Chapter Four #2
“I’m all for being your true self. Love is love and all that.”
I wished it could be that easy.
He eyed me. “Did you ever think of—”
“No, aw, man, come on,” I protested. “First of all, you’re my friend and partner. Plus, you’re not my type.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Why not?”
It was fun to see his outrage. “It’s the same way I’m not interested in dating every nice-looking woman. It’s just the way it is.”
He started up the engine again, and we resumed our loop through town. Several minutes passed before he spoke.
“I guess it makes sense. And Harte McKinney’s your type, huh? No, you don’t have to say nothin’, but I got eyes. You like them big and strong. Kind of like you. I get it.”
“You’re a great guy, Em. There’s someone out there for you. Don’t settle. You deserve the best.”
The night had gone by quickly and without incident, and now it was approaching six a.m., the sun forcing its watery light up through the mountains. A light snow had begun to fall. I was on the last of my coffee, when a car blew past us.
“Fucker,” Emerson snarled and flipped on the lights and siren. A call came in on the radio.
“All units, 10-65, suspects fled the scene in a black Ford Fusion New York State tag 7665 C-Charlie A-Alpha D-Dog. Considered armed and dangerous.”
“That’s our guys,” I said and picked up the radio. “This is 7-Adam-13, we are responding. Suspects just passed us on Hollow Tree Road going north toward Main Street.”
“10-4.”
We caught up with them at the roundabout, where they were trapped behind a tractor trailer. I picked up the handheld and flipped it to speaker. “Black Ford Fusion. Pull over and turn off your engine.”
They backed up, smashed the bumper of the car behind them, and took off the wrong way on Rabbit Run. We sped after them and were gaining, when to my horror, a man leaned out of the window facing us.
“Gun, gun, Em. Look out.”
“Motherfucker,” Em yelled, and the windshield cracked as a spray of bullets hit us.
“Shots fired, shots fired. Officers need assistance. West on Rabbit Run to Pope Road.”
“7-Adam-13, sending backup now.”
I leaned out the window and fired at the tires and rear windows.
“Bingo, you bastards,” I shouted as both rear tires blew. They swerved, but not before unloading another volley of shots at us. I watched as they skidded off the road and smashed into a giant tree. Sirens wailed in the distance. No one left the vehicle.
“Em, you okay?” I turned to see blood running down his face, but he gave me a grim smile.
“Yeah. It’s just some cuts from the broken glass. I don’t think they got me. You all right? Nice shots, by the way.”
“Thanks. Let’s see what’s up with them, but be careful.”
I got out of the car, making damn sure my vest was secure, and I saw Emerson do the same. Guns drawn, we approached the wrecked car. This was always the worst part. They could be hurt or dead, or they could be lying in wait to ambush us.
“Throw the gun out the window, then step out of the car with your hands up,” I called.
Emerson repeated the warning.
Nothing.
I tipped my head to Emerson, signaling he should take the driver’s side while I’d handle the passenger.
“Throw out your weapons and step out of the car with your hands up.”
Still silence.
I reached the passenger window and saw two men, in their early twenties, lying with their eyes closed. I reached for the door handle, and Emerson lowered his weapon. That was when the man on my side sat up with a gun in his hand.
I’m dead.
That was my last thought before the world exploded with a powerful blast. I was covered in blood, but there was no pain. Maybe that was what dying was like. He hit me so quickly, I didn’t have time to react or feel.
I looked up to see Emerson holding his weapon—and the guy who’d tried to shoot me with half his head gone. I started to shake, and my gun fell to the ground. Emerson sank to his knees, and in a moment we were surrounded by paramedics and police officers from neighboring counties.
“Saunders, Kane, you okay?”
Sergeant Gleason’s voice penetrated the fog in my brain.
I blinked and turned around. “Y-yeah. Where’s Emerson?
My God, he saved my fucking life. The bastard was gonna shoot me.
Is he okay?” I scanned the scene and saw he was sitting in the back of an ambulance, his face bloody but white under his early morning stubble.
Shock. We’re in shock.
It was the first time Emerson had ever discharged his weapon, and it was his bad luck it had been to kill someone. What a fucking disaster. Having a gun pointed at me at close range was something I didn’t think I’d ever forget, either.
“He’s okay. Just some cuts from flying glass. You’re not injured?”
“N-no. I gotta go talk to Em. Excuse me, Sarge.” I ran to him and hovered over the paramedic. Emerson had recovered enough that he was joking and flirting with her, and I had to stifle a laugh, as of course he managed to get her number.
I took his arm and led him to a private spot. “How’re you doing?”
The smile faded, and he turned green. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” He started heaving, and I turned him to face the trees, where he lost his stomach. I understood. Even though it was kill or be killed, the trauma remained.
When he finished and wiped his face, I put a hand on his shoulder. “You saved my life, Em. Thank you seems so inadequate, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“That’s what partners and best friends are for, right?” His bravado couldn’t hide the fear and shock in his eyes.
“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
“Not so fast, you two. There are reports to fill out, and Kane, you need to give me your weapon—standard procedure in all shootings—and both of you will have to talk to county Internal Affairs.”
“Understood, Sarge,” I said, but I held on to Emerson, who trembled beneath my arm. “Can he at least return to the station and get a minute to himself? Come on. It’s his first shoot.”
Surprising sympathy filled Gleason’s face. “Yeah, of course. Let’s go. The crime scene unit from the county is taking over now anyway. I’ll drive you, since your unit is toast.”
I helped Emerson into the car, and he sat subdued.
Not the brash and fun Em I’d come to know.
By the time we arrived at the station, everyone—even deputies not on duty—had turned up and were waiting for us.
They greeted us with pats on the shoulder and kind words, but it made no impression.
All I could see was that gun rising up and—
“Saunders, you okay?” Sarge looked anxious, and I wiped my sweaty face and nodded.
“Yeah. But it’s gonna take me a little while to get back to normal. How’s Em?”
“Kid’s okay. Tell me what happened.”
I told him my story and then repeated it for the next two hours, first to Internal Affairs, then to Jaxon Polaris, the county DA.
“I don’t see any issues, Jet. Looks like a clean shoot.” Jaxon closed the laptop in front of him. We’d met several times when I’d had to testify in court.
“It was. Now what? And have you spoken to my partner?”
“Yes, and he told us exactly what you said. Those two had been on a spree throughout the Capital district, robbing and beating people, breaking into homes. Guess it was only a matter of time until this happened.”
“Thanks, Jaxon. Do you need anything else?”
“If I do, I’ll be in touch.”
We shook hands, and I went in search of Emerson. I found him in the break room, with Starr and Amber flanking him. He gave me a halfhearted wave. “Hey.”
“How’re you feeling?”
His smile was wan. “Like crap. They gave me time off, but I really wanna work and not sit and stare at the walls all day long.”
“But, honey,” Amber wheedled, “we could spend time together. I can take your mind off everything.”
“Guy wants to work, Amber,” Starr growled. “Let him do what he needs to do.”
“Go away, Dominic.” She gave him her back, and I didn’t miss the flash of annoyance on his face.
“What’re you doing here so early?” I asked Starr. I knew other deputies had come in when they’d heard of the shooting, but Starr had never given me the impression that he cared all that much about other people, even his fellow deputies, and definitely not Emerson.
He shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep and decided to take a run around the lake. I heard a ton of sirens and called the station and heard what happened. Figured I’d make sure you were both okay.”
“Thanks.” Maybe he wasn’t that much of a dick after all.
“Jet, you should go home too. I’m gonna leave now. I gotta get out of here.” Emerson got to his feet, and I strode to him, grabbed him, and pulled him close.
“Thanks again. I owe you everything.”
Clear-eyed, he patted my cheek. “Same, brother. You would’ve done it for me too. And thanks for everything else.”
We clasped hands, and I walked out, anxious to get home. To Harte. After everything that had happened, I wasn’t going to let another minute go by without him knowing how I felt.