......I said, "There a lot of cops out there?"
......"A ton of 'em. In the driveway, up and down the street. Looks like they were getting the neighbors out of the other houses, too. Oh, man. What am I doing here? I didn't want this!"
......"What did you expect, Jake?"
......He sank back in the couch, loosely holding the gun now.
......"Why are you running?"
......Finally, he talked. "This guy and I tried knocking over a liquor store. Some damn cop was in there, off duty. He chased us. Shot my partner in the leg, I took off. Cops comin' out of the woodwork chased me. I ran through a park and they had to chase me on foot. Thought I lost them, but I guess they saw me come into this neighborhood."
......"Put the gun down and surrender, Jake."
......"And go to jail? Forget about it! I'm not going back to prison!"
......"Where'd you do time?"
......"San Quentin."
......"For what?"
......"Two years. Drugs." His twitching had stopped and a sudden calmness came over him. He looked me in the eye. "What's your job?"
......I stuttered, but got the words out. "I'm self-employed."
......"Make money?"
......"Enough."
......"Like your job?"
......"Most of the time."
......"Got any people working for you?"
......"About six guys."
......"How old's your son?"
......Good, I thought. Getting personal now. "Six."
......"He gonna hide under that pillow all night?"
......"You gonna keep waving that gun around and shouting at us?"
......He jumped up and started pacing again. "Gotta keep control," he said. "Gotta keep control." He repeated it like a mantra. I didn't know how close to cracking he was, but it was still too early to
try for the gun and obviously I hadn't accomplished much through the chat.
......The gun. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, thinking of the empty, locked-up revolver in my bedroom. Even if it had been loaded I probably wouldn't have been able to get to it; no use even thinking about it.
......"Think the cops are gonna get your car?" I asked.
......"If they don't, they'll be taking you two out in body bags."
......"Where you gonna go?"
......"Detroit. Got a girl up there I can stay with."
......A knock on the door. A cop on the other side said, "Food's here!"
......Jake stopped and stared at me.
......"Want me to go?" I asked.
......"Send the boy."
......"No."
......"Do it!"
......"No, Daddy!"
......"Do it or I start shooting!"
......Another knock.
......"It's okay, Tommy."
......"No, Daddy!"
......"Just go to the door and get the food, Tommy." I got up and stood over the chair. I tugged at the pillow. "Give me the pillow, Tommy. Come on. I'll be right behind you."
Tommy let go of the pillow and I set it on the floor.
......The cop outside knocked again and said, "Come get the food!"
......Jake pointed the gun at us and Tommy and I froze. He shouted over his shoulder, "Leave it on the porch!"
......"But -- "
......"I said leave it! Let me see you back away!" Jake moved back a few steps to look out the kitchen window. He nodded, turned back to us and gestured with the gun. "Go get it."
......I stared at him a moment. This guy wasn't dumb. Slow, but not dumb. I gave Tommy a push and he walked, shaking, toward the door. I kept two steps behind him. He turned the knob, pulled the door open, and a large box loaded with fast-food bags sat on the front step. I looked out at a uniformed cop about twenty feet away, squatting by the hood of his car with a pistol in his hand. The cop and I looked at each other. He shrugged his shoulders at me.
......Tommy picked up the box but almost dropped it and I stepped in to grab it, backing away. "Come on, Tommy."
......I kicked the door shut and headed back for the living room. I set the food down on the floor.
......"Get back!" Jake said, tucking the .45 in his belt. Tommy and I stepped back while Jake tore through the bags. He pulled out burgers and fries and drinks and started setting up piles for each of us. Tossed the box top across the room when he was done, the bags flying everywhere.
......"Gonna clean that up later?"
......"Shut up and eat."
......Jake sat on one side of the room and ate ravenously while Tommy and I sat on the other side. Tommy forgot our predicament and ate almost faster than Jake, and I had to tell him to slow down. I took it slow, chewing calmly, keeping an eye on Jake. Twenty minutes went by; we were done. The floor looked like a war zone, but housecleaning was the least of my worries right now. Tommy went back to the recliner and pulled the pillow to him once again. The phone rang. Jake stared at it but did nothing. It kept ringing. I told him to pick up. "Maybe they got your money."
......He kept watching the phone. It rang again.
......"Answer it, Jake."
......"No. No way." He took his gun out.
......"Answer it, Jake."
......"I'll shoot the phone, I swear it!"
......"They got your money, Jake. Answer the phone." I'd failed to reach him; now I only wanted a chance to nail him.
......He grabbed it and jammed the receiver against his ear. "What?" he shouted, turning slightly. I was still in his peripheral vision, no doubt, but I stole a glance over my shoulder as he listened.
......The visor-covered face of a SWAT cop peeking around the edge of the window, the majority of his body still covered by the back wall. He saw Tommy in the recliner and withdrew.
......"Get behind the chair, Tommy."
......"No."
......"Shut up I can't hear!"
......"Tommy, move. Now."
......"No, Daddy."
......"Tommy, don't make me ask again."
I watched Jake. He was losing it. I'd have to make a move soon, ready or not. Jake snapped around to face me, the .45 in my face. His eyes narrowed as he shouted, "No, that's not what I asked for! I want the money and the car right now. I'm gonna kill these assholes! Then you'll do what I say!"
......He slammed the phone down on the floor and I could hear the shouting cop through the receiver. Jake's finger tightened on the trigger. I sprang forward, grabbing his wrist, forcing his arm up. The .45 boomed; plaster and dust rained down from the ceiling. I twisted his arm back, his upper body twisting and arcing with it. He was thinner and weaker than I was, and he stood no chance. I stepped in and slammed my free fist into his back just above the kidney; he doubled over. Jake's grip on the gun loosened. I brought my knee up into his face, and I heard his teeth crunch just before he hit the floor. I leveled the .45 on Jake's face, the rubber grips of the automatic warm in my hand. Jake's lips were a pulpy mess.
......The big black hole at the end of the gun looked Jake straight in the eyes. All it would take was one little squeeze, and --
......The window shattered behind me. "Police! Drop the gun!"
......I cursed under my breath, but I flicked up the safety and tossed the gun onto the couch. Two cops in tactical gear rushed past me as I stepped back. They hoisted Jake up, wrenching his arms back violently. He cried out as the cuffs snapped on his wrist. The room was suddenly full of cops; I saw one take Tommy outside.
......Jake panted, the two tactical cops supporting him. I gave him a hard look and said, "Just ain't your day, Jake. You rob a liquor store with a cop in it, then you take a private detective hostage. And I just happen to be an ex-cop, too."
......His jaw dropped open and he groaned.
......"Guess I should have told you," I said with a smirk. "I run the Hood Investigative Agency."