Friends and Lovers (21 page)

The gunman stopped his pacing and turned on Jeri. “Would you shut that kid up?”

Lauren saw Jeri’s reaction, saw her chin tremble and wondered how many times the poor thing had heard that demand. Too many. Jeri looked ready to crumble. She probably was. She’d just escaped her abuser and now she was confronted with another?

That reminder made Lauren angry and she snapped at Coulter, “She’s doing the best she can. It isn’t easy. Simon doesn’t understand what’s going on. Who can blame him? If you want him to be quiet, you have to let him play or watch a video, or better yet, let Simon and his mother go.”

“No one leaves.”

“Then let him have a truck.”

Coulter jerked his head at the toy box and Simon broke away from his mom and ran over to it.

* * * *

Sylvia and Hope were delivered to the police station. A kind secretary took Hope to get a snack while Sylvia was taken upstairs to Lieutenant Reuter’s office. He offered her a chair and an older man brought her a cup of coffee but it barely registered. She took a shaky sip of the nasty brew and fought to swallow it down. The coffee was hours old with a distinct overtone of burn to it. She cradled the cup between her cold fingers, settling for the warmth rather than indigestion on top of everything else.

Glancing up she saw her husband’s file and picture was up on Lieutenant Reuter’s computer. He read from the screen.

“I see your husband was charged with domestic assault—twice. The first time in May of 2009 and again in September of 2010, but there’s nothing else. Did the abuse stop?”

“No,” she said softly, staring at the cup of sludge in her hands.

“Mrs. Coulter, your husband broke your arm, your ribs, a couple of fingers,” he said gravely, pointing at the screen.

“Yes.”

“When was the last incident?”

Miserable and ashamed, her words were barely above a whisper. “Two weeks ago, this Saturday.”

“Unreported,” Reuter finished, looking directly at her.

Why would he ask that question when he clearly knew the answer? It was humiliating.

Sylvia closed her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted softly.

“How come?”

She ventured another look at him, willing him to understand. “Because I was leaving him on Monday. If I reported it, he would have retaliated. The beatings were always worse when I got him in trouble. I had to get away,” she added passionately.

“You said your husband has guns. Do you know what kind?”

“He has
a
gun, just one, but I don’t know what kind. Some sort of handgun.”

“Like this one?” Reuter asked, taking his service pistol out of his holster to show her. “Does he load it like this?” He removed the clip then reinserted it.

She nodded. “Yes, like that.”

“Would he use it?”

“He hasn’t yet, but I ran because he said he would and I believe him. I started expecting him to shoot me every time he came home.”

Reuter turned back to look at his screen and she heard him mutter, “Ah shit,” as he rubbed the back of his head with a heavy hand.

She wasn’t comforted.

* * * *

Downstairs in the locker room, Wes tightened his vest straps and repositioned his handcuffs at the small of his back. He holstered his sidearm and looked up along with everyone else when the lieutenant walked in.

“Okay, people, the Durban Express Courier van and driver are AWOL and out of radio contact with the company. Our perp’s name is Wayne Coulter, age forty-one. He has a history of domestic assault and owns a pistol so we have to assume he’s armed. His wife and daughter are current guests of the shelter. Get a good look at his picture and pass it around.”

He looked at one of the women gearing up. “Perez, you’re our primary link to this asshole. Here’s his cell number. Sweet talk him out if you can, but be prepared to go in if we must. I want the houses in the immediate area evacuated and the road blocked off. Since we haven’t established contact with Coulter yet, we don’t know how many he’s holding, but there’s a good chance there might be kids inside. Some of you will carry tasers but don’t be stupid, boys and girls, Coulter owns a gun and he’s itching to use it. Don’t give him a chance. If it comes down to protecting yourself or a hostage, you know what to do. I don’t want this degenerating into a shootout. Let’s be safe.”

The group looked at each other soberly, recognizing how much more unappetizing gunfire would be with kids present.

* * * *

Sherry woke from her nap on the couch, horrified to discover she was drenched from her waist to her toes.

“Oh no.”

She plucked at her wet clothing, on the verge of tears for soaking the sofa cushions too, when a fierce pain punched her in the belly. Sherry curled into a ball and gasped for air, her distress over the cushions completely forgotten. It was a full minute before she could catch her breath, and she groped for the phone on the coffee table. The pain slowly subsided, leaving her sweaty and shaken. It didn’t make dialing Ken’s number any easier.

“Hey, baby, what’s up?” Ken asked after the second ring.

“Ken,” she said with a tremulous whimper, then another pain struck and she cried sharply, “I need you!”

The phone slipped from her hand and landed on the floor as her insides clenched and writhed. She could barely keep from sobbing as she heard Ken calling to her from the floor.

“I’m coming, honey. I’m coming. You hold tight.”

Sherry laughed at the irony. She’d never felt tighter. Oh God, it hurt to be clenched so tight.

“Sherry, Sherry, can you hear me? I’m still here. Can you pick up? Pick up the phone, honey!”

She stretched her head over the edge of the cushions and called back, “I hear you. Ken, I need to get to the hospital. I’m wet. I’m all wet.” She groaned as pain surged through her.

“There’s an ambulance already on its way. I’m going right to the hospital. I’ll never make it home before they get to you. Don’t be scared. I told them where the extra key is so you don’t even have to open the door for them. Just stay put, okay?”

Sherry nodded, unable to speak. She could hear the ding of the elevator when it opened and the rapid staccato of Ken’s footsteps echoing across the atrium. She knew exactly when his palms hit the metal plate on the heavy glass doors of his office building.

“I’m through the doors, honey,” he told her. “Are you still with me?”

“Yes.” She managed a smile at herself now. “I feel so stupid.”

Ken laughed. “Don’t.” She heard his car chirp, the door unlocking as he ran across the asphalt. “You just hang in there.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“No way. You just keep talking to me.”

“This hurts so much more than I thought it would.”

“Well, you’re having a baby.”

“Yeah, but I was expecting the bad pain to come during delivery. Contractions suck! If this is the easy part, I’m never going to make it.”

Ken gave her a helpless laugh. “Yes, you will, and I’ll be right there to help.”

“No,” she cried sharply as another pain knifed through her.

“Oh, baby,” Ken said, concern and sympathy mingled in his voice.

She heard his engine roar to life and the squeal of his tires as he tore out of the lot.

“Breathe, honey, just breathe.”

It took all Sherry had just to fight off the panic rearing up inside of her. She couldn’t even think about breathing.

“Talk to me, baby,” Ken pleaded helplessly.

Chapter 20

A line of marked and unmarked cars shot silently down the empty street followed by a SWAT van. They stopped abruptly, fanning out around the seemingly quiet house. Uniforms scattered out of the first of the vehicles, heading to the surrounding homes.

The back doors of the van flew open and police officers in SWAT gear spilled noiselessly from the back and split into two groups, cutting around the sides of the shelter in single file. Wes led to the right and Chuck ran point on the left. Woods and Morrison closed in on the front of the house while uniformed police covered them from behind the vehicles.

Lieutenant Reuter nodded toward the delivery van, sending an officer to check it out. From behind a squad car, he and his negotiator surveyed the scene.

One after another, three cops returned and reported, “Perimeter’s clear.”

Reuter looked at Perez and said with a flat voice, “Try the number.”

She punched it in, tense as everyone watched to see what would happen next. “Mr. Coulter?”

“Yeah?” came the cautious reply.

“Mr. Coulter, this is Jessie Perez, I’m with the Durban Rapid Response Team. I’d like to help you so we can resolve this situation quickly and peacefully.”

“Another fucking woman!” he barked, so loud Perez actually recoiled from the sound, her head snapping sideways as if struck. “I’m up to my eyeballs in women and they get another cunt to call me? Unbelievable! I’m not dealing with another bitch, so fuck off.”

The phone in Officer Perez’s hand went dead. Stunned, she looked at Lieutenant Reuter and shook her head. “We’re going to need Spanner. This guy has serious issues with women.”

The lieutenant raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Two heads came up from behind the next squad car and he nodded to one of them. “Spanner,” he called, “You’re on deck.”

* * * *

Wes cautiously led his team down the sloping side yard, keeping an eye on the two windows. The first was small and looked over a dark utility room with a furnace, water heater, and laundry facilities. The door was closed. They continued on, more wary now because with the grade retreating from the foundation it allowed for a larger window next.

Wes stopped short of the glass and took a guarded peek inside. Jackpot. He clicked his mike and spoke softly into the team’s earpieces.

“It’s a lower level walkout, three women on a couch, one child on the floor in front of them. Coulter has a handgun, but the situation isn’t critical at this time. I repeat, no immediate danger.”

* * * *

Wayne snapped his phone open impatiently. “What?”

“Mr. Coulter, this is Mike Spanner. I’m outside with the Durban Rapid Response Unit. Can we talk?”

“Is my wife with you?”

“No. Is there a message you need to get to her?”

“If she comes back, all is forgiven.”

“She’s been a handful?”

“You could say that. The woman couldn’t think her way out of a paper bag if it wasn’t for me. I put a roof over her head, gave her financial security. She doesn’t have to work and leave the kid with a sitter. How many women can say that?”

“Not many.”

“Exactly. You know I could have run around, stayed out late, and come home stinking drunk like a lot of guys I know, but did I? No. I’m a family man, goddamn it. My place is at home, and this is the thanks I get?”

“Marriages are tough today. You know the statistics. It’s hard to make them work under the best circumstances, but we still need to try.”

“Yeah.” There was a pause. “She’s going to take my daughter from me.”

“You have rights too, Wayne. Can I call you Wayne?”

“I guess.”

* * * *

After getting a good look at the layout of the room from above, Wes and his team crept silently around the corner of the house and stopped short of the even larger picture window overlooking the backyard. The concrete block made it impossible to hear what was going on inside but Reuter told them Coulter was talking to them.

Wes felt some of his tension ease when Chuck rounded the far corner and crept over followed by two more men. The partners locked eyes, and Wes pointed at the glass over his left shoulder. Chuck nodded and stopped shy of the back door and rested his helmet against the cinderblock wall.

Now they waited.

The direct sun beat down on their heavy black vests and Wes could see waves of heat radiating off of Chuck’s helmet. He knew his was doing the same. His hair was running with sweat and his clothes were clinging under the arms, against his chest and back, and around his groin, but if he was miserable, he could only imagine how the four captives felt.

Wes tried not to let the news that Coulter was talking make him complacent. Hope was a seductive thing, something you couldn’t bank on. How many situations had turned ugly in the past just when it looked like it would resolve peacefully? No, if you dropped your guard and assumed the best, someone could wind up injured or even dead. It was amazing how fast things could go to hell.

At least all four hostages appeared to be safe and relatively calm at the moment. It was ironic that in his determination to protect Lauren by badgering her out of going to her brother-in-law’s hearing, she ended up in worse straits here. At least Will would have been cuffed and shackled and under guard. This nut job was mere feet from her and unpredictable as hell.

Chuck took a cautious peek through the window on the door and jerked his head back. Bad timing. Wes shot him a furious look and shook his head. Chuck dropped back and silently mouthed
I know, I know
back at him, obviously angry with himself.

* * * *

This was really too much. A few contractions and she not only forgot the plan they worked out but she managed to alarm poor Ken so much he actually sent an ambulance for her. Would their insurance even cover that?

Sherry looked up at her husband running beside her gurney and felt like a complete boob. She gave him a feeble smile. “I’m afraid this isn’t another dry run.”

The medic at her head grinned and Ken laughed.

“Don’t tell me you wet the bed.”

“The couch.”

“My couch?”

“Our couch.”

“Damn.”

“And I don’t have my bag.”

Ken squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring it later.”

“And don’t tell me how bad my makeup looks right now. I know I cried off my mascara. I probably look like a raccoon.”

Ken shook his head. “Will you knock it off? You look beautiful.”

“Liar.” Sherry groaned and squeezed his hand, feeling the onset of another contraction.

The elevator doors opened and Ken squeezed in with them.

Chapter 21

Spanner closed his phone and looked at Reuter and Perez. “Coulter wants his wife, and he’s not budging.”