Chapter 6 - Shadows on the Monitor
The bullet took Harlan Vance in the right hip.
The impact spun the massive man around, the sledgehammer flying from his grip and slamming into the bathroom door with a dull thud. Harlan roared in agony, his sidearm clattering to the floor as he collapsed against the wall, leaving a wide smear of red against the floral wallpaper.
Marcus didn't give him a fraction of a second. He closed the distance with a brutal, two-handed tackle, driving his shoulder into Harlan’s chest and pinning the larger man against the hallway floor.
"Don't move! Don't you move!" Marcus screamed, his knee driving deep into the small of Harlan's back as he wrenched the man's right arm behind him.
Harlan thrashed like a landed shark, cursing through bloody teeth, his free hand clawing at Marcus’s face. But Miller was already there. Still limping from his fall, Miller dropped his full weight across Harlan’s legs, snapping the second pair of steel cuffs onto the suspect's wrists until the ratchets clicked to their tightest setting.
"Clear!" Miller bellowed, coughing as the acrid smell of burnt gunpowder filled the narrow hallway. "Suspect contained!"
From the shattered bedroom window, Elena Mercer tumbled into the room. She didn't look at Harlan. She didn't look at the blood or the guns.
She threw herself at the bathroom door. "Maya! Toby! Open the door, baby! It’s Mommy! Mommy’s here!"
Inside, the lock turned.
The door creaked open, and seven-year-old Maya threw her arms around her mother’s neck with a force that knocked Elena back against the hallway floor. Maya wasn't crying; her little body was vibrating with a silent, consuming shock, her face buried into the curve of Elena’s throat. In the bathtub, wrapped in his sister’s oversized gray sweatshirt, little Toby reached up his chubby arms, tears carving clean lines through the dust on his cheeks.
"I didn't open the door, Mommy," Maya whispered, her small voice cutting through the ringing in the officers' ears. "I kept it locked. Just like you said."
Elena held both of her children against her chest, rocking them back and forth in the shattered hallway, her tears soaking into their hair. "I know, my brave girl. I know. You saved him. You saved us all."
Down on the floor, Harlan Vance let out a ragged, choking laugh.
"You think you won, Elena?" he muttered, his face pressed into the cheap carpet, spitting blood. "You think Donald didn't have partners? The port authorities... the shipping union... they know where you are now. That drive won't save you. You’ll be looking over your shoulder until the day you rot."
Marcus leaned down, his voice cold as a winter grave. "Shut your mouth before I charge you with three counts of attempted murder of a police officer on top of the federal kidnapping."
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Down on the street below, the night was torn apart by the synchronized wails of half a dozen sirens. Red and blue strobes painted the bedroom walls in a dizzying carousel of light as the entire third precinct task force finally converged on the block.
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