The Promise: An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel (3 page)

“Okay, Mr. Cole, stand by. They’ll want to talk to you.”

Alvin radioed again and had trouble getting an answer. The helicopter orbited back and speared Lerner’s house with its light. Alvin’s radio exploded with overlapping transmissions. He darkened at something he heard, abruptly took my arm, and steered me toward the perimeter.

“Let’s move. They’re sending someone.”

Alvin changed in that single moment. The officers grouped at their cars changed. The houses and yards and night clouds above us all changed as the air crackled with frantic tension.

Alvin towed me down the center of the street as if we couldn’t walk fast enough. The officers who had been on the perimeter only minutes ago hurried from their posts to spread through the neighborhood, once more knocking on doors, their faces brittle and anxious.

“What’s going on, Alvin? What’s happening?”

Alvin broke into a jog, so I jogged along with him.

People were directed from their homes as we passed. Some hesitated. Others lurched to the street. The cops moved faster and their voices grew louder. Their eyes seemed wider and brighter.

“Why are these people leaving their homes, damnit?”

Alvin picked up the pace.

When we reached the intersection, a middle-aged male detective in a tired gray suit and a female detective in a navy pants suit were waiting by a dark blue unmarked sedan. A uniform command officer stood nearby, but paid no attention.

Alvin said, “This is him.”

The male detective lifted his jacket to show me his badge.

“Bob Redmon, Mr. Cole. Rampart Detectives. This is Detective Furth. We’d like you to come with us.”

Furth barely glanced at me. She was watching the men and women, teenagers and children flow across the perimeter, some
angry and sullen, others nervous and scared. They formed a growing crowd that spread along the sidewalk.

I said, “Tell me what’s going on, Redmon. Why are you pulling these people out of their houses?”

Redmon ignored my question.

“While it’s fresh, you know? Shouldn’t take long.”

“Are you arresting me?”

He opened the sedan’s rear door and motioned me in.

“We’ll give you a lift back.”

“My car’s a block away.”

Furth spoke for the first time, showing her strain.

“Get in the car or we’ll lock your ass up. C’mon, Bobby, I want to get out of here.”

I asked them again.

“Why are you evacuating these people?”

Redmon simply held the door until I got in. Furth and Redmon got in after me and Furth started the engine.

A loud siren whooped on the far side of the intersection. A large black Suburban topped with blue flashers arrived and nosed through the intersection. It was an ominous vehicle with words on its side that answered my question.

Furth eased forward, going slow because of the crowd. I stared at the Suburban. Somewhere above, the helicopter’s whup-whup-whup matched the beat of my heart. When I was in the Army, it was a comforting sound. The heavy pulse of rotors meant someone was coming to save your life.

I did not tell the police my true reason for being there. I did not mention Amy Breslyn. Not yet, not then, but everything might have been different if I had.

Meryl Lawrence had told me little about Amy Breslyn, but now those facts seemed to have a new and dangerous meaning.

I promised Meryl Lawrence to keep Amy’s secrets mine, so I kept them. And many, I still keep.

We passed the black Suburban with its silent, flashing lights. The people on the sidewalk were gripped by the sight of it like mice entranced by a snake. I was gripped, too. The words on the Suburban explained why we were being evacuated.

BOMB SQUAD.

LAPD K-9 Officer Scott James

A
LIGHT
,
INTERMITTENT RAIN
sprinkled Scott James as the Air Support helicopter passed overhead, blinding him with its searchlight. Scott shielded his partner’s eyes.

“Remind me to bring our sunglasses next time.”

The thirty-million-candlepower Nightsun was impressive, but Scott knew the helicopter’s high-magnification cameras and FLIR heat imager gave the Air Support crew a much better view than their searchlight. Police officers, dogs, car engines, and anything producing a heat signature would glow on their monitor. Their eye-in-the-sky imager was the next best thing to X-ray vision, but it wasn’t infallible.

“When they need superpowers, they call K-9. Right, Maggie?”

Maggie licked his fingers and circled his legs.

Maggie was an eighty-five-pound black-and-tan German shepherd. Nothing filled her with joy more than playtime with Scott.
Playtime tonight would be searching for a fugitive murder suspect named Carlos Etana.

Scott was strapping into his ballistic vest when Paul Budress approached from the command post. Budress was one of the K-9 Platoon’s senior assistant trainers.

“A woman saw a guy matching Etana’s description. Might be we have a scent trail.”

“Outstanding. The guys here?”

Maggie would be the only dog released, but Budress and two other handlers would assist with the search. Civilians and regular patrol officers had been cleared from the area.

Budress spit a squirt of tobacco juice.

“Waiting inside.”

“Let’s get the party started.”

Scott clipped Maggie’s lead and followed Budress into the search area. The streets and yards were deserted, but people stood in their windows, holding up small children to see the police dog as a prerecorded message broadcast from the helicopter echoed over the neighborhood. The message asked residents to remain in their homes and warned the suspect he had one minute to surrender before a dog would be released. The broadcast was so loud Scott was reminded of the scene in
Apocalypse Now
when “Ride of the Valkyries” boomed from American helicopters as they destroyed a VC village. This was the second time the warning was broadcast, both in Spanish and English.

Budress plugged his ears.

“How many warnings do you need before we charge you with felony stupid?”

Evanski and Peters were waiting in a driveway around the next
corner. Scott raised a hand, and the two handlers led them up the drive.

Evanski related what she learned from a witness.

“Lady said a Latin male ran up the drive here and over this fence. Long hair, black shirt with a skull. Definitely our guy.”

The four officers unshipped their flashlights as they reached a low chain-link fence threaded with ivy and climbing roses. Freshly torn leaves and broken stems littered the ground and hung in the vines. Scott studied the yard behind the fence and saw muddy divots where someone scrambled for traction. This was an advantage he had not expected.

Maggie was trained to source nonspecific human scent, but the search for a nonspecific scent was methodical and slow. Scott had to direct her from yard to yard around each house and garage, and make sure she sniffed all the places a person could hide. A specific scent changed his plan. If Maggie could whiff Etana’s specific scent, Scott wouldn’t need to direct her from house to house. Maggie would follow Etana’s scent cone directly to her prey.

“Looks pretty good. You guys ready?”

“Bring it on, brother.”

Scott abruptly slapped his knees and ruffed Maggie’s head. A high squeaky voice meant praise and play. A command voice was firm and strong. Scott made the squeaky voice.

“You wanna get some, Maggie-girl? Wanna catch us a bad guy?”

Maggie wiggled and rolled against him. She jumped away and bounded back. This was the hunt and the hunt was play. Maggie wanted to play.

Scott stood tall and deepened his voice.

“Down.”

Maggie dropped to her belly. Her ears pricked forward, and she stared into his eyes. This was their start position in training.

Scott pointed sharply at the gate.

“Maggie, smell. Smell him, girl. Smell.”

Maggie followed his gesture and moved to the ivy.

Scott studied her behavior and body language as she sniffed the leaves and the earth beneath the vines and the air surrounding the plants. Maggie understood Scott wanted her to identify and seek the strongest human scent in the area to which he pointed. When she flattened her tail and pawed the fence, Scott knew she had the scent. He drew his pistol, opened the gate, and followed her.

“Maggie, find’m. Seek.”

Budress and the others came after and spread to the sides in a loose V. The Nightsun passed over, painted them with light, then moved away, plunging them into darkness.

Maggie did not need their flashlights or the airship. She trotted directly past a rusted swing set, through a hedge, and into the next yard.

Evanski said, “She’s on it! Look at her!”

Maggie followed the scent trail through the next yard and into an adjoining yard, where she suddenly seemed to lose the track, but then her nose came up and she found herself blocked by a fence. Scott checked the far side for dogs and hazards, then lifted her over and followed. The narrow passage forced Budress and the others into a single file and spread them behind.

Budress called.

“Slow it down.”

Scott followed Maggie through a carport and more shrubs, then beneath a large metal awning, and through more hedges into a small
yard canopied by a drooping avocado tree. Scott faced a small clapboard house huddled beneath the tree. No lights burned in the windows, and the wide-spread tree draped the house with shadows.

Scott flashed his light at the house just as a nicely dressed man stepped out. The man was a middle-aged Anglo with fair skin and close-cropped hair, wearing slacks and a sport coat. He jumped with surprise, and Maggie charged forward, barking.

Scott immediately called her off.

“Maggie, out!
Out!
”

Maggie returned to his side, but the man was obviously shaken.

“What the hell? What are you doing back here?”

“Please step inside, sir. We have a fugitive in the area.”

“What’s going on with this helicopter? It’s driving me crazy.”

“Go inside, sir. Please.”

The man grimaced, but stepped back into his house.

Scott heard the door lock, and stroked Maggie’s back.

“He scared the hell out of me, too.”

Budress crunched through the hedge, followed quickly by Evanski and Peters.

“Who’s the voice?”

“Civilian. We scared him.”

Budress let fly with a squirt.

“C’mon, get her back on the hunt.”

Scott walked Maggie back to the hedges and pointed at the ground.

“Smell it, girl. Smell. Seek seek seek.”

Maggie ran to the door and barked.

Scott called her back.

“Not that guy, baby. The
other
guy.”

He directed her to the scent again and told her to seek.

Maggie charged directly back to the door.

Scott felt a buzz of adrenaline.

“Paul, he’s here. Etana’s inside.”

Scott called Maggie to quiet her barking and took a position beside the door. Budress radioed their situation as Peters and Evanski moved to the corners of the house.

Scott hammered the door.

“Sir, open the door. Police. Please open the door.”

The man didn’t respond.

Scott flashed his light through a gap between the window and the shade. A young male in a black T-shirt was sprawled on a couch. A white skull design was visible on his shirt, but part of the skull gleamed red, and his face was a crushed mix of blood, bone, and hair.

Scott’s heart rate spiked as he keyed his radio.

“Suspect down in the house, in need of assistance. A second suspect is inside, Anglo male, fifty, sport coat.”

Even as Scott made the call, he realized the man in the sport coat might have ducked out the front door.

“Paul, the front!”

Scott reached the front yard as the man in the sport coat raced across the street, but someone shouted from the opposite direction and Scott saw a second man running toward him with three officers in pursuit. Scott raised his gun, and the second man skidded to a stop, waving toward the man in the sport coat.

“A man came out! There! He ran across the street!”

Scott shouted over him, praying the guy wouldn’t do something stupid.

“Stop! Do not MOVE!”

Then one of the officers chasing him shouted.

“He’s a civilian. The guy’s a
civilian
!”

Scott jerked his pistol to the side, and ran back to Budress.

“The dude I saw took off. Officers in pursuit.”

Budress flashed his light through the window and moved to the door.

“Screw him. This guy’s dead or dying. We gotta go in.”

Budress heaved back and kicked hard above the knob. The door flew open and Scott released his dog.

“Get’m, baby. Get’m.”

Maggie surged into the house.

Scott went in behind her, gun up and ready. He cleared the kitchen and moved into the living room. Maggie pulled up short at the body, barking to let Scott know she had found her prey.

Budress kicked a pistol away from the body.

“Keep moving. Clear the house.”

Scott directed Maggie into a hall. A bathroom and a small bedroom were open, but a door at the end of the hall was closed.

Maggie took passing sniffs at the bath and bedroom, but slowed at the closed door. She seemed to study the door for a moment, then sank to her belly and gazed at the door. Scott saw her nostrils work, but she didn’t bark as she would if someone was in the room.

Budress said, “Front rooms are clear. What’s she got?”

“Dunno. What’s with the smell? Chemicals?”

“Bleach. It’s killing my eyes.”

Scott moved closer. Maggie glanced at him proudly and wagged her tail, but stayed on her belly. Scott had never seen her alert this way.

Budress shouted.

“Police. Open the door and step out. Do it
now
.”

Scott pressed his ear to the door but heard nothing. He shrugged. Budress pointed at the door, and nodded.

Scott threw open the door and lit up the room.

Behind him, Budress whispered.

“Clip her, man. Do not let her go in.”

Scott clipped Maggie’s lead, then keyed his mike.

“We’re in the house. Do not approach our location. I say again, do not approach.”

The incident commander’s voice crackled from their radios.

“What the hell? Say your situation.”

Scott wasn’t quite sure how to say it.

“Explosives. There’s enough explosives in here to blow up the neighborhood.”

Scott glanced at Budress, who motioned him back.

“Back away, Scott. Let’s back the hell out of here.”

Scott backed from the room with his dog.