Hostage (2001) (3 page)

'Let's go.'

'Dennis, please.'

Dennis pulled his brother out of the truck.

They crashed into the hedges and went up the wall.

OFFICER MIKE WELCH,

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 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.

Sixty feet away through the open door, Jennifer Smith was thoroughly pissed off about the state of her life. Her father was behind closed doors at the front of the house, working. He was an accountant, and often worked at home. Her mother was in Florida visiting their Aunt Kate. With her mom in Florida and her dad working, Jen was forced 24/7 to ride herd on her ten-year-old brother, Thomas. If her friends wanted to go to the Multiplex, Thomas had to go. If she lied about going to Palmdale so she could sneak down to LA, Thomas would tell. Jennifer Smith was sixteen years old. Having a turd like Thomas grafted to her butt 24/7 was wrecking her summer.

Jen had been laying out by the pool, but she had come in to make tuna fish sandwiches. She would have let the turd starve, but she didn't mind making lunch for her father.

'Thomas?'

He hated it if you called him Tommy. He didn't even like Tom. It had to be Thomas.

'Thomas, go tell Daddy that lunch is ready.'

'Eat me.'

Thomas was playing Nintendo in the family room.

'Go tell Daddy.'

'Just yell. He'll hear you.'

'Go get him or I'll spit in your food.'

'Spit twice. It turns me on.'

'You are so gross.'

Thomas paused the Nintendo game and looked around at her. 'I'll get him if you ask Elyse and Tris to come lay out.'

Elyse and Tris were her two best friends. They had stopped coming over because Thomas totally creeped them out. He would wait in the house until everyone was lying by the pool, then he would appear and offer to rub oil on them. Even though everyone said ooo, yuck, go away, he would sit there and stare at their bodies.

'They won't lay out with you here. They know you watch.'

'They like it.'

'You are so gross.'

When the three young men stepped inside, Jen's first thought was that they were gardeners, but all the gardeners she knew were short, dark men from Central America. Her second thought was that maybe they were older kids from school, but that didn't feel right either.

Jennifer said, 'May I help you?'

The first one pointed at Thomas.

'Mars, get the troll.'

The biggest one ran at Thomas, as the first one charged into the kitchen.

Jennifer screamed just as the first boy covered her mouth so tightly that she thought her face would break. Thomas tried to shout, but the bigger boy mashed his face into the carpet.

The third one was younger. He hung back near the door, crying, talking in a loud stage whisper, trying to keep his voice down.

'Dennis, let's go! This is crazy!'

'Shut up, Kevin! We're here. Deal with it.'

The one holding her, the one she now knew as Dennis, bent her backwards over the counter, mashing the sandwiches. His hips ground against hers, pinning her. His breath smelled of hamburgers and cigarettes.

'Stop kicking! I'm not going to hurt you!'

She tried to bite his hand. He pushed her head farther back until her neck felt like it would snap.

'I said stop it. Relax, and I'll let you go.'

Jennifer fought harder until she saw the gun. The bigger boy was holding a black pistol to Thomas's head.

Jennifer stopped fighting.

'I'm going to take my hand away, but you better not yell. You understand that?'

Jennifer couldn't stop watching the gun.

'Close the door, Kevin.'

She heard the door close.

Dennis took away his hand, but kept it close, ready to clamp her mouth again. His voice was a whisper.

'Who else is here?'

'My father.'

'Is there anyone else?'

'No.'

'Where is he?'

'In his office.'

'Is there a car?'

Her voice failed. All she could do was nod.

'Don't yell. If you yell, I'll kill you. Do you understand that?'

She nodded.

'Where's his office?'

She pointed toward the entry.

Dennis laced his fingers through her hair and pushed her toward the hall. He followed so closely that his body brushed hers, reminding her that she was wearing only shorts and a bikini top. She felt naked and exposed.

Her father's office was off the entry hall behind wide double doors. They didn't bother to knock or say anything. Dennis pulled open the door, and the big one, Mars, carried in Thomas, the gun still at his head. Dennis pushed her onto the floor, then ran straight across the room, pointing his gun at her father.

'Don't say a goddamned word! Don't fucking move!'

Her father was working at his computer with a sloppy stack of printouts all around. He was a slender man with a receding hairline and glasses. He blinked over the tops of the glasses as if he didn't quite understand what he was seeing. He probably thought they were friends of hers, playing a joke. But then she saw that he knew it was real.

'What are you doing?'

Dennis aimed his gun with both hands, shouting louder.

'Don't you fucking move, goddamnit! Keep your ass in that chair! Let me see your hands!'

What her father said then made no sense to her.

He said, 'Who sent you?'

Dennis shoved Kevin with his free hand.

'Kevin, close the windows! Stop being a turd!'

Kevin went to the windows and closed the shutters. He was crying worse than Thomas.

Dennis waved his gun at Mars.

'Keep him covered, dude. Watch the girl.'

Mars pushed Thomas onto the floor with Jennifer, then aimed at her father. Dennis put his own gun in the waistband of his pants, then snatched a lamp from the corner of her father's desk. He jerked the plug from the wall, then the electrical cord from the lamp.

'Don't go psycho and everything will be fine. Do you hear that? I'm gonna take your car. I'm gonna tie you up so you can't call the cops, and I'm gonna take your car. I don't want to hurt you, I just want the car. Gimme the keys.'

Her father looked confused.

'What are you talking about? Why did you come here?'

'I want the fucking car, you asshole! I'm stealing your car! Now, where are the keys!'

That's what you want, the car?'

'Am I talking fucking Russian here or what? DO YOU HAVE A CAR?'

Her father raised his hands, placating.

'In the garage. Take it and leave. The keys are on the wall by the garage door. By the kitchen. Take it.'

'Kevin, go get the keys, then come help tie these bastards up so we can get outta here.'

Kevin, still by the windows, said, 'There's a cop coming.'

Jennifer saw the police car through the gaps in the shutters. A policeman got out. He looked around as if he was taking his bearings, then came toward their house.

Dennis grabbed her hair again.

'Don't fucking say a word. Not one fucking word.'

'Please don't hurt my children.'

'Shut up. Mars, you be ready! Mars!'

Jennifer watched the policeman come up the walk. He disappeared past the edge of the window, then their doorbell rang.

Kevin scuttled to his older brother, gripping his arm.

'He knows we're here, Dennis! He must've seen me closing the shutters!

'Shut up!'

The doorbell rang again.

Jennifer felt Dennis's sweat drip onto her shoulder and wanted to scream. Her father stared at her, his eyes locked onto hers, slowly shaking his head. She didn't know if he was telling her not to scream, or not to move, or even if he realized that he was doing it.

The policeman walked past the windows toward the side of the house.

'He knows we're here, Dennis! He's looking for a way in!'

'He doesn't know shit! He's just looking.'