I Shall Not Want

The door cracked open. A young woman peeked out. She had strawberry-blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and ghost-ridden eyes.

'Hi,' Hadley said. 'I'm Officer Knox of the Millers Kill Police. Can I-'

'It's not a good time,' the woman said. 'I have guests.'

'I know about the caseworker from Children and Family. I'm the-uh, liaison with the department.' Hadley smiled reassuringly. 'Are you-'

The door shut in her face. She thought of Hudson's favorite Elmer Fudd line: How wude! She banged on the door, insistent this time. 'Ma'am,' she said.

The door jerked open. A short, broad, weasel-faced man stood in front of her. His protruding eyes made him look like Peter Lorre, updated with jail-house chic clothing and tattoos, visible on his fingers, which were braced against the jamb to bar her way. 'Look,' he said, in a barely accented voice. 'She doesn't want to talk to you right now-'

She saw it, the moment when he recognized her, and realized she recognized him. She hurtled off the porch as he was yelling something in Spanish. She half landed in the straggly bush below, fought her way free, and sprinted toward her unit. She heard glass shatter, glanced over her shoulder, and saw the barrel of an enormous revolver tracking her from the upper half of one of the windows. She dove behind her squad car as the thing went off. A bullet smacked into the maple, showering her with wet splinters. She wrenched the door open and clawed at the mic. 'Dispatch!' she yelled. 'Harlene? This bastard's shooting at me!'

XIII

Russ had just pulled into his mother's drive when his cell phone rang. Hell. He checked the number. The ant-sized hope that Clare might be calling was squashed when he saw it was the station. He flipped the phone open. 'Van Alstyne here.'

'Chief.' The usually unflappable Harlene sounded stressed. 'We have an officer under fire.'

His heart stopped. 'Who?' Images of Kevin, a robbery, Paul, a traffic stop gone south.

'Hadley Knox.'

Oh, Christ, no. The rawest person on the force. He threw the truck in reverse and rolled down the window. 'Where?'

'The Christie place.'

What? He pushed the crowd of questions away. Reached up and clamped the light to the top of the truck. 'Give me a sitrep.'

'Gunfire from a three-fifty-seven Magnum. Other weapons unknown. There may be another man inside, she couldn't say for sure.'

He rolled the window back up. Flicked on the light and siren. Tromped on the gas. 'Unknown number of women and children inside as hostages.' Harlene raised her voice to be heard over the siren's whoop. 'Kevin and Lyle are on their way. Eric's coming from the jail, SWAT team's scrambling.'

'I'll be there soonest.' He thought of Hadley Knox, with her threadbare tote filled with criminal law texts. Her panicky voice: I haven't practiced with a shoulder holster! 'Harlene,' he said. 'Send an ambulance.'

XIV

He didn't know you could get speeds like that out of a Ford 250. He went airborne on the Christies' drive, bounced, ground against the dirt and gravel, and there was the house, and there was Knox's unit, and there was Knox, sprinting across the side yard-no vest on, for chrissakes-and there, in the broken and whole glass, an outline, and a hand, and a gun.

He slewed the truck to a stop and tumbled out the door, his gun already in hand, and fired at the porch roof. It was a wild shot, unaimed, but the guy inside ducked out of sight and Knox rolled safely to a stop against the house's foundation. He took a better stance behind the hood, figuring his engine block would stop even a.357.

'Millers Kill Police,' he said loudly. 'Put your weapon down and walk out with your hands on top of your head.' This suggestion was greeted with a torrent of obscenities. From the corner of his eye, he could see Knox flopping around. 'You okay, Knox?'

'Yeah. I mean, yes, sir.'

'Stay right there. Don't move.' He could see something behind the window. It was hard to make out in the shadow of the porch. Then he saw an eye, the side of a face, the gunman scoping things out. Russ dropped an inch lower, sighting him.

'You shoot one more time and I swear I'll cap one of 'em here,' the man screamed. 'I'll blow one of these bitches' heads off!'

O-kay. He did his best work talking, anyway. He waved his empty hand in the air and ostentatiously laid his sidearm on the hood. He heard the rumble and whine of an engine, and Kevin's unit popped over the horizon, coming in too fast, screeching to a stop in a cloud of dust next to the truck. Lyle shoved Kevin out the driver's side and crawled over him. They were both, thank God, in their tac vests.

Lyle scanned the barn, the house, the side yard, the trailer. 'Just in the house?'

'Looks like,' Russ said.

Lyle glanced at his empty hands. 'Forget your piece?'

'He's threatened to shoot hostages if we fire.'

'What's going on?' the gunman yelled.

'Sounds Latino,' Lyle said.

He hummed in agreement. Then spoke loudly. 'My deputy here says the state SWAT team is on the way. They're not interested in talking to you. But I am.'

'Screw you!'

'C'mon, man, talk to me.' He started his patter. The first thing was to get him talking. A guy who's talking isn't shooting. The second was to be his friend. I'm on your side. We're in this together. 'C'mon,' he said. 'You put your gun down, I put my gun down, we'll call it drunk and disorderly.' He tried to remember how many kids were there. Donald had five or six by a string of girlfriends, bouncing back and forth between homes. His oldest had a kid of her own, though, and she lived with him. Plus the foul-mouthed fiancee's bunch.

The gunman had moved away from the window. He-or was it another voice?-was yelling at someone in the interior of the house. He needed more info. He caught Knox's eye, signaled her to check out the back. She nodded and rolled to the ground, belly-crawling away from them like a marine in an obstacle course.

'Why doesn't she just duck down and walk?' Lyle said. 'They can't see her if she sticks close to the house.'

'Probably taught her that at Basic.'

Lyle huffed. 'We'll be another year unlearnin' her after she's through there.'

If she survived the afternoon. 'Any way to get her a tac vest?'

'Two in the trunk of her cruiser.'

They both looked at her squad car, maybe ten yards from where they were parked and another fifteen from the house. Open ground. No cover.

'Get Kevin to the tail of your unit. If I can distract this guy, he can sprint to her car, grab the vest, and meet her at the side of the house.'

'And what about you?'