“No. Teenager. They’re both tied up in the kitchen at the rear of the house. I have a man sneaking in the back way to get them out while we keep Pugh occupied.”
“Isn’t your man likely to get hurt going in there like that?”
“He can take care of himself. Pugh has been getting chummy, so maybe we can talk him out. Do you know him?”
“Yes. He’s been on our radar for a while. Had to pull him out of Afghanistan. Post traumatic stress disorder. He ought to be in a hospital.”
“I need to go back and keep him talking.”
“Well don’t trust him to stay friendly. He has a short fuse. One minute he’s your pal, the next minute he’s in your face yelling and screaming.”
“So I’ve seen. My guy will sneak the hostages out and, your guys can deal with the short fuse.”
“Okay, we can give it a try if you think your man can handle it.”
“He can. Pugh told me that he had his boat blown up to fake his death so you guys wouldn’t send him to the funny farm.”
“Figures. My guys can take him out. He’s in clear view in the window. Fool.”
“Absolutely not. Let’s get the hostages out first.”
Stewart looked at me as if to ask where I got the authority to run a hostage situation. Before he could raise the question, an unmarked police car pulled up. Bill Penrod got out and came over to where we were crouched behind the Army cars.
“What’s going on here, Stan? Willa called.”
I explained the situation to him.
“I better get our SWAT team over here,” he said.
Everybody wanted to shoot this guy. Must have been a slow SWAT day.
“Look around, Sergeant,” Stewart said. “We have ours in place and ready.”
“So you do,” Bill said. “But these are civilian hostages on civilian premises. The police department has jurisdiction.”
“Hey, guys,” I said. “It’s kind of busy here. Let’s not get into a turf war.”
A black SUV turned the corner and came toward us. It pulled up behind Bill’s car and stopped. Sanford held a skinny arm out the window and gave me a thumbs up. I went to the SUV and looked in. Amanda and Rodney were in the back seat looking frightened and tussled but none the worse for wear. I grinned at them and went back to Bill and the Army.
“He’s all yours, guys. The hostages are out.”
“Is there a phone in there?” Stewart asked.
“Yes, on a table next to the window.” I said and gave him the number. He called. We could hear the phone ringing through the open window. After about seven rings, it stopped.
Stewart said, “Captain Pugh. This is Special Agent Stewart, USACIDC. We got the hostages out. You’re all alone. You want to come out, or would you rather die today?”
“Man,” I said to Bill, “That’s a hell of a way to negotiate.”
He shrugged and said, “I wouldn’t do it that way. I guess they have their methods.”
Stewart turned to me. “He wants to talk to you.” I took the phone.
“What’s up, Jeremy?”
“Bentworth, this is going to come to a bad end, I can tell. Those guys want to shoot me.”
“It doesn’t have to happen. What can I do?”
“Come back up here so we can talk without them listening in.”
“You won’t shoot me, will you?”
“No. I give my word.”
Do you take the word of the guy who tried to have you killed then took your sister and nephew hostage? I wasn’t sure.
About five police cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck turned onto our street, lights flashing, sirens quiet.
“I called them,” Bill said.
The cops stopped, piled out of their vehicles, and crouched behind them. More guns came out and were pointed at the house.
“The militia is here Jeremy,” I said. “They’ve got guns trained on you. They’re ready to take you down. Get back away from the window. I’ll call you again and let you know what’s happening.”
I hung up.
“Why’d you tell him that?” Bill said. “Now we might have to put men at risk.”
“Wait,” I said. “There’s an easier way.”
I went over to Sanford’s SUV.
“You think you can get him out of there without killing him?” I asked Sanford.
“Piece of cake,” he said.
I went over to Bill and Stewart.
“I don’t want my sister’s house all shot up,” I said. “And let’s not be so quick to shoot this guy. He’s sick. My colleague and I can get him out. Hold your fire, and let us try.”
“Okay,” Bill said, looking at his watch. “But only because it’s you. You got ten minutes. Then we go in. You agree, Agent Stewart?”
“Yes.”
I went over to Sanford’s SUV and said, “Let’s go.”
He got out of the SUV keeping his back to all the cops and soldiers. We walked down the sidewalk away from them and the row of official vehicles, more or less out of sight of the house.
“Can you walk any faster?” Sanford asked.
“Not much,” I said.
“Okay. I’m going ahead. Go down half a block, turn up the side street, and come to the back door. It’ll be open. You can just walk in.”
“What if you don’t have him?”
He looked at me like he couldn’t believe his ears.
“Sorry,” I said. “Proceed.”
He went off at a medium trot, his black trench coat flapping in the breeze. I followed at a slow cane-assisted stroll. It took a while, and I was worried about Bill’s ten minute deadline.
When I got to the back door, it was open. I went in, looked from side to side, scanned the kitchen, and peered into the dining room. Nothing in sight, no sounds.
I felt naked entering an unsecured crime scene without Roscoe. Old habits die hard. I moved cautiously across the kitchen. My cast and cane made thump, thump sounds. I couldn’t help it.
Sanford called out, “Come on in, Bentworth. I got him.”
I went in and found Sanford holding his gun on Jeremy, who was on his knees, his hands cuffed behind his back. The shotgun was on the floor, and Roscoe was on the coffee table. I went over, picked it up, and stuck it in my belt.
“Any trouble taking him?”
He gave me that look again.
“Where’d you get the cuffs,” I asked.
“Keep them. I have others. You can take him outside. I’m out of here.”
He want back through the kitchen and out the back door. I opened the front door and yelled, “Hold your fire, we’re coming out.”
I leaned over Jeremy, took hold of his cuffs with my good hand, and pulled him up to his feet. He helped, so it wasn’t that difficult. I pushed him ahead of me and stepped out onto the stoop. In no time at all, two policemen had him on the ground, were putting their own cuffs on him, and reading him his rights. Just like on television. Except the cops weren’t all that handsome.
They tossed Sanford’s cuffs to me. A souvenir. Never had my own cuffs since I left the force. I’d need a key. No problem. Once size fits all. The cuffs could keep Roscoe company in the safe.
For the first time in hours I breathed easily. My injuries were aching from the walk and the stress. I needed to sit down.
Jeremy looked up at me and said, “I thought I could trust you.”
“I saved your life, Jeremy. If these cops didn’t get you, that shotgun would’ve blown up in your face. I just hope you get the help you need.”
Don’t ask why I gave a shit about his welfare, given all the grief he’d handed down. Just my nature, I guess.
Sanford’s SUV backed away from the curb and into a driveway. Amanda and Rodney got out. The SUV pulled onto the road, turned away from us, and drove away.
Bill walked up. “Your friend is leaving. I never got a look at him. Who was it?”
“An associate,” I said. If Sanford didn’t want to talk to cops, I wasn’t going to intervene.
“Did you cut Overbee loose?” I asked.
“Not exactly. He cut himself loose. I went with the tech guy to get the bracelet after our meeting this morning. When we got to his house, there were reporters all over the place. I don’t know how they got past the guard.”