Mourning Dove (39 page)

“My daughter took riding lessons here for a while . . . before my divorce. My wife got custody.”

Ella heard regret and sadness in his voice as he’d spoken of his family. She wondered how any parent made it through the day knowing they wouldn’t be coming home to their child. “Divorces and cops—they go together, don’t they?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, but before he could say anything else, a call over the radio brought his thoughts back to the present. “Okay. Both teams are in position,” he told
Ella after he finished the transmission. “FPD SWAT will make a move on the smaller building, approaching from the east side. While they’re clearing the small building, we’ll hit the big structure with county SWAT. As soon as they block the overhead door with their vehicle we’ll enter the south door of the hangar. Once we’re inside and can determine the layout, I’ll call out the assignment for each
team. By then, the office building should be secure, and FPD can back us up, coming in as a third team, if necessary.”

“SWAT snipers covering the doors, right?” Ella asked.

“One from the orchard, and the second across the field on the north side of the main building. No one’s getting away today.”

It took five more minutes for Ella, Sanders, and her people to move in from the west inside the
county SWAT vehicle, a step van much like a delivery truck except for the armed officers crowded inside.

They bounced over the soft ground, then stopped with a lurch. Three heavily armored deputies, one of them carrying a bag containing explosive charges, jumped out of the rear, followed by Sanders and Ella.

Her back against the cool metal west wall of the hangar, Ella waited, her pistol out,
for the next step of the operation. She could hear shouts inside, and wondered how well armed the perps were. The walls of the building might stop or slow down a pistol bullet, but not one from a rifle.

Sanders gave the signal, and one of the deputies stepped around the corner, brought a bullhorn up, and called for those inside to come out with their hands up. There was silence for a long moment,
then several shots rang out, forcing the officer with the mike to duck back as more than one round penetrated the door and whistled across the perimeter.

“Okay, it’s going down,” Sanders said, scrambling forward in a crouch toward the corner of the building.

There was a loud crunch, shouting, then someone in the direction of the small office yelled, “Clear.”

“Okay. Blow the door,” Sanders whispered.

Standing away from the wall but still out of the line of sight from the south door of the hangar, Ella could see FPD SWAT officers crouched behind the walls of the block building, their weapons covering the three county men as they quickly worked, attaching a charge around the latch of the metal door.

The operation took about fifteen seconds, then all three men sprinted back around the corner.
Ella could see the short fuse burning before she ducked back. “Fire in the hole,” the third man to turn the corner yelled.

Five seconds later, there was a loud, hollow metallic bang and a small cloud of black smoke.

“Execute!” Sanders ordered, and the SWAT men inched around the corner. Sanders and Ella followed, the rest of her team close behind, their weapons ready.

The door had been blown
open, and a smoking, jagged hole was all that remained of the knob and latch. Heavy gunfire erupted from inside the old arena, striking the metal door frame and whistling out across the grounds.

Everyone hugged the wall as the covering SWAT team returned fire from the adjacent building. There was a pause, then Sanders tapped one of the deputies on the shoulder. “Two flash-bangs,” he whispered.

The deputy brought out one of the light-and-noise grenades, designed to stun an assailant, then showed it to the deputy next to him. In five seconds, both deputies were ready.

“Now,” he whispered harshly, and the two grenades went into the hanger together.

Everyone outside looked away, Ella included. Even with her eyes closed, she saw the flash, and the concussion made her ears hurt. Three seconds
later, they went in.

T
he explosions had stirred up the earthen floor, and it was like running through a horse-manure scented duststorm. Ella spotted a bullet-riddled pickup just ten feet away to her left, and ran for its cover. The SWAT officers and Sanders, Team One, had gone to the right, seeking the concealment and protection of a second pickup.

Gunfire filled the big metal
enclosure, but at least the dirt floor deadened any echoes. Ella, at the tailgate now, peeked over the top to get a clearer picture of the tactical situation and make sure the bed was empty. Judging from the dozen or more bullet holes in the cab door, nobody inside was likely to still be functional.

“Clah, secure the west end, then advance east down the north row of vehicles. My team will advance
east down the south row. We’ll cover each other’s open flank.”

“Ten-four,” Ella replied, knowing everyone with a working headset knew the plan now. The dust was beginning to settle a bit, and she could see the entire length of the building. Across the sandy surface of the former riding arena were about twelve pickups in three loose rows, all facing the west end and far enough apart that they
took up most of the interior. At the east end were four other vehicles, two of them SUVs, plus two half-stripped pickups. Two long folding tables, a metal framework with chains
and pulleys, and boxes of tools were in the area of the stripped vehicles. The bad guys were somewhere out there, maybe as close as the other side of the truck she was hugging.

Ella felt a presence to her right, and noted
the arrival of Justine and Blalock, who were using the engine block for protection. “The bad guys could be behind any vehicle, so we have to clear each one, and keep an eye behind us in case we miss someone,” Ella whispered, pressing the button that kept her words from being picked up via her throat mike and transmitted to the radio headphones they were all wearing.

“There’s one we don’t have
to worry about.” Justine pointed to a leg that was sticking out from behind a white Ford 150 just ahead.

Ella ducked down and saw a man lying faceup, blood on his chest. He’d probably been hit in one of the original volleys from outside.

“Cover and advance?” Blalock suggested. Ella noted he was equipped with his duty pistol rather than a submachine gun.

She nodded. “I’ll go first.”

Ella moved
around the rear of the truck, took a quick look, then sprinted north toward the white Ford, watching for someone to pop their head around a fender or above the bed. She doubted anyone would be dumb enough to take a position inside a cab, where they could be easily trapped.

Crouching beside the front fender, she looked down the line of vehicles toward the east. A perp was down on the dirt about
fifty feet away, groaning and holding his thigh. He had his hands up, obviously surrendering to someone she couldn’t see from her angle, someone from Sanders’s team.

She took aim, watching, then heard either Justine or Blalock coming up. It was Blalock, who inched around the back of the vehicle, then took a covering position. Justine came next.

There was a burst of gunfire at the northeast corner,
then it stopped. Deciding on her next move, Ella was about to slip to the
next vehicle when a call suddenly came over her radio. “Clah, is that you at the west end, center, behind the white Ford?”

“Yeah,” Ella whispered back.

“Can you give me some cover fire? We got caught crossing the open flank. My backup went down and I’m alone against the north wall, close to the center, under a red Dodge.
Somebody has me pinned down,” Sanders said.

Ella looked over at Justine and Blalock, who nodded. “Hang tight. I’m coming. When I get there, crawl to the west toward me.”

“Hurry,” Sanders said, his voice hard.

“Once I start to move, shoot into the northeast corner. Try to pin them down,” she whispered to Justine and Blalock, who’d also picked up the radio call.

“Why you? There are a half dozen
of us in here,” Justine whispered, shutting down her call button to keep her words off the radio net.

“Yeah, why?” Ella responded, also blocking the call.

“We’ll cover
you
,” Blalock whispered. “Sanders is up to something.”

Ella nodded, then sprinted around Blalock and Justine, took a quick look to the east, then zigzagged across the clear space between the second and third rows. Justine and
Blalock had already opened fire, so anyone aiming for her would be taking a risk showing themselves. Ella reached the end truck, a green Chevy, diving to the ground beside the rear tire. The north wall was just to her left. She couldn’t see any legs, so maybe the other side of the truck was clear as well. The red Dodge was the third one down, so she’d have to work her way past two other vehicles,
hopefully without encountering a perp.

Inching around to the tailgate, she pulled the lever and jerked the tailgate down, her pistol ready. Nobody was lying on the bed. Pistol forward, she took a quick look around the vehicle. It looked clear to the end, but that didn’t mean somebody wasn’t between the trucks.

In a crouch, she moved toward the front end of the driver’s side, hugging the Chevy.
Suddenly a bullet struck the side mirror, sending glass flying. Jumping up onto the running board, she tried to hug the door. She saw a black sleeve, then heard a bullet thump against the west wall of the building and a simultaneous shot.

Getting as low as possible, she reached down for her radio. “Sanders, it’s me, Clah. Stop shooting!”

“It’s not me, it’s one of the perps at the east end behind
one of the SUVs,” he said. “Move to the other side of the truck and work your way down.”

She reversed her direction, chased by another bullet as she went back around the tail end of the Chevy. She waved to Justine and Blalock, who could see her now, and inched down the row, hoping that all the vehicles south of her had been cleared.

Getting to the front of the Chevy, she saw movement at the
east end, beside one of the wrecks, and dove to the ground just in time as a bullet struck the Chevy’s headlight.

Ella grabbed her radio again. “Justine, there’s a shooter behind one of the wrecks. Can you return fire?”

“Ella, the angle is wrong. Stay put until we move north one more row.”

“Sanders, where are you?” Ella called.

Sand kicked up just to her left, and there was a thud in a tire
behind her as two more shots went off, and she rolled out into view of the perp beside the wreck. He raised up, and quickly ducked back as gunfire from her and her team struck the engine block of the stripped vehicle he was using for cover.

Ella cursed. The last two bullets that had nearly struck her had come from where Sanders had supposedly been, not the northeast corner. He’d set her up, then
tried to take her out himself when the perp behind the wreck had missed. But he’d missed as well, and she wouldn’t be able to prove a thing.

With a muttered curse, she focused on her next move. Her
immediate concern was getting out of this alive. “Third team coming in, center row,” Ella heard over the radio. Her chances were getting better. There would be more firepower now that FPD was reinforcing
the assault. She looked beneath the row of trucks, and saw the red Dodge. No Sanders. Knowing he couldn’t rush her with Justine and Blalock keeping watch up high, she ejected her spent clip and slipped in another.

Adrenaline pumped in her bloodstream as she thought of Dawn. The fear that she might not live to see her child again filled her with determination. Jumping up onto the bed of the truck
in front of her, she looked around the cab toward the Dodge to the east. Sanders was either hiding behind the front of the vehicle or underneath. Either way, he couldn’t take another shot at her without poking his head up.

Ella decided to take the top route. Hoping Justine and Blalock were in a position to cover her, she jumped onto the top of the pickup, ran down the hood, and dove into the
bed of the Dodge. Looking into the cab of the truck through the back window, just in case, she saw a red-shirted man in front by the hood, aiming a pistol straight at her.

Before she could move, two shots rang out and the man fell. Ella dropped down to her knees and looked to her left. Samuel Blacksheep had come up the north wall behind her, then taken the perp out when he raised up. “Yeah, I
know, Clah. Officially, I’m not on the operation anymore. But I’ve got my reasons for ignoring orders.”

“Whatever they were, I’m glad you showed up,” she said, climbing out on his side onto the ground. “I’m going after that second guy behind the wreck at the east wall. Will you cover me?”

He nodded. “Go.”

Ella slipped around to the front of the Dodge, glanced down at the dead man, then sprinted
east. The man back there tried to look up, but covering fire from behind her forced him back down. Ella dove to the ground, aimed her pistol under the derelict vehicle,
and stared right into the man’s face. “Don’t shoot!” he yelled. “I quit.”

Samuel was the first to arrive, and he went around the back to cuff the man as Ella stood. “Good hunting. And we have someone left to question,” he said.