Choices, p.18
Choices, page 18
“Are you in danger?” The operator’s voice jolted Brian.
“Oh! No, I’m fine. We’re fine. It’s in the dumpster.” —Barely twenty feet away, licking up out of the metal bin. Brian held the phone away from his face. “Shouldn’t we get an extinguisher?” he asked Nick. He glanced around. A gas station had to have a ton of them, right? Where’s the stupid extinguisher?
“I think it’s okay. It’s contained in there, should burn out.” Brian saw Nick glance over at the flames a couple of times as he squatted, checking fire-guy’s legs and ankles. The flickering light made Nick’s expression look more worried than he sounded. “I think this fucker planned a bit of fun, not major arson.”
The emergency operator confirmed that police and fire were on the way. “Is anyone hurt, sir?”
“No,” Brian said. Thank God.
“I need your name and address.”
“Brian. Um. Carlson.” It took a minute to remember his address. At this rate, every time I smell a fire, I’m going to start reciting it. He thought he got it right.
“Please stay on the line until emergency services arrive.”
“Okay.” He moved closer to Nick. A shiver passed through him. It’s actually kind of cold out. The flames were already dying down. We were on our way home to bed. This didn’t feel quite real. “Hey, Nick. Cops are coming.”
Nick said, “Good job. Stay well clear of this douchebag.”
The stranger twisted to look over his shoulder. “Who the fuck are you?”
Nick planted a hand between his shoulder blades and mashed him tighter against the stucco. “Minneapolis PD. Shut up.”
“Minneapolis. From fucking Minneapolis?”
“Retired,” Nick added. “Don’t move, don’t talk, let’s wait for the nice sheriff to arrive.”
“You don’t wanna do this,” the guy said.
“And you’re talking again.” Nick shoved him. “Did I say how much I hate firebugs? Like, hate?”
“Look, it wasn’t me. I saw some guy run back here. I followed him.”
Nick raised his voice without looking at Brian. “Hey, you want to video this?”
Brian clicked off the 911 person, and hit the camera icon. “Okay.”
“You’ll be sorry.” The guy didn’t seem to realize he was the one with his face mashed to a wall. “You guys are in trouble. You let the real guy go. Isaac knows me. I was helping him out.”
Brian felt a moment of uncertainty, but Nick laughed. “You can tell that to the judge.”
“I belong ’round here. You don’t. No one’s gonna listen to you.”
Nick pushed him harder against the stucco. “Keep digging that hole.”
The man must have realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Nick, because he lapsed into sullen silence. Across the pavement, the dumpster flamed high again for an instant, then went dark. Brian aimed his camera at it, filming the sparks dying in the night sky. The smell was awful, but Nick was right. The dumpster was surrounded by pavement, away from the main building, and made of steel. Even if the fire had jumped the rim, the worst it would do was scatter a few sparks on hard ground.
The air was still and windless, the last embers winking out straight above, far from any trees. A few flakes of dead ash fell.
This fire was probably safe. Fire. Safe. Fire-safe. Heh, he was maybe a bit loopy. He clicked off his video and stood there, phone held loosely in his hand.
A siren screamed toward them, the noise pulsing in Brian’s head, as a sheriff’s car pulled around the corner of the building with a squeal of tires. The headlights lit the scene in white brilliance. Brian squinted. An unfamiliar, middle-aged man in uniform jumped out and stayed behind the door, his gun drawn and aimed at Nick. “Nobody move!”
“Minneapolis PD,” Nick said crisply. “Caught this guy firing up the dumpster. Gas can tossed in. Car he brought it in at the edge of the lot. Check the trunk.”
“Put the gun down.” The deputy was still aiming at Nick, not the man they’d caught.
Brian said, “He’s telling the truth. We were driving by and saw that guy do it. Nick’s a cop. Ex-cop.”
“I don’t care if he’s the president. Gun on the ground, slow, then hands in the air.” The deputy added, “And you, wall-guy, don’t move a muscle either, or I’ll shoot you myself.”
Nick squatted slowly, set his gun on the ground and raised his hands as he stood. The sound of more sirens made the deputy’s shoulders less hunched. “We’ll wait a bit.”
The man in black clothes said, “Come on, Jim. My back’s killing me. Let me stand up.”
“Sam Foyle, that you?”
“Yeah, man.” The guy eased straighter, pushing off the wall.
But when he started to turn, the deputy said, “Stay put. Hands back on the wall.”
“Jim.”
“Shut up.” The deputy turned to Brian. “You. Go stand by the wall too. Hands behind your head. Move!”
“Don’t get too close to that other bastard,” Nick said quickly.
The deputy didn’t look at him but added, “Down by the corner. Walk real slow.”
Brian went where he was pointed, keeping as much space between him and the arson guy as possible, and stood with his hands raised. A glance at Nick didn’t help. His face was in shadow, but Brian still read coiled readiness in him.
“Now you, Minneapolis,” the deputy said. “Walk away from the weapon. Face the wall. Hands wide on the bricks.”
As Nick obeyed, a second sheriff’s vehicle pulled up right ahead of a fire truck. Brian couldn’t see much over his shoulder, past all the blinding headlights, but he recognized Gannet’s voice. “Where’s the fire?”
“Dumpster,” the deputy said loudly. “Seems to be mostly out.”
Someone from the fire truck said, “Better let us deal with it.”
“Wait! Handgun on the ground there,” the deputy added.
Nick spoke up over his shoulder. “The arsonist used some kind of accelerant. Smelled like gasoline or diesel. He dropped the can into the bin and then lit it.”
Gannet said, “Rugo. I might’ve guessed. Is that your gun?”
“Yes, ma’am. We spotted that guy getting ready to start the fire as we were driving by.”
She took a couple more steps, until the lights outlined her tall, rangy figure and the gun in her hand. “And you happened to grab a—” she glanced down “—Glock, and came after him?”
“Ex-LEO,” Nick said.
“Law enforcement? Where?”
“Minneapolis.”
She was silent a moment, as if considering that. “Thompson, secure the weapon. Everyone else, don’t move.”
The deputy eased out from behind the door, came and picked up Nick’s gun. Carefully, he backed away and took it to his car.
When he came back, she said, “Now go pat ’em down. Deputy, did you witness any of the arson yourself?”
“No, ma’am.” The deputy went toward Nick first.
The Sam guy in black said, “I was goin’ by and saw something. I stopped to look and that guy jumped me.”
Brian cleared his throat. “That’s not true.”
“Really?” The sheriff turned toward him. “Brian Carlson. Again. You want to tell me what happened?”
“We were driving by. Me and Nick. Coming home. We saw a car parked here at Isaac’s and someone moving around in the dark. Nick said it looked wrong, so we stopped down the road and walked back.” He started to point at the man to his left, then remembered he was supposed to be freezed. “Him. He got a gas can out of his trunk, and Nick followed him and I followed Nick. The dumpster caught fire.”
“Did you see him start the fire?”
Brian bit his lip. Tell the truth. “No. I heard it start and saw Nick catch him.”
“All right.” She eyed them all, then waved the firefighter toward the smoking dumpster. “Glenn, the arson’s your job. Get full documentation once you make sure Isaac’s place is safe. Jim, pat down all three of those guys, then put cuffs on Sam and stick him in my car. Bring the other two in yours.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The guy in black said, “Hey, how come you believe the new guys? Not the one you know?”
“Because I know you,” she said. “Now shut up, so we can all get home before Christmas morning.”
Brian kept still as the deputy came and patted him down and took his phone. Again. He stayed quiet as Sam was read his rights, cuffed, and loaded in the back of the sheriff’s car. The deputy ushered them to the back seat of the other cruiser. Brian wanted to protest— their own car was just down the road— but Nick seemed oddly cheerful. He made an offhand comment, and his voice was stronger and more animated than it had been since they started this road trip.
The way to get Nick out of a funk about his sister— let him catch an arsonist and get halfway arrested. Brian couldn’t find words to reply, and they drove off in silence. He stared out the window and pretended they were almost home. I’m so ready to be home. Any time now.
Chapter 13
The Winrowd County Sheriff’s Department turned out to be a low, concrete block building with a few cruisers parked outside. The parking lot was otherwise empty when they pulled in, past the sign that said “Protect and Serve.” There wasn’t much in Brian’s life that’d made him believe in that, but he knew Nick still did. I want to go home.
The deputy opened the back of the cruiser and Nick got out. Brian sat frozen on the hard, plastic seat until the deputy ducked to look in at him. “Well? Come on.”
He slid out reluctantly, and the deputy bumped the door shut, gripping Nick’s upper arm as if he might run away. Nick took the chance to nudge Brian’s shoulder with his own and smile. Brian couldn’t smile back.
Inside the front room of the station, the reception desk was unmanned. The sheriff had seated Sam, still handcuffed, at the far end of a row of chairs against the wall. She leaned on the desk eyeing him, her face grim. Nick gave her a respectful nod. “Where do you want us, ma’am?”
That got him a fast glance and maybe a fractional softening of her expression. “Sit down and wait.” She pointed to the other end of the row.
“It’s Christmas,” Sam complained, shaking his cuffed hands irritably. “Can’t you let us go and get our sides of the story later? It wasn’t me. That city cop let the real bad guy get away.”
Nick sneered, although he sat obediently. “Yeah. You were trying to put the fire out by tossing gasoline into it. Riiiiight.”
“Quiet,” the sheriff snapped. “Both of you.”
The deputy set his back to the wall and dropped a heavy hand on Nick’s shoulder. They waited for a few minutes, while Gannet made an entry on the computer terminal on the desk. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, Brian’s eyes drooped shut. So damned tired. He braced his feet farther apart, set his elbows on his knees, and supported his head in his hands. Nick bumped his knee gently, but Brian stared down at their feet. Tired.
He almost jolted out of his chair when the sheriff’s phone rang. She pushed back and walked a couple of steps down the hall before answering it. He couldn’t hear much but her exclamation of “Damn. Yeah, you do that. Keep in touch” was clear. She stuck the phone in her pocket and came back, eyeing them like she was trying to make up her mind.
“Okay, Sam, I’m going to walk you down to the conference room and stick you in there. If you make trouble, I’ll tell Chief Porter to run over your Mustang with his fire truck.”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“I don’t care right now. Come on.” She bent, grabbed Sam’s arm, and hauled him up to his feet. To Nick, she said, “You two sit right there.”
Brian stared after her as she frog-marched Sam off down the hallway and into a side room. A moment later, she came out and locked the door from the outside. For a second, she slumped and ran her hand over her forehead, looking older and exhausted, but when she straightened, she strode toward them with her usual confidence.
“Now you two.” She pointed a finger. “Rugo first. You have anything that proves you’re ex-LEO on you?”
“Um. You could call the MPD. Although at this hour on Christmas Eve, I’d hate for you to wake my old boss for a character reference. She’d probably have my balls for breakfast.”
The sheriff pulled a small notebook out of her pocket and began scribbling. “Who was your boss?”
“Lieutenant Erika Olson in Narcotics. On my last undercover op, anyway.”
“Got a number for her?”
“Of course. Can I get out my phone?”
“Sure. No fast moves.”
Nick slowly pulled out his phone. He rattled off a phone number, then said, “Oh. Hey, I got an idea.” He began flipping through screens, tapping something in. “Here. My bank account. Paycheck direct deposit from the MPD in October.” He held it out.
The sheriff looked down at the screen, then nodded and relaxed visibly.
“Not that I couldn’t be crooked. We had our share in the MPD,” Nick said. Brian wanted to kick him for playing devil’s advocate.
“Right. When did you leave the force and why?”
“A couple of months ago.” Nick hesitated, then came up with, “After that last undercover job, I was a bit messed up. Had a hard time back in uniform. It didn’t go over well with my superiors.”
“You were fired?”
“No, but I could see it coming if I didn’t leave first.”
The sheriff leaned her hip against the desk again, eyeing both of them. “If I call your lieutenant, what’s she going to tell me?”
Nick glanced away. “I’m not sure. She was kind of bitter. But I hope she’ll tell you I was a good cop and I try to protect the people who deserve it.”
“And what happened tonight?”
Nick hesitated. “No Miranda warning? Am I under arrest for anything?”
“Not yet. You’re just a witness. Unless I think you’re lying to me.”
Nick ran through his part of the tale. The sheriff listened intently, her head cocked. At the end, she said, “You’re sure it was Sam who lit the blaze? No chance he followed someone else who actually did it?”
“I didn’t see the moment of ignition but it was him. There was no one else there. He had the can in his hands when he went back there. I tackled him barely a moment after it started.”
“You didn’t hear footsteps or another car?”
“No. Nothing. Did he give you a description of his imaginary arsonist?”
Gannet just turned to Brian. “Anything you want to add?”
He blinked, working his mouth to try to get out of the fog that was sucking him down. “No, ma’am. I have video of some of it, on my phone. The one your deputy took. But I was too far behind. It doesn’t show that bit. Only the fire at the end.”
“How long was Rugo with the MPD?”
Brian rubbed his eyes. Why was she asking him? “Three years, I think? Maybe more. I didn’t know him then.” He’d meant, back when Nick joined, but the sound of his words reminded him that he needed not to connect himself with the MPD at all. Luckily, that phrase had come out in a way that worked. Way to go, subconscious.
“Where’d you meet him?”
Brian hesitated for a beat, wondering if Nick would jump in, but when he stayed silent, Brian said, “In Florida a couple months ago.” That was the cover story. The basics. He shut his mouth on anything more before he screwed it up. His brain was floating in gray fluff. “Floating fluff.”
The startled look on Gannet’s face made him realize he’d said that out loud. Nick coughed.
“Sorry,” Brian added. “I’m beat. We drove a long way today.”
Nick took up the thread, telling the sheriff about going to Nebraska to meet with his estranged sister. He put a soft, easy spin on the trip— long separation, reconnecting, not being crazy about her husband, driving home. No woo-woo psychic component, no pain and angst. For a second, Brian hated Nick for being able to do that. Just like Damon. Take a story and run with it, smiling, charming. Even if Nick’s story is basically the truth dressed up a bit.
He realized the sheriff had asked him something. “Huh? What?”
“Never mind.” She straightened, turning back to Nick. “I’m going to cut the two of you loose. I’d appreciate if you stay in the local area for a while, or at least let me know before traveling outstate again.”
“We don’t have any plans for that,” Nick said. “Sure. Can I get my weapon back?”
“When I’m done with it.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Maybe tomorrow. Or rather, today. In the daytime. After I check it. Right now, I have to have a little talk with our friend Sam.”
“Are you going to book him?” Nick asked.
Brian thought the sheriff wouldn’t answer, but after a longish pause she said, “Maybe not tonight. It’s your word against his right now. We’ll check out his car trunk, his hands, get the fire chief’s report.”
Nick stood. “Might be worth seeing who he goes to when you cut him loose.”
Gannet pointed to the door. “On your way, gentlemen. Check back around ten about that gun. I should be wrapping up then. Jim, take them back to their vehicle.”
The deputy pushed off the wall. “Don’t like to leave you with Sam, ma’am.”
She gave him a dark look. “I can handle Sam. Annie’s in dispatch and Carl’s in the back. You need to get back on patrol. You can dictate your report, type it up later.”
“Yes’m.”
“Are you going to be up all night?” Brian rose stiffly to his feet. “Don’t you get to go home for Christmas?”
“Eventually.” She held the door open. “Drive carefully. That means you, Rugo.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brian paused as the deputy and Nick went out to tell her, “Merry Christmas.”
The lines of her face softened. “Merry Christmas to you too. Go on, get some rest.”
