Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Carlos held the phone to his ear while Halstood drove through city streets with the lights and sirens going.
The detective on the other end of the line said, “We spoke with the deceased’s wife and closest friends, but no one can tell any reason why Doctor Splitfield might’ve been murdered.”
“What about DNA taken from the scene? Any indication there on who killed him?”
“We have several samples from the table and the body, and we took a sample from all the staff at the museum so we can rule them out if necessary.”
What he didn’t say was that it could also identify the killer, not just cross contamination.
The detective continued, “I would’ve said there’s no way we’d have results back anytime soon—until the mayor got wind of what had happened and pulled strings. Now I’m expecting the DNA back by tomorrow morning.” After a pause, he added, “Apparently, they know each other.”
Carlos’s partner hit the brakes and stopped the police cruiser in front of the museum, not far from a crowd of people who all seemed to be fighting one another.
He spotted officers interspersed in the throng, attempting to control the gathering before anyone got hurt more than they already were.
Carlos said into the phone, “I’d love to know the results when you get them. But I gotta go. We just pulled up to a scene, and it’s chaos.” He ended the call and shoved the phone in his pocket as he got out, bulletproof vest already on.
He didn’t pull his weapon right away, as he didn’t see any pistols in anyone’s hands in the crowd. No one had fired. He didn’t see any weapons except purses and picket signs. This all seemed like a lot of shoving, punching, pulling hair, and scratching each other.
Halstood didn’t seem quite as inclined to keep things from escalating to gunfire, but Carlos would back the guy up anyway.
He headed toward two women who were trying to pull each other’s jackets and purses off.
“Ladies.” He tried to sound authoritative, and this might’ve seemed like a humorous situation, except that everyone in the crowd had a haze of something in their eyes. It looked a whole lot like anger. Maybe even vengeance.
What about this was personal? It seemed more like mob violence had erupted.
Carlos got between them. “Both of you step back from each other now, or you’re going to be under arrest.”
The woman to his right lunged at him, but he grabbed her forearm before she could swing it down and scratch him with those talons. He then spun her and tugged her arm up behind her back. She cried out in anger, rather than pain or frustration, over what was happening.
The other woman screamed as well. Carlos tugged the Taser from his belt, but she didn’t even notice. She screamed again and came at him, so he fired the weapon. Twin barbs shot out and embedded themselves in her front, pulsating electricity through her body. She slumped to the ground.
Around him, other officers did the same thing, trying to subdue these out-of-control people.
Carlos was pretty sure he heard Halstood yell something about pepper spray or tear gas. Whatever the guy wanted to do, there were better ways to calm these people. They just needed to call in and get the right unit deployed.
It had been a very long time since a crowd like this had been face-to-face with police in the streets. Especially after the chaos and tragedy of Saint Louis years ago, where protesters had fired on the police and the whole situation ended in a bloodbath.
Carlos pulled his cuffs and secured them around the woman’s wrists, then walked her away from the crowd and ordered her to sit on the curb.
She looked up at him, teeth bared, and he was pretty sure she growled.
Again, he noticed the haze of something in her eyes. Carlos took a step back for a moment and surveyed the scene. On the ground he spotted one, then two canisters—about ten feet apart. Tossed in the center of the crowd.
He elbowed a couple of people out of the way and picked up a canister off the ground.
A guy wrapped his arms around Carlos from behind and lifted him off his feet. The canister fell away. Considering the guy might have stolen his weapon from him, this was probably one of the better things that could’ve happened.
Still, Carlos couldn’t breathe against the tight grip the man had on his hips. He kicked with his feet and slammed them against the guy’s legs, then elbowed back, twisting his torso to strike out behind him, trying to hit the guy in the head.
The guy’s stance faltered and his grip loosened. Carlos did the same thing a couple more times, and finally the guy let go of him. He dug out zip ties from his belt and secured the guy, now facedown on the ground. Then he hauled the guy to his feet and sat him next to the woman.
Sirens entered his awareness for a moment, but the sound didn’t grow louder. The vehicle passed by a couple of streets away. An ambulance responding to another scene. What on earth was going on?
Carlos picked up the canister again and looked at it.
The nozzle was locked open. He didn’t sniff the spout from which the compound had been expelled, but he could already feel his thoughts swimming inside his head.
He looked around at the crowd, cops now mixed in with civilians.
All of them whipped into a frenzy. If they weren’t careful, this was going to turn into Saint Louis.
He grabbed his radio. “Central, this is Unit Six-Five requesting additional backup and crowd control measures.”
“Six-Five, be advised backup will be delayed. Multiple calls across ten blocks are reporting crowds out of control.”
Great. They were on their own here, at least for now.
The only thing he could think to do might make the situation worse. But he prayed for a second, the words leaving his lips just as the woman in cuffs leaned over and bit the zip-tied man on the side of his neck.
“Amen.”
Carlos pulled his gun from its holster, thumped the safety off, and pointed it into the air. “I am so going to get suspended for this.”
He fired a single shot into the air, and in the second after it, everyone hesitated.
He yelled, “Down on the ground!” Followed immediately by, “Everyone, down on the ground. Right now.” He let his voice ring loudly, authority in his tone. Half talking to the police and civilians around him. All of them needed to take a breath and calm down.
Carlos threaded through the crowd, pushing down on each individual shoulder. Jogging the person out of their stupor and saying as he passed, “On your knees. Everyone here, get on your knees. You are all under arrest.”
One of the guys started to come at him, swinging his fist.
A police officer he didn’t know grabbed the man’s arm and got him on his knees. Carlos couldn’t worry about the effects of whatever happened in those canisters altering the man’s perception and the officer’s response. Right now, he just needed to keep everyone safe.
He kept moving, speaking as he walked. “On your knees. Everyone, down on your knees.” Along the way, he spotted a couple of raw scratches. More than one person had torn clothes or a split lip.
When he reached his partner, he said, “See those two over there?” He pointed to the man and woman in restraints. “Make sure they don’t hurt each other.”
Halstood looked a little excited at the prospect of dealing with the biter, but at least he’d separate them in some fashion.
“Sit down.” Carlos kept issuing orders, establishing that he was in control—at least in the minds of these people—and continued walking. “Settle in and take a breath. We’re going to get you medical attention.”
He spotted two guys close together. That was a bite about to happen. “Hey!” He kicked between them, swinging his leg in the open space. Both men flinched, and he knew he’d got his point across. “Hands, and anything else, are kept to yourself. Understand?”
Carlos grabbed his radio and called in his suspicions about the canisters releasing some substance that altered people’s state of mind and made them violent, passing on the information so it could hopefully help someone else.
A fire alarm started in a nearby building, the sound echoing across the street. He kept an eye on the group he had under control. What he wanted to do was look back and see if he could spot Eliana in a window of the museum.
After what had happened yesterday, he thought he might be making progress on getting her to forgive him so they could, hopefully, build something better than animosity between them. But he really did need to find Luci before he could worry about that.
Carlos scanned the group, watching for signs that things might erupt again. Other cops stood around the periphery, keeping an eye out. He would also have to make sure fingers stayed clear of triggers.
“No one is badly hurt so far,” he told them. “Let’s keep it that way.”
He continued looking at each person, his attention alighting on a woman with dark hair. It shone in the light the way his did, falling forward to hide her face.
How had he not seen this woman before?
She had a white nightgown thing on, long enough it covered her knees but leaving her arms bare. She kept her head bowed. Not looking up. Not looking at anything.
Luci.
Carlos picked his way between a couple of older men, then skirted the edge of the group so he could get near her. “Luci! Luci!”
She didn’t look up.
He reached down and clasped her elbow, hauling her to her feet. “Luci!”
She lifted her gaze, but it wasn’t his sister. It wasn’t even a woman, it was a slender man with dyed black hair. He hissed in Carlos’s face.
Carlos stumbled back.
One of the other cops passed him, taking his place, and got the guy to sit again.
Carlos paced away a couple of steps and ran his hands through his hair. Then he patted every pocket and pouch he had, taking inventory. Centering himself in who he was, and the job he’d come here to do. The authority given to him with this shield he wore.
Halstood came over. “You good, brother?”
Carlos nodded. “That was crazy. I thought he was…someone else.”
He didn’t want Halstood to take the bait of Carlos saying the guy looked like his sister.
Carlos shook his head. “Whatever was in those canisters is nuts.” His head swam, but he had to keep it together.
The radio on his shoulder erupted to life. “Six-Five, come back.”
He grabbed it. “Six-Five here. Situation under control.”
“Be advised, units on their way to you.”
“Copy that.” He did a quick head count. “We have a lot of people who need medical attention.”
“Understood, Six-Five.”
Carlos looked from Halstood to the other cops. “We should load the ones we can into our units.” There weren’t enough ambulances in the county to take everyone, and clearly some or even all were in use.
His partner blew out a breath. “Gonna be a long afternoon.”
Carlos nodded. “At least no one got hurt.”
“Who knows, the day is still young.” Halstood laughed, wandering off to assist the person closest to him.
Carlos stood watch, aware he had taken command of the scene, even though he wasn’t the most senior cop here. Halstood would either write that up as a good thing, or recommend him for a reprimand or suspension. Then again, he might write it up so he got all the credit for Carlos’s actions.
As long as someone figured out what had been in those canisters, Carlos didn’t care what happened to his career.