“I’m glad. Um, listen is Detective Black in yet?” she asked, trying not to sound nervous, but failing miserably.
Rosemary tsked around a mouthful of bear claw. “I still cannot believe that your father did that to you. I told him that he should keep Detective Black on medical leave and give the rest of us a break, but would he listen? No,” she said, sounding absolutely disgusted as she shoved another bite of pastry in her mouth.
“And now you’re stuck with him, you poor thing,” she said, shooting Marty a look of pity before she turned her attention back to the pastry boxes. “I think your father should at least assign a uniformed officer to drive him around. There’s really no need for you to be stuck with him all the time. Not when you have so much to do.”
“I don’t mind,” Marty responded, wondering again what exactly she was supposed to do. She had a vague idea, but she’d feel more comfortable knowing exactly what was expected of her. “Did my father leave instructions for me?” she asked, knowing that her father wouldn’t be around today or tomorrow to show her. He was going to be stuck in conferences for the next couple of days up in Manchester.
Rosemary studied her for a moment. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Well, not all the details,” she admitted with a shrug.
“Hmmmmm.” Rosemary looked back towards the door and then at her. “Well, I believe you’re taking your turn to watch over the administrative phones while the secretaries take their lunch. You also need to log in some reports that came in over the weekend into the computer. It’s really not that bad. That is, when you’re not with Detective Black,” the woman explained as she smiled sweetly at Marty.
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Marty agreed.
Rosemary’s smile brightened considerably. “Good, um, your turn to watch over the phones is at eleven-thirty and goes to…I believe one.”
“Okay,” Marty agreed, not afraid of a little work even if it was boring.
“I’m so excited that you’re here with us, Marty!”
“I just bet you are,” Tristan drawled from the doorway.
Rosemary’s smile disappeared and was soon replaced by a scowl. “Good morning, Detective Black,” Rosemary said tightly.
Tristan ignored her. He had only eyes for Marty. “Are you ready or do you need a nap before we get to work?”
“I’m ready,” Marty said evenly.
“Good, we have a call,” he said before he turned around and walked away, obviously expecting her to follow.
She was sorely tempted to make him wait, but she couldn’t do that. Technically he was her superior. Damn it. So, she found herself throwing one last look of longing at the pastries, knowing that she would be forced to skip breakfast since there was no way that she could drive and eat at the same. Well, there was, but Tristan made her nervous enough.
*-*-*-*
“I’m supposed to be driving,” Marty said through clenched teeth as Tristan cut through traffic with the emergency lights flaring and sirens blaring. “And we’re not supposed to be responding to any calls,” she said, holding onto the sides of her seat with a death grip.
“Uh huh, that’s nice,” Tristan said absently. Obviously he wasn’t going to listen to her father. She wondered not for the first time, if her time with him was going to be pointless.
“Detective Black, what’s your ETA?” the dispatcher asked over the radio.
He shut down the lights and siren as he pulled into what appeared to be a quiet middleclass neighborhood. “I’m less than a minute out. Do you still have the boy on the line?” he asked into the CB radio handset.
“Yes, he said he’s hiding in his sister’s room, in the closet. He also said that he doesn’t think that he can keep the baby quiet any longer and they’re getting closer to his location. He also reports that his older sister stopped screaming a minute ago.”
“Tell him to stay where he is. I’m coming in.”
“Received, Detective Black. I also have two patrol cars heading to your location.”
“Received,” Tristan said as he pulled over and parked the car.
Marty shifted nervously in her seat as she watched him pull on a bulletproof vest and grab a shotgun.
“W-what do you want me to do?” she asked, trying to stay calm.
“Stay here and out of my way,” he said without looking at her as he climbed out of the car, staying low. He ducked as he ran towards a small one-story brick house. He gestured for curious neighbors to return to their homes. Marty watched as he carefully peeked into side windows and then the front windows.
“Detective Black, the baby is starting to cry. The little boy can hear the men running towards them now,” the dispatcher announced, making Marty even more nervous.
She watched as Tristan kicked open the front door and ducked inside the house. Her stomach clenched into tight knots as she watched him disappear. A minute later the quiet neighborhood was disturbed by a series of gunshots.
*-*-*-*
Tristan slowly walked into the house. A small noise to his right caught his attention. He looked down to find a teenage girl bound and gagged with duct tape, cowering on the floor. Never taking his eyes away from the doorways, he wound his arm around the girl's waist. Clenching his jaw tightly against the pain in his shoulder, he carried her to a small closet in the living room and quietly shut the door.
He heard several large men running along the hallway to his left and the sounds of a baby screaming. “Where is it?” one of the men demanded.
“You said this house was supposed to be empty, ass**le!”
“Hey, I didn’t know the girl was staying home sick!”
“Shut the f**k up and find that baby! I don't care if you have to throw it into the dryer, just shut it the f**k up!”
Tristan swore under his breath. Damn it, he couldn’t just sneak up on them. If they got their hands on those kids, he was screwed. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the hall and raised the shotgun at two men wearing stained handkerchiefs over the bottom half of their faces.
“Police, drop your weapons, now!” he ordered.
Both men’s eyes widened as their trembling hands automatically rose towards the ceiling.
“Put your weapons down!”
The men flinched and that’s when all hell broke out. Their fingers tightened on the triggers, releasing several shots into the ceiling. The men nervously dropped their weapons and themselves to the ground, but the guns continued to go off a few more times barely missing Tristan’s shoulder and leg. Realizing that the triggers had locked, Tristan swore as he jumped out of the way of the faulty guns all while keeping his aim on the two cowering men on the floor.