Page 70 of Done Dirty

Nobody said anything.

“We’re going to make an arrest today, and I want it to be a big one,” Jack said. “We’re going to show up at Fire Station 12 with lights blazing, and I want everyone to know we’re coming and why we’re there. Those sworn to protect don’t get to take the easy way out when they’ve killed two people.”

There were grunts of acknowledgment around the bullpen and I could feel the anticipation building.

“I want Brett to feel the consequences of his actions, and I want his chief to see how scrubbing his record clean of the domestic disputes helped lead to this outcome.

“We’ve got civilians and crowds that are going to be around. Their safety has to come first, so as a precaution I want two units to head out now and start setting up barricades a block in each direction of the firehouse. Keep the people back.”

Two deputies slipped out of the room to follow orders.

“Let’s make this a fast and clean arrest. Don’t give anyone any internet fodder. Plank, you get the honor of putting the cuffs on him and bringing him in. And I want to thank Wachowski, Daniels and Derby for putting in the midnight oil and breaking this case wide open. Now let’s go get this guy.”

There were several whoops of excitement as the bullpen cleared out, and I fell into step beside Jack as we made our way back to the Tahoe.

“Inspired speech,” I told him. “Very Captain America.”

“Shut up,” he said, but he wanted to smile. I could see it.

We passed the barricades a block away from Fire Station 12 just past noon. I could smell the grill before I could see the station, and Toby Keith playing over loudspeakers loud enough to hear from inside the car. The firemen were making the most of the holiday before they had to go man the big fireworks display tonight.

Jack hit the lights and the siren and the sound punched through the car. Up ahead the lead units were already pulling up to the station, and I could see the firefighters outside start to gather, looking for the emergency. Jack took the turn fast and I grabbed the door handle. The radio was going nonstop—units calling in their positions, everyone moving at once. Through the windshield I watched them converge on us—one reaching for his radio, another dropping his drink, the whole group moving toward the bay to see what was happening.

Jack was out of the Tahoe before we stopped all the way. “All units hold position,” he said into the radio. “Nobody goes in yet.”

Jack was out of the car and moving before I had my door open. I stayed in position behind the Tahoe door out of precaution. I knew better than to get in the way of what was about to go down. The fire guys had clustered at the bay entrance and Jack went straight through them without breaking stride.

“Brett Callum,” he said to the first man he reached. “Where is he?”

The guy shrugged. “He was here a minute ago.”

Jack was already moving. The fire chief stepped out of the side office with his phone in his hand and Jack didn’t even slow down.

“You and I are going to talk,” Jack said, not stopping. “After.”

A loud clang echoed through the firehouse, making me jump and a couple of the deputies around me grab their weapons. A heavy tool cabinet lay on its side, tools scattering and bouncing on the concrete. And then I saw Brett Callum like a blur from the corner of my eye, running out the side of the station house and toward a neighborhood.

He had maybe forty yards on Jack when Jack took off at a sprint after him. Jack’s deputies were trained well and immediately split off in different directions to cut him off, but it didn’t matter. Jack’s long stride easily caught up with Brett just as he went to launch himself over a fence.

Jack grabbed him by the back of the shirt and threw him to the ground. It was an incredible show of strength, but Brett was in good shape and launched off the ground at Jack swinging.

Jack dodged the blow and planted a thick fist in Brett’s gut. For Brianna, I thought. For the baby. For every different hospital she visited so no one would connect the dots.

Brett doubled over and Jack took him down onto the grass, knee in his back.

Plank was there in seconds with the cuffs.

“Brett Callum, you’re under arrest for two counts of murder,” Plank said. He snapped on the cuffs and then brought him to his feet.

“Two counts?” Brett said, his breathing labored. “What are you talking about?”

“For Wade Rivers and the unborn child your wife was carrying,” Jack said.

Brett spat and then jerked his shoulder, trying to dislodge himself from Plank’s grasp, but Plank didn’t budge.

“Wasn’t my kid,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “Murder is murder.”