Done In One - Part 4
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Part 4

"No, just in pa.s.sing. Cowell and Heidler knew him better, so it was harder for them, I'm sure."

"A brother is a brother is a brother. I'll send his family flowers. I'm very proud of you."

Jacob leaned his head onto Jill's head.

"Thanks. I think."

"You think? We'll have none of that. If you're starting to think too hard about what you do or why you do it, then it's time to get out of this line of work."

"You're rougher on me than my teammates."

"That's because they're all afraid of you, sweetheart, and I'm not."

Jacob raised up, kissed her forehead and smiled.

She held him at arm's length and asked, "Are we clear?"

It was a line from A Few Good Men. And they used it privately to make sure they were each okay. That whatever b.u.mp they had navigated around was safely behind them.

Jake gave the correct answer. He said, "Crystal."

"Good, because the rest of us need guys like you out there watching over us. I feel safer already."

Jill cuddled close to him again.

"You're very good at this."

"Can I show you something I'm even better at?"

"Sure, teacher. Give me a minute."

Jacob set the coffee cup on the table, and headed for the bedroom.

Jill grabbed the coffee for herself. She settled back into the couch and took a sip. She was pretty sure it was the regular caffeinated brew. She could tell. The decaf just didn't taste the same. Oh well. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was that the wand had been waved. Presto chango. Alakazam. The magic was done. The abnormal was now normal.

They were clear. Crystal.

She turned up the volume on the movie. She liked this part. Charles Laughton had just confessed that he was creating the beast men as evolutionary experiments, and he asked the young guy who was stranded on the island, "Do you know what it means to feel like G.o.d?" Rob Zombie had made a song using that line. Jill liked Rob Zombie. She liked this movie, too. But she did not know that Donovan "The Builder" Carpenter and a petty criminal whose meth-fouled mind had driven him to the worst crime of all, had both had this phrase in their heads earlier tonight.

In the bedroom, Jacob opened the door of the walk-in closet that he and Jill shared. He retrieved a small lockbox from a high shelf. It had been concealed under a stack of sweaters he seldom wore. The shelf was too high for Jill to be able to see what was on it, much less use. He supposed that if she wanted to she could stand on a chair to snoop around. To see if he kept anything up there besides seasonal clothes and boxes of ammunition. But Jill wasn't like that. And he supposed that if she found the lockbox in the midst of an uncharacteristic fit of spring cleaning, that it could intrigue her enough to ask him what was in it. But Jill wasn't like that. And he further supposed that if Jill somehow stumbled across the box, asked him about it, and wasn't satisfied with his answer, she could wait until he was asleep and locate the key on his key ring (he hadn't married a stupid woman-far from it) and unlock the box so that she could see for herself what it held. But Jill wasn't like that.

Jacob took the metal box with him into the master bathroom and locked the door.

He turned on the shower. He told himself it was to let the water get hot, but really he knew it was to mask his sounds in case Jill came into the bedroom.

He unlocked the box and pulled out the only thing it contained. A small nylon drawstring bag. It was an old jewelry pouch. But this bag did not contain jewelry. Well, of a sort, perhaps.

Jacob loosened the drawstring and dumped the contents onto the vanity, where the spent cartridge sh.e.l.ls it contained tumbled and clattered. Even though there was no reason to do so, Jacob counted them. Of course he knew how many there were. There were sixteen of them. Jacob reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the sh.e.l.l from that night's kill. He studied it a moment as though the object might impart some hitherto unconsidered insight or wisdom. But it did not. He then tossed it on the counter where it dinged and danced before settling with the others. He considered his macabre collection for a moment, perhaps in the hope that if a single bra.s.s sh.e.l.l would not give up its secrets, then as a group, they might have something to say. But they did not.

He wasn't even sure why he saved them, what they represented to him. Maybe they were souls of the people he had killed. But souls should get lighter, not heavier. These were more like links in a chain. They were heavy, weighing him down, dragging him under. If he kept adding to it, the chain might eventually break him.

Then again, that could all just be a load of bulls.h.i.t.

He scooped them up and returned them to the bag, and returned the bag to the box. He locked the box.

In the mirror, he watched his reflection as it was swallowed by the white steam from the shower.

The movie was over, and Jill had switched out the coffee for wine. She had a gla.s.s for each of them on the living room table. She took a sip from her gla.s.s and looked up to see Jacob framed in the bedroom doorway. Freshly scrubbed and wearing nothing except a towel wrapped around his middle.

Jill went to him and moved into his open arms. They kissed. She yanked off his towel and held it up to him.

"Lesson one. Lose the towel."

CHAPTER 5.

The squad room was filled with regular duty officers pouring cups of morning coffee and taking seats for roll call. Those who also happened to serve on the SWAT team were here on little or no sleep. They had the option of taking the day off, but preferred to get the hours. Overtime was scarce.

Sergeant Heidler sat at the front desk writing on a clipboard. Cowell's diagram from last night's debriefing was still on the blackboard.

Jacob grabbed some coffee and pulled out a chair next to Kathryn, who looked up, quite bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

"Hey partner. Short night, huh? Did you sleep? I couldn't sleep. I was still so pumped from last night."

"Are you always like this?"

"Like what?"

Jacob stared at Kathryn.

"Eager. Are you always this eager?"

"h.e.l.l yes. Thought that was why you picked me for your team."

"Eager is not a desirable trait for a sniper. Think about it."

At the front, Heidler said, "All right ladies and gentlemen, listen up."

The room fell silent. Kathryn leaned closer to Jacob and whispered, "So why'd you pick me?"

Jacob ignored her.

Heidler continued, "Let's get through these items quickly so you can all get right out onto the streets to maximize those taxpayer dollars."

There were a couple of chuckles and a few groans from the officers.

"First item. We've had another death threat on Captain Bryant."

Several officers raised their hands or nodded.

"That was me."

"Right here."

"I did it."

Heidler ignored them.

"This latest threat now includes his family."

This sobered them up. Violence and the possibility of a violent death was the day-to-day reality of these men and women. They accepted it. They made light of it. It was the life they had chosen. Families, though, were off limits.

"Let's step up those extra patrols around the captain's house. If you're not on a call, swing by."

Heidler flipped a page on his clipboard and continued.

"As most of you already know, our SWAT team had a call-out last night where they effectively neutralized one more menace to society, thereby making the world a safer place for all of us."

This earned some non-ironic hoots, whistles, and applause from everyone but the perpetually sour Deputy Billy Simon, a tall, gangly cop whose duty belt seemed to weigh more than he did. Simon had applied for SWAT three times, specifically as a spotter-a sniper in training-and had three times been turned down. Simon was a h.e.l.l of a shot, an amazing shot, maybe even better than Jacob, but as Jacob had told Lieutenant Cowell, marksmanship was only half of it. Probably less than half.

The latest insult, for Simon, had been when Sesak was taken in from another jurisdiction, and brought on the team as a spotter. It truly was a slap in the face. Simon had taken to needling Jacob, both out of resentment at not being accepted to the team, and as proof to the others that he was not scared or intimidated by Jacob Denton.

"Hey, f.u.c.kin'Denton, how many notches on the old gunstock is that anyway?"

Jacob ignored him. Everybody called him f.u.c.kin'Denton, but Simon always gave it an extra little sneer the way he said it.

Deputy Hank Baker slid a piece of paper and a pen toward Kathryn and asked, "Can I have your autograph?"

Kathryn started to take the pen, but Jacob grabbed her hand. The officers erupted in laughter. Deputy Simon stood up.

"Now boys, this is no laughing matter. Suppose our friend Deputy Denton here should snap," Simon said, snapping his fingers to ill.u.s.trate the point. "Like our last sniper did? It could get ugly."

Jacob's jaw tightened. Kathryn glanced from Jacob to Simon, and the look on her face made it clear she didn't know what Simon was talking about.

"You haven't heard this? You're kidding. That last sniper we had, what the h.e.l.l was his name?"

"Lee Staley," Baker said. "Oz."

"Right. Oswald."

"Oswald?" Kathryn asked.

Simon said, "Lee Staley. Lee Harvey Oswald. Get it? As in crazy motherf.u.c.ker with a gun."

Jacob glared at Simon. He was getting p.i.s.sed. Oz was family as far as Jacob was concerned. And you don't f.u.c.k with a man's family.

Heidler, who gave his deputies a great deal of lat.i.tude during these roll calls, felt the atmosphere darken.

"Boys. Play nice."

Simon said, "Hey Sergeant, I think Sesak should hear this."

Baker agreed and said, "Sure she should. Nice and quick, eh, Sarge?"

Simon launched into it before Heidler could say one way or the other. "Oswald's on this routine call-out, right? Hostage situation, gun to some lady's head. He gets the green light, takes the shot, hits the suspect, but..."

"But what?"

Simon made a gun of his thumb and forefinger and placed it against Kathryn's temple.

"But the suspect's hand jerked when the bullet hit him and he pulled the trigger anyway."

Simon pulled the trigger on his pretend gun, his hand rocking in mock recoil hard enough to pivot Sesak's head.

"Blew her f.u.c.king brains all over her color-coordinated kitchen."

Kathryn looked to Jacob for confirmation. He shrugged. It was true.

The squad room was quiet now. Jacob tapped his right trigger finger on the table. It sounded like a metronome.

Jacob looked at Simon and said, "Feel better?"

Simon didn't answer, but he closed his hand and put it in his pocket. He'd fallen under Jacob's sniper glare. All that could be heard was the tapping of Jacob's trigger finger.

Baker said, "h.e.l.l, Denton, it happened. You can't deny Oswald lost his mind after that. They had to retire him."

Simon said, "Seems a h.e.l.l of a lot more natural than someone who can kill like-"

Heidler had had enough and said, "Simon, will you shut the f.u.c.k up for Chrissakes?" He turned to Kathryn and said, "And that's why we call Billy here Simple Simon."

"Yeah, well, Simon says every last one of you can kiss my a.s.s."

Heidler let it go and said, "All right, enough of this bulls.h.i.t. Next item is serious. I'm sure everyone also knows that we lost an officer last night. His name was Donovan Carpenter. Patrolled Zone Four, graveyard. I knew him, and I'm sure some of you did, too. He was a good cop. I'm taking up the collection for his family."

Heidler held up an empty coffee can.

"I expect every one of you to give and give big."

Most all of the deputies unlimbered their wallets and formed a line in front of Heidler.