She did. He was large and warm beside her. When he leaned on her she thought she detected a quiver, but he didn’t give her time to ponder. “We move fast from here,” he said.
They crossed the street at a jog with Madrid leaning heavily against her. Her legs trembled as they ascended the concrete steps that would take them inside. Through double glass doors she saw what was probably the desk sergeant’s desk. Beyond, a narrow hall led to several offices. Their doors were open, though only one of the lights was on.
She shoved open one of the double doors and they walked inside, Madrid groaning loudly in a believable performance. She realized he was a much better actor than she was.
“Call for help,” he whispered.
Jess closed her eyes, prayed for strength. “Help us!” she called out. “Please, there’s been a shooting.”
A young cop who didn’t look old enough to shave emerged from the lit office. His eyes widened at the sight of him. “What happened?” he asked, rushing toward them.
“Someone shot at us,” Jess said in a strangled voice.
Madrid groaned again.
“My h-husband is hurt. We need an ambulance.”
The young cop went for his radio. “Where?”
“On the h-highway.”
A middle-aged cop wearing an ill-fitting uniform emerged from another office. His mouth opened when he saw them. “What’s going on here?”
“Shot out on the highway.” The young cop motioned toward a wood bench against the wall. “I’ll call an ambulance. Sit him down there. We’ll get someone on the scene.”
The second cop turned and shouted. “Dispatch! Get on the horn! Shots fired on the coast high—”
Jess didn’t even see Madrid go for the tiny plastic pistol he’d tucked into his waistband. But in the next instant it was in his hand.
“What the—”
The young cop didn’t have time to finish the sentence. The gun let out a whispered poink. The young cop grabbed his throat, staggered to the left. Jess gasped when she saw the dart protruding from his neck. He raised the radio, but Madrid kicked it from the man’s hand.
“Hey! You can’t—”
Madrid spun, brought up the dart gun. Poink! The middle-aged cop jolted when a dart slammed into his shoulder. A curse slid from his mouth as he fumbled for his radio. Madrid fired again, this time striking him in the gut. The cop stumbled, dropped his radio. Madrid moved with the speed and grace of a big cat and kicked the radio away, out of reach.
Jess thought her heart was going to explode. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the young cop fall to his knees, clutching his throat. He made a strangled sound and collapsed. The older cop was already on the ground, inching like a big worm toward the fallen radio. But Madrid was faster and crushed it beneath his boot.
He swung his gaze toward Jess. “We need to clear the rest of the building.”
Jess glanced down the hall, but no one had emerged. She looked back to the two men who lay motionless on the floor now.
Madrid sprinted down the hall. When he’d cleared the first two offices, a third young cop darted from a room farther down the hall.
“What the hell—”
Madrid fired twice in quick succession. The cop did an awkward dance as two darts hit home, one in the throat, the other in his stomach. His hands fluttered over the weapon strapped to his side, but before he could reach it his eyes rolled back. His knees buckled. His body hit the floor like a sack of flour.
Three cops down in less than two minutes. Jess couldn’t believe they’d gotten this far.
“Find Mummert’s office,” Madrid said as he dragged the first man into a darkened office, out of sight from the lobby and street.
For an instant Jess was so scared she couldn’t move. Then, numbly, she started down the hall. The first office she passed was Dispatch. Inside, she could see a computer monitor and a switchboard-like system. The next office was labeled Norm Mummert, Chief Of Police. “Here,” she heard herself say.
With the three unconscious men stowed out of sight, Madrid strode past her into the office and went directly to the desk. “Check the file cabinet.”
Jess’s entire body shook as she darted to the cabinet. She couldn’t stop thinking about the three cops lying unconscious on the floor or the very real possibility that another one would walk through the door and catch them red-handed.
“What are we looking for?” she asked.
“Same kind of thing we were looking for back at Angela’s. Anything unusual or suspicious. Photos. Documents. I don’t know.”
She tugged at a cabinet drawer, only to discover it was locked. “Damn.”
Madrid already had the top drawer of the desk open. He stopped what he was doing and reached the file cabinet in two strides. “We don’t have time to finesse this.”
Jess shouldn’t have been surprised when he slid a big black pistol from his waistband. “How many guns are you carrying, anyway?” she muttered.
“Enough to get the job done.” He fired a shot directly into the lock. Even though the gun was equipped with a silencer, the single shot seemed thunderous.