Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) (28 page)

A call came over Jones’s radio, an 11-41. The homeowner must have been shot. The
all clear
for the house came a second later. We had officers inside.

“Tell someone to turn on the back lights,” I said.

Jones requested it over the radio, and the lanai lit up. I glanced around the corner to get a view but didn’t see Cross. A short brick wall and the back of an outdoor brick fireplace stood before a pool and a hot tub. Then I caught movement, the officers inside that lit-up house. The open-concept floor plan and giant glass windows in the back was presenting Cross with a shooting gallery. Cross fired three shots through the house’s back patio door at the officers inside. The door cascaded to the ground in a shower of safety glass.

“Shit. Tell them to kill the lights inside and get out of the house. Cross is going to pick them off one by one.”

Jones barked out instructions over his radio. The house went black inside. I caught movement in the lanai. Cross was taking cover in the corner behind the fireplace. He had himself a brick bunker. Two shots echoed, and the lanai went dark. Cross had shot out the outdoor lighting.

“Think he’ll surrender?” Hank asked.

I cupped my hands around my mouth to carry my voice. “Cross, you’re done. We have you on all sides. Give up now before someone else gets hurt.”

Bullets slammed into the side of the house next to us.

“Are you dead, Carl?”

“No. You’re a lousy shot.”

“Stick your head around the corner again and find out.”

“Doesn’t look like he plans on surrendering, Hank,” Jones said.

“How many shots does he have left?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know.”

“What are we going to do? Wait on SWAT?” Hank asked.

I nodded. “They’ll be here soon. Check on it, Jones.”

He thumbed his mic. The call came back. They’d be there in ten minutes.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. “SWAT will be here in a few minutes, Cross. What do you think your chances are?”

He didn’t fire at us. Cross didn’t say a word for almost a minute. “I give up.”

“Come on out. No gun. Lay on the grass facedown.”

“I’ll lay right back here on the patio. You come and get me. Just you. One more cop, and I’m shooting.”

“I don’t think you have any bullets left.”

“Are you willing to bet a life on that?”

Hank swiped at my shoulder. “Wait for SWAT. He’s just trying to get you over there to shoot you.”

I nodded.

“No deal. We’re going to wait for SWAT.”

“Fine. More people are going to die.”

The patrolman moved closer to the lanai on the side of the house. He was trying to look into the back, to get a visual on Cross.

“Get that guy back!” I yelled.

Jones called to him over the radio. In the middle of Jones’s command to the officer, Cross fired off three rounds at the cop, who dropped to the ground and pulled himself back to the side of the house.

“Are you hit?” Jones asked.

The word
shoulder
came over the radio, followed by moans of pain and profanities. Jones put out the call that an officer was down.

“He’s got another clip,” I said.

Hank shook his head. “Just wait for SWAT.”

“He’s going to kill one of our guys. Let me try to put an end to this.”

“I have to agree with the sergeant here, Lieutenant. Let’s just wait,” Jones said.

“Just let me try to talk to him.” I turned my head around the corner of the house. “Cross, I’m coming. Throw your gun in the pool.”

“Not until I see it’s only you.”

“Hold on.” I lowered my voice to give Hank and Jones their commands. They nodded and disappeared into the night.

“What are you doing, Carl? No tricks.”

“I’m not walking up there until you toss the gun.”

“I’m not tossing it until you walk up here.”

“All right Cross—just remember, I’m a better shot than you. If you fire, I’m putting one between your eyes.”

“Fair enough. Come on over.”

I crouched and rolled myself around the corner of the house. I could see the short brick wall he was hiding behind. I was confident that if he stood to fire, I’d get a shot off before he did. The back door of the lanai stood a few feet in front of me. I reached out with my left hand. My right kept the barrel of my gun pointed in his direction. I tried glancing into the house to confirm Hank and Jones had made it in—I couldn’t tell.

“I’m here. Toss the gun into the pool.”

“Just you?”

“Just me.”

A splash came from the lit-up pool. It sounded about the size of a gun. I waited for the ripples to subside and looked into the pool. A gun lay at the bottom. I entered the lanai.

“Are you facedown?”

“I’m shot, Carl. Come here, and let’s get this over with.”

I crouched at the corner of the brick bar and waited, ready to spring into action. Jones and Hank’s instructions were to light up the inside of the house and take cover. The light would get his attention, and I could get the drop on him.

“Are you coming or what? I need an ambulance. I’m losing a lot of blood.”

“Why would I give a shit if you bled out?” I asked.

He coughed. “Come on, Lieutenant. Think about all the television coverage of my trial if I make it that long.”

The lights inside flickered on. I immediately rounded and found Cross, aiming at his forehead. Cross sat hunched in the corner. His left sleeve and left pant leg were soaked in blood. His hands were empty.

“Asshole in the house shot me in the leg. I think it hit an artery.”

“Good,” I said.

“I got him, though. Put two right in his chest through that window there.” He motioned to a sliding glass door that must have led to a bedroom. Shattered glass littered the ground.

“Lay down, Cross. Put your hands behind your back.”

He hunched over and moved his hands behind himself. He pulled his right arm from behind his back with a pistol.

“Drop it!”

I heard two shots—one right after the other. A flicker of light came from inside the house. A muzzle flash came from the barrel of Cross’s gun. I returned fire, hitting him three times in the chest. It was instinct—the thought of him wearing a bulletproof vest never crossed my mind.

Cross hunched over to the ground. Vest aside, the close range of my shots would have broken his ribs at a minimum. His pistol fell and skidded a few feet away. I went to kick it. Then I felt pain—burning, searing pain from the left side of my head. I reached for it and pulled my hand back—blood. I touched it again. It was hot. Hank and Jones rushed through the back patio doors of the house. Jones pushed Cross over and pulled his hands behind his back. Hank came to me. I touched my head again.

“Put one in him as soon as I saw the gun. He must have gotten the homeowner’s weapon somehow,” Hank said.

I didn’t respond. I poked at my head with my fingers then looked at them.

“Are you hit?” Hank asked.

I still didn’t respond.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me so he could see the side of my head.

“Whoa!” He poked at my head with his finger.

“Oww!” I jerked my head away.

“You got a four-inch graze across the side of your head above your ear. It’s charred. It’s like an inch wide.” He looked closer and raised his eyebrows. “It’s pretty deep.” He headed for Jones and glanced back over his shoulder. “It looks cauterized. You’ll be fine.”

I touched my head again. If that bullet had been a half inch to the left, I would have been dead. If Hank hadn’t shot him when he did, I would have been dead.

Cross lay facedown on the patio’s brick pavers. Still alive, he let out a moan. Jones was still pinning him down. I approached.

“I’ll let you have the honors.” Jones handed me his cuffs and pulled himself to his feet. I took his place and planted my knee into Cross’s spine. He flipped his head to the right and moaned from the pain of my weight. The moan turned to a scream when I twisted his right arm behind his back.

Cross spoke, his voice quiet. “Don’t let me die yet. I want there to be a trial.”

I clicked the right cuff down and twisted his left arm back to link him up. I let out a deep breath when the second cuff clicked. Jones called over his radio that the scene was secure and the paramedics could come.

I stood and looked down at Cross, cuffed at my feet.

He turned his head. Blood bubbled from his mouth. “I don’t think I’m going to make it, Carl.”

I pulled him to his feet. His knees buckled. I sat him down against the side of the house. “Where are those paramedics?”

“They’re coming,” Jones said.

We waited. Jones came over to get a look at the side of my head. It was a good couple minutes before the EMTs appeared from the side of the house. They gathered around Cross. He was unconscious.

One of the EMTs looked up at me. “Do you know how many times he’s been shot?” Before I had a chance to respond, his expression changed as he noticed the gash running along the side of my head. “Geez, what the hell is that from? We need to get you to the hospital.” He stood from Cross and approached. He grabbed my chin and turned my head so he could examine the wound more closely. “Geez,” he said again.

“All right, all right.” I pushed his hands away. “I’ll get myself there and get patched up. Is he going to live?” I jerked my chin at Cross. Two EMTs were at his side. A pool of blood was forming under him.

“I can’t say. He looks pretty bad.”

“The homeowner? I asked.

“The guy should make it. We have a crew inside attending to him now.” The EMT went to assist the others in loading Cross onto a gurney.

“I’ll keep an eye on him while they take him in,” Jones said.

“Thanks, Jones. We’ll meet you at the hospital.” I looked at Hank. “Ready?”

“Yeah, I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I can drive, Hank.”

“You’re not driving anywhere, and speaking of which, what are you going to drive? I seem to remember seeing a totaled Mustang somewhere.”

“Shit.” I’d forgotten about my car.

“Just wait here. I’ll pick you up out front.”

“Fine.”

Hank went to get the car. I walked over spent shell casings as I made my way through the lanai toward the door.

Seventeen shiny staples and numerous stitches later, my head was back together. Eight days of medical leave had been mostly filled staying in at the house, sleeping, and trying to avoid the media when I did leave. I couldn’t turn on the television without seeing a report on the case. The media was camping out in front of my condo in hopes of catching a glimpse of me or getting a sound bite. The station had given them a full press release early in the week with all the details of the case. I didn’t feel much like adding to it.

Cross, cuffed to the stretcher, had died on the way to the hospital. The blood loss from the multiple bullet wounds was too much. Cross’s death didn’t bother me. If he’d lived, he would have been put to death by the state after a lengthy trial. From what the captain said, he wouldn’t have lived long enough to get through any court proceedings. The captain got his medical records earlier in the week. He’d only had another few months to live, at the most.

The feds had started to dig into his past. They created a preliminary workup on him. It waited for me at work.

I walked through the front doors of the station. It buzzed with officers and detectives working. The elevator took me up to three. I got off and walked toward the captain’s office. Patrolmen and detectives stopped me, to offer their congratulations for catching Cross. I nodded but kept quiet. I got to the bullpen, which went dead silent as I walked through. I headed into the captain’s office.

“Kane, how you feeling?”

“Fine. Did you go over the feds’ report yet?”

Captain Bostok pointed to the chair. “Take a seat.”

I slid a chair out and plopped down.

“Just gave it a once-over.” He slid a file across his desk. “This one is for you.”

I picked up the file and thumbed it open. It was a half inch thick.

“They say this is going to be an ongoing case. They are looking into unsolved homicides that they may be able to attribute to him.”

I nodded.

The captain tapped on the side of his head. “How’s the noggin?”

“They say I’ll live.” I turned so he could get a good view.

“You’re going to have to grow some hair to cover that.”

I shook my head. “Doc says it shouldn’t leave that big of a scar.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I bet.”

“So when can I come back?”

“As soon as you’re medically cleared.”

“Okay. I have an appointment to get these staples out tomorrow. I’ll see if he’ll sign off on me.”

The captain crossed his arms over his belly. “Take your time. There’s no rush.”

“I just want to get back to normal. This sitting-around-at-home business is driving me nuts. I’ll be back on Wednesday.”

“As long as the doctor gives you the green light.”

I slapped the file on Cross against my hand. “I’m going to take this with me to read. My ride is waiting outside.”

“No problem.”

I stood and headed for the captain’s door.

“Kane.”

I paused. “Yeah?”

“Good job, Lieutenant.”

I nodded and walked out.

I saw Hank sitting at his desk on the phone.

He hung up when he saw me heading over. “Are you back or just visiting?”

“I came to grab the file that the feds put together on Cross. You look at it?”

“Yeah. There’s some stuff in there, that’s for sure. How’s the skull?”

“Staples come out tomorrow. Give me the highlights of what’s in the file.”

“A lot of stuff about his early years—troubled youth, abusive parents. When Cross was seventeen, his mother committed suicide.”

“How?”

“Ketamine overdose.”

“Are they thinking it may have not been a suicide?”

“Well, seeing as how she was found dead, lying in bed, wearing green lingerie, there has to be some kind of connection there. Whether he actually did it or not, they don’t know.”

I nodded.

“Ready for the part that’s going to throw you for a loop?”

“I’m listening.”