Katie followed Post Street northbound, walking past City Hall and toward the street bridge. Her car was parked at a meter just north of the bridge. It was a two-hour meter and had been expired for over an hour. She hoped that the meter maid hadn’t made rounds up there yet.
She walked past the end of the large brick building that held the power company that managed the River City Dam Project and was immediately struck by the wet smell of the Looking Glass River. The air was cooler, too, as she walked toward the bridge. The pedestrian walkway on the bridge had been created by placing jersey barriers along the edge of the roadway, leaving barely enough room for two people to pass in opposite directions.
Katie slowed and looked over the edge of the bridge. The rushing sound of the river below her somehow calmed her. The sensation was short-lived.
“Give me my son!”
She jerked her eyes up in the direction of the shout. Near the middle of the bridge, a man in a green army jacket gripped a thin woman by the upper arm. She turned away from him, holding an infant in her other arm.
“No, Kevin! Get away from me!”
The man pulled her into his chest. “I said, give me my son, bitch!”
Katie was moving toward them before she even thought about it. They were at least half a block away. She was grateful that she’d worn a pants suit to court and a pair of dress shoes without heels as she sprinted toward the pair on the bridge.
As she ran, she reached to the small of her back, where she kept her off-duty weapon. She drew it out. The weight of the small, five-shot revolver was reassuring, but she wished she had a radio instead.
The man tore the infant from the woman’s grasp. She screamed in protest.
Katie tried to run faster.
“No! Give me back my baby!”
The woman reached for the infant. The man turned his body to protect the child from her grasp and swung his other arm at her. The back of his hand struck her across the face and she staggered back.
“Holy shit!” came a new voice.
Katie saw a man on a bicycle pedaling across the bridge. He wore black bicycle pants and black and yellow bike shirt. When the woman fell into the jersey barrier, he skidded his bike to stop and stepped off. He jumped the jersey barrier and checked on her.
The distance between Katie and the man was less than fifteen yards when he spotted her. Without hesitation, he extended his arm over the side of the bridge and dangled the infant over the edge.
Katie scrambled to a stop ten feet away. She pointed her gun at the man’s chest. “Pull that baby back. Now!”
“Get the fuck away from me,” the man said.
The woman made a strangled cry and lunged for the man. The bicyclist wisely grabbed her in an embrace and pulled her away.
“Let me go!” she yelled, struggling. “He’s got my baby!”
Katie stared at the infant. The baby hung precariously from a twisted fistful of blue clothing in the man’s grip. Terrified wails came from his small mouth.
“Kyle!” the woman screamed as the bicyclist held her back.
“Take it easy, Kyle,” Katie said to the man.
He gave her a strange look.
“Everything’s going to work out fine,” she continued, keeping her voice calm, but loud enough to be heard over the rushing sounds of the river below.
The man’s eyes flitted from the dangling child to Katie’s gun, then swept up and down her body. He spotted the silver of her badge clipped on her belt.
“You’re a cop?”
“It’s going to be all right, Kyle,” she said.
“My name’s not Kyle,” he said.
“Okay,” she said. Her own eyes moved back and forth between the baby and the man’s eyes. “Just pull the baby back from the edge.”
“He’s my son! You’re not taking him!”
“I don’t want to take him,” Katie said. “I just want you to pull him back to where it’s safe.”
“He’s safe. He’s with me.”
“Give me back my baby!” the woman shrieked. In her peripheral vision, Katie saw the bicyclist struggle to keep a grip on her.
“Just pull him back,” Katie said.
“No way.”
“Do something!” the woman cried. “Get my baby!”
“Please,” Katie pleaded with him.
The man shook his head. “I’m not stupid. If I pull him back, you’ll shoot me and take him from me.”
The baby’s plaintive wails struck Katie like a sheet of cold water. She wavered, unsure of her next move. Her mind raced through options.
“Look,” she said. “I’ll lower my gun and you pull him back.”
“Fuck you. You’re a liar.”
“You don’t want to hurt your son,” Katie said. “I know you don’t. Just pull him back.”
“He’s better off dead than with that whore!” he pointed at the woman in the bicyclist’s grasp.
“He’s better off with you,” Katie said. “But you can’t get him like this. Pull him back and let’s work something out.”
The man met her eyes and she almost lost hope when she saw the craziness in his eyes. “How do I know you’re not lying to me? The last cop I talked to lied to me.”
“I’m not lying,” Katie said, and lowered her gun.
The man’s arm trembled with the exertion of holding it out straight with the weight of the infant on the end.
“You can’t hold him there forever,” she said to him. “At least pull him in and rest your arm.”
“You drop your gun and I’ll pull him in.”
Katie shook her head. “I can’t do that.”
“That’s because you’re a lying bitch!” the man yelled at her, his entire body shaking. The baby tilted and whirled in his grasp and let out an even more terrified wail.
“All right, okay!” Katie said. She put her pistol back into the holster at the small of her back then showed him both palms. “See?”
The man hesitated, watching her.
“Please,” Katie whispered. “He’s just a little baby.”
The man’s gaze softened for a moment. Suddenly, he drew the child to his chest and embraced him.
“Thank you,” Katie said.
The man’s eyes never left hers.
“Get my baby!” the woman shrieked.
Sirens erupted nearby. Over the man’s shoulder, Katie saw a marked patrol car turn onto Post and come barreling southbound toward the bridge, siren wailing.
She looked back at the man. His eyes were still fixed on hers.
“Give me the baby,” Katie said softly.
The man kissed the wailing child on the forehead. Then, without ceremony, he pitched the baby over the railing of the bridge.
“No!” Katie screamed and lunged toward him.
The man stood peacefully at the railing, watching her.
She reached the railing and looked down frantically. Below her, the rapids of the Looking Glass River rumbled. She saw a small splash. She tried to follow the flare of blue with her eyes. It tossed along in the current for a moment, then was pulled under. Her eyes strained for it to reappear. She willed it to come back, but she knew deep inside that strong current would either hold the baby down against the rocks or wash him downstream.
Katie whirled toward the man and attacked him. He stood still while she rained punches down on his face and neck, then drove her knee into his groin. The sound of a terrible screaming pierced her ears, but she ignored it. When the man groaned and slumped from the groin strike, she slammed her palms over his ears. Then she snapped her knee upward into his face, shattering his nose.
The sirens converged on her. There was the screeching of tires and slamming of doors, but she kept on kicking and striking at them, venting her fury upon him until a wall of police uniforms pulled him to the ground. Another uniform stepped between her and the man. Her final two strikes landed on the cop’s chest and shoulder. The cop drew her into his chest and walked her backward.