Stealing Time

CHAPTER 50

T

here was something terribly serious about the blue limo, unlike anything else with wheels parked on this Garden City street. The car was long and wide, and even from a block away it was clear the thing had leather seats and a phone and a TV. The fancy car with its emblem and its shiny paint and its driver sitting inside made a clear distinction between the kind of people who rode around in conveyances like that and the kind of people who didn't. The car was a symbol of power that indicated how carefully and importantly those driving in it had to be treated. In the police department, these people held the ultimate rank the officers were taught to respect and fear.

As they drove toward the car, April couldn't help thinking of Anton's wife, Heather Rose, who had come from the same melting pot as she but had so much more promise as a child and such a different fate. By outward appearance, Heather Rose was superior to April in every way. Somehow, she'd been able to study during the years April had had to work. She'd been smart enough to go to a great university, fortunate enough to attract a man of wealth and influence. It occurred to April that she must be used to riding around in limos with her husband. But Heather Rose's marriage to a professional man, and the wealth April's own mother so wanted for her daughter, hadn't exempted Heather Rose and her family from torture and shame.

The phone call to her mother had also made April think of shame. All her life Skinny had shamed April, made her feel like a worm. It was unsettling to think that Mike Sanchez had done more for her self-respect than her own parents, and even more shocking that he was willing to take a detour to check on Skinny even though she hated him. This made April ashamed of her mother.

As the Camaro approached the limo, April started to feel even more anxious. Half a block from the house, Mike slowed the car and turned off the siren. Instantly, all became quiet on the street. April swallowed, breathed in and out a few times, testing for nausea and dizziness. She still felt all right.

"Maybe this'll be easy, and we can go check on your mother soon," Mike said hopefully. She touched his hand on the wheel.

"I have to admit, I didn't want you in this when it started," she said slowly.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I love you."

It was the first time he'd said it in English. She felt his mustache and his warm lips. Her anxiety intensified. The air in the car seemed to get colder, not warmer as it should with the heat of their love. She wanted to say she loved him, too, but instead she said, "Do you feel that?"

"What?"

She frowned. "You don't feel it? Cold?"

"No."

"Maybe it's just me." She unholstered her gun, checked out the 9mm, then cradled it in her lap. The quiet lasted only a few seconds. Before they had time to formulate a game plan, the unmistakable sound of a shot came from behind the house. Mike braked hard. April was thrown forward into her seat belt and recovered her balance as Mike reached for his gun and dove out of the car into the line of fire.

"Wait!" The word wrenched from her throat. It wasn't what she was supposed to say.

"Cover me," Mike ordered over his shoulder.

She was supposed to do it without question. In the middle of a power surge, though, April reverted to type and rankled at the command. Their situation had changed. He was no longer her supervisor.

She

was the squad supervisor. He didn't outrank her. So who was in charge here, who was supposed to take the lead, be in the line of fire? All this in a split second.

What she was supposed to do was get out of the car, position herself somewhere behind Mike, and cover him. But she was overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of inadequacy. "Wait," she said again.

But either Mike didn't hear her or he wasn't going to wait. He was out of the car and across the sidewalk before she could say anything else. He hit the edge of the lawn as Anton appeared around the side of the house, running toward his big shiny car. Clutched close to his chest was a bundle wrapped in a blue blanket, and the bundle was screaming. Behind him more shots were fired. A young man with a handgun ran out from behind the house and dove behind a large oak tree.

"Police! Drop the gun!" Mike shouted. April heard it. Anton heard it. Anton saw Mike's gun in front of him and froze. The baby was shrieking. It wasn't clear if the gunman ever heard him. Anton stood still on the lawn as Mike moved forward to protect him. At that moment more shots were fired.

"Mike!" April screamed as the first bullet ripped through Anton, turning the bundle a sickening red as he fell. The second bullet hit Mike. She could see him miss a step as it slammed him. He fell to one knee, then struggled to get up again.

"Get down!" she screamed at him. She had her gun aimed at the tree. She fired, hit nothing. She could see the muzzle of the gun, but not the shooter.

She did not fire again, because other people ran from the side of the house, right out into her line of fire. Nanci was screaming, racing toward the bloody blanket. Milton and another man were trying to stop her, screen her from the sight of Anton, with half his head blown off. The gunman was behind the tree. April couldn't get a shot off with the three of them racing toward her.

"Get back!" April shouted at them. A second passed. Only a second. She wanted Mike down, everybody back. She had only a second. Mike wouldn't stay down. His gun was in his hands. He was up again, aiming at the shooter. His angle was better than hers, but Nanci kept coming. She was screaming, and Milton was screaming at her. And April was screaming at them to get back. Mike had a growing red spot on his shirt.

She was supposed to cover him, but she'd failed. He was supposed to get down, but he didn't. She knew what was going on in his mind. If he had to die, he was going to take the bastard down with him. Nanci and Milton were supposed to get out of the way, but they wouldn't. April had been in this kind of position several times in her life, the latest in enhanced computer-simulated training that was supposed to teach appropriate reactions to situations like this when there was no good line of fire and no easy solution.

Now her instinct was to dive out onto the lawn and make herself the target, to save Mike and the others with the shield of her own body. She knew that was not a good idea. Instead she moved right, intending to make the shooter turn away from the four of them and toward her. She fired at the tree. The shooter shifted his position and fired at her. Mike rushed him. He turned to get off a shot at Mike, and April fired, taking him down.