evidently thought this whole scene through in some detail. She was leaving no stone unturned. I wouldn't get out of there until she was damned good and ready and not a moment before.
When the ladder had been shoved under the bars and moved safely out of reach across the kitchen, she sighed with relief.
'Now what?' I demanded. 'I suppose the next thing you'll want me to take off my pants.'
No matter how old I get, I'll never learn to keep my big mouth shut. I doubt she would have thought of it on her own if I hadn't been such a smart-ass and made the suggestion.
'That's a good idea.'
And so the belt and pants came off, and my socks, and finally my dress shirt. I sat there in nothing but my shorts, feeling as naked as a plucked chicken. A trickle of blood was still running down my leg from the gash in my knee, but at least by then my nose had stopped bleeding.
'Now put your hands behind your head and keep them there.'
I did as I was told, but I tried once more to talk some sense into her head. 'Will you please listen to reason?' I asked. It's tough to sound reasonable when you're down to nothing but your skivvies, when you're talking to a total stranger who's packing a pistol.
I took a deep breath, searching for some scrap of dignity. 'I'm a sworn police officer, Linda. Are you aware you can go to jail for this?'
She waved the gun impatiently. She wasn't listening to me, hadn't heard a word I was saying. 'Who sent you here?' she demanded.
'Nobody sent me.'
'You tell me who sent you and then I'll figure out whether I should call the cops or plug you full of holes myself.'
'I already told you, I came on my own,' I insisted.
'You still expect me to believe that? Just how stupid do you think I am?'
When I didn't answer, she shrugged and turned away from me. She walked over to the counter long enough to pour herself a cup of coffee. Taking both the coffee and the gun with her, she sat down on a tall kitchen stool. She placed the gun on the counter beside her then sat there sipping coffee while she gazed at me speculatively. We had reached an impasse. Neither one of us said anything for some time.
Having the gun out of her hand made me feel a little better. Not a whole lot better, but a little. A loaded gun in the hands of a frightened person can be a deadly combination. There are plenty of dead cops out there to prove it's true. I didn't want to join them.
'Please listen to me. I'm a cop. A detective. I work for the Seattle P.D.'
She laughed, but the sound was harsh and humorless. 'Sure you are,' she responded. 'Can't you come up with something a little more original? We've been through that already and I'm not buying, remember?'
I didn't give up. 'I came because I don't think Logan Tyree's death was an accident.'
'Think?' she asked bitterly. 'You think it wasn't an accident, or you know. Which is it?'
'You think I killed him?'
'Didn't you?' The countering question was quick and accompanied by a look of sheer hatred. 'It doesn't matter,' she added. 'They're not here, either. You won't find them. They're in a safe place.'
'What's not here?'
'After what happened to Logan, do you think I'm dumb enough to have those tapes with me?'
