Mosquito Chase (25 page)

A deaf buzz hummed inside my ear as I entered the quiet lobby. The phones were silent; the world around us asleep. Devon sat behind the dispatch desk, gripping his hands together in an interlocked fist. His eyes held a longing plea similar to the look on Angie’s face when I walked away from her and into the unknown. There was a subtle shake to his head. I could see the nervousness in his posture. He was concerned for Parker. I nodded at him confidently to let him know I understood, that I would never let anything happen to my partner or any of our men.

I turned away and went down the hall, into an empty conference room, and stood before the blueprints mapping out the details of the Sigmon farmhouse. The house sat on a slight valley slope, hills rose behind it in the east. The front of the house faced an open farm to the west. The hills rolled north, breaking into the Blue Ridge Mountains and easing west beyond the farm. The highway ran a half a mile south. The front door of the house faced west. There were three other entrances into the house: a back door leading into the kitchen on the north side of the house, a side door to the south that led into a cinderblock basement, and a door on the second floor balcony facing east. An outdoor staircase led up to the second floor and an enclosed screened porch with three bedrooms filling up the rest of the upstairs. The inside was a simple layout with a foyer and living area to the south and a dining room with connecting kitchen to the north.

The conference room began to fill as I ran the play over in my head. Everyone settled into a chair while my father lingered in the hallway, observing from the open door. Parker joined me at the front of the room, standing off to the side. The men sat around the table wearing bulletproof vests, helmets in their laps. A few knees were bouncing. A few eyes focused on the table in front of them. A few backs were straight as a rail, not knowing what was to come. Uneasiness settled over the room. None of us knew the fate of this mission. I had to put my faith into a higher being that we were well able to overcome it.

“Parker and I will take the front,” I said, turning back to the blueprints hanging on the wall. “I’m staying on the bottom level. Parker will go up.”

I turned toward each man and explained their positions. Cooks would climb up to the outside porch and clear the upstairs along with Parker. Heavner and Murphy would split up with one heading down into the basement while one would scale up to the first floor, joining me on the south side of the house. Peterman and Shuler would enter the back of the house and clear the north side. Landry would remain outside. I knew there should be another officer outside with Landry, but I didn’t have the men to spare. The men knew their jobs. They were confident with their tasks. But as we all exited the conference room, a hidden fear had imbedded itself in each man, including myself.

My father stood in the lobby near Devon. He walked over when he saw me, crossing his arms over his chest and staring me down.

“Wipe that fear off your face. If your men see it, it won’t help their confidence. You need to be calm and focused.”

I nodded in response and glanced away.

“Hey,” he said, pulling my attention back to him. “I’m proud of you. Angie is proud of you. Simon is proud of you. Just keep your guard up and trust your instincts.”

He placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. That was the closest thing to a hug my father ever gave. It was all I needed.

I left my father standing in the lobby with Devon. The unit marched out into the cold night. The ride was a chaotic quiet. No one spoke. No one breathed. No one flinched. Everyone appeared focused, but I knew we were all scared shitless. We had a job to do. Serve and protect. We were made for this.

We parked the vehicles two hundred yards away. The team surrounded the house. Each man crouched down in the brush, between the dead, shriveled cornstalks, keeping an eye on the target. There were roughly fifty yards of barren grass surrounding the house, leaving us all exposed. We would run head on to our entrance point and kick down the doors simultaneously. This would not be a silent entry. The locks were likely reinforced, but the doorframes didn’t appear to be.

The men chosen to be on this strike team were the fastest and most athletic men on the force. I feared for them. I knew them all personally. We were all around the same age, and we’d all grown up together. In high school, I’d played football with a few of them, and before that, little league. None of us ever left this town. We weren’t good enough for college ball or smart enough for scholarships to the schools in the east. We stayed here because it was safe; a good place to grow up and raise a family. Never once did any of us believe we would be doing this. The small town we lived in had no idea what was growing in its core. We intended to keep it that way.

The first team radioed in once they were in position. Parker and I hunkered down low with our pistols pointed up. We would be the most exposed for the longest period of time. Once we stood up, we would be visible from the house. Vulnerable. Our only camouflage was to blend in with the night sky. The goal was to take in any occupants. Guns were not to be fired unless in defense, and no kill shots. When the last team radioed in, I stared over the calm of the night while Parker kept his eyes focused on the house. The air was cold, but I couldn’t feel it against the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“You ready?” I asked, trying to read my partner’s blank stare. His only response was a blink and a slight nod.

I tapped my earpiece to instruct the team, leaving the line of communication open. “Enter on my count.”

I closed my eyes and exhaled. I readied my stance and opened my eyes; finger on the trigger.

“Go!”

We charged, guns pointed forward as we ran through the brush. My legs switched to a full sprint as we closed in on the front door.

“Five, four, three, two, one.”

I rammed my shoulder against the door. The old wood cracked under the blow. I stepped back and threw my body into it. The door flew open, slamming against the wall and hanging from its bottom hinge. My heart became a lump in my throat, dropping down into the pit of my stomach. The gun shook my hands. I gripped it tighter and tried to breath. I turned right, clearing the foyer, and then pushing into the dark living room. Running footsteps shook the chandelier overhead. Interior doors flew open, banging the walls violently. My eyes trained on a desk against the far wall.

“All clear,” echoed in my earpiece from the team below. Footsteps ran up the stairs.

I aimed my gun down and yelled, “Clear,” as I approached the desk. Papers were left in an unorganized pile. I couldn’t see in the dim light so I brought the documents up to my face, reading the words
purchase
and
warehouse
, but I couldn’t quite make out the location of the warehouse. I squinted to get a better read.

“Clear,” from the team in the north side of the house.

The team began to search for any evidence. Movement caught my eye. I turned to see Peterman coming from the dining area. “All clear back th—”

The air blew out of my lungs. A blast pushed me against the wall. The documents flew from my grasp. I pressed my eyes shut as my body hit the floor. Flickers of light caught the side of my vision. I turned my head to see flames engulfing the north side of the house. The air grew hot and thick as ice bled through my veins. Time seemed to stand still as I scrambled to my feet. A searing pain shot up my leg.

“Out!” I yelled. “Out!”

Peterman lay motionless in front of the open door. I limped over to Peterman and slid my arms under his armpits. I dragged him out of the open door, bracing his head once we reached the porch. Landry came running up to me, and together we pulled Peterman out into the front yard. As Landry inspected our comrade’s condition, I ran back toward the burning house.

“Parker!” I screamed into the roar of the flames.

Heavner and Murphy ran past me, joining Landry in assisting Peterman. I left the four men outside, pulling my shirt up over my nose and mouth as I ran through the front door.

“Parker!” I ran toward the flames breaking through the wall. I reached the landing. “Parker!” I screamed into the black smoke choking the air. I ran toward the back. The blast had blown out the windows. The ceiling had weakened and collapsed in places.

“Caleb! Outside!”

I spotted Parker through the smoke, waving me toward an opening in the flames. I hobbled toward him, pain shooting up through my leg with every step.

“Caleb!” a voice screeched behind me.

I spotted Cooks lying on his stomach, stuck under a beam as the fire roared overhead. I ran back without a second thought. I pressed my shoulder against the beam, prying it out of Cooks imbedded leg. Parker appeared, his shirt pulled up over his face. He hooked his arms under Cooks’ and pulled him toward safety. Cooks screamed in agony as his mangled leg dragged across the ground. I released the pressure on the beam. The floor began to weaken below us. Flames surrounded me. Instinct took over. My mind focused on surviving, I dodged a falling support beam as I followed Parker and Cooks. The porch had nearly been taken over by flames; the south side had crumbled. We ran for safety, Cooks grunting with each step.

Once we hit the cold earth, Parker and I each took one of Cooks’ arms, wrapped them around our shoulders, and carried him around the perimeter of the house to the front. Fire truck sirens rang through the night, closing in. Three men stood, staring at the flames. Peterman sat, his head buried in his hands. I eased Cooks to the ground as Landry and Heavner assisted Parker. Murphy stood in shock, mouth hanging open. I crouched down to check on Peterman.

“The pantry.” He peered through his fingers at the flames. Tears dripped down his face, mixing with blood and soot. “Mike was opening the door as I walked out. He must have tripped an explosion turning on the light. They knew we were coming. They knew we were coming.”

A loud pop and crack echoed like a tree falling in a crowded forest. I looked back to the house as the roof on the north side crumbled, taking the whole side of the house with it. The weight of the world pummeled me into the ground until I found myself sitting beside Peterman. Uselessness bled through my veins.

One of our men was dead and it was my fault.

Caleb left hours ago, but I hadn’t slept since he woke me up after midnight. I stayed awake in his arms. When he left, I stared out the window into the darkness, clutching my cell phone in my hand. I didn’t know how long I stayed that way. I told myself that if I kept checking the time then I would worry about him more the longer he was out of touch. He was good at his job, I knew that, but this … this wasn’t the kind of thing he signed up for. There were people more prepared and better trained to deal with the drug cartel. I believed in Caleb. He could do anything. I just didn’t want him being out there.

The sun shed its morning light across the farm, breaking through the morning fog hanging low over the mountains. Frost glistened across the grass. The world remained still, not yet awake. It was hard to imagine a peaceful life when my own world was being torn apart. I closed my eyes and saw Simon in my arms as we sat next to a Christmas tree, warmed by the fire. Caleb was in his kitchen, cooking me eggs of all kinds. This vision was how yesterday morning should have been. The love in my heart warmed the ache in my chest. That life was too perfect. I didn’t get that sort of life. Perfect wasn’t a word used to describe Angela Butler.

“Angie.”

I opened my eyes, my vision blurred with tears. I hadn’t heard the door open. I wiped the moisture from my cheeks and turned around. My eyes met Paul’s. His brow creased together. The warmth in my chest formed into a rock and plummeted into the pit of my stomach.

“There was an accident. We have to go.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” I pushed to my feet as Ellie walked into the room and opened the closet door.

“There was a bomb planted in the Sigmon farmhouse.”

I stepped back and met the bed. My eyes didn’t leave his. I waited for him to continue, to tell me Caleb was okay. I knew he was okay. He couldn’t have been taken from me already.