The Lesson of Her Death

answered, “No,” simultaneously.
    “It wouldn’t hurt to get some sleep,” the doctor answered.“I really don’t think he’ll take a turn for the worse.”
    Corde said, “Why don’t you run home, honey, get some rest.”
    “I’m staying with my boy.”
    “I’m staying too.”
    When the doctor left she curled up in an orange fiberglass chair and it seemed that she was instantly asleep. Corde rose and walked into the room to sit beside his son.
    “Okay, Deputy, home base is clear.”
    Wynton Kresge opened his eyes. Franklin Neale stood above him, shaking him awake.
    “What time is it?”
    “Six-thirty. In the A.M. The hookers’re gone and home base is clear.”
    “Beg pardon?” Kresge asked.
    The magic thermos appeared again and coffee was poured. Kresge added three packets of sugar and sipped from the red plastic cup.
    Neale said, “You want to go in after him now or wait till he comes out?”
    Kresge was asking Bill Corde silent questions and not a one of them got answered. He looked at Neale, fresh as a recruit on parade. He was clean-shaved. “What do you think?”
    Neale shrugged. “Well, tactically, it’s your classic situation. If we go into his hidey-hole there’s a better chance of return fire. If we get him on the street we could lose him or get some civvies casualtied in a firefight.”
    Hearing this, the military lingo, made Kresge feel better. He decided he wasn’t so much out of his element after all. “I’d like to go in and get him.”
    “Fair enough, Deputy. We’ve got our SWAT team on standby. You want them to do it?”
    Wynton Kresge said, “I’ll go in. I want them as backup.”
    And the crew-cut rosy-skin detective was nodding, solemn and eye-righteous, one grunt to another. “That’s the way I’d do it.” Then he looked over Kresge’s large frame and said, “Okay, let’s suit you up in body armor. I think we’ve got something that might fit.”
    As he applied the Velcro straps to the Type II vest with the Supershok plate over the heart, Wynton Kresge thought suddenly of an aspect of being a policeman that he had never considered. If the point of being a cop was ultimately to save lives then the flip side was true also—he might have to take a life.
    All the while sitting in his Auden U office chair, feeling the rub of the Taurus automatic pistol on his belt, he had never really considered using the gun. Oh, there’d been his theatrical little fantasies about winging terrorists. But now Kresge felt dread. Not at the real possibility that in five minutes he’d be dodging slugs but at the opposite—that he would have to send bullets hissing through the body of another man. The thought terrified him.
    “… Deputy?”
    Kresge realized the detective was speaking to him.
    “Yes?”
    Neale opened a diagram of the hotel. “Look here.”
    “Where’d you get that?”
    “Our SWAT team has layouts of all the hotels in town. Bus and train stations and most of the office buildings too.”
    This seemed like a good idea. Maybe he’d suggest it to Corde.
    “Okay, he’s in here. Room 258. There’s no connecting door. But there’s this thing here. What is it?”
    One of the other officers said, “They have a microwave and a little refrigerator there. Pipes. Stainless steel sink. It’s probably enough to stop the hollowpoints but we can’t use jacketed because of the street on the other side.”
    “Deputy?”
    Kresge said, “I don’t think we should give him any warning. No gas or grenades. Take the door down and move in fast before he has a chance to set up a fire zone.” He’d seen this in a Mel Gibson movie. He added, “If that’s in accordance with procedures?”
    Neale said, “Sounds good to me, Deputy. Let’s get—”
    “Sergeant,” the young patrolman at the radio console said, “he’s rabbitting! Left the room and is moving toward Eastwood.” He listened into his headset for a moment then announced to Neale and Kresge, “TacSurv advising SWAT. They’re three blocks away. They’ll proceed to deployment.”
    “Roger,” the detective said. “Where’s he headed?”
    “Toward the river. On foot. Got his suitcase with him. He’s moving fast.”
    Kresge said, “Where’s that from here?”
    “A block.”
    “Well, let’s go get him.”
    Neale pulled on a blue cap that said
POLICE
on the crest.
    “TacSurv says he’s vanished. He turned before he got to the bridge—into those old warehouses down by the riverfront. He’s gone