Hostage

They crashed into the hedges and went up the wall.

OFFICER MIKE WELCH,

BRISTO CAMINO POLICE

Officer Mike Welch, thirty-two years old, married, one child, was rolling code seven to the Krispy Kreme donut shop on the west side of Bristo Camino when he got the call.

'Unit four, base.'

'Four.'

'Armed robbery, Kim's Minimart on Flanders Road, shots fired.'

Welch thought that was absurd.

'Say again, shots fired. Are you kidding me?'

'Three white males, approximately twenty years, jeans and T-shirts, driving a red Nissan pickup last seen west on Flanders Road. Get over there and see about Junior.'

Mike Welch was rolling westbound on Flanders Road. Junior's service station was straight ahead, less than two miles. Welch went code three, hitting the lights and siren. He had never before in his three years as a police officer rolled code three other than when he pulled over a speeder.

'I'm on Flanders now. Is Junior shot?'

'That's affirm. Ambulance is inbound.'

Welch floored it. He was so intent on beating the paramedics to Kim's that he was past the red truck parked on the opposite side of the road before he realized that it matched the description of the getaway vehicle.

Welch shut his siren and pulled off onto the shoulder. He twisted around to stare back up the street. He couldn't see anyone in or around the truck, but there it was, a red Nissan pickup. Welch waited for a gap in traffic, then swung around and drove back, pulling off behind the Nissan. He keyed his shoulder mike.

'Base, four. I'm a mile and a half east of Kim's on Flanders. Got a red Nissan pickup, license Three-Kilo-Lima-Mike-Four-Two-Nine. It appears abandoned. Can you send someone else to Kim's?'

'Ah, we can.'

'I'm gonna check it out.'

'Three-Kilo-Lima-Mike-Four-Two-Nine. Rog.'

Welch climbed out of his car and rested his right hand on the butt of his Browning Hi-Power. He didn't draw his weapon, but he wanted to be ready. He walked up along the passenger side of the truck, glanced underneath, then walked around the front. The engine was still ticking, and the hood was warm. Mike Welch thought, sonofabitch, this was it, this was the getaway vehicle.

'Base, four. Area's clear. Vehicle is abandoned.'

'Rog.'

Welch continued around to the driver's-side door and looked inside. He couldn't be sure that this was the getaway vehicle, but his heart was hammering with excitement. Mike Welch had come to the Bristo police department after seven years as a roofing contractor. He had thought that police work would be more than writing traffic tickets and breaking up domestic disturbances, but it hadn't worked out that way; now, for the first time in his career, he might come face-to-face with an actual felon. He looked either way up and down the road, wondering why they had abandoned the truck and where they had gone. He suddenly felt frightened. Welch stared at the hedges. He squatted again, trying to see under the low branches, but saw nothing except a wall. Welch drew his gun, then approached the hedges, looking more closely. Several branches were broken. He glanced back at the truck, thinking it through, imagining three suspects pushing through the hedges. Three kids on the run, shitting their pants, going over the wall. On the other side of the wall was a development of expensive homes called York Estates. Welch knew from his patrol route that there were only two streets out unless they went over the wall again. They would be hiding in someone's garage or running like hell out the back side of the development, trying to get away.

Welch listened to the Nissan's ticking engine, and decided that he was no more than a few minutes behind them. His heart rate increased. He made his decision. Welch burned rubber as he swung out onto the road, intent on cutting them off before they escaped the development, intent on making the arrest.

DENNIS

Dennis dropped from the wall into a different world, hidden behind lush ferns and plants with leathery green leaves and orange trees. His impulse was to keep running, haul ass across the yard, jump the next wall, and keep going, but the siren was right on top of them. And then the siren stopped.

Kevin said, 'Dennis, please, the police are gonna see the truck. They're gonna know who we are.'

'Shut up, Kevin. I know. Lemme think!'

They were in a dense garden surrounding a tennis court at the rear of a palatial home. A swimming pool was directly in front of them with the main house beyond the pool, a big-ass two-story house with lots of windows and doors, and one of the doors was open. Just like that. Open. If people were home, there would be a car. A Sony boom box beside the pool was playing music. There wouldn't be music if no one was home.

Dennis glanced at Mars, and, without even looking back at him, almost as if he had read Dennis's mind again, Mars nodded.

JENNIFER SMITH