Deadly Production (Mapleton Mystery Book 4) (33 page)

When Gordon heard the tremor in Connie’s voice—Connie, the unflappable dispatcher—his pulse raced.

“It was a very short transmission from Solomon,” she said. “‘It’s hitting the fan’ was all we got before we lost contact.”

Stunned, Gordon flipped on lights and sirens and didn’t bother stopping at the station. “Tell Laurie I’m gone for the day.”

He toggled his radio to the County Dispatch channel. Nothing but routine calls, which meant they’d switched over to a separate channel for the emergency. He checked in, identified himself, and got the new frequency as well as the location of the incident.
Incident
. Such a mundane word to describe what was going down. He pulled over long enough to feed the address into his GPS. Too bad they didn’t have their new computers yet.

His foot pressed against the accelerator as he listened to the officers reporting the situation in front of them.

Well-trained, he thought. No shouts, no frantic pleas, no profanity. Cops doing their jobs. But all he could think about was Solomon. Had he arrived? Was he in the thick of things? Knowing his officer, the answer would be yes, unless Colfax had managed to keep him away.

Hearing the SWAT team had arrived didn’t make Gordon feel any better. While they knew what they were doing, the fact they’d been called out didn’t bode well.

Tempted as he was to break in, he let the deputies do what they’d been trained to do. He turned up the volume on his radio, all the while straining to hear Solomon’s voice. Telling himself not hearing it was good, because it meant Solomon was not in the midst of the action.

Detectives had no business being part of the action. Colfax would have drawn back, let the SWAT team take charge.

When Gordon was about three miles from the location, he let County Dispatch know where he was, asked for any updates.

“Outermost perimeter is two miles out. Negotiator is on scene. Hostage situation. Do
not
approach beyond perimeter. Code two. Radio traffic for involved personnel only, please.”

Code two. He flipped off his lights and siren, then wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. He switched frequencies to the regular channel. “Dispatch, do you have a twenty for Mapleton PD Officer Ed Solomon? He may have been present at the current incident.” Heart in his throat, he waited … and waited … for the response. Maybe the longest five seconds in recent memory.

“Negative, Mapleton One.”

Gordon risked keeping the dispatcher from his task for one more question. “What about Tyler Colfax?”

A pause. Gordon held his breath. The dispatcher’s voice held merely the slightest indication of concern. “Sir, Detective Colfax is the hostage.”

Gordon dropped the handset. When his heart started beating again, he picked it up and hooked it into place. How the hell had Colfax ended up as a hostage? But if there was one thing he could count on, it was that the deputies would let nothing stand in the way of protecting one of their own. And whoever had taken Colfax hostage was going to have a miserable rest of his or her life.

Radio traffic on the incident frequency had gone silent. Gordon envisioned what was happening. Everyone would know his position, his part in the program. Somewhere, the SWAT commander and the negotiator were discussing their plan of action.

The address the dispatcher had given Gordon was in a residential area. Swearing again at the lack of the ability to pull up a decent sized map on a full-size computer screen, he slowed when flashing red and blue lights appeared in the distance. Damnation, he did
not
want to be two miles away from the action.

Adrenaline surged through his veins. Time slowed. His vision narrowed. He took a deep breath, then pulled his car alongside a deputy’s vehicle.

The deputy was speaking into the mic at his lapel. “Roger.” He turned at Gordon’s approach.

Although Gordon was in his official vehicle, when the deputy gave him the once over, head to shoes, he sensed the deputy’s confusion with the uniform. As if he were dressing up to come to a crime scene.

He introduced himself to the deputy. “I was in a meeting, got the call. One of my officers might be involved.”

That seemed to work for the deputy. “Can’t tell you much. Detective Colfax was out to question a person of interest in a potential homicide. Apparently the POI wasn’t happy about it. We’re in the dark as to how anyone managed to get the drop on Detective Colfax. Come to think of it, I believe it was a Mapleton officer who called it in. We’re making sure nobody gets out. Boring work, until it gets exciting and you end up in pucker power territory.”

Gordon’s sphincter tightened at the words. If anything happened to Ed … But it wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Gordon wouldn’t allow it. Losing a man in the line of duty was never easy, never
right
, never justified. But this case was Solomon’s side work, a puzzle he’d chosen to play with, one that had nothing to do with his job as a Mapleton police officer. Gordon thought of Solomon’s wife, his kids. His throat clamped shut. He fought the emotion, let the anger through. No. Nothing could happen to Ed. It was unacceptable.

He needed to know what was happening. Being blind and deaf to the situation had his stomach roiling. “I have to get closer,” he said to the deputy. “Do you have a map?”

The deputy hesitated, but must have seen the cold fury in Gordon’s eyes. He motioned him toward his cruiser. “Hop in.”

Gordon opened the passenger door. The deputy got into the driver’s seat, but instead of starting the engine, he tapped some keys on the computer. A map appeared. He tapped more keys, zooming in on a schematic view showing the streets and houses. He pointed to the screen. “This is where they are.” He zoomed out, then pointed again. “This is our location. If you follow this route, there’s a vacant lot about a block away. You can leave your unit there, then cut through this alley—” he pointed again— “and they’re a block away. But I wouldn’t do it without letting the SWAT commander know you’re coming. Otherwise, you might end up being a casualty.” He gazed at Gordon’s chest, where his uniform displayed his service ribbons. About as useful as an umbrella in a blizzard in dealing with bad guys.

“And sir, I’d suggest a vest,” the deputy said.

“Roger that. You give me five minutes, then
you
call the commander. Tell him I defied orders, tell him what you have to, but it’s
my
man over there somewhere, and I’m not standing two miles away with my thumb up my ass. I need to know he’s safe.”

You’re on a roll, Gordon. First ducking out on a town council meeting where they wanted to kick your ass, and now bullying your way onto a crime scene. Hell, maybe you should offer to change places with Colfax. They’ll have your badge for sure after this.

And did he care? He wasn’t cut out for bureaucracy, for sitting behind a desk juggling numbers. Not that he condoned crime, but he’d felt more alive this past week than he had since—since last winter and the Wardell case. If he wasn’t the chief, could he be a patrol officer again? Work for the county?

And what would Angie have to say about it?

He shoved those thoughts behind him as, against every instinct, he drove slowly, following the route the deputy had laid out. When he reached the vacant lot, his anger was gone, replaced by the calm determination honed by years of training. He slipped out of his SUV and fastened his vest. He patted the pistol at his side. Almost as an afterthought, he released the shotgun from its rack.

First rule of cop work. If the bad guy has a gun, you bring a bigger gun.

Of course, for all he knew, whoever was holding Colfax might have an arsenal worthy of the defense system of a small country.

He worked his way to the scene, stopping when he saw the SWAT team. Sighting the bomb squad vehicle and an officer suiting up sent another wave of fear crashing over him. He inhaled. Exhaled. Found his control. He waited a moment, until a SWAT officer turned and noticed him. Gordon raised a hand, then stepped forward. He kept his voice to a whisper. “Police Chief Gordon Hepler, Mapleton PD. I’m not going to interfere. But one of my men might be involved. Have you seen Ed Solomon?”

The SWAT officer motioned to a cluster of SWAT-clad officers and one man in street clothes. “Commander should know. He’s coordinating with the negotiator now.”

“Anything else you can tell me about what went down?” Gordon asked.

“We got the call Detective Colfax had been taken hostage. Not a lot more I can tell you. Until the negotiator gets whoever’s holding him to talk, all we have is what little intel we got from the blueprints of the house. Our recon guys are still working.”

SWAT had all the cool toys, but waiting for the team to put them into action had Gordon’s adrenaline surging to record levels. “It’s only Colfax and the one person inside?”

Where the fuck was Solomon? Given he wasn’t part of the County force, would anyone know his whereabouts? Could he be inside, another hostage? Gordon scanned the area again, but no sign of his officer.

Motion from the commander’s position caught Gordon’s eye. The negotiator held a phone to his ear. Progress.

Gordon realized if Solomon could be under the radar, so was he. Connie knew where he was, as did the deputy on perimeter duty and the SWAT officer he’d talked to. If something happened, would they know to look for him?

He wasn’t going to be a loose cannon, nor was he going to interfere with radio transmissions. He didn’t have a hand-held with him. Not part of his dress uniform. “I’d like to check in with the commander,” Gordon told the SWAT officer.

“I’ll pass the word up the line.” The officer moved toward another team member, tapped him on the shoulder, said something, and pointed at Gordon.

Gordon was glad he couldn’t see the officer’s expression, or hear what he might have said, because he was pretty sure it would run along the lines of
What the hell does that Podunk officer think he’s doing here?

Gordon watched another SWAT officer approach the commander. He, too, pointed toward Gordon. The commander motioned Gordon to approach.

“What’s this about a missing Mapleton officer?” the commander said.

Gordon explained what he knew.

The commander let out a string of curse words. “I have no intel on anyone other than Detective Colfax. You go wait over there, behind the vehicles, and keep yourself out of the way. No radio, no cell phone. We don’t need anyone inserting himself into a perfectly orchestrated mission.”

Gordon understood the man’s anger. This was not the time to point out Gordon was a trained officer and understood how SWAT worked. He gave a brusque, “Yes, sir,” and headed to where the commander told him to wait.

Before he got there, an explosion shook the ground, lit up the sky. Gunfire reverberated through the air. Shouts of
Go Go Go
.

Gordon dashed to a position behind one of the vehicles. He crouched beside the trunk. SWAT officers rushed toward the house.

Feeling helpless and hating it, Gordon watched. SWAT would be clearing the house. He waited. Then, from the house next door, he caught what he assumed was a neighbor who wanted to see what was going on. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Gordon moved to intercept, to get the person to safety.

But the neighbor wasn’t approaching the hostage site. No, he was moving toward the street. Away from the action. Head lowered, a puffy down parka, hood pulled up obscuring both the wearer’s size and gender. Whoever it was wasn’t running, but the pace was faster than someone out for a stroll. Gordon’s radar jumped to red alert. He clutched his shotgun.

He ducked through the yard, down the sidewalk. Kept his distance for another moment. Parka-Person picked up the pace.

“Stop! Police!” Gordon shouted.

The figure stopped. Turned. Raised a pistol. Gordon saw nothing in the person’s eyes.

Gordon’s world shrank to the barrel of the gun pointed at him.

“Put the gun down,” he said. “There’s still time to work things out.”

A head shake. “It’s over.”

Gordon brought the shotgun into position. Squeezed the trigger.

Gordon felt a hand pressed against his shoulder. Realized he was sitting on the ground. Looked up. Ed Solomon stood over him. The officer’s mouth was moving, but no sounds penetrated the ringing in Gordon’s ears. Gordon reached up, let Solomon pull him to his feet.

Ten feet away, medics were busy loading someone on a gurney into the ambulance. Someone in a body bag. How long had Gordon been sitting here? Then again, the medics were on site for the SWAT callout, so they could have moved right in.

Another medic jogged to Gordon’s side. “I need to check you out, sir.” At least that’s what Gordon thought he said.

Gordon waved the medic off. “I’m fine.”

“Chief, let him take a look. You were shot.”

Solomon’s words crept along the pathway to Gordon’s brain like a garden slug moving across the yard. When they coalesced into coherence, he jerked. Checked the ground around him. No blood. Shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”

The medic half-pushed him to a grassy spot under a tree. Unfastened Gordon’s vest. Opened his shirt. Gordon strained to make out the words. He caught
hurt, X-ray.
Only then did he feel the pain in his chest.

“Lucky for me, I was wearing a vest,” he said. He let the medic wrap his ribs as a precautionary measure, and promised to see a doctor in Mapleton.

The medic left. The ringing in Gordon’s ears faded. “You all right?” he asked Solomon. “What the hell happened?”

“I’m fine. But you—always grandstanding, aren’t you, Chief?” Solomon’s grin eased Gordon’s fears.

“Colfax?” Gordon asked.

“Dinged up a little, but he’s okay. Docs are going to check him out.”

A numbing weariness draped itself over Gordon like a heavy winter coat. “Let’s go home.” He wondered who he’d shot, but at the moment, it didn’t matter. Which puzzled him. He should care, shouldn’t he? He figured everything would fall into place once he had time to work things through.

“Sounds good to me,” Solomon said. “I’ll let Connie know everything’s copacetic.”

“I’m sure she’s been monitoring radio traffic, but yeah, let her hear your voice. I’ll do the same. Meet you at the station. There’s going to be a shitload of paperwork.”

Gordon’s memory of the events pieced themselves together as he drove to Mapleton. He’d shot someone. Killed someone. He gasped for breath, struggled not to hyperventilate. His hands shook on the steering wheel.

The breathing routine he’d practiced while he’d dealt with his eye issues helped calm him. He made it to the station, parked, noticed they hadn’t taken down the reserved sign. But then, since it didn’t have his name on it, it would work for whoever was Chief. Solomon took the slot next to his and hopped out of his car. Glad his hands were steady when he slotted the key into the lock, Gordon opened the door to his office.

Laurie burst in. “We heard. Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

He smiled. And because he knew she needed to do something, he said a bottle of water would be nice. She whisked out. Gordon turned on the computer and pulled up a blank incident report form. Laurie returned with two bottles of water. Although he knew she was curious—more than curious—he dismissed her and told her he’d fill her in later.

“You first,” he said to Solomon.

Solomon unscrewed the cap on his water bottle, took a sip, then closed it again. “We—me and Colfax—went to interview a potential lead. Colfax had traced someone who’d posted one of those suggestions for a
Paula’s Places
blog article to an Internet café, and then to who’d used the terminal.” Solomon pushed the water bottle from hand to hand. “Tedious police work, but County has the staff to deal with it. Anyway, we showed up, started asking questions. The lead took exception and the next thing I know, I’m seeing stars.”

“He got the drop on you? How? And how did he subdue both of you? Two cops against one civilian?”

“Two cops against one former Special Forces civilian. Two unsuspecting, taken-off-guard cops. One well-prepared former Special Forces civilian. Apparently the guy was a tad on the paranoid side and believed a concealed weapon—or three—was part of a normal wardrobe. Lucky for you, he didn’t include a vest in that wardrobe.”

“I’ll let you explain that when you write your report,” Gordon said.

“Admitting we were taken off guard, we can skip to the next part, where we were apparently alone in the house, tied and gagged with nylon ropes
and
duct tape. The guy was thorough. He tossed a flash-bang, and when the world came back, SWAT was there.” He gave a wry chuckle. “At least I can play the small-town bumpkin card, but Colfax is going to be taking a lot of ribbing. They cleared the house, and nobody else was there.” He opened his bottle and took another sip. “And now, it’s your turn.”

Gordon recapped what he’d done. “It was pure instinct. Something about the way the guy was walking. I didn’t even realize he’d pulled the trigger. But who was he? Did he tell you how
Paula’s Places
worked? Is it really an assassination clearing house for deadbeat dads?”

“Wouldn’t say a word. But according to Colfax’s intel, he has a daughter whose ex fits the category. And said ex is now totally ex—as in ex-living.”

“As in killed by your assassination ring?”

Solomon shrugged. “Unsolved homicide.”

“So, he fits the pattern, but didn’t admit anything.” Gordon shifted his weight and winced as his ribs let him know they didn’t appreciate the motion. “And because of me, we can’t find out anything more.”

“Hey, a live Chief is better than a live suspect any day.”

“About that Chief thing,” Gordon said.

Laurie’s timing, as always, was impeccable as she buzzed him to tell him the mayor was waiting to see him.

“Tell him I can’t make it now. I have to get to the doctor.”

“No, Chief, he’s here.”

Great. Gordon blew out a sigh. “Send him in.”

“Brace yourself,” Gordon said to Solomon. “And start thinking about a promotion.”

The mayor entered, carrying a large envelope. “The council and I held another meeting while you were gone. I’m prepared to renegotiate your contract.”

Gordon took the envelope from the mayor’s outstretched hand. “Thank you. I’ll read it over, get back to you when my probationary period is over. Until then, I’m suggesting Officer Ed Solomon as interim Chief of Police.”

Gordon took a moment to savor the shocked expressions on both men’s faces. He stood and, treading carefully to avoid aggravating his ribs, showed the mayor to the door.

“What the—?” Solomon said.

“Long story. But now, I promised to have a doctor check me out. We’ll talk later.” He buzzed Laurie. “I’m taking some time off. Show Ed Solomon the ropes while I’m gone.”

He handed Solomon his badge and let himself out the back, then headed straight for Daily Bread. There was an important question he needed to ask Angie.

Some days, it was better
not
to be the Chief.