Chapter 4 – Breach, Bang, and Clear
I can’t believe the ADA on this case is my mystery girl from last night. I didn’t want to shower after getting home last night just to keep her scent on me, afraid I’d never smell it again. I even left the shirt I’d been wearing out of the hamper so I could smell it, yet again, when I go home.
How could I be so whipped so soon? A quick mental review of the two of us in that storeroom last night answered that question.
When I heard her telling Alcide we had fucked up the case, I was ready to light into her as soon as I went through the doorway. That is, of course, until I saw her. She didn’t speak the night before other than whatever it was she mumbled before running away, so I didn’t recognize her voice.
I had the same reaction seeing her this morning as I did last night. To me, she literally glowed like the sun. I felt a connection that I couldn’t explain.
I could see the shock on her face as well, but my anger was quick to return. By then, I think it had more to do with the fact that she left me last night than what she was saying now.
I’m sure I came across as a petulant child, but I have to admit she was able to keep up her business persona. Smart and sexy. I finally found her.
The name plate on her office door said “Sookie Stackhouse.” Hmm…Sookie. I had no doubts that I would be moaning out that name in the near future, hopefully with her there underneath me, on top of me, bent over in front of me.
Coming out of my lustful daydreams I could faintly hear Alcide saying something.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Smirking at me he repeated, “I said, what’s up with you and the ADA? Yesterday you said you didn’t know who she was, but I got the feeling something was going on between the two of you. I’m a detective. I notice those things.” He was wearing his shit eating grin.
Alcide had disappeared along with the chick at the bar by the time I’d come back, so he wasn’t there to witness my sudden stupor or mini-breakdown when Sookie had vanished. Looking back it’s a good thing he was already gone.
Normally I tell Alcide everything. We’re partners, we have no secrets. I trust him with my life and he trusts me with his. But, for some reason, I didn’t want to share Sookie with him. At least not yet. When she told him to stop staring at her breasts it took everything I had not to punch him square in the face. She was MINE, at least in my mind. She had yet to agree to that statement, but I would definitely be putting in the effort with her to make that statement a fact.
“I didn’t know her before today,” as the ADA I added silently to myself. Not an outright lie I internally justified.
“Well she’s one hot piece of ass. Do you want to hit the gym before we meet her for lunch?”
I bit back the growl currently growing in my chest. There was no fucking way he was going.
“Sure.” I instantly made plans to drop a couple of free weights on him so he would be missing MY lunch date with Sookie.
We changed in the locker room and went into the gym to do our workout. Being on the S.W.A.T. team required us to stay in top physical shape. To volunteer to be on the team, you had to have been on the force for a minimum of 5 years, and pass physical agility, written, oral, and psychological tests. It definitely wasn’t easy.
I climbed on to the treadmill to do my cardio and let my mind wander back to the mystery that is Sookie Stackhouse.
I started to list off in my mind what I knew about her and came to the quick revelation that it was basically, nothing.
Aside from the obvious physical attributes she possessed, all I knew was that she was a lawyer. I wondered where she’d grown up, did she have siblings, where she went to school, why she became a lawyer.
Fuck. Did she have a boyfriend? She’s beautiful, how could she be single? I visualized everything I could remember from her office and didn’t remember seeing any photos. If she had a boyfriend, she’d have his picture up, right? Then again, aside from glaring at Alcide, I didn’t look anywhere else but at her.
I quickly dismissed the idea. She didn’t seem the type that would do what she did last night with me and have a boyfriend.
Or, maybe that was wishful thinking. Fuck.
I shook the thoughts from my head and focused on running. As I was hitting the five mile mark I sensed someone approaching me from behind.
“Hey there handsome.”
Felicia. She was a patrol officer that I’d had the misfortune of taking on exactly 2 dates before I realized she was a nut job. We’d only been to dinner and a movie and the next thing I know, she’s telling anyone that would listen that we were getting married. The most that had happened between us was a chaste kiss on the cheek after the first date. It was during the second date that she started talking about babies and moving in together. She definitely had issues.
“What do you want Felicia?” I gruffed out at her. I had to make sure I maintained a hostile tone whenever I spoke to her or else she thought we “had gotten back together.” I learned that lesson the hard way.
“I miss you,” she purred. “When are you going to admit that we’re meant for each other?”
Alcide heard the conversation from the weight bench and started chuckling. He chimed in, “Yeah handsome, when are you going to admit it?”
“Fuck Alcide, don’t egg her on.” He was in full blown hysterics by then. I decided I would drop the free weights on his dick the first chance I got.
“Go away Felicia. You’re a fucking psycho bitch and if you don’t stop harassing me I’m going to report you to your supervisor.”
She let out a “Hmph,” and sashayed away muttering something about “we’ll see.”
Alcide was still guffawing. “She’s got it bad for you. I’m so glad it’s you she’s after and not me.”
He and I switched spots and I put all of my anger into doing my reps on the weight bench. It took until my fifth set to stop plotting ways to get back at either Felicia or Alcide.
As we were finishing up in the gym a call came in about a hostage situation located in one of the housing projects downtown. Standard protocol called for the presence of the S.W.A.T. (Special Weapons and Tactics) E.R.T. (Emergency Response Team) team. Alc and I took off for the locker rooms to get changed into our gear. Fuck, there wasn’t any time for a shower. We put on our black tactical pants, the matching long sleeve ripstop tactical shirt (thank God they’re vented and light weight) and our steel toe H.R.T. boots. Whoever thought the color black was a good idea for Louisiana in the summer was an idiot. We grabbed our bullet proof vests, that had S.W.A.T. emblazened across the chest, and helmets and met up with the others in the garage all within 5 minutes of the call.
We piled into the Saracen, an armored personnel carrier capable of holding 8 officers plus a squad commander along with the driver. We had dubbed it Sara and she went on every call like this one. She has a turret on the roof that holds a Browning .30 machine gun, and a roof hatch and side ports that can be fired through from the inside. Hopefully none of that would be needed, but if we had to we could drive her right through the front door without so much as a scratch on her.
Our squad commander, Lieutenant John Quinn, briefed us on the situation. The Narcotics Division had attempted to serve an arrest warrant on a local drug dealer at his house this morning, but he barricaded himself inside and was holding his girlfriend and her two year old baby as hostages. Lovely.
Quinn, as he preferred to be called, had been a detective down in New Orleans but relocated to Shreveport about a year ago. I personally didn’t like the guy. He was as tall as me, but broader in the chest, and he shaved his head bald. He was cocky, hit on every woman in sight, and he could never stand still. At every training session or call we respond to he has to pace back and forth like a caged tiger. Fucking annoying.
The house was a duplex located in a shitty part of town that was all urban decay and ruled by local gangs. Quinn passed out a basic floor plan of the house and we each went over our positions. We trained for this type of situation constantly to the point where we all reacted automatically to “Breach, Bang and Clear”.
We arrived on scene within 15 minutes of the call and spread out into our positions. The hostage negotiator was attempting to get a hold of the suspect, but he wouldn’t pick up the phone. I could hear the baby crying from the street and Clancy, our sniper, reported he could see the guy inside from his position on the roof across the street. The prick was holding the baby at his chest and head level and Clancy couldn’t get a shot. He could also make out that he was holding a 9mm Beretta pointed at his girlfriend’s head as she kneeled in front of him crying.
“Do we know who this guy is?” I asked. Our department wasn’t small, but it wasn’t huge either. Anybody that’s been on the force for a few years gets to know who the different shitbags are in our jurisdiction.
Alcide shrugged, and Clancy came over the mic that he couldn’t see his face well enough to make an ID.
Quinn came over to us from where he had been talking to the commander and told us that because of the two hostages they were going to make every attempt to talk them out peacefully and we were to stand down unless things took a turn for the worse.
This was going to be a long fucking day.
Three hours had passed since we had arrived on scene. The suspect had yet to communicate with us at all. Clancy reported he appeared to be getting more and more agitated, pacing back and forth from the center to the rear of the house, holding the crying baby the entire time. He had already knocked his girlfriend unconscious when she wouldn’t stop screaming.
When I felt my stomach growl is when I realized I had already missed my lunch date with Sookie, and since we had left in such a hurry I didn’t have my cell phone to call her. Fuck! Hopefully she would understand.
The decision was finally made for us to go in. Team A, consisting of 4 officers would be going through the front door, while Team B would go in through the back. Alcide and I were on Team B along with Chow and Quinn since Clancy was on the rooftop acting as the sniper.
The plan was for Team A to use Big Bertha, the battering ram, to go in through the front door, throwing out a flash bang into the front room. The suspect would be able to see them coming through the front window and would either become disoriented from the mini-explosion allowing them to secure him or move towards the back of the house, where we would be waiting.
Quinn did the countdown over his mic and when we heard the “GO GO GO” battle cry, all hell broke loose.
We could hear Bertha knock down the front door and the flash bang explode while we kicked the door down in the back. Chow went in first low with me right behind him using a higher stance providing him cover. Alcide and then Quinn took up the rear positions and we swept the room in every direction, perfectly synchronized so that no team member would be caught in friendly fire.
“CLEAR” was shouted over and over by every team member as we all swept our way further into the house. Once we reached a back laundry room, we discovered the suspect who was still holding the baby as a shield with the lower half of his body hidden behind a washing machine. I had the M16 strapped to my back and it would certainly shoot through the washer, but it could ricochet and hit the baby instead. I wasn’t willing to take the chance.
With Chow still in front of me with his weapon drawn, I slowly lowered mine and put up my other hand palm out towards the suspect wanting him to calm down. We could still get out of this without firing a shot if we were lucky.
Now that I had a chance to see his face, I recognized him. His name was Stan Davis. To look at him you would think he was a nerd with his slim build and glasses taped together in the middle, but you would be wrong. He was street smart and was fierce in protecting his territory.
“Stan,” I started out. “Why don’t you put your gun down. We don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I tried reasoning with him.
“I can’t go back to jail,” he shouted. “I’ll kill myself before I go back in.”
Shit. His eyes had a feral look to them and I didn’t think it would take much for him lose it completely. I wanted no part in helping him commit suicide by cop, especially with the baby in his arms.
“Why don’t you put the baby in that laundry basket on the floor and slide him over to us? You don’t want him to get hurt right?” I motioned at the basket on the floor.
He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes just darted back and forth from us to the basket. I think he was really considering doing just that, until Quinn came up from behind me and started yelling at him to put down his fucking weapon getting him all riled up again. Douchebag!
“I want a deal. I’ll give you my supplier, but I get a walk on the deal.”
Using my most calming tone I said, “We can try to get that worked out, but you have to show some good faith and give us the baby. We’ll call the DA as soon as he’s safe.”
He thought for a moment before responding. “You get the DA on the phone now. I want the deal in place before I do anything. Tell them they’re gonna shit themselves when they hear what I gotta say.”
The next thing I know I see the barrel of a gun coming up along side my head pointed at Stan while Stan’s face turns into a look of shock as he starts raising his gun. I heard the blasts and then everything went black.