......"Aw, hell!" the kid shouted, lowing the gun and pacing the floor, breathing fast. "Aw, hell!" he shouted again, running his empty hand through his hair.
......"Let me put the boy down in the bedroom." Where I had my gun.
......He snapped the gun up, his face red. "No! No! Put him in the corner! And shut him up! Stop his crying!"
......"Quit yelling and waving that gun around and maybe he will."
......"Don't get smart, don't push me!"
......"Okay, okay. Just relax."
......I patted Tommy's back, telling him everything would be okay. He nodded, took a deep breath and his crying continued only as light sobs. I put him down in the recliner, picked up a pillow off the floor and handed it to him. He clutched it to his body like a shield and I turned to face the intruder.
......"Now what?"
......"Now, uh, now we sit down. Yeah. Sit on the floor. On the floor!" He jabbed the gun at the carpet for emphasis. "Sit down!"
......I sat, folding my legs under me. Tommy and I looked at each other. His body twitched, his eyes bleary and red.
......"It's okay, Tommy," I said calmly. My heart didn't beat any faster than normal, I noticed. Good. I had to be strong for my son, that was the important thing right now.
......"Why don't you sit down yourself?" I told the intruder. "Put the gun away. Calm down. I ain't going anywhere. Think I want you to hurt my boy?"
......"Yeah, yeah. Relax, yeah." He still breathed quickly and I thought he'd pass out from hyperventilation, but I've never been that lucky. He took a few steps back and sat down on the floor against the big wooden cabinet holding the TV and stereo.
......"What's your name?" I asked our new friend.
......He didn't answer right away, just sat there staring into space, catching his breath. When it slowed to normal, he said, "Jake."
......"Jake what?"
......"Just Jake. What's yours?"
......"Hood," I said. "David Hood. That's my son Tommy."
......His eyes roamed over Tommy and me. It felt odd to be making tea-party conversation with him. Then again, if I kept things light and got him distracted, maybe I could gain an edge.
......"Hi," he said.
......I said, "Who you running from?"
......"Cops."
......"You gonna get up and shut the front door?"
......"Huh?"
......"The front door, Jake. There's a draft. In fact, just walk on out of here. No hard feelings."
......"No. No, I ain't shutting the front door. Forget about it." He stiffened suddenly and jerked the gun up at me. "You shut it! Go on! Shut the door!" I took a deep breath. Looked at Jake, looked at the gun. If he'd had a revolver I'd be a little more confident trying to tackle him, but he had one of those single-action .45s, the hammer cocked back, and I wasn't going to take the risk. I rose to full height and stood there a moment.
......"I'm going to go shut the door," I said slowly. He aimed the gun at Tommy. My son squealed.
......"Do anything stupid and I shoot the boy."
......"I won't do anything stupid, Jake."
......Footsteps pounded up the porch. "Police!"
......Jake screamed curses at the cops and sprang to his feet, swinging toward the door, blasting away with the gun. The thunderous booms shook the walls. "Get back! Get back! I'll kill them both! Get back!"
......One of the cops ducked around the doorway, the other dropping prone to fire.
......"Don't shoot!" I shouted to the officers. "There's a boy here!"
......"Get back!" Two more blasts. The cops scrambled back, one shouting into his radio. Jake pivoted around to face me, the .45 smoking in his hand. "Sit down! Now!" I quickly sat beside the recliner. Tommy held the pillow close over his face now, still crying.
......"Shut that kid up!"
......He closed the distance between us in a flash, holding the gun inches from my face. I shrank back against the chair.
......"Shut him up!"
......A car screeched to a halt outside. Shouts, more cars, engines revving. Jake turned away from me, stalking toward the open door. He waved the gun out at the cops. I couldn't see how many there were, but there'd be plenty very soon.
......"I got hostages! Do anything stupid and I'll kill them all!" He slammed the door.
......Tommy whispered, "Do something, Daddy."
......I reached behind me and patted his hand. "Just stay quiet, son."
......"But -- "
......"Stay quiet."
......Jake lowered the gun and came back into the living room.
****
......The next half hour seemed to take forever. I didn't dare look at my watch, fearing Jake would take it as a threatening move. I sat quietly against the recliner, Tommy hid behind the pillow, and Jake sat against the TV cabinet and sweated. No matter how often he wiped his forehead, the sweat kept coming, and I noticed him twitching.
......"Why don't you tell me what's going on, Jake. Why are the police after you?"
......"Forget about it."
......"I'd like to know."
......"No. No. Forget about it." More twitching.
......"I can't help you unless you tell me, Jake."
......He just sat there and sweated and twitched.
......Tommy said, "Are you gonna kill us?"
......"Be quiet, Tommy," I said quickly.
......Jake didn't seem to hear. He got up and I felt Tommy tense. He stared pacing back and forth, muttering under his breath. He plopped down on the couch, setting the .45 beside him. He put his head in both hands.
......I focused on the gun. Thought about making a move, but the way I was sitting, with my legs folded under me, made it impossible to get up quickly. My legs had gone numb. I wanted to shift my legs, get the circulation going, but figured that would set him off, too. So I just sat there. If there was one thing I'd learned throughout the years, after hundreds of stakeouts and long surveillance watches in cramped cars, it was patience.
......The phone rang. Jake jumped in surprise like a spooked cat. The phone rang again and again and he just stared at it.
......"Why don't you answer?" I said.
......"Why? It ain't for me."
......"Sure it is."
......He inched over to the table beside the couch and picked up. "Yeah?"
......I watched him as he listened. His face went pale white. "You cops stay back! Don't even make a move! I'll kill them!" Jake snatched up his gun. "I swear I'll do it! I'll kill them both!"
......Jake listened for a moment.
......"I want a car. With a full tank of gas. And five thousand dollars in cash, unmarked bills. Yeah, yeah." He slammed the phone down.
......"Hey, Jake," I said. "The boy and I are getting hungry. How about some dinner?"
......"Huh?"
......"Dinner, Jake. Why don't you order some hamburgers?"
......Jake didn't say anything, just nodded and started muttering again. He got up and went into the kitchen, which is right off to the left of the front door with a wall separating the two. He went to the kitchen window. "Hey, cops! We want food!"
......I leaned over to the left, but he jabbed the gun at me and I popped back up. Jake wasn't stupid. He had his back to the wall, shouting out the window over his shoulder. He faced Tommy and me in the living room, the ugly snout of the .45 pointed our way. He wasn't taking any chances. I grunted as I slowly stretched my legs out. I felt feeling come back into them, the itchy pins-and-needles effect growing slowly.
......Someone shouted back, "What would you like!"
......"We want hamburgers. Like, six of them. Yeah, six! And something to drink!"
......"You want fries with that?"
......I almost laughed. I would have at any other time.
......"Yes!"
......"Comin' right up!"
......Jake left the window and came back to the couch.