Elusive - Issue #4

“Elusive”

Issue #4

‘Interstate Killer’ – Part Four

By Charley Biggs

Turning his head, Jim could see Smith looking at him, he gave a quick hand sign, then indicated for the other man to watch and cover him so he could get closer.  Waiting for Smith to get in position, Jim drew his M9, and as soon as the other man was ready, he broke cover and began sprinting for an old barricade that separated flightline from an area for spare fuel tanks and generally junk these days.  Kicking up dust, Jim glanced upwards as he shot across the broken pavement and saw the movement of the glint of sunlight, and then heard the higher pitch report of a 9mm going off, and a cloud of dust well over the head of their shooter, forcing her duck down. Yards from the barricade, Jim dove for cover, just in time to feel chips of cement strike his foot and ankle where he’d jumped from. 

            Safe behind the barricade, he actually stopped to think about the fact that he and Gomez both were dressed for the office and how absurdly old school it was that they were both wearing business suits to arrest a dangerous sniper, and that only Smith, whom was wearing a rugged button down, jeans, and a US Marshals windbreaker was the only one of them that was dressed for the job.  Dusting pieces of rock from his tie, he had to laugh as he tried to shift around for a better view, not finding anything good enough to shoot from, but good enough to gauge Elliot’s position.

            Smith was still hidden behind the hangar, and it was time to get him up closer, and he had a line of barricades as well as old vehicles for cover…Jim would be the first one to cross the flightline, and the only thing nearby was an old RADAR platform.  First things first…they had to get Smith out from his cover.  Seeing the barest hint of a silhouette, Jim could tell she was using her scope to try and get a bead on Smith, waiting on him to look around the wall. 

            Taking advantage of her position, Jim popped up immediately and brought his M9 up to aim for the same area over her head Smith had, squeezing off the first round in a cloud of dust and debris.  The effect was as desired, and Elliot dropped back below the edge.  Watching for several seconds, Jim almost missed the motion of Smith out of the corner of his eye, and Elliot being harder to see, he turned his attention to the tower in time to see only her rifle and head, and he squeezed three rounds in rapid fire for the bottom of the busted out window, sending out splinters and smoke, forcing her to get back down while Smith did a baseball slide for cover behind a large utility truck.

            Now it was Jim’s turn, and purposefully not looking in the direction of Gomez, he waited to see that Smith was still breathing, and noted the man’s movement, he popped up for one more shot to get Elliot’s head down, leaving him four rounds left, and as he belatedly patted his pocket…that was it save for his revolver!  Now?!  Now he realizes he never grabbed the two extra clips?!  Oh well…too late to be pissed off about it. 

            As soon as Elliot dropped, trusting Smith to cover him, M9 still in hand, Jim started sprinting the width of the runway, which was starting to feel a lot more than it was as he was just approaching it.  Still fresh off convalescent, his body still wasn’t in prime shape, and the excitement was taking it’s toll.  The delay seemed odd, Smith should be squeezing off another round.  Jim’s legs were starting to get heavy, his feet felt swollen, and he felt winded…all way too fast, he was getting slower with each step, little above a jog, and a steadily easier target.

            Chancing a glance up at the tower, he realized, heart leaping to his throat, that Elliot was on her feet and following him, so he raised the M9 singlehanded and squeezed off a round over her head making her duck, but not drop, so this time, he hit the sill just to her right, making her dodge.  The strain of turning and firing while running tweaked his left knee hard, but he kept moving through the blindingly sharp pain, it was too late to stop.

            Elliot popped up confidently again, and the ground a foot behind him exploded as her round hit nearby.  As slow as he was going, Jim realized she might have miscalculated at her angle…or he was being toyed with, and raising his gun, he squeezed a round to her right again, forcing her back, sure that this time the debris struck her in the face.  Almost across the runway, Jim was trying to watch two different directions at once, and still thirty yards or better from cover, the ground exploded a few feet ahead of him. 

Skidding and falling on his back, Jim backpedalled to his feet quickly, and raised the M9 for another shot, and it took a second or two as he danced around to see where Elliot had gone, a small panel with a hole in it, and he aimed for nearby support, sending sparks up.  In his hand, the slide was locked, and he pulled it back to aid it’s release…he was out.  Holstering the M9 as he ran full speed for cover, he reached to draw the revolver under his coat, but before he could, Smith, whom must have been trying for a better position popped up and sent up sparks over Elliot’s head before she could get another shot off at Jim. 

            Diving for cover at the edge of the pad where a RADAR used to be, Jim realized that this was a squeeze…not lengthwise, but height, it was little more than 16” tall, and barely kept him out line of fire…if it did.  Also, there was a maintenance trench nearby, he only noticed because when he hit the dirt, one of his two speed loaders rolled out of his pocket and into the trench out of reach, and the trench was in full view for Elliot.  Barely saving the other speed loader, he lie completely flat on the ground, butted against the cold cement as close as he could, and he could tell Smith had hunkered down again, because after a few shots hitting metal across the flightline, he felt more than heard the sudden burst of air and cement chunks as a round struck way too close to his head for comfort, and the loud sound of the bullet striking cement rattled his ears. 

Waiting for a while, he realized Smith wasn’t coming up, and with his speed loader in hand, revolver in the other, Jim popped up and squeezed a round off at the sill where Elliot had her rifle stock resting, causing her to jump back, but only momentarily, and as the Deputy tried to get up and make a run for it, Elliot made an awkward shot in his direction, hitting the cement near his shin, causing him to jump back, teetering at the edge of the trench.

            Smith popped up in the nick of time and emptied his clip into the lower wall of the tower near Elliot, sending the already reloading sniper ducking for cover.  Jim flailed as he nearly fell, somehow throwing his weight forward and landing on the cement pad face first, cutting his forehead open and jarring him pretty badly before he rolled back to the ground behind it.  Smith ducked again as sparks flew over his head, he was in a good place to move around the edges, but he wouldn’t be able to get around to the tower without cover…and Jim had done a lot of shooting, he wasn’t sure he could rely on it.  So he had to help Thornton, but the man was pinned down.

            Not a radio between the three Deputies, and neither of the men in line of sight, Gomez was watching the entire ordeal from her vantage point behind the low wall of the roof through a gutter opening.  Nearby an old A/C unit provided ample cover for her as she needed to start working on spotting Elliot.  With all of the cover fire the men were providing, it was hard work nailing the woman’s exact location and distance, but it made it easier as she used a field glass to get her bearings.  The trouble, however, began when she realized that the men were pinned down.

            Rifle now in hand and out of sight behind the A/C unit, Gomez used the field glass to survey the scene.  Smith was down behind a barricade about fifty yards from the base of the tower.  Jim was considerably closer, only twenty yards, but his cover was bad, he was bleeding, and through the field glass, she could tell he was tired already.  Jim was spent, and though he was holding the revolver, he was slow to fire.

            Looking again to Elliot as she fired off another round at Jim, and then back to Jim, Gomez was trying to puzzle out why exactly Jim wasn’t firing back.  Suddenly her throat tightened and she felt her heart skip a beat!  A glint of metal in the trench, the speed loader, and the other one was not in his hand, he’d holstered the M9, indicating he was out, and with only about three round left, he was too short to take his chances.  In short, Jim was a sitting duck, and she could see the bullets ripping up the cement, his cover was getting smaller as he lay there, covered in sweat, blood and dirt, and he couldn’t go anywhere!

            Jaw tightening, and taking a look at Smith, where he had good cover, but also dwindling shells, Maria’s lips pursed tightly.  Face smoothing in determination, her hand slid to the bolt sliding it back smoothly before reaching for one of the rounds in her pocket.  Sliding it into the chamber, the slid the bolt home, the butt of the rifle coming to her shoulder in a smooth motion.

            Taught to shoot from a younger age, unlike her male counterparts, Maria still went to visit her father regularly and sight her rifle and adjust her scope.  She was easily only about seven hundred yards from her target…not an easy shot, granted, but it could be worse.  Used to long range shots after literal decades of practice, however, and with almost no wind, as she closed one eye to sight through her scope, the adjustments she made in her head to the angle of the shot were nearly subconscious.  The men were pinned down, if she didn’t take the shot, one of them would get killed. 

            Jim lying there in a pool of his own blood, choking and losing consciousness flashed through her mind as it did in her nightmares, the thought of seeing her partner almost die again unbearable.  Then…calm.  Dead calm, nothing as she sighted Elliot’s silhouette.  Timing her heartbeats, slowing her breaths, Maria’s eye slid over the form for what she wanted, that tiny pinpoint target, the right shoulder, the one facing her.  Not a killshot, no matter how easy, they needed Elliot alive.

            Breathe out.  Breathe in. Beat beat.  Breathe out. Beat beat. Breathe in. The breeze ruffled her hair and died again. Breathe out. Beat beat.  The report of the rifle in her hand shattered the quiet of the flightline. After the recoil died, still looking through the scope, the silhouette of Elliot was against the wall, her weapon no longer visible.

            Lowering the rifle in her strong hand, Maria’s right hand flashed as she straightened from her vantage point, signaling Jim and Smith to make a run for the tower.  Smith, moving like the athlete he was, sprinted quickly for the tower and was at the base in seconds flat.  Jim was still lying on the ground for those seconds before painfully peeling himself from the ground.

            Maria felt a lump in her throat…was she too late, or was he just tired?  After a few seconds more, wiping blood out of his eyes, he was moving steadily, and disappeared into the tower behind Smith.  Sighing in relief that the guys were okay, she slid the bolt back, ejecting the shell casing, and slid another round into the chamber, but she didn’t slide it home, instead, she lifted the field glass and wathed for Elliot to move.

            Nothing. In less than ten seconds from the time of the shot, Elliot was disarmed, and Maria was being given the sign to stand down and call an ambulance to take her.  Waving back, she let field glass drop in her hand.  They did it.

***

            In the wake of the chaos, EMTs were treating Elliot on scene, and Smith was giving Jim some first aid on his forehead, the Deputy having refused the EMTs.  Maria, meanwhile, was dealing with orders to get Elliot to the proper facility, and arranging guard for her.  When Elliot was loaded into the ambulance, Smith went with her as escort, looking more the part than Jim or Maria, and also being the junior guy, he drew the short straw this time.

            As everyone began leaving save for crime scene and a few other deputies rushed out to secure the area, Jim and Maria were largely alone with the SUV, sitting with the rear hatch open.  As they sat there watching the Ambulance pull away, Maria turned to look at Jim, sliding out to her feet, motioning for Jim to do the same and close it.  It was time to leave…almost.

            Just as Jim had closed the door, he was about to walk to the passenger seat when suddenly he was seeing stars for the second time today.  Maria was standing, hand still cocked, right square in front of him, having full arm slapped him.  It took half a minute, but Jim straightened, rubbing his face.

            “Alright…what did I do this time?  I came back didn’t I?”

            “That wasn’t for this…even if it was a complete clusterfuck!”, Maria snapped.  “It’s for keeping shit from me…making Valentine have to tell me”

            “Keeping what from you?”, Jim asked.  Immediately he wished he hadn’t, earning another slap in the same place that made him stagger a step or two before he straightened.

            “You had a breakdown?!”, she yelled at him, “Not only that, but you couldn’t tell me?  Instead you pushed me away!  I’m supposed to be your partner”

            “You are”, he said rubbing his jaw.

            “Then why can’t you be honest with me?  This is your life, Jim!  You could have been killed today…and could get killed at any point…”

            Holding up a finger, he shot back irritably, “But I didn’t!”

            “No…you didn’t…but you lost more than half of your ammunition without firing most of it…”

            “This was chaos”, he began, but Maria cut him off.

            “Don’t bullshit me, Jim.  You wouldn’t have made those mistakes six months ago…and I saw you drop your bullets in the parking garage…”

            “You saw that?”

            Maria’s eyes got glassy again as she nodded, “Yeah…”

            “Look…I’m just a little rattled.  I’m fine though…the doc agreed I could come back-“

            “After you threatened him!”, waving a hand she cut him off before he could speak, “Don’t even try and tell me otherwise, I know you better!  You’re not ready to be back…”, she spread her hands, “Why can’t you, for once, just be okay with playing it safe?  Why can’t you just take it slow?  Are you trying to get yourself killed?!  Don’t you care AT ALL?!”

            Putting his hands up defensively, Jim shook his head, “Look…I might not be in peak shape, but I’m fine!  Don’t get paranoid on me now, Maria!  This job is dangerous and we know that, I don’t take any unnecessary risks.  Ever!  If I didn’t care, I’d be dead already!”

            “You know…after a few years with you, I started to think you actually were careful, and that the ‘Wildman’ BS was just that.  But I watch you out here…today?!”, she pointed out to the runway and the bullet hole riddled tower, “Jim…you think you’re expendable.  I know your ex-wife is a bitch and you’re alone, but you have friends…you have a partner.  People will give a shit if you die!”, I will give a shit if you die.  It was unsaid, and with good reason.

            Jim’s only answer was to run a hand through his hair, “Look…I’m not expendable…ok, maybe I am, but I don’t try to act like that.  I’m only trying to do my job, is that too much for me to be doing?”, he yelled back.  “Of course I don’t want to die!  Not now anyway…after the breakdown, the doc helped me with that.  I have…people…someone…to live for.  But I’m not going to stop doing my job, and that does mean taking risks, for them.  I can’t”

            “What would that ‘someone’ say if you told them your job was more important?”

            “That I’m crazy and need to consider retiring…and I’m not ready to retire”, then he shrugged, “…and that’s why she doesn’t know how I feel.  I’d rather lose my chances with her because she doesn’t know, than drive her batshit like I did Tiff”, starting to pace, he growled, “You can’t coddle me because I got hurt…shit happened, get over it.  Stop blaming yourself and move on!  For fuck’s sake Maria, I’m not a child!  Just suck it up, let me do my job and damnit-“, suddenly he choked that last word off.

            Maria’s eyes glistened, her mouth was tight and her eyes were wide open.  Then she pointed at him, “No…”, she said thickly, “Let me do MY job…and help you come back alive…is that too much to ask?”, she asked tilting her head.  “You know that Valentine charged me with keeping you alive…and Smith?  He was scared to come out here with you, he thought something might happen and he couldn’t stand the thought of being responsible for you!”,  a tear slid down her cheek, “I already had to watch you bleed to death…I listened and watched as you died on the table!”, she was crying now, throwing her hands up before they slapped to her thighs, “I have to go to therapy and sit with other people who lost or almost lost their partners just so I can keep my job!  All I want to do is sleep one night without having to relive watching you almost DIE in my arms!”

            Jim stood there in stunned silence.  He had no idea she’d been carrying all of this weight on her shoulders.

            Wiping her eyes, Maria shook her head, looking at him, “Don’t you dare…don’t you fucking dare tell ME to let YOU do YOUR job James Thornton!  YOU let ME do MINE!  GOT IT?!”

            Nodding, Jim whispered in reply, “I-I got it…”, then he walked over to her, closing the gap.  Gathering her into an unsure hug, he stood there and tried to comfort her, but the gesture was alien to him…he wasn’t a cold person, but he wasn’t a people person, this was still very hard for him, and Gomez had always been so tough, he’d never expected her human side to come out.

            Sobbing quietly as she tried to compose herself, a distraught and overworked Maria rested her chin on his shoulder…he was so much shorter than her that it was awkward, but at the moment, the feeling that she wasn’t alone in the midst of a tempest was welcome.  Time seemed to stand still and fly by simultaneously for both of them.  When they let their arms drop, the partners just stared at each other, Maria now dry eyed.

            “Maria…I’m sorry”

            She started to stop him, to him it was alright, but he waved her off.

            “I’m sorry for putting you through this…I just was afraid to worry you.  I didn’t know Valentine told you, and I had no goddamn clue that you were having this much trouble”, then he fidgeted with his hands, looking down at them.  “Want to come by the house for a drink?  The pool is ready…and heated”, then he looked back up at her, relieved to see her smiling, even if it was tired, it was genuine.

            Brushing hair back over her ear, she nodded, “Yeah…that would be nice”

            Pointing to the SUV, he made a grand gesture, “Our government issue chariot awaits!”

            Laughing, Gomez gave him a playful shove and then joined him on the long ride home.

***

            Between travel and the nature of the arrest, all three deputies had been awarded a day off before returning to work.  So late in the evening as the moon was coming out, Marshal Valentine was sitting at her desk working late as she often did.  She thought she had been alone.

            The sensation that someone else was near made Valentine look up from her computer screen, and who she saw filling her office doorway made her want to cringe.  Instead, she tilted her head, and with her young appearance, it was a cute gesture as she smiled sweetly, “Marshal Phillips…what can I do for you?”

            A man in his fifties with limp light brown thinning hair that was steadily going gray stepped in and took a seat.  At an even six feet tall, he used to be built similarly to Smith, but he now had a gut, and once taut muscle had softened with age.  Small brown eyes studied Valentine as his hands slid to rest on his gut, his tan colored suit looking neat, even if his form and hair did not.  Smiling, he gestured to Valentine, his deep southern accent filling the office, “I see your star deputies have caught the Interstate Killer…”

            “She is the suspect…we don’t know for sure yet…though considering her actions, it’s most likely her”, then Valentine folded her hands on her desk, smiling sliding off as she got serious, “As Regional director, you have all of the reporting…what’s the visit for?”, she asked in a gutsy move.

            Smiling greasily, Phillips spread his hands, “I’ve decided to move the human trafficking case over to the FBI…Special Agent Rosenthal is more than capable.  Besides…we need your star people on higher profile cases”

            “Star people?”, quirking a brow, Valentine seemed confused by this.

            “Yes…”, Phillips said slowly, “Deputy Marshal Gomez and Deputy Marshal Thornton…been in the news a lot over the last four years or so.  Gomez is the Deputy every young lady that joins up wants to be nowadays”

            “…and?”

            “Well…we would be better served if she was the woman every little girl in America wants to grow up to be…”

            Valentine looked visibly disgusted, “Director, I understand your interests in Public relations, but Fugitive Investigations isn’t really the place for show business…and Gomez is up for my desk.  Thornton only just got back from convalescent, he is still on a medical probation…they can handle a full caseload, but I’m trying not to overload my best people just as they are getting their rhythm back”

            “Thornton is not as important…but he makes us look good”

            “How?”

            “He looks like an everyman hero…get’s the job done creatively”, then he leaned forward, “Your people, after all, are my people.  I need my people to work on gaining public attention to the good work they are doing…besides, they are nearly celebrities, let’s push them closer to it”

            Valentine’s mouth fell open, “Absolutely out of the question!”, she said, a little breathless at this.  “My people aren’t actors!  They are federal Marshals, and the press is more detrimental to investigations than anything.  I need my best people left without their hands being tied, not being bogged down…if they are, they won’t be my best people for long”

            “Sounds like a personal problem…”

            “It’s too much…it’s one thing to spin a case to the media after it’s over, but not while it’s in progress!”

            “You indicated Gomez is up to take your desk?”

            “Yes, why?”

            “Where do you think you’re going?”

            “There are desks opening for regional director in another year…”

            “Oh I wouldn’t be too over confident”

            “Why not?”, she asked, dreading the answer.

            “I sit on the board”

            Valentine was speechless and horrified.

            “I can assume your office will cooperate?  For the careers of our star deputies?”

            She shook her head, nearly whispering, “They aren’t ready!  Thornton is still recovering, I can’t put that strain on him, and Gomez is great, but she needs her partner healthy!”

            “She will manage, I’m sure…besides…you said your people can handle a full caseload”, then he stood, “Of course I’ll give you tonight to think about it.  If your people aren’t assigned and briefed by six tomorrow morning, I’ll assume you want to ride this position for a lot longer”

            Leaving Valentine  without an answer, Marshal Phillips left to go home for the evening.  Theresa, meanwhile sat with her head in her hands for a long time.  Then she pulled up the cases that were sent from the Regional Director.

            Shaking her head, she wrestled with the idea…greater good it seemed, but then again, the Marshals had not needed to justify their existence this way before.  After a long time, she stood, preparing to leave for the night. 

            Unable to pass the end of her desk, she hung her head, and sitting on the edge of the desk, head down still, Valentine picked up the phone, resigned.

            “Gomez…”, she said when it was answered, “Grab Thornton and Smith and come in…I have…”, she sighed, “Changes to your caseload that need immediate attention”

            After a brief pause as Gomez answered, Valentine nodded, “Good, see you shortly”, then hung up the phone roughly. 

            It was going to be a long night…