Ashes to Ashes (47 page)

Were there others, though? Ashe had to
wonder.

Ashe was beginning the get the hunch, though,
that only two men were in the room with Lucky and Scott. Two men
had been in the back. Two men came inside of the house. It sounded
like a sound tactic, four men, a speedy job, in and out of the
house swiftly and on their way they would go with their money. And
it also became apparent to Ashe that the man standing at the border
between the kitchen and living room, the one who seemed to do all
the talking, the one who was defending his men, was the leader,
meaning that he was the most dangerous of the expert killers.

A sloppy plan formed. It was far beyond
foolish

“You are fucked!” Scott yelled. “Fucked!” He
was tired and Ashe could hear that his son was starting to feel
beaten, defeated. He was resorting to pointless curses and swears.
“Fuck you! Fuck all of you!” The fight was leaving him and Ashe
knew that it was time to go for broke. He had no other choice and
time was running out.

Ashe had killed before. Self-defense. To save
a life. And he knew that somewhere deep inside the bowels of the
creature known as moral virtue, he was justified in his coming
action. But he still took a punch in his gut when he sprung out
from the obscured regions of the kitchen and put the tip of the
silencer to the back of the man’s skull. Instead of giving the
killer the chance to spin away, the chance to react in anyway, the
psychologist quickly put a bullet into the man’s brain, ending his
life before anyone in the room could register what was taking
place. All anyone else knew was that a puff of pink erupted from
the man’s forehead and he then collapsed.

Ashe stood where the killer had been,
fighting to fake an aura of confidence, to project the trickery
into the lantern lit room. His gun remained raised and he aimed
directly at the other killer across the room. “Don’t even think
about it,” he commanded. “I have enough light to shoot you by. Try
me.
Try me
.”

“Dad?” If Scott’s hands had been freed he
might have rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “Where did you come
from?”

“I’ve been right behind you the whole time,”
the psychologist informed his son.

Keeping the gun focused on the second killer,
Ashe put his foot between the sprawled legs of the dead man. He
took another step coming further into the living room. Using his
peripheral vision, he found Lucky Barrett…and he at once realized
another crucial mistake he had just made. The lead assassin had not
been the most dangerous man in the room. He had taken care of the
killers, killing the leader while forcing the other assassin into
reluctant submission. But he had disregarded another killer in the
room, the one who was in fact the deadliest person in the house,
while also giving him a window in which to react.

Lucky Barrett.

In the instant that Ashe had taken the steps
to enter the living room, Lucky had made a choice. He chose to
attack. Lucky Barrett lived his life as a cat cornered, afraid,
claws always out, and Ashe had been a fool not to treat him that
way. The psychologist regretted it the moment that Lucky struck him
in the side of the face, close to the eyes. He regretted it as his
vision blurred and he took another punch to the face. Ashe was
knocked into a stumble and began tripping over the torso of the
dead man below him. While he tried to regain his footing and his
vision, something hard shattered down across the back of Ashe’s
head and neck. The psychologist went to the wooden floor in a heap,
feeling two solid kicks to his ribs right before passing out.

Chapter 56

“Tell me again why a forensic psychologist
went inside that house,” the officer demanded. He glared at Oscar,
red and blue lights twisting and reflecting around them. “I know
that you have told me twice already, but I am still confused why
you allowed a civilian to enter an active scene, Detective
Harrison.”

“He is a
consultant
,” Oscar corrected.
He was despising the rain as it relentlessly continued to pour.
Pounding rain made everything more difficult. Everything. But it
was beginning to let up a little, or so it seemed to him. Of that
he was finding himself grateful. And that was the only thing that
the detective was presently finding himself grateful for.

“Well, I will be damned,” the officer said,
sarcastically throwing up his hands. “My mistake.”

“I don’t have time for this, officer…?” Oscar
pretended to forget the man’s name, like it was irrelevant to
anything that was taking place. “Wiles. Right. I don’t have time
for this shit, Officer Wiles. What is going on inside that house is
far more complex than you or anyone out here could fully understand
in the little amount of time I have to explain it.” He pointed at
the police cars, marked and unmarked, and at the group of officers
that was steadily growing. “And I am not going to spell it out for
you, officer Wiles…letter…by…letter. I won’t. You need to just
listen and follow my lead. I know that this is
your
town…but
that is my boy in there and he is trying to save
his
boy. I
need to have point on this.”

“Scott Walters?”

Oscar grunted.

“You mean the suspected murderer and
kidnapper?” Officer Wiles asked. “I thought I was here
because
of him…not to help save him. I figured we were
coming to save the man that was kidnapped, abducted against his
will. Not the abductor. I’m sorry if that sounds a little…nuts…to
me. Nuts? Yes. That is the word I want. Nuts. And who is this?” He
pointed to Amber Barrett’s body. “Who did we have to put down?
Amber Barrett, the current occupant of this residence? And why was
she pointing a gun at my men? Is she involved with Scott Walters?
Or was she trying to help her father, the person believed that have
been taken? This is a Barrett owned home, I have to add. Does any
of this make sense to you, sir? Because my head hurts badly.”

Oscar sighed.

Oscar replied. “Yes. Sort of. What I am
trying to tell you is that Lucky is the captive but his own
personal hit squad has shown up to save their boss. They located
his whereabouts somehow and they have come into your town with the
seriousness of a lightning bolt. There is no longer black and
white…there is all kinds of gray going on here. You need to see
that.”

Wiles put his hands on his finely trimmed
blonde hair. Oscar watched as the officer’s bravado melted away,
like a block of ice under a heated lamp. The seriousness of the
scene might have finally washed completely over the Oak Hill police
officer. He wordlessly conceded. “And you say there are two armed
men lying in the back yard of the house? And that you are sure that
there are more armed men inside of the structure? But you can’t say
how many?”

“No doubt.”

“In case you didn’t know, even us slow town,
sleepy eyed cops have heard of Lucky Barrett,” the young officer
stated. He sighed deep and long. “I believe you. Damn it. I still
don’t get it, though. But I think that it is possible that you are
right. Which only makes this shit worse. Much worse and much more
volatile.”

“You are going to cease with the busting of
my balls, then?” Oscar exploded. “We don’t have to whip em out and
measure.”

“None of this makes sense in my small part of
the world,” Wiles clarified.

Oscar felt his frustration lessening to a
bearable level. “Think of it like this,” he began. “It will make it
easier to digest. My best friend and partner is in there, right
now, trying to save his son, a young man who has lost touch with
what is real and what is not. He is confused. He is blind and
scared. But he is also being manipulated. My partner just wants to
bring his son out of that house in one piece, alive. I see the ring
on your finger, detective. Either you have kids or you will
someday. Put yourself in Ashe Walter’s shoes. Walk around for a
second. What crazy shit would you do to save your child…from
others…and himself?”

Wiles rocked back onto his heels. He then
twisted his neck and popped a handful of joints at its base. “I’m
not sure how to proceed.”

“You are the lead officer here. Am I right?
We need to make to put together our strategy,” Oscar replied. “This
is much more than a simple kidnapping turn hostage situation. You
understand? I can tell that you do.”

“We have a hostage negotiator on the way,”
the Oak Hill Officer informed.

Oscar shook his head. “No time.”

“We will just have to make time,” Wiles
insisted. “This is Oak Hill, Detective Harrison. Not Youngstown. Or
Cleveland. Or Warren. We are a suburb. Wholesome. Quiet. Plain.
Outside of the influence of men like Lucky Barrett and his hit
squads. We need a negotiator from the city to take the reins on
this one. This is madness,” he said, pointing around to all the
officers and all the flashing cars.” Oscar agreed with the young
officer. It was madness. And the amount of officers on scene, all
helter-skelter like, was chaotic, to say the least, proving to the
seasoned detective that the small and its inexperience force was
ill-equipped to handle the current situation. “I am out of my
league, here,” Wiles added. “We all are.”

“May I? Let me be the master and you can be
the apprentice.”

Wiles reluctantly agreed. “Only until the
negotiator arrives.”

“Good,” Oscar breathed. “But I am not in
charge in any known capacity. I am an outsider and your men will
never follow me. The orders have to come through you. From
me…through you. We clear?”

The young man understood.

“How did you become lead officer on this mess
anyway kid?” the homicide detective inquired. “You seem a little
green behind the ears.”

“The night crew is made up of all new
recruits mixed with those with only a couple of years of
experience,” Wiles answered. “Unlike where you’re from, nothing
ever happens here after 8 p.m. more drastic than an old lady
mistaken a stray cat to be horny prowler. I have the most time put
in on. Just lucky, I guess.”

“How much time?”

“Almost four years…give or take,” the officer
said. “Mostly take.”

“Damn, son,” Oscar declared. “You
are
in over your head, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I am here with you. And
I have enough experience down in the muck for both of us. And one
year of my city experience counts for three of yours, sorry to
say.” Oscar laughed. It was a joke, but only half of one, because
part of it was true.

“I agree.”

“Hostage negotiations are all about
strategy,” Oscar explained over the roar of the rain. “I have some
experience with it.” He ignored the look on the officer’s face when
he used the word…some. “It is all about…I…C…E…R…pronounced ice-ER.
Isolate. Contain. Evaluate. And report. Got it? Okay. Let’s get to
work, young padawan.”

Detective Harrison paused to collect his
thoughts. He wasn’t sure how he was going to word the details that
he was about to dictate to the young officer. He would have to push
Officer Wiles quickly to the end results, skipping or skimming over
the middle mess. It would simply take too long to explain every
little detail. He had to divulge as much as he could, though,
because it wouldn’t do the young guy or the situation at hand any
good by keeping secrets or half-truths. It would be hard to
understand and even hard to fully believe, the detective was sure.
It had taken a few specific steps, specific bread crumbs to get
there himself.

“I need to get you up to speed on everything
that is going on here,” Oscar said. He then began to dictate the
events. It took a few minutes to speed through important points and
when he was finished he was shocked to see the young officer simply
nod, like a well-trained soldier would nod to the ramblings of his
command.

The kid had potential.

“You still with me?” Oscar asked.

“I am.”

“I need to speak with someone in
there…A…S…A…P,” Oscar grunted. “I need a line into that
house…several minutes ago.”

The officer began shouting banter into his
mobile phone. Other officers were moving and things were being
done. It was like a frantic anthill. Wiles turned around and
grabbed the first uniform to come within arm’s reach of him. The
uniform appeared even younger than Wiles, if that was possible. The
young uniform became startled at suddenly being under someone’s
grasp. Wiles spoke over the pounding water. “Do we have the phone
number yet?” he barked at the clutched uniform. The young uniform
didn’t reply soon enough. “Go and get it! Now! I want it in my
hands in less than a minute!
Go! Get it!”

The young officer ran off. In less than a
minute, as ordered, the same young man returned with a slip of
paper in his hand. The slip was rapidly getting wet in the rain. He
handed it to Wiles who in turn passed it to Detective Harrison.

“We found the registered landline, sir. It is
under the name Amber Barrett,” the young uniform stated before
running off on another crucial mission.

Oscar slid into the passenger side of the
nearest open patrol car, using the roof of the vehicle for
protection against the falling water. He managed to decipher the
jotted down phone number before pulling out his cell phone, even
though the ink on the paper was rapidly turning into pointless
black streaks. He dialed the number and attempted to make
contact.

Chapter 57

Somewhere a telephone was ringing. At first
it was only inside of Ashe’s head, which was slowly regaining
thought and senses. As more and more returned, he managed to open
his eyes and was immediately struck by a blinding light that was
coming from directly below him. He flinched and fought to filter
the light but found it difficult and painful. His head hurt. And
his memories seemed stained with confusion.