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Which was what he’d done a few moments after we’d left, hacking into the old man’s security system, using the feeds that surrounded the house and inside living room, as a guide. He relayed the information to us over the last half hour, and with what he’d told us, we’d decided it was time to go in.
Now or never.
“10-4,” John said.
“Let me know when you’re in position,” I said to Downy, Michael, and James.
With a nod, they circled around the house, while Nico, Bennett and I went to the front.
The door was feeble at best, and stood no chance as soon as I heard the quiet, “In place.”
“Go.”
The door gave with laughable ease when Nico placed his boot to it.
A similar sound could be heard from the other end of the house, but our main focus was what was in front of us.
Nico crouched, going down on one knee.
My shotgun was raised, pointed straight inside over Nico’s shoulder.
Bennett’s was mirroring mine from the other shoulder.
Nothing stirred.
With a hand sign to proceed, Nico started walking, crouched down low.
We’d done this a lot. So much so, that we could almost anticipate the others movements before they ever even happened.
The first room we came to was a dining room.
The room, one that’d been so recently used for a family dinner, was now trashed.
China was smashed. Bullets riddled the walls. The cabinet that held alcohol in the corner of the room was broken, the door hanging off the hinges.
The table was cracked down the middle, the beautiful glass I’d seen yesterday now shattered.
“Side room clear,” James’ voice called over the line.
Barely a hint of a whisper, but the sound reassuring nonetheless.
“Dining room clear,” I confirmed.
“Kitchen clear,” Downy’s voice rumbled.
My heart was pounding, as it always did.
Adrenaline making my vision clearer; my hearing sharper. The solid weight of the shotgun in my hands, butt of the stock up against my cheek, allowing me to breathe easier.
“Living room clear,” Michael confirmed.
We were down to the two back bedrooms when the two teams met.
A series of hand signals were flashed, and Downy took point on the first room, while I took point on the second.
With a quick motion, I went in down low, sweeping the room with a quick, thorough glance.
The room was empty except for exercise equipment.
“Clear,” I said, feeling Nico at my back.
We turned to follow up with Downy’s team when a deafening explosion shook the house.
My vision became spotted, and my eyes felt too big for my head, but my gun stayed in place as I forced myself to move around the bend of the door.
James, Downy, and Michael were picking themselves up off the floor.
None of them had lost their weapons, either.
With that said, though, the entire west bound wall was gone.
“Clear,” James wheezed.
I heard the choking laugh of someone behind me, but for some reason, my sense of humor just didn’t find it funny.
I guess having my men nearly killed didn’t strike my funny bone like it did the others.
“House is clear,” I said into my mic.
The rest of the master bedroom was a complete loss, and the only thing that would help now was a crime scene crew.***“What…who do you think it was?” Detective Howell asked.
I fucking hated Detective Pierson Howell. So much so, that I would rather let rats eat my eyeballs while I was alive than speak with the man.
He was condescending, judgmental, and held a grudge because I got the assistant chief job when he’d been on the force for longer.
He made sure I knew it, too.
If we didn’t wind up being blamed for this, it’d be a fuckin’ miracle.
“The place was empty. The master bedroom blew from, what we think was, a trip wire of some sort. Our entering that room was what set it off. However, after the sweep, we didn’t find anyone in there,” I said slowly, trying to rein in my temper.
“I realize that you think there wasn’t anyone in there, but there was. The responding officer said there was,” Pierson said snidely.
I crossed my arms over my chest, not having anything else to say on the matter.
We’d done our jobs. There wasn’t anyone to save. That was the crux of it, and there wasn’t anything else we could’ve done aside from predicting the future.
Pierson was a man on a mission. That mission being to have my spot.
“Officer Downy, how about you tell us your interpretation of the events,” Pierson commanded.
I stood, tired of this shit.
“Listen, Pierson. It’s the day after the holiday, we’re all tired, and I’m ready to fucking go. You will see us first thing Monday morning. Until then, that’ll be all on the questions,” I informed him, standing up.
All of my men stood as well, knowing that with my admission, the meeting wouldn’t proceed any further.
Hell, I knew for certain that James, Downy, and Michael had to be hurting, yet they hadn’t complained once.
Detective Pierson opened his mouth, but the chief raised his hand for silence. “That’s enough, Detective Howell. We’ll continue this Monday morning. Until then, y’all have a good weekend.”
I nearly groaned in relief. I really, really didn’t want to get into it with Pierson.
I wanted to go home and crawl into bed.
We exited the precinct around twenty minutes later.
“What was all that about?” Downy asked, a hand on his shoulder as he massaged it.
I shrugged. “Same shit, different day. He does this every time he can, you know that.”
He nodded. “Yes, but you know something.”
I blinked, then shrugged. “I want y’all to meet me at my place in the morning. Get a good night’s rest, and meet me there around ten. I’ll supply donuts.”
After hearing confirmation from all the men, I got in my cruiser and drove straight home.
I wondered who’d be there.
I knew for sure that Reese, Rowen, and Katy would be there. I just hoped that was all. I didn’t have the energy to deal with my sister or my mom.
They always worried and stayed up.
Today, though, was different.
For the first time since Katy was born, I didn’t have to worry about who was watching Katy.
