March 2021 #3
“Well,” Kola began, sighing deeply, “at least you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that they'll either be in the hospital or jail.”
There were gasps from all the hostages in the room.
“The fuck did you just say?” the guy who’d been sitting at the table barked at Kola, crossing the room to hover over him.
In his haste, he’d left the case, as well as the garbage bag that he’d collected wallets and phones in from everyone there.
“Jesus, Andy,” the guy who’d been with us snapped, charging over to the table and grabbing the bag and case. “Focus. Don’t get distracted. That money is gonna set us up right.”
“I’m not fuckin’ distracted. I just wanna know what this asshole meant by that.”
“I didn’t mean anything,” Kola placated him. “You’re leaving now, aren’t you?”
“Not without a hostage, and I think I just picked her,” Andy snarled at Kola, reaching for Hannah, who went from sitting to standing so quickly that he took several steps back from her in surprise and, it was obvious from his face, fear.
“I’m ready,” Hannah rushed out so her voice wouldn’t quaver. She had absolute faith in her father, that he would arrive in time to protect and save her, but still, all three men had guns.
“Hey,” Jake chimed in, tipping his head at Hannah. “Could you give her phone back so she can record what happens? I want to see.”
“Oh yeah, me too,” Harper rushed out.
“Ditto that,” Kola crowed.
“The fuck are you talking about?” Andy yelled at Kola, stepping over in front of him.
“Should I sit?” Hannah asked, sounding exasperated.
He looked from her to Kola, who had both eyebrows raised, waiting, and then back to Hannah. “Why the hell aren’t you scared? Everyone else is fuckin’ pissing themselves, but not you all. The hell is going on?”
“My father,” Hannah stated, and the duh was implied.
“Who the fuck is your father?” he roared, charging back over to her and shoving the muzzle of the gun into her side.
Harper gasped. Loudly. His eyes were huge above his mask.
The guy now holding the case and the bag joined Andy in the middle of the circle and glared at Harper. “What the hell.”
Harper shook his head.
“Speak!” he ordered.
Taking a breath, Harper squinted as he looked up at them.
“Their father,” he croaked out, pointing first at Kola and then at Hannah, “is a federal marshal. Actually, he’s the top marshal here in Chicago, and when he finds out that you threatened his daughter, I…
” He glanced at Kola and then me and then back to Andy. “I think you die for that.”
“Marshals don’t kill people,” another man chimed in. “Marshals are the––”
“Oh please,” the man that told me to console Hannah scoffed, before he looked over at me. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea your husband was coming. I didn’t mean to tell you how to parent. That was very rude. Please forgive me.”
“No worries,” I assured him.
“My name’s Grant.”
“Jory,” I told him.
“What the hell,” Andy gasped, looking lost, gun lowered, letting me see how overwhelmed he truly was.
Grant turned to look at the man whose statement he’d countered. “It was rude to interrupt you as well, uh…”
“Todd.”
“Todd,” Grant repeated. “All I meant to allude to was the fact that anyone will go rogue if their family gets hurt.”
“That’s very true,” Todd agreed, nodding.
“Absolutely,” a woman next to Grant affirmed. “I’m a psychologist, Dr. Vera Rapone, and we’ve actually done studies on ex-law-enforcement officers who went far beyond the letter of the law in punishing those who had threatened or harmed their families.”
“Really?” another woman asked. “I’d love to read that.”
One more second and Andy would have lost all semblance of control, but he took that opportunity to shoot out a window to get everyone’s attention.
The silence was instantaneous.
Huffing out a breath, he walked over to me and crouched down. “I don’t believe in fairy tales, so please show me this super-scary federal marshal that you all belong to, because I think it’s a bunch of shit.”
There was no way in hell I was showing the man a picture of my husband, but the phone ringing on the wall to the left of the beverage station saved me from having to. The sound startled me as well, easily taking five years off my life.
“Jesus,” I gasped, and several people gave me some amens in solidarity.
It was one of those phones with multiple lines where you could put people on hold or speaker. By the fifth ring, everyone was annoyed, especially the guy who was guarding the double doors.
“For fuck’s sake, answer it,” he barked at the other two men, but when no one moved, he charged over and punched buttons, answering the phone himself but not picking up the handset. “Who the fuck is this?”
“This is Chief Anthony Reynolds of the Oak Park Police Department. We have the restaurant surrounded. Everyone has been cleared from the building but you three and the other people in the patio area. I urge you to come out now with your hands up.”
“Listen to me, we have hostages and––”
“No, you listen,” came the cold and deadly voice of the man I loved. “Andrew Pilsen, Evan Slater, and Josh Eakins, this is Chief Deputy Sam Kage of the Northern District of Illinois. We’re coming in.”
“No, you listen, I––”
Something slammed into the back door. It sounded like metal on metal.
“I’m going to the tunnel,” either Evan or Josh announced, I had no idea who was who, before he turned, bolted to the double glass doors, and unlocked and then threw them open before running from the enclosed patio.
The guy holding the bag and the case ran after him.
Andy stood there as the door was hit again, and we all saw the sudden bump in the metal and the daylight around the frame.
“He sounds pissed,” Grant offered dryly.
The woman beside him snorted. “You’re a master of understatement, Grant.”
“I would run if I were you,” Todd suggested. “I mean, that’s a revolver you’ve got there. I bet the chief deputy has a bazooka or something.”
“And clearly some kind of battering ram,” Dr. Rapone pointed out.
That was it, Andy took off with seconds to spare.
The door flew open, ripped from its hinges, the deadbolt twisted, the long battering ram swung by four marshals visible for a moment before they stepped back and Sam came charging into the space, in his tac vest, Glock drawn, looking everywhere at once.
Wes Ching jogged by Sam, six men behind him, all in fatigues, all carrying high-powered rifles, following the path of Andy and the other two. There was a stream of uniformed policemen that came after them.
Sam reached me, looked me up and down, cupped my cheek, then reached for Hannah and did the same.
He turned sharply, went to Kola and Harper, and finally Jake.
He pointed at Ian Doyle, who was standing just outside the destroyed door, and then he was gone, following after Wes Ching with four other marshals on his tail.
Standing with Ian, people came by and thanked all my kids for being not only brave, but smart as well. I was proud of all of them.
“So,” Ian said, clearing his throat, the smirk on his face not at all attractive. “You guys wanted to go out to lunch, huh?”
“It’s not funny,” I assured him.
But the shrug and tip of his head said different.
As the five of us were walked to Ian’s car, someone snapped a picture, and that was the one that ran in the evening edition.
Apparently, before Covid hit, there had been a tunnel that ran from the alley one street over to a side door that led to the basement of the restaurant.
When Evan Slater worked there as a waiter, before the pandemic closed down everything, it had been open.
He also knew that the owner of the restaurant made his bank deposits twice weekly when his daughter, who was the bookkeeper, visited.
It had been Evan’s idea to rob the upscale eatery as a final fuck you to his old boss who had fired him before taking the cash to a drug dealer.
He and his friends were starting a new business The thing was, the tunnel he’d been expecting had been sealed off by the owner because he didn’t want anyone in and out who could circumvent his safety protocols.
The fleeing men literally hit a brick wall.
One of them, not Andy, passed out when he saw Sam.
We were all supposed to give our statements at the Oak Park police station, but the chief decided to use Harper’s singular account instead.
They didn’t want to hear what Hannah and I felt were their motivations.
This wasn’t Criminal Minds; they didn’t need a profile.
Kola, explaining what everyone was doing, was too much.
Jake’s entire focus on Hannah was too little.
Only Harper’s detailed, precise, just-the-facts, down-to-the-minute report because he’d checked the time and recorded it on his Apple Watch, was credible.
Professional courtesy for the family of a fellow law enforcement agent got us our phones back and out of the police station in record time. Sam was waiting behind the station for us, and we all ran, needing to get to him.
Once he was hugging us all, he delivered his proclamation: “You guys are never going anywhere without me again.”
No one was surprised, but when the kids climbed into the van and Sam crushed me to his chest, holding even tighter than usual, having him with us the next time, and every one after that, didn’t seem like such a hardship.
“Hey,” I murmured as he let me go, waggling my eyebrows as I got the patented Kage scowl. “I did tell you I wanted you home early.”
“Get in the car,” he ordered gruffly, but I heard the love clear as day.
And that’s all. Have a wonderful rest of March, everyone, and I’ll talk to you in April.