Arrest (A Disarm Novel) (17 page)

I touched his cheek, touched by his solemnity. “I know you will.”

“I’ll probably miss more soccer games and school plays than I can make, but I’ll always try my best to be there for them, to be the kind of dad they’ll be proud to have.”

I placed a kiss on his lips, swallowing his words in hopes they’d reach his unborn child. “You’ll be wonderful, Henry,” I said. “This child is going to be so lucky to have you.”

DEFEND

“It feels so good to be home,” Henry groaned as he slid under the covers and snuggled up behind me. “I’ve had the longest day ever. Lots of garbage calls. You have no idea how many people think cops are there for their disposal. One old guy actually had the audacity to call 911 so we could clear out a branch that had fallen over onto his property.”

I snuggled farther into the bend of his body. “I’m sorry.”

“I only had time for a burger for lunch today,” he said. “And soggy French fries.”

My stomach chose that moment to rumble. “That actually sounds kinda good.”

“It wasn’t,” he murmured sleepily. “Trust me.”

Suddenly I couldn’t get the idea of hot, fresh fries dipped in a hot fudge sundae out of my head. The saltier the fries, the better. My stomach rumbled again, and even though I’d eaten dinner a few hours earlier, I found myself starving suddenly. “Henry?” I whispered, but received no answer. I listened to his breathing and realized he’d already fallen asleep.

Not wanting to bother him with this craving, I slipped out from under his arms and got out of bed. I went into the closet to dress but when I came out, Henry was sitting up. “You okay? Where are you going?”

“Just going to get some drive-through,” I said, slipping on some ballet flats. I gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

Even with a sleep-rumpled face, he managed to give me an incredulous look. Without a word, he climbed out of bed and started pulling on the jeans he’d discarded on the floor.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “You don’t have to come with me. Just go to sleep. I’ll be right back.”

“Elsie. It is my solemn husbandly duty to take care of your cravings.” I was about to make a quip about feminism, when he held up a hand to stop me. “I know you’re perfectly capable of getting it yourself. Just humor me, okay?”

“Fine,” I said, grabbing his hand. “Let’s go then.”

—

Six minutes later, I had a bag of fries and a sundae in my lap, glad I’d let Henry drive instead so I wouldn’t have to wait to eat. On the way back home, he abruptly pulled into the parking lot of a neighborhood park.

“Come on,” he said after opening my door. He carried the sundae and led me to the swings, sitting down and pulling me onto his lap.

“What are we doing here?” I asked, popping a fry in my mouth.

He gazed up at the full moon in the sky. “It’s such a nice night,” he said, holding on to the sundae so that I could dip my fries into it.

“Don’t you want to go back home to bed?”

He yawned and then smiled. “I do. But I wanted to have a little midnight adventure with you while we still can.” I offered him a fry and he took it. “That doesn’t taste so bad.”

“It’s the tamest of my cravings so far,” I said with a laugh. “The other day, I wanted to eat Braum’s rocky road ice cream and Tabasco. I almost asked you to fly to Oklahoma to get it.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arm around my waist, his palm resting against my rounded stomach. “That would have been a little tough.”

When the craving was complete, I threw away the rest of the food in a nearby trash can and reclaimed my seat on Henry’s lap. I wrapped an arm around his shoulder as we looked up at the bright moon.

“It’s almost as beautiful as your painting,” I said, tangling my fingers through his hair.

His hand slid up my neck and he guided me down to his lips. When he pulled away, he licked his lips. “You’re sweet,” he said. “Literally and figuratively.”

He leaned his head against my shoulder and we sat there for another several minutes, enjoying the peace that the darkness afforded.

—

On Thursday night, I went directly from work to Maria’s Cantina, a Mexican restaurant, to meet Henry for dinner. The first to arrive, I took a seat at the bar and opted to wait there.

A guy three seats down raised his glass when I received my drink.
“Prost!”

I lifted my ginger ale and smiled. “
Salud!
” I took a sip and turned back to the entrance to watch for Henry’s arrival.

“So who are you meeting?”

I turned back to the guy, who was probably in his forties, with wire-rimmed glasses and a head of wavy reddish-blond hair. He was wearing a thick sweater and slacks, looking like he’d also just come from work. “My husband,” I said, noticing the odd lump at his back. “And you?”

“Waiting for an ex girlfriend,” he said with a wry curl of the lips. “Trying to get back some of my stuff.”

“I see,” I said, and felt rather than saw Henry behind me. I twisted my head around in time to receive his kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said, giving my neighbor more than a cursory glance. Henry’s hand pressed into the small of my back when I stood up. “You ready?”

I turned back to the guy. “Good luck,” I said and walked away.

As we followed the hostess into the restaurant, Henry waved to a man sitting in the far corner with his wife and kids. “That’s Franklin,” he said to me as he pulled out my seat. “Veteran cop. I don’t really know him. I just know he’s been around the block and helped take down a drug ring last year.”

“How bad is it in Denver?” I asked. Yes, it was a naïve question, but when I thought of drug dealers, I thought of places like LA or Miami, not Denver.

“Not as bad as other cities, but it’s here.”

I took my glasses off and set them on the colorfully tiled table, glad to be done with them for the day. “Have you ever been involved in a bust?”

“I haven’t yet,” Henry said softly. “But it’s bound to happen.”

The conversation flowed smoothly over dinner, Henry seemingly relaxed and talkative. It was a far cry from that man long ago, the one who basically ignored me in order to watch his surroundings like a hawk. The Henry of today had managed to strike the right balance between paying attention to his surroundings as well as his company.

From the corner of my eye, I noted the redheaded guy sitting at a table with a woman. They didn’t order food but only had drinks on the table as they had a verbal exchange that seemed to get more heated as time progressed.

“Looks like he’s not having much luck getting his stuff back,” I said, trying not to appear as if I was gawking. In truth, their argument was a little entertaining and had caught the attention of several other diners.

Henry glanced over and shook his head. “They need to calm down. They’re starting to disrupt the place.”

I wiped the corners of my mouth with my napkin and stood up. “I need to use the restroom.”

“The baby can’t be sitting on your bladder already, can it?” he asked with a hint of a smile.

I pinched his nose as I walked by, feeling so fortunate in that moment. I shot one more look over my shoulder at my beautiful husband before turning the corner to head for the restrooms at the back of the restaurant.

After using the toilet and washing my hands, I looked at myself in the mirror, wondering if I was already starting to show. I turned to the side and smoothed my top over my stomach, not sure if the soft swell was caused by the baby or my dinner.

As I stared at my bump, I felt a strange sensation wash over me, like a sense of doom. Then, as if fate read my mind, a loud bang came from the restaurant followed immediately by screams.

Without thinking, I ran out of the bathroom. A moment later, Henry rounded the corner and pinned me against the wall.

“Henry!” I squeaked, finding no air in my lungs. “What’s going on?”

“Hide,” he whispered urgently, looking over his shoulder. “The guy’s pulled out a gun and has taken a hostage.”

“What? What guy?” I hissed, glad I had just peed otherwise my underwear would be soaked right about now.

“Your friend at the bar.” I flinched when another shot was fired. Henry didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Get back in there. Call 911. Get out through the window. Break it if you have to.”

“But—”

“Do it,” he said between his teeth then released me. It was only then I noticed the gun in his hand. That one image brought it all home—brought everything to a new level of clarity for me—and it left me oddly calm. No panicking, no freaking out. Henry had this.

With measured movements, I nodded. I gave him a quick kiss and said, “Be careful. I love you,” before going into the bathroom and locking the door behind me. I stood by the window that didn’t open and dialed 911, telling the operator with calm precision our location and the situation.

“Just stay hidden,” the operator told me. “Officers are on their way.”

I couldn’t tell you how long I waited in that bathroom. It might have been two minutes or it might have been thirty. But as I stood there, with my back against the door, my calm reserve started to slip bit by bit. It was too quiet, so much so that everything in me wanted to go out to see if the coast was clear. But I couldn’t be that person, the one in slasher movies who just can’t stay hidden, and instead goes to investigate the action and gets herself killed. If I went out there right now, I might distract Henry and quite possibly put us both in harm’s way.

I curled up into a ball, about ready to jump out of my skin. I’d felt like this once before, back when I’d just moved to Oklahoma and I hadn’t yet experienced the tornado season.

Jason had been TDY so it was just me and Henry. It was the height of tornado season, but I hadn’t been in Oklahoma long enough to look out for the signs, how a muggy, cloudy day could turn deadly in minutes. After watching the news about the developing weather, Henry finally turned off the TV and announced that we weren’t safe in a third-story apartment, then drove us to the brick, one-story house of Sam Miller, a buddy from his squadron.

Sam took us directly to the interior bathroom, where we waited—me sitting inside the bathtub while they sat on its edge—and we listened to the reports on the radio. I vividly remembered the look on Henry’s face, his eyebrows drawn and lips pursed, his entire body tense.

Then the lights went out and then we lost radio frequency. Henry climbed into the tub with me, covering me with his large body. The winds howled outside and it was raining so hard; we could hear it pelting the windows. I instinctively wrapped my arms around Henry’s body; if he was going to protect me from debris, then I was going to prevent him from getting sucked away.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Els,” I heard him say above the noise, his arms wrapped around my shoulders.

After the wind died down and the lights came back on, I glimpsed an expression on his face that stole the breath from my lungs. I remember my heart thrumming wildly in that moment, believing him, knowing even back then that Henry would throw himself in front of a bullet for me.

It was a comforting thought, but it was also scary as hell. Especially now that he was out there with a gunman, without his Kevlar body armor, with only his gun to help him. Backup was coming, but would they get here in time?

Then I heard the voice of a male shouting. I could make out, “Stay back,” but the rest was a muffled mess of words. Still, there was no doubt in the tone of his voice: The perp was angry and desperate.

I flinched when another shot was fired. I wanted to hear Henry’s voice, but knew that he would remain calm in a situation like this, that raising his voice meant he had snapped. I fingered the ring on my right hand, sending up a quick prayer for my husband’s safety. Then I remembered Franklin and felt a small measure of relief that at least Henry had someone else on his side.

I heard sirens in the distance and felt the air releasing from my lungs. The cavalry had arrived. Henry and Franklin would have their backup.

And then a rapid burst of gunfire rang out, each report coming out sounding like a hammer against a metal door, battering down whatever was left of my composure.

I put my head to my knees and prayed hard, my tears threatening to burst out with every whispered word.

I couldn’t tell you how long I sat there, praying into my lap, but a loud knocking on the door made me jump.

“Anybody in there?” asked a muffled female voice. “This is the police. It’s safe to come out now.”

Somehow I managed to get back to my feet and force my wobbly legs to support my weight. With trembling fingers, I flipped the lock and opened the door.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” The police officer made her way into the bathroom and looked around.

“I’m fine,” I said.

She held the radio up to her mouth. “Secure back here.” When I tried to walk away, she grabbed my wrist. “Be careful . . .”

“My husband’s out there,” I said, leaving no room for discussion. The scene that greeted me when I turned the corner made my knees buckle. There were people—cops and EMTs—walking around upturned tables and broken dishes. My eyes searched the room for Henry but he was nowhere to be found.

“Henry!” I called, circling around the commotion. I froze as, across the room, two EMTs lifted a body onto a stretcher. But without my glasses, I couldn’t tell
who
they were loading onto that stretcher, his jean-clad legs and black shoes his only identifying factors.

“Please, no . . .” I said, my limbs refusing to move forward and confirm. My hand instinctively went to my stomach. “No . . .”

A hand clamped on my shoulder. It felt like a million years before I turned my head, before I saw the person beside me through the blur of tears. “Elsie,” Sondra said, her normally surly expression replaced by one of concern.

I had my every thought written on my face, my every fear in my eyes. “Is he . . .” I turned back in time to see the stretcher being wheeled out of the restaurant. I about collapsed from relief when they turned the corner and I saw the red hair that indicated it wasn’t Henry.

Sondra’s eyebrows knotted together. “Are you okay?” The radio on her belt crackled to life. She spoke into it quickly, numbers and letters rushing out of her mouth in a way that made absolutely no sense to me. Then she turned to me. “Come on,” she said, already taking long strides toward the exit. “You can ride with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To Denver Health,” she said, leading the way to her police cruiser. “That’s where your husband is.”