Page 39 of Hard Focus
Jonas Thompson’s home address.
And now there was an emergency there. Squads called first, then ambulances, all from precincts closer to the address, then a single truck, more a just-in-case measure than something the dispatcher actually thought they’d need.
Cole drifted towards the radio, cutting his gaze around the room. Every man there knew the situation with Audrey. Knew what the Stewarts’ had been through. “That’s the asshole’s address,” he told the captain, tipping his head towards the radio. “I gotta go.” He headed for the pole and called over his shoulder. “Dougal will be here. I’ll call him. You won’t be shorthanded.”
“Don’t worry about it, Cole. Go see what’s happening.” He heard the mic keyed behind him, the captain’s voice asking for more details on the dispatch. “I’ll call you and let you know what I find out.”
Cole didn’t answer, just dropped and then headed for his truck and peeled out, tires spinning and then catching hold. He was most of the way to Thompson’s place when the captain called, his words not making sense. “He’s got a hostage. They said he had her call his PO and whoever they were talking tofiguredout something was off. Units are just pulling up outside the structure now.”
All Cole heard was “her” and his heart raced. “Who is it, do you know?”
“It’s not Audrey,” the captain reassured him, “that’s all I know for sure.”
Cole disconnected and then called Audrey. “Where’s Addy?”
She took an audible breath and then asked, “What’s wrong, Cole?”
“Where’s Addy?” He slid to a stop behind a cop car, jamming the gear shift into Park. He removed the keys, palming them as he opened the door. “Is she with you?”
“Yes, she’s right here. What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t know, Audrey. Stay home, lock your doors. Keep Addy with you. I’ll call as soon as I know something.” Cole ended the call and jumped out of the truck, kicking the door closed. “Hey,” he called towards the rookie manning the edge of the contained area. They were just starting to string tapeandhe ducked under the yellow plastic wafting through the air. “Who’s in charge? They down there?” Pointing to where the mass of blue uniforms had gathered in the street outside a nondescript brick house, he asked, “Is that the Fifth?” If it was that precinct, he knew most of the cops well, having worked extra shifts out of a house in that area for more than a year.
The rookie nodded, not asking Cole for credentials, taking his shirt emblazoned with the city fire department logo as enough identification.
Cole took off up the street at a brisk trot, lifting a hand as he recognized faces here or there. He pulled to a halt behind a man holding a portable loudspeaker. Thankfully Cole knew him. He and the cop had worked together off and on for years. “Donnelly.” The man turned around. He had an expression of concentrated focus on his face, with tense lines carved deep on either side of his mouth. Cole didn’t waste time, needing him to understand why Cole was here. “That’s Jonas Thompson’s house.” He didn’t need to say anything else, Donnelly nodded. “Who’s he got in there?”
Donnelly’s mouth moved, but Cole wouldn’t remember hearing the answer, couldn’t pull it out of his memories even later. He just knew he’d asked the question, and then he was slammed up against a cruiser, metal of the door gouging his back as Donnelly held him in place. Cole cursed as he fought to get free, not knowing exactly where he was going, just knowing he had to get inside there rightnowbecause Connie needed him. Thompson was holding Connie hostage.
“Stewart, stop now, man. Don’t make me deal with you on top of this. Let me do my job. Let me save her.” Donnelly shouted in his faceandthe fight went out of Cole.
“He’s gotConnie.MyConnie.” Donnelly froze, the expression on his face telling Cole he understood. Cole pulled in a hard breath with a winded groan, it rasped painfully against the inside of his throat as he forced it back out hard. “Get her out of there.”
“I’m trying, Stewart. You good?” Cole noddedandthe rigid grip on his throat eased. “You—” Donnelly pointed at a uniform standing nearby. “—keep him here.” The burly cop moved closer as Donnelly turned back to Cole, asking, “Who is she? Who is she to you?”
“She’s my girlfriend.” He deliberately labeled their relationship what he’d been dreaming of, but didn’t stop there, didn’t dare mince words, knowing this man needed all pertinent details to make the best possible decision. “But before that, she was his girlfriend. Thompson stalked her some after she broke it off with him. She wasn’t afraid of him, and it seemed like he’d dropped it with her. I don’t understand why he’d go after Connie now. It’s been weeks. I mean, I know Audrey filed for sole custody a couple of days ago. That might be his trigger, man. But why Connie?”
“May be what tipped him over. PO said he’d blown off check-ins. Thompson knew he was likely to go back inside. That could be it, too. Rowe? Your Connie? No idea why her, the report is muddled so far. They’re going to feed me what they can, but I’m going in blind here. Your info is good, Stewart. You’re helping her. Anything else I should know?”
“Connie was listed as his court-appointed monitor for his custody visits with my niece. I didn’t find that out until Audrey filed. I don’t think even Connie knows. Audrey’s lawyer dug up the paper. He doesn’t think it’s Connie’s signature, so he took that to the Tenth for processing. They might have paid him a visit, too, or he might be trying to use Connie to hold off the PO?” Cole shook his head. “There are too many unknowns. I just know you gotta get her out. You gotta get her out of there for me.”
“I will.” Donnelly nodded and turned, scooping the loudspeaker from the street where he’d dropped it in his efforts to contain Cole. There was a click as he turned it on, then a mechanical squeal. He let the noise fade away and started the typical initial encountericebreaker. “Jonas Thompson.”
Cole turned to face the house, chest to the edge of the car’s doorframe. With the uniform behind him, there was nowhere for him to go, and he hated how it felt, having to sit it out like this when every piece of him was crying out to storm in there and pull Connie to safety.
“Jonas Thompson, we need to talk to you.”
There was movement in the house, seen in jerky waves behind the gauzy curtains that covered the main windows. Cole strained to see through the fabric, frustrated when the most he could make out was a shadowy outline he wasn’t even certain was human.Where is she?More blaring words from the loudspeaker, with no response. Donnelly stepped it up, asking specific questions and he named Connie, the open confirmation she was in the house a blow that hit Cole like a punch to the solar plexus, stealing his breath.
Finally, the curtains stirred as dark fingers parted them. A panel pulled back to reveal a face he still saw in his nightmares, one he’d come to know too well over past years.Thompson.
A paler circle marked where Conniestaredout from behind the windowpane. Nearly the same height, Thompson had her positioned in front of him, back to his front, holding her as a human shield. Her shirt was awkwardly pinned to her body, dark stains discoloring it. She looked confused and seemed unsteady on herfeet,as if Thompson’s imprisoning grip were the only thing keeping her upright. Cole’s heart thundered in his chest as he realized Connie was wounded. His fingers curled into a fistandhe pounded the top of the cop car, ignoring the heavy hand that landed on his shoulder.No, please no.
“Jonas, is that Miss Rowe? Can you tell me if she’s okay?” Away from the microphone, Donnelly calledan order,andCole heard the car’s radio crackle with acknowledgments. He watched as sniper laser targets entered his view from the top of the window, working their way down to find Thompson. “At will,” Donnelly’s voice came through the radio. “Shooters havethe go.”
“I’ve got him. Green on one.”
“Clear mark. Two’sa go.”
“Three is on target.”
The responses were immediate, sharinga confidencethat should have been reassuring.
Cole only had eyes for Connie, and he attentively watched as she said something to Thompson. He shook his head and jerked her tighter. She shifted to the side slightly, and Cole prayed it would be enough for the marksmen waiting in their high hides. He held his breath, waiting. Each second that passed seemed twice as long as the one before,andhe found himself counting the heartbeats he could hear pounding in his ears.God, keep her safe.
Glassshattered, bursting into a corona of splintered reflections. The snap of the rifle reports overlapped, sounding more like a single long ripple of sound than three individual shots as Thompson and Connie disappeared.
