Page 85 of But For You

There were three men in the SUV, and they emerged from their vehicle, shooting.

“This is 911. What is your emergency?”

“Assault on an officer, or officers in this case,” I said quickly, remembering how Sam had told me to call those in. “I have two detectives in my sight.”

The operator went from interested to concerned in seconds. She got my location and asked if I was in danger, and since I categorized danger as people shooting directly at me, I said no. I read her the license plate as four cars passed on the other side of the road, then three more, and the bad guys must have gotten scared because they were suddenly in a mad rush to get back in the car. It was over, and the SUV—squealing tires, hauling ass—was coming back by me. I ordered the kids to get down and ducked myself. The car flew by, hopefully not noticing us in our Mercedes, but certainly unable to get our plate at the speed they were going.

Still on the phone with the 911 operator, I told her I was driving over to check on the detectives. She said I would have company in minutes, police and ambulance.

Getting as close as I could with the van, I got out and locked my kids in the car. I was still on the phone with the operator and went to get a close look at the officers. Everman was down, bleeding from his side. Gonzales was under the pickup, lying on his back, and he gasped out that he was hit in the leg and the shoulder.

“Is Lou alive?”

“Yes,” I told him, because they both were. “Are you okay? Help is coming right now.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, and thank you.”

“Just hold on.” I soothed him as I moved back to his partner.

I pulled off my coat and then my sweater and the T-shirt underneath. It was cold outside, but I needed to put pressure on the wound, and there was no other option. Everman moaned when I pressed the wadded-up cotton shirt to his side.

“Who are you again?” he asked as I put my coat over him and put my balled-up sweater behind his head.

“Do you know Sam Kage?”

He coughed. “He’s a marshal, right? Used to be a detective?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I remember. He was a helluva homicide detective. High clearance rate.”

I nodded. “I’m married to him.”

“Got it,” he said as we both heard the sirens in the distance. “I don’t suppose you got the license plate of the⁠—”

“I already called it in,” I said and put my cell phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he groaned to the operator, “you have the plate?”

He was talking to her as the ambulance and a fleet of police cars rolled up. I pointed under the truck, then quickly answered questions so the policemen could holster their guns and everyone could go about securing the scene instead of worrying that someone was going to start shooting at them.

Kola and Hannah got to sit in a police car with a very nice young man who gave them the entire rundown of the car and let them touch all the buttons. I was standing outside the car, my sweater and topcoat back on, the T-shirt having been sacrificed to the greater good, and relating my statement to two new detectives. Gonzales and Everman were taken to the hospital in separate ambulances, and Chaz and Pat—who showed up somehow—were now standing with me as I was being questioned. The two new guys—there were too many new people in one night to keep track of them—promised that my name would not appear in the paper.

“You should get a commendation, Mr. Harcourt.”

But I didn’t want a citation for bravery or whatever. I did what anyone who had a mate in law enforcement would have.

“His name can’t be leaked,” Chaz stressed, and he used his size, his status, his tenure, his record, all of it, just who he was, to intimidate the two younger detectives.

“Ever,” Pat chimed in, and as scary as Chaz was, he was still mild in comparison to Patrick Cantwell.

It was fast, the agreement from the junior detectives; they promised no press, none.

I met Gonzales and Everman’s captain, Ibrahim Khouri, who looked crisp and polished even though, at nine thirty at night, it was late for him to look so good. He thanked me for coming to the aid of his men and made sure to pass me his card. He was unsure as to why Chaz and Pat were there, and then they started explaining about what had occurred with me earlier in the day—leaving out Sam altogether. Khouri went with Chaz to talk to Kola.

Turning, I saw Kola get out of the car and lay his little hand in the captain’s, who was kneeling in the dirt down in front of my little boy so they were at more or less the same level. I would put money on the fact that Captain Khouri had kids himself.

He nodded as Kola reenacted what had happened. Hannah’s face scrunched up as she listened to her brother, and after a minute, she flew across the grass to me.