"No siren on approach," Tom instructed through the earpiece, half expecting to hear, 'Copy that, Detective,' but Baker's voice crackled through the car radio. He turned the volume up as his partner brought the car to a crawling stop outside the Rawlings House and killed the lights. "He called triple zero?"
"About ten minutes ago, until the call abruptly cut out. I had an alert set up on Chad and Cassie's name. Anything or anyone mentioning those names would pop up."
"And?" Tom spoke into the radio.
"The situation seems volatile in there, Tom. Cassie threatened to kill both if they're not left alone. He did manage to say she was holding him in the garage before the call cut out."
Tom eyed the quiet street as other patrol cars pulled up and cordoned off the street in silence. "We're outside now, proceeding with caution."
He stared at the partially gloomy house. The garage was a flimsy roller door. The veranda looked old and creaky. The chicken wire fence on either side of the house was rusty and short, something they could easily climb over without a hitch.
"I want to know if there's a window in the garage. Can we see inside?"
His partner nodded, relaying the instruction to their team starting to get out of their cars. "Hold positions. Going in for a recon."
"Copy that."
He slid out of the car, closed the door softly and ran light-footed towards the side of the garage. A moment later, he scrambled back to the car and slipped in. "A meter by a fifty-centimetre window, fairly high up. The light is on. They are definitely home. I heard voices."
Tom nodded. "If we storm, she might shoot."
"I agree. She was screaming just now, something about him getting rid of wedding photos."
Tom took off his jacket, slipped his gun out of its holster, and got rid of the holster all together, leaving nothing but his Kevlar under his shirt. With his hair swept to one side and a clean-shaven face, he could easily pass for a knock-on-door sales agent.
"I'm going to approach. Knock. See if she'll come to the door. Get men in position. See if we can sneak in through the back door while I distract her." He hid his gun in the back of his pant and started off.
"Is that a good idea?"
"Better than ramming in and startling her."
"All right." His partner reached for the radio.
Tom slowly approached the house. He watched a few armed officers jump over the rusty fence and disappear around the sides of the house quietly, while others assumed positions around the neighbouring fronts, guns aimed at the door.
Tom combed his hair with his hand one last time and approached the house with caution. "Going in, stand by. If I say 'nice to meet you', move in."
"Copy that," his earpiece crackled one last time before radio silence.
He could hear his heart hammering in his chest beneath the bullet-proof vest. His footsteps echoed on the cracked concrete pathway leading up to the house. The closer he got, the louder Cassie's voice got.
"You don't love me anymore!" she screamed.
He glanced around, noticing neighbours gathering in their front lawns. He waved them to get back. "Get those fools back, Devon," he said to his partner, sure Devon was listening to the two-way earpiece he was wearing.
Once Officers started pushing people back into their houses, Tom made his final approach.
He took a deep breath before heading up to the veranda, as loud as he could. He was the diversion after all for the men swarming the back yard.
A loud crack sounded upon his first step onto the veranda, and he hoped it got her attention. Here goes nothing. Another step, then another, and finally a loud knock on the front door. "Showtime."
Tom scanned the long corridor with a wide grin plastered on his face. "So your mum doesn't live here anymore?" he asked, satisfied the corridor went all the way to the back door. His men could hear this conversation over his earpiece. That bit of information would tell them only two people, Chad and Cassie, were in the house.
"I was hoping to see her again." He backed up out of the doorway, leaving a foot over the threshold. He caught the door handle as Cassie made a move to close it. "Thank you, I'll see myself out. Nice to meet you."
She lingered a moment, and Tom made a show of pulling the door shut, keeping his foot from letting the door latch close. Once he heard Cassie's footsteps retreat, saying, "Some salesperson looking for mum." He made his move.
He quietly pushed the front door open, wedging the nearest thing he could find, an aged newspaper bundle, beneath it. He moved like a ghost towards the garage door, towards the dull light spewing through its open archway. His gun pulled ahead of him. Just because she hadn't had a gun on her when she greeted him didn't mean she didn't have one on her person.
He saw the back door open quietly and his team slowly move in before he peered into the garage to assess the situation.
Cassie's back was to the door, and as Baker had informed, Chad was tied to an old water heater in the far corner, on the floor.
♡
"Let me go, please. You don't have to do this," Chad pleaded, tired and hungry, till something moving in the corner caught his eye. He glanced towards the movement to see a human standing on the other side of that wall, peering at him over the edge of the doorframe.
Tom met Chad's gaze and gave a brisk shake. Don't look. Chad attempted to nod, dropping his gaze to the floor, towards the bit of material under the dirt where she stood.
"You don't really want me. No one wants me in their life, Cassie," he continued with a newfound exuberance. His effort to call triple zero had worked. Tom was here. Tom, the detective who'd made his sister deliriously happy until he left without a word. Under other circumstance, Chad knew he'd be angry at the man for leaving his sister pregnant and heartbroken, but all he could muster was a bucket load of gratitude and a desperate desire to hug the man to death.
"I'm a sloth. I don't clean up after myself." He looked up at her for the first time willingly, and without wanting to throw hurtful words. Her attention needed to stay on him more than ever as more heads appeared by the door. "I disappear for hours, if not days into my study, writing about people that don't exist. Nobody wants to compete with that. Believe me! The last woman I asked to marry me told me no to my face, in front of forty strangers and walked out, while I was still down on my knees. She knew better."
Cassie met his gaze with a shake of her head, and he was glad he had her full attention. "Oh yeah, she turned on her heels and sashayed out of the restaurant as fast as she could. And now she's getting married to some rich Indian bloke her parents fancy."
Cassie let out a laugh, even though she didn't want to. He could tell. It was working.
Tom was moving into the room, flanking her from behind, and Chad needed it to stay that way. "The only two women who can truly stand me are my mum and my sister, and they've been with me my whole life purely because they don't have a choice."
"And June?" she asked, with lips quivering and eyes brimming with hurt. "You have her in your life, so why not me?"
Tom continued moving behind Cassie, his footfalls silent on the dirt. The men were highly trained, and that was a relief at least. He cleared his throat, forcing a laugh out. He could see it intrigued her.
"June, the homeless girl I gave a room to?" He laughed again. Louder, hoping his laughter both continued to distract her and cover Tom and his partner, now well into the room, meters away from her.
"Please tell me you're joking, Cassie? The homeless girl?" Chad forced another laugh. What he was saying was making him feel sick and disgusted, but it was the only way he could think to distract her. "I met her at a park in the city and gave her a space to stay because Terry, my editor, told me to. You know my Editor."
Cassie nodded. "But I saw you with her!" she fired, not entirely convinced by his lies.
"Oh, that." He feigned embarrassment. "I'm a guy... and you shouldn't be spying on anyone, Cassie, especially when they are in that position." He shook his head in disapproval. Thankful June was not there to hear it all.
"I'm writing a book. She's my muse, and sometimes, you know how it is, two people spend enough time together. It was sex!" he stated, as Tom took a step closer to Cassie. "All for the love of the story. I'm a writer, Cassie. I use people. Obviously."
She considered this for a moment. "Your book isn't real?"
"You read it?" he asked. It confirmed she had taken his book, and he hadn't misplaced it. "Well, none of my books are real. They are all fiction. And please, can I have it back? It's the next novel." When Cassie cocked her head at him again, he said, "Did you think it was a diary?"
"It's just a story? You don't love her?"
He chuckled, shaking his head, his lips pursed hard against each other. There was no way he would say what he wanted to say out loud, which was 'Yes, I think I love her.' There was no way he would admit it to her, but he would not lie either. Thus, he shook his head. It seemed a more appropriate option.
He glanced desperately at Tom, wondering how much longer it would take.
"What are you looking at?" Cassie turned around, in time to see Tom launch himself at her, tackling her to the ground. Their two bodies collided with such force that they skidded on the dirt towards Chad's legs. Cassie, belly down under Tom, pinned.
She screamed. "Get off me. Get off me!" as Tom continued to pin her down while his men began moving into the garage, one by one. All four of them.
"She's not much to look at," one of them muttered, eyeing the tiny, supposedly dangerous figure.
She whipped around, faster than anything, and clamped down on Tom's forearm with her teeth. He wailed in pain, knocking her jaw with his other elbow to get her to release. She'd drawn blood, but in that time he'd gone to save himself, she'd wiggled out a bit and reach for her gun. A gun she pulled on him.
"Tom," Chad yelled, unable to move or help.
By the time she pulled the trigger, all four men were converging on the duo. Tom shielded his face with his arms. At that distance, it was probably futile.
Chad could hear the screams of "Put the gun down!" and the scrambling of feet on dirt, a click of the trigger, or two...
Who else was firing?
Tom fell back on his back. Cassie started rising. Tom's partner, Devon, hurtled through the air to knock the woman sideways, sending her gun flying out of her grasp. Another Officer by Tom's side had his firearm out and aimed, recoiling ever so little from his shot.
"Don't shoot!" The voice startled everyone, and all heads swivelled back to Tom, including Cassie, as he propped up on his elbow, unharmed.
"What the?" Devon grumbled with his bear grip still around Cassie, sounding surprised that Tom was without a hole in his head. "You okay?"
Tom nodded, getting gloves out of his pockets. He put them on before reaching for the compact pistol Cassie had attempted to shoot him with. No one spoke except Cassie, who screamed and tried to free herself.
"Let me go!"
Tom opened the cylinder of the pistol and tipped it in his hand. He held the pistol up and peered through the empty cylinder and began laughing. "It's not loaded."
"Oh, man!" Devon started chuckling as he cuffed Cassie and pulled her to her feet. "You're lucky you'll only get charged with kidnapping and attempted murder, and not a murder of a cop."
The laughter continued, but Chad failed to catch on.
"Uh... guys?" he mumbled, trying to get their attention. "Don't mean to poop the party, but I'm going to need an ambulance." He eyed the gaping wound on his left thigh, the crimson blood pooling across his Chino, making him feel woozy. He didn't like blood, and there was nothing, not even the smell of rank tank water spewing all over him that could distract him from it.
The stray bullet fired by the Officer beside Tom had ricocheted off the tank, bursting it open, before embedding itself in Chad's leg. The only real bullet fired that night was from a police firearm. The irony of the situation was not lost on Chad.
"I thought I was gonna be shot by her!" he joked before welcoming the weightlessness that usually came with sighting blood.
"Damn," Tom heard the Officer responsible mutter as he holstered his gun. "I was going for her hand."
Chad came to as they marched Cassie out of sight, still yelling, "Let me go!" She attempted to bite Devon too as he pushed her towards the door. "Zach!" she continued screaming, "Is he okay?"
"What do you care? You were the one threatening to shoot him first." Devon roughly shoved her up the step and out into the corridor.
"Can't say you live a boring life, mate," Tom said with a smile as he tightened the tourniquet fashioned out of a belt around Chad's leg. "You're shot, but the bullet didn't go deep." He hit the heater beside Chad's soaked head. "She took the brunt of it. Lucky you, aye?"
"Lucky me." Chad nodded, glad the ordeal was over. "What happens now?"
Tom shrugged, moving Chad aside a little to get to his hands. He cut through the wire as he spoke. "Hospital for you, the goal for her, then I come back tomorrow and take your statement, or when you're ready."
Chad sighed, relieved at being able to move his arms finally. His wrists were raw and red, some parts of the skin split and bleeding. "Will she go away for a long while this time?"
Tom rose to his feet at the sound of the sirens approaching. "Based on what she did this time and the evidence we have, I should think she will."
Chad watched one officer pick up Cassie's gun off the ground and bag it. "That was empty the whole time?"
Tom laughed with a nod. "Next time, ask her to show you the bullets before letting her take you on a wringer."
"I must remember that!" Chad laughed. "Thank you for coming to get me, Tom," he mumbled as the paramedics wheeled in a gurney.
Tom patted Chad's leg, making him winch in pain, and stepped aside. "Don't go making a habit of this, and we're good."
Chad nodded, letting the paramedics do what they do. When they went to move him onto the gurney, he felt embarrassed and apologised. He wasn't exactly clean. "Not every day one gets a gun pulled on his head."
"Don't worry about it. We've seen worse." They strapped him in and began wheeling him towards the ancient roller door. Chad tried to find Tom, but he couldn't turn, not strapped to the gurney the way he was.
"Tom!" he called out instead.
"Yeah, mate." Tom leisurely strolled to his side as the roller door groaned open in protest.
"There's something under the dirt," he informed, welcoming the fresh air outside, cleaned by the recent rain. He took a deep breath. For a moment he had thought he'd never see the night through.
Tom watched the men hoist Chad into the ambulance before he turned back to the garage and slowly scanned the floor. A little pothole on the floor caught his eyes. A faded, yellow material, from a garment, peeked out a little from the disturbed dirt.
He took off his blood-stained gloves, reached in his pocket for a fresh pair only to discover he was out, and then brought out a pen instead. He slowly dug away some dirt from the material until he saw a sliver of decaying skin. "All right boys, move back. Don't touch a thing."
"What's going on?" Devon peered from the other end of the room where he was placing a marker next to the wire that had once tied Chad to the busted water heater. He and the others peered at the material Tom was staring at. "What is that?"
Tom stood slowly, "I will assume and say, the late Mrs Rawlings."
"Damn." Devon took a moment before seconding Tom's command. "All right, men, clear out. This is now a homicide."
(Image by Thomas Breher on Pixabay)