Sam.
Bad move.
Former Army Ranger and all that.
McCree was about the same height as Sam,
although half the weight judging by his concave chest, narrow
shoulders and stringy arms. Sam nailed the guy in the solar plexus
with a left uppercut. McCree collapsed to the floor and balled up
into a fetal position. His face turned dark red, almost purple,
while he struggled to pull air into his lungs.
Sam knelt down beside the man and said, “One
single breath, man. Bet that’s all you want.”
I leaned out through the open doorway and
said, “We need a female officer in here now.”
A young female cop by the name of Marcy
Wiggins entered. I’d worked with her before on a handful of
occasions. Smart woman, very perceptive. Kind of lady that could go
far if she kept applying herself. She stepped over McCree and
walked around the bed. Her dark hands contrasted with the naked
woman’s pale skin.
“Bring her to the other room, Officer
Wiggins,” I said. “And find a robe or something for her to put
on.”
After Officer Wiggins and the woman had left
the room, Sam reached down and pulled McCree to his feet.
“Where are they?” Sam barked.
McCree had resumed breathing, although the
forced and ragged action left him unable to speak. At least, that’s
the way he made it seem.
“Answer me!” Sam pushed the guy down onto the
bed. McCree fell back, arms waving, overly dramatic.
“What are you talking about?” the man
asked.
Sam pulled his shoulders back. He towered
over McCree in this position. Quite intimidating. “I’m gonna give
you to the count of three and then you had better answer my
question.”
McCree started to pull himself backward on
the bed. He dug at his sheets and pushed his feet along the floor.
Sam took a step back and drew his pistol.
“Don’t you freaking move!” Sam shouted. He
was so good at this part. I knew that this wasn’t an act,
though.
McCree threw his hands up over his face.
“Please, I don’t know what is going on here.” The man started to
cry, and I believe he pissed himself.
“We need some gloves in here,” I said to
Officer Jennings. The baby-faced cop had just stepped into the
room. He shot me a nervous look before taking off down the hall in
search of the gloves I requested.
Sam took a deep breath. He shrugged his
shoulders and rolled his neck side to side. Part of this was for
show. I’d seen him do it before. But I knew that he was also trying
to calm himself down. We were all worked-up over this one. Anything
that led us one step closer to the children.
“Where are those kids, McCree?” Sam asked in
a subdued tone.
McCree pulled his hands to the side and
looked up at us. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sam leaned forward and placed his hands on
his knees, then said, “This morning, two children from your school
were abducted at gunpoint.”
“Oh my God.” McCree’s face went pale, maybe
even a little green. “No, not…”
“Not what?” Sam asked.
McCree shook his head and pressed his lips
tight. The color drained from them, too.
“Why didn’t you show up to school today,
McCree?” Sam said. “Where you been all morning?”
McCree looked between the two of us, but said
nothing. I shifted my gaze from the man to the wall behind him. A
framed Jack Vettriano painting hung there. I always wondered why
the artist never let you see the lady in red’s face.
“This is going to be easier if you
cooperate,” Sam said.
“Eat shit,” McCree said.
Sam lunged toward him. I noticed in time and
managed to get my hands on his shoulders. I wrangled him through
the bedroom door and out into the hallway.
“Keep an eye on him, Jennings,” I said. Then
I pulled Sam into the great room. “What the hell are you
doing?”
Sam looked away and said nothing.
“C’mon, man. It’s normally you keeping me in
check. I know you’re pissed. I am too. Believe me, I want nothing
more than to put the barrel of my Glock to his head and pull
Bad move.
Former Army Ranger and all that.
McCree was about the same height as Sam,
although half the weight judging by his concave chest, narrow
shoulders and stringy arms. Sam nailed the guy in the solar plexus
with a left uppercut. McCree collapsed to the floor and balled up
into a fetal position. His face turned dark red, almost purple,
while he struggled to pull air into his lungs.
Sam knelt down beside the man and said, “One
single breath, man. Bet that’s all you want.”
I leaned out through the open doorway and
said, “We need a female officer in here now.”
A young female cop by the name of Marcy
Wiggins entered. I’d worked with her before on a handful of
occasions. Smart woman, very perceptive. Kind of lady that could go
far if she kept applying herself. She stepped over McCree and
walked around the bed. Her dark hands contrasted with the naked
woman’s pale skin.
“Bring her to the other room, Officer
Wiggins,” I said. “And find a robe or something for her to put
on.”
After Officer Wiggins and the woman had left
the room, Sam reached down and pulled McCree to his feet.
“Where are they?” Sam barked.
McCree had resumed breathing, although the
forced and ragged action left him unable to speak. At least, that’s
the way he made it seem.
“Answer me!” Sam pushed the guy down onto the
bed. McCree fell back, arms waving, overly dramatic.
“What are you talking about?” the man
asked.
Sam pulled his shoulders back. He towered
over McCree in this position. Quite intimidating. “I’m gonna give
you to the count of three and then you had better answer my
question.”
McCree started to pull himself backward on
the bed. He dug at his sheets and pushed his feet along the floor.
Sam took a step back and drew his pistol.
“Don’t you freaking move!” Sam shouted. He
was so good at this part. I knew that this wasn’t an act,
though.
McCree threw his hands up over his face.
“Please, I don’t know what is going on here.” The man started to
cry, and I believe he pissed himself.
“We need some gloves in here,” I said to
Officer Jennings. The baby-faced cop had just stepped into the
room. He shot me a nervous look before taking off down the hall in
search of the gloves I requested.
Sam took a deep breath. He shrugged his
shoulders and rolled his neck side to side. Part of this was for
show. I’d seen him do it before. But I knew that he was also trying
to calm himself down. We were all worked-up over this one. Anything
that led us one step closer to the children.
“Where are those kids, McCree?” Sam asked in
a subdued tone.
McCree pulled his hands to the side and
looked up at us. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sam leaned forward and placed his hands on
his knees, then said, “This morning, two children from your school
were abducted at gunpoint.”
“Oh my God.” McCree’s face went pale, maybe
even a little green. “No, not…”
“Not what?” Sam asked.
McCree shook his head and pressed his lips
tight. The color drained from them, too.
“Why didn’t you show up to school today,
McCree?” Sam said. “Where you been all morning?”
McCree looked between the two of us, but said
nothing. I shifted my gaze from the man to the wall behind him. A
framed Jack Vettriano painting hung there. I always wondered why
the artist never let you see the lady in red’s face.
“This is going to be easier if you
cooperate,” Sam said.
“Eat shit,” McCree said.
Sam lunged toward him. I noticed in time and
managed to get my hands on his shoulders. I wrangled him through
the bedroom door and out into the hallway.
“Keep an eye on him, Jennings,” I said. Then
I pulled Sam into the great room. “What the hell are you
doing?”
Sam looked away and said nothing.
“C’mon, man. It’s normally you keeping me in
check. I know you’re pissed. I am too. Believe me, I want nothing
more than to put the barrel of my Glock to his head and pull
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