The Big Bad Wolf

CHAPTER 8

THE SITUATION IN BALTIMORE didn’t get any better during the next several hours. If

anything, it got worse. It was impossible to keep the neighbors from wandering out on their

porches to watch the standoff in progress. Then the Baltimore PD began to evacuate the

Coulters_ neighbors, many of whom were also the Coulters_ friends. A temporary shelter had

been set up at the nearby Garrett Heights elementary school. It reminded everyone that there

were probably children trapped inside Detective Coulter’s house. His family. Jesus!

I looked around and shook my head in dismay as I saw an awful lot of Baltimore police,

including SWAT, and also the Hostage Rescue Team from Quantico. A swarm of crazy-eyed

spectators was pushing and shoving outside the barricades, some of them rooting for cops to

be shot any cop would do.

I stood up and cautiously made my way over to a group of officers waiting behind an

emergency rescue van. I didn’t need to be told that they didn’t appreciate interference from

the Feds. I hadn’t either when I was on the D.C. police force. I addressed Captain Stockton

James Sheehan, whom I’d spoken to briefly when I arrived. “What do you think? Where do

we go with this?”



“Has he agreed to let anybody out?” Sheehan asked. “That’s the first question.”



I shook my head. “He won’t even talk about his family. Won’t confirm or deny that they’re

in the house.”



Sheehan asked, “Well, what is he talking about?”



I shared some of what I’d been told by Coulter but not everything. How could I? I left out

that he’d sworn Baltimore cops were involved in a large-scale drug scheme and, more

devastating, that he had records that would incriminate them.

Stockton Sheehan listened and then he offered, “Either he lets go of some of the hostages or

we have to go in and get him. He’s not going to gun down his own family.”



“He says he will. That’s the threat.”



Sheehan shook his head. “I’m willing to take the risk. We go in when it gets dark. You know

this should be our call.”



I nodded without agreeing or disagreeing, then I walked away from the others. It looked as if

we might have another half hour of light. I didn’t like to think about what would happen

once darkness came.

I called Coulter again. He picked up right away.

“I have an idea,” I told him. “I think it’s your best shot.” I didn’t tell Coulter, but I also

thought it was his only shot.

“So tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

I told Dennis Coulter my plan.…



Ten minutes later, Captain Sheehan was shouting in my face that I was “worse than any

motherf*cking FBI a*shole” he had ever dealt with. I guess I was a fast learner. Maybe I

didn’t even need the orientation classes I was missing at Quantico. Not if I was already the

“king of the FBI a*sholes.” Which was one way of saying that the Baltimore police didn’t

approve of my plan to defuse the situation with Detective Coulter.

Even Mahoney had doubts. “I guess you’re not real big on social and political correctness,”

he commented when I told him Captain Sheehan’s reaction.

“Thought I was; guess I’m not. Hope this works. It better work. I think they want to kill him,

Ned.”



“Yeah. So do I. I think we’re making the right call.”



“We?” I asked.

Mahoney nodded. “I’m in this with you, podjo. No guts, no glory. It’s a Bureau thing.”



Minutes later, Mahoney and I watched the Baltimore police very reluctantly pull back from

the house. I had told Sheehan I didn’t want to see a single blue uniform or SWAT coverall

anywhere around. The captain had his idea of what constituted acceptable risks and I had

mine. If they rushed the house, somebody would die for sure. If my idea failed, at least

nobody would get hurt. Or, at least, nobody but me.

I got back on the phone with Coulter. “The Baltimore police are out of sight,” I told him. “I

want you to come out, Dennis. Do it now. Before they get a chance to think about what just

happened.”



He didn’t answer at first, then said, “I’m looking around. All it takes is one sniper with a

nightscope.”



I knew he was right. Didn’t matter. We had one chance.

“Come on out with your hostages,” I told him. “I’ll meet you on the front steps myself.”



He didn’t say anything more, and I was pretty sure I’d lost him. I focused on the front door

of the house and tried not to think about people dying here. C’mon, Coulter. Use your head.

This is the best deal you’re going to get.

He finally spoke again. “You sure about this? Because I’m not. I think you might be crazy.”



“I’m sure.”



“All right, I’m coming out,” he said. Then he added, “This is on you.”



I turned to Mahoney. “Let’s get a protective vest on him as soon as he hits the porch.

Surround him with our guys. No Baltimore PD anywhere near him no matter what they say.

Can we do that?”



“Brass balls.” Mahoney grinned. “Let’s do it try, anyway.”



“Let me bring you out, Dennis. It’s safer that way,” I said into the cell. “I’m coming to you

now.”



But Coulter had his own plan. Jesus, he was already on his front porch. He had both hands

raised high over his head. Clearly unarmed. Vulnerable as hell.

I was afraid I’d hear shots and he’d go down in a heap. I started to run forward.

Then half a dozen HRT guys were all over him, shielding Coulter from harm. They rushed

him to a waiting van.

“We got him inside the truck. Subject is safe,” I heard the report from HRT. “We’re getting

him the hell out of here.”



I turned back toward the house. What about the family? Where were they?

Had he made up his story? Oh, Christ, what had Dennis Coulter done?

Then I saw the family walking single file out of the house. It was an incredible scene. The hair

on the back of my neck stood up.

An old man in a white shirt, black trousers, and suspenders. An elderly woman in a blowing

pink dress and high heels. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Two small girls in white

party dresses. A couple of middle-aged women holding hands. Three males in their twenties,

each of them with their hands up. A woman with two little babies.

Several of the adults were carrying cardboard boxes.

I figured I knew what was in them. Yeah, I knew. The records, the proof, the evidence.

Detective Dennis Coulter had been telling the truth after all. His family had believed him.

They had just saved his life.

I felt Ned Mahoney pat my back hard. “Nice job. Really good job.”



I laughed and said, for an FNG. That was a test, wasn’t it?”



“I really couldn’t say. But if it was, you aced it.”