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Cahill

I could hear the din from the bar as I exited my SUV and I was still almost a block away. What a shame! I knew from long experience that would change as soon as my foot crossed the threshold. I tend to have that effect on people. I’m six feet six inches tall and I weigh an even 250 pounds—all of it broad shouldered muscle. My Body Mass Index at my last physical was less than four percent. My light brown hair is styled exactly the way it’s been for the past fifteen years—ever since I first joined the Navy. Sure enough, no sooner had I taken my first step into the bar than the noise died. When I turned left and stepped up to the bar the people there couldn’t back away fast enough. I took a stool in the middle of the empty space and sat down, waiting for the bartender to approach. “I’m not looking for any trouble.” “Good…neither am I. Give me a ginger ale.” He reached under the bar for a glass and some ice. Twenty seconds later he slid the glass in my direction. I pulled a fiver from my pocket and dropped it on the bar. He ignored it and walked away to draw a few beers and pour some wine. It looked to me like this was a pretty cheap crowd. Checking up and down the bar all I could see were longnecks and drafts. I reached into the lower left pocket of my cargo pants. Like almost everything else I was wearing they were a true deep navy blue. My heavy shoes were black as was my wide belt. My belt said as much about me as the bold white lettering across my chest. Just below the American flag over my heart were the letters that were my life—U. S. MARSHAL. On my right hip was my nickel plated .44 Magnum Colt Python, just behind two speed loaders in addition to the twenty-four rounds on the belt. On my left hip was my ASP Talon baton—every bit as deadly a weapon in my hands as the revolver. A pouch at the back of my right hip held my stainless steel handcuffs and its partner on the opposite side held my radio—my link to my backup team. I placed the photo flat on the bar as the bartender returned to me. “I’ll have another,” I said in a loud voice, continuing so I wouldn’t be overheard. “Don’t pick it up and don’t make a production of looking at it. I’ve been told that he comes here a lot. Is he here tonight? If he is and he escapes because you’ve given me away I’ll see to it that you’re arrested for obstruction of justice.” He gulped a few times but did as he was told, nodding slightly in response. I continued almost at a whisper. “If my nose is pointing to twelve o’clock, my right ear to three, the back of my head to six, and my left ear to nine, tell me where he is. Again, don’t point or do anything obvious and we’ll be fine.” He pretended to wipe the bar as he whispered, “About 4:30 with his back to you.” I picked up the reflection in the mirror then asked, “Red shirt with black and white stripes, looking away from me?” He nodded again. Now, in my normal tone of voice I asked, “Where’s the men’s room?”

Fredrick_Udele · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
69 Chs

CHAPTER 59

Finally, we got to the booth with Shutt and company. That was when one of the experienced officers whispered into my ear. It was music—sweet music. I pulled Shutt out of the booth and I wasn't too gentle about it. Wedged into the bar I pulled his left hand behind him and applied my handcuff to his wrist. His right hand followed a second later. "You must really like Joliet, Schutt. You're on parole and you're seated at a booth with two convicted felons. That's two parole violations. Let's see if you have any more." I bent him over one of the stools and searched him carefully. I pulled two glassine bags with capsules in them that looked suspiciously like those we'd confiscated in the big drug bust we'd had a few months ago. Daryl bagged and sealed them as evidence. I also found a derringer in one of Shutt's boots. Gore was smiling as he escorted Shout out to the parking lot and jail.

We finished the searches less than an hour later then stood by until Mr. Bolt had locked the doors and set the alarms. There was a small crowd gathered so I told them that the bar was closed and would be until the next meeting of the City Council, at least. We returned to headquarters where we supervised the processing of Shutt and the other prisoners before setting them up in separate cells. My final act before going home to my wife and daughter was to tell the Sergeant in charge that Shutt was to have no visitors and was not to share the cell with anyone else. I'd handle his transfer tomorrow morning.

>>>>>>

My watch told me it was after 2:30 by the time Max and I walked into the house and up to our bedroom. I was surprised to see one of the bedside lamps on as we climbed the stairs. Lucy was sitting up, pillows fluffed at her back, when we entered the room with a fretting Melody in her arms. "She's been fidgeting all night. I don't know what to do."

I stripped out of my uniform shirt and dropped my pistol and belt to the floor. Then I pulled a clean diaper out of the drawer, placing it on my shoulder. "Let's try this," I told Lucy as I leaned forward for a quick kiss, picking up my daughter and resting her head on my shoulder. A few seconds later I sat in the old wooden rocker that Lucy's mom had given us. Slowly rocking had a magical effect on Melody. She quieted down almost immediately as I gently rubbed her back. I couldn't see her eyes but I was pretty sure that she was looking straight into Max's eyes. She gurgled several times when Max licked her hand and soon her breathing changed from ragged and shallow to slow, deep, and regular. I knew then that she was asleep.

I continued to rock her for another fifteen minutes before rising and laying her carefully in her bassinet. I was about to strip down for a quick shower when my phone vibrated. I knew immediately that there was a serious problem. "Cahill," I said as a greeting.

"Chief, it's Steve Dobbs. We have a problem. Biggers screwed up with the prisoner. Somehow he let Shutt out of the cell while he was alone and Shutt beat and overpowered him. He's escaped and he has Biggers' weapon."

"Shit," I said, not too quietly. "Okay, get EMT's for Biggers if you haven't done that yet then call everyone you can reach and have them come in. Let the Sheriff know, too. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." After ending the call I made another. "I'm phoning your parents. I want them to come over here for the night." I would have continued, but Jonathan had answered his phone and, not surprisingly, his first words expressed concern for Lucy and Melody.

"They're fine, Jonathan, but I need you and Marylou to come over here and bring one of your shotguns. We've had a prisoner escape and he's armed and dangerous. He and I had a little problem at The Four Aces and it would be just like him to get his revenge on my wife and child. I'll feel a lot better knowing you're here. I could leave Max, but I'll probably need him on the search." After speaking for another few minutes he assured me that they'd be here in less than five minutes.

I explained to Lucy. "You heard part of it. I arrested a guy who was on parole at The Four Aces. Not only was he sitting in a booth with two convicted felons, but I found a switchblade and a pistol in his pants. Those are serious violations of parole so he was headed back to Joliet except for that idiot Biggers. We have rules about letting prisoners out of the cell when you're alone. As many times as I've explained them, that's how many he told me that he felt they were unnecessary. I wonder how he feels now. He's looking at a lengthy suspension and if anyone is hurt or killed I'll fire the son of a bitch."

Max jumped up and ran down the stairs, but never barked. That told me that Jonathan and Marylou had arrived. After a quick greeting I took Max back to the garage en route to headquarters. I pulled out my vest and used the Velcro to fasten it tightly around my body. There were more than thirty officers in the lobby when Max and I walked in.

"Okay," I began. "We have a black male approximately five feet eight inches tall and two hundred pounds. He has a shaved head and a scruffy beard. He's on parole from Joliet with permission to be here in Tennessee, but not for long. Do we know what he's wearing—a jumpsuit or regular clothes?"

"He's in a jumpsuit, Chief. His clothes are in 'Property.'"

"Get his clothes so Max can smell them. I want two two-man teams to cover the Creek Bridge…vests and shotguns." Then I had another thought. "Did he take Biggers' vest?"

"Damn, he must have. Bob wasn't wearing it when the EMT's came."

"That means shotguns and slugs. Don't play any games with this guy. He was convicted of armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon. Just don't shoot any civilians." I sent two veteran teams to blockade the bridge. I knew from personal experience with Lucy that it was the only way to cross the creek. The weather had been cold and the creek was wide enough to give someone hypothermia long before they reached the other side, even assuming that Shutt could swim. Shutt's family was from the area so I was quite sure that he knew all about the creek and the problems crossing it.

I reviewed search procedures with everyone while we waited for Shutt's clothes. Max, Aimee Johnstone, Daryl and I would follow the scent trail with teams of two every fifty yards. We'd keep in communication using the second channel on our radios, reserving the first for contacting headquarters. Sgt. Dobbs ran in with Shutt's clothes and I held them in front of Max's nose. He wasn't a bloodhound, but all dogs have a sense of smell that is thousands of times more sensitive than humans. Max sniffed several times then trotted to the door. Once outside he circled around several times before walking at a good pace to the north, exactly as I had predicted.

Max kept his nose near the ground as he led us past the city garage and through the mostly empty parking lot to the neighborhood across the street. These were mostly small homes on small lots. The homes in this integrated neighborhood were clean and well cared for and I knew that everyone would be safe in bed at this hour unless someone had a long commute to Memphis or beyond. I was concerned that Shutt might try forced entry to a house, but Max kept us on the sidewalk until the road ended at the edge of a thick wooded area that stretched for more than a mile.

I repeated my earlier instructions about spacing and communications. We spread out, covering almost a quarter mile from end to end and strode carefully into the darkness. Like many wooded areas in the South there were mostly pines of varying sizes with small bushes like ferns or thorny vines in open spaces.

Thankfully, it was winter because we had some spiders here that were more than two inches long and webs that ran between trees. We had powerful LED flashlights that we were forced to use even though that meant that Shutt would be able to locate us once we were close to him. There's an answer to that—a technique covered in every police academy. All flashlights were held out at arm's length to the sides of our bodies rather than directly in front as most people would.