Page 64 of Jackson
“I’m not so sure. Tweakers will take a lot of risks,” Jackson said. “Let’s get closer and see what’s happening.”
Will turned back reluctantly. “Okay, you take the back. I’ll see if anyone answers the door.”
Jackson circled around the next-door neighbor’s garage so he could get behind the house without being spotted. The backyard looked like the front but with taller weeds. The boy was in the back corner, lying down flat, trying to hide.
“No answer. What have you got?” Will asked, his voice slightly distorted over the comm unit.
“Checking now,” Jackson replied.
A window was open, and he edged along the building toward it. As he got close, he recognized the smell of meth cooking. He had to hold his breath to keep from coughing and betraying his presence. He backed away from the house to the other side of the garage before checking in with Will. “It’s a go. I can smell it cooking. Back off and call in the cavalry.”
“Will do. Get back here, pronto.”
“As soon as I get the kid. We can’t leave him here. The place could blow sky-high any minute.”
“You know the orders. Stand clear, Cagney!”
“I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve got the kid.”
Jackson headed to the weeds, straight to the little boy. He was risking exposure if whoever was inside looked out. The child didn’t move and was lying face down with his truck tucked tightly between his arm and body. Jackson touched his back gently, and the boy turned his head.
Jackson held a finger to his lips and whispered, “I’m a policeman, and I think something bad may happen. We need to get out of here. It’s a secret, so we must be quiet.”
Jackson crouched in front of the kid to appear less threatening. The boy’s look of fear reminded Jackson of Josh.He had to keep him from running into the house. Jackson could feel the danger in the air.
The boy looked from his face to the truck he was clutching and back up with a wariness that shouldn’t be on a face so young. Jackson had to tamp down his urgency. He was losing precious seconds, but he needed the boy to trust him.
“That’s a beautiful truck, kiddo. Do you like trucks?”
The child looked down at the red Tonka dump truck he held and nodded.
“I have a big car, a real police car, do you want to take a ride?”
A hint of a smile and a nod was the answer Jackson got.
“My name is Jackson, what’s yours?”
“Mikey.”
“Okay, Mikey, let’s go for a ride.”
The boy looked at him unblinking, but he let Jackson pick him up. Jackson got a firm grip on the small stiff body and moved toward the front of the house. The boy smelled of peanut butter and dirty clothes. He was small enough that Jackson was surprised he wasn’t wearing a diaper.
Jackson started for the front of the house going around the opposite side this time. He wanted the shortest route. As he got to the front, an explosion roared behind him. He thought about turning around but a huge force propelled him upward. He held onto Mikey with all his strength, tucking the boy’s head under his chin. For a moment, he seemed to be airborne and thought he should try to roll to keep the boy from hitting the ground first. He never got the chance. His head hit the sidewalk and everything went black.
Paula knew something was amiss the moment she stepped out of the conference room. She’d been wrestling with a difficult report and had gone there to escape her phone. On a normal day, the station buzzed with energy, conversations, the clicking of keyboards, and laughter. Now, people were huddled together in small groups, talking in hushed tones. A few phones rang in the otherwise eerie silence that lay over the room like a heavy blanket.
Paula went to a nearby colleague. “What’s going on?”
“Explosion in a meth house. One of our guys got caught in the blast zone saving a kid,” was the clipped answer.
“Fuck! How bad? Who?”
“From what I hear it’s bad, head injury and who knows what else. It was Jackson Cagney from the Drug Squad. He had his vest on at least, and he saved the kid.”
If he’d punched her in the face, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “J-Jackson.” Paula felt like her world stopped right there.
She grabbed his arm, not caring that her fingernails dug into his skin. “Where did they take him?”
