No Looking Back

  ********

  When Pete looked up at his computer monitor he saw someone rummaging through the evidence room in a hurried and panicked manner. Their back was to the camera so he didn’t know who it was, but there was no doubt in Pete’s mind that he was looking for the diamonds. He was frantically throwing things around, making a huge mess in the process. Pete headed for the evidence room without telling anyone where he was going, thinking that he could handle this himself. Tough lesson to learn was that he should have brought backup.

  “Phelps, is there something you’re looking for that I can help with?” Pete asked casually. What he hadn’t noticed on the monitor was the gun sitting on top of the box next to Phelps hand. Before Pete could draw his weapon Phelps had his gun pointed at his chest and Phelps was demanding that he throw his gun to the floor and kick it to him. He did as he was told, trying to talk calmly to Phelps with his palms out in surrender. One thing he didn’t need right now was for Phelps to get a twitchy finger.

  “Phelps, you know this is a no win situation for you, right?” He removed his gun from its holster with two fingers and placed it on the floor, kicking it well past Phelps until it hit the wall behind him.

  “Why no captain, why don’t you tell me why you think that. You are going to find the diamonds for me and together we’ll walk out of here rich beyond belief. Of course, I won’t be able to share the wealth with you, I’ve never been good at sharing and I’m not about to start now.” Motioning with the gun he encouraged Pete to get the diamonds. “Fetch, boy. Go on now. Get the diamonds and this will all be over before you know it.”

  “I’d love to, but I don’t know where they are.”

  “Bullshit! You put them in here now get ‘em for me, or you’re a dead man. I’m not kidding, either.”

  “The press release was a fake. I have no idea where the diamonds are or even if they ever existed. What makes you so sure they do exist?” Distraction being the only weapon he had now.

  “Dillon spent the last three years tracking them, that’s how. He’s positive they’re around here somewhere. They’re certainly not at the dame’s house. I searched it more than once myself and since they’re not there they must be here. Now let’s find them. You can start at the beginning of this isle while I watch to make sure you don’t pocket them yourself.”

  Pete couldn’t think of a better way to stall for time than to search the huge evidence room. So he did just as he was told and as slowly as possible. Several times Phelps yelled at him to speed it up but he just kept to his slow and steady pace, maintaining that he was just being thorough. He prayed that someone figured out his dilemma before he made it through the entire room. He glanced nervously at Phelps when he heard the door open and someone walk into the room.

  “Phelps put the gun down and come on out of there. You can’t win and you know it. Don’t make it any worse on yourself than it already is.” Pete recognized the voice as belonging to the Chief of police.

  “Get the hell out of here. I swear I’ll shoot him dead. I’m not leaving without those diamonds and it can’t get any worse than it already is. I got nothing to loose, now.”

  “We can work this out Phelps, make some kind of deal. We all know Dillon is the instigator in this whole mess. There’s no reason for you to take the fall for his mistakes. Come on out and let’s talk about it.”

  Phelps didn’t even answer. He just shot in the air towards the door.

  Pete jumped, startled by both the shot and Phelps’ cold hearted attitude. Now he saw the direction this situation was going and he didn’t like it one bit. One of them may not make it out alive and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it wasn’t him in the back of the coroner’s wagon.

  Phelps didn’t take kindly to the interruption and demanded that he get back to his search. Although he did as he was told he decided he wasn’t going to do it quietly. He wanted to keep Phelps distracted so he couldn’t formulate any type of an escape plan.

  “So explain to me why you killed Captain Perkins.” Knowing Dillon was the one that had murdered her he continued to provoke him. Right now he didn’t give a damn about the small details. He really had nothing to lose and it gave him more than a little satisfaction to aggravate the bastard.

  “I didn’t do it. That was Dillon’s brainstorm. He claimed she was starting to get nervous and threatening all kinds of nasty outcomes. Besides, now I don’t have to share the loot with anyone. Dillon and Perkins are dead so it’s all mine now. Hah, Dillon did me a favor getting rid of Perkins for me, saved me the trouble of having to off the bitch myself. What an asshole. Bastard deserved everything he got.”

  “You’re in it just as deep as him, the problem is you’re too stupid to figure that out and he wasn’t.” He taunted Phelps like this for several hours before they both fell into thoughtful silence. Running out of questions and comments, exhausted both physically and mentally, he now struggled to stay alert. He couldn’t take the chance of missing a golden opportunity if it presented itself.

  One thing Phelps thought was in his favor was the fact that he didn’t care about anyone but himself, whereas Pete had Marla and the baby to worry about. Being the one with the gun didn’t hurt his chances either. An evil grin took over Phelps face as he considered his possibilities. When the hostage negotiator had attempted to talk to Phelps his only answer was to shoot his gun in the direction of the voice. He was wise to all the tricks negotiator’s used and he wasn’t going to fall into one of their traps. As long as they stayed on their side of the door everything would be just fine.

  Pete chose not to press the point that the diamonds weren’t going to be found anywhere in the evidence room. He pretended to keep looking for the diamonds, knowing when they weren’t found Phelps truly wouldn’t have anything to lose. That would lead to desperation and the distinct possibility of Phelps shooting him out of rage or revenge, maybe both.

  One fact had occurred to Pete, but clearly not to Phelps, was that every box he went through had the potential to offer him a useful weapon. What he hoped to run across was a gun or some other weapon he could use to free himself. Box after box held nothing useful to him, not even a stinking knife. What kind of pussy criminals did Wynott have?

  When Pete looked down he saw something glint from the floor. He assumed it was a piece of jewelry from a robbery case, but when he bent down he saw the clear plastic bag was taped to the lid of one of the boxes he had searched. On closer examination Pete couldn’t believe his eyes. The missing diamonds glinted back at him, unset stones loose in a freakin’ sandwich bag. He carefully kept the expression of boredom on his face as he pretended to drop the next box he was to go through. When he bent down he grabbed the bag securely in his hand and faked a sneeze just as he pulled the bag from the lid and stuffed it into his pocket, pretending to look for a tissue, sniffing loudly and adding a little cough.

  “Aw, poor baby. A little too dusty for your delicate sinuses?”

  He stood and wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve. Now all he needed was a weapon and he was home free. He didn’t even know what box lid the diamonds had been taped to, still reeling at the fact that even existed. Someone had taped them there, apparently biding their time until they could safely pawn them without any heat. It could have even been Captain Perkins or Dillon for all he knew.

  Marla had mentioned a romantic relationship between Dillon and the Captain. Maybe she was testing him before she confessed to knowing their location. That was really the only answer that made sense. Captain Perkins had been the one that held all the knowledge in this case from the very beginning. She had no idea Dillon was capable of murder and neither did anyone else, except possibly Phelps.

  Pete suddenly jumped as his fingers felt the sharp point of a knife in the box he’d been searching. Finally. Praise the Lord. He carefully lifted it out of the box, covering it with a piece of clothing to co
nceal it. He set it on the shelf next to the box, trying to think of a way to lure Phelps close enough for him to strike. Deciding to keep it simple he set his plan into action.

  “What the hell is this?” He forced what he hoped was a look of confusion onto his face, leaning closer into the box the knife had been in. Putting his hand on the shelf, covering the knife in his large palm he waited for Phelps to take the bait.

  “If it ain’t the diamonds don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, I guess someone could have hid them in this… thing, except I don’t know what the hell it is or how to open. Christ, it’s heavier than shit. If you want me to search it you’re going to have to help me lift it out of the box. Look at this thing.”

  When Phelps did as he was told, Pete grabbed the knife and put it to his captor’s throat, cutting the flesh slightly while he pressed the sharp knife tightly against his neck. A small trickle of blood rolled down his neck, disappearing under his shirt collar. Pete slammed Phelps body tightly against the shelves, taking pleasure at the grunt of pain that escaped the asshole’s throat. He grabbed the gun out of Phelps hand, shoving it into his pocket quickly.

  “Move and I’ll slit your fucking throat, and let me tell you that would be the highlight of my day.”

  Seconds later he heard the other officers burst through the door to help him. He knew they would have seen everything from the monitor in his office. Once Phelps realized the game was over he raised his hands over his head in surrender.

  “Get him the fuck out of here,” Pete ordered the officers as they handcuffed him roughly.

  They slammed Phelps roughly several times into the shelves as they led him out of the room, always following it up with a ‘oops’ or ‘sorry’, smiling the whole time. Pete smiled to himself when he realized how pissed the other officers were. These wouldn’t be the only bruises he got on the way to his cell.

  Once Phelps was gone Pete came out of the evidence room, disheveled but unharmed, as Marla slammed her body into his. He closed his eyes and held her tightly, comforting both himself and her at the same time. Thankfully his little peanut kicked him in the stomach, letting her agitation be known. His family was fine, just fine and dandy. They held each other until the other people in the room became uncomfortable, clearing their throats, reminding them that they weren’t alone.

  No one expected Phelps to be stupid enough to try and grab their guns until they heard the sound of gunfire. Without warning Pete felt a shot of pain enter his back, barely registering the shout of the other officers.

  “Gun!”

  Everyone dropped to the ground, not realizing the bullet had struck Pete in the back, moving through his body and straight into Marla’s shoulder. Blood spread across Pete’s back and the front of Marla’s shirt. Both looked at each other in shock and horror at the realization that they’d both been shot. In the background another shot was heard, followed by the sound of someone falling to the ground.

  Marla didn’t feel any pain as she screamed that Pete had been shot, begging for someone to get some help. Everyone sprang into motion at once while she pressed her hand firmly to his wound, trying to stop the flow of blood. He lay on his stomach, barely conscious and groaning in pain, while she struggled to speak calmly and keep him awake.

  “Pete, look at me. Don’t leave me now we still have things to do here. Stay with me. Help is on the way so you stick with this. Everything will be just fine.” She said whatever came to her mind as she waited for the paramedics to arrive. What seemed like forever was in reality only a few minutes. Soon she was being moved aside as the medics moved in. It hadn’t occurred to her that she couldn’t move her right arm until someone touched it when they tried to help her stand. She screamed loudly, collapsing back to the ground as the pain seared through her shoulder. She stayed on the floor but refused medical care until she was sure Pete was taken care of. When the Chief yelled for another paramedic, Marla looked around in confusion wondering who else had been hurt. She found out as soon as the paramedic touched her shoulder, jumping in pain at the pressure he was applying to her bleeding wound.

  “Pete. Take care of Pete first. He’s been shot. Who’s taking care of him?”

  “He’ll be just fine, my partner is taking care of him and he’s doing fine. Can you tell me your name?”

  “Marla Jensen. I’m Pete’s wife.” She answered as if the medic was an idiot.

  “Marla, it appears that the same bullet that shot Pete went through your shoulder as well. You need to hold still so I can take care of you. I promise your husband is being well taken care of. How far along in your pregnancy are you?” Seeing she was distracted, he took Marla’s chin into his hand and turned her to face him.

  “Umm. About seven months along. Is something wrong with the baby? I can feel her moving, is she all right? Please take care of her, don’t let anything happen to her.” Hysteria took over as she pleaded and sobbed, suddenly fearful for the baby.

  “The baby seems fine, Marla. She has a nice strong heartbeat so don’t worry about her. Right now we need to start an I.V. and keep you hydrated so the baby will stay fine. The ambulance is outside and it looks like your injury is a through and through wound, which is a good thing. Let’s get you to the hospital now and get everything taken care of.” The medic narrated as he did each procedure, doing everything in his power to keep her as calm as possible.

  “Pete needs the hospital more than I do. Take him first, I can wait.”

  “He’s already on his way so now it’s your turn. Just hold still and let us get you on the gurney.”

  When Marla looked up she was aware of continuing commotion behind her, worrying that it was Pete she tried to lunge off the gurney but she was strapped down tightly.

  “Pete!” She yelled as she heard CPR being performed on someone behind her.

  “That’s not Pete, Marla. That’s Phelps they’re working on now. One of our officers shot him after he shot you and Pete.” The Chief explained calmly as he held Marla’s hand to comfort her.

  He couldn’t really blame her for not trusting anybody, his own officers had betrayed her and the rest of the community. Whoever had allowed Phelps to grab their gun was in a world of shit as well. Heads were going to roll over this whole situation.

  In the emergency room Pete and Marla were placed in separate rooms, each one inquiring about the other. Frustrated when no answers were coming, everyone ignoring him as they went about the job of saving his life, he just started yelling.

  “MARLA, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? WHAT DID THE DOCTOR SAY? TELL ME WHERE YOU WERE HURT, BABY.”

  “PETE! OH GOD, PETE, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? NO ONE WILL TELL ME ANYTHING! TELL ME YOU’RE OKAY.”

  “I’M FINE BABY, DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME. THE BULLET WENT STRAIGHT THROUGH ME INTO YOU. IS PEANUT ALL RIGHT”

  “PEANUT’S FINE. THE BULLET WENT RIGHT THROUGH MY SHOULDER AND OUT AGAIN. I JUST NEED TO BE SEWN-UP A LITTLE AND I’LL BE FINE. WHAT ABOUT YOU?”

  “NO MAJOR ORGANS WERE HIT BUT THEY’RE GOING IN TO STOP SOME BLEEDING AND THEN SEW ME UP. THEY ASSURE ME IT’S NO BIG DEAL, JUST A PRECAUTION. THEY SAID I’LL BE FINE.” “THANK GOD.” Before she could say anything more she was sound asleep from the drugs the doctor had pumped into her I.V.