“We’re not charging in guns blazing, if that’s what you mean,” Detillier said. “But we do need to gather as much intel as we can. If they’ve got prisoners in there, we need to know as soon as possible. We need to be able to tell everyone who shows up the lay of the land inside that store. I have gear we’ll need in the trunk.”
Maureen lit a cigarette. Probably her last one for a while, she figured. No sense in nic-fitting while stalking cop killers in the frozen foods section. Smoke drifted into one half-closed eye as she double-checked her Glock, confirming that first bullet remained chambered. She thought of the places she’d like to send it, like right in between some country motherfucker’s eyes. By dressing up and playing soldier, the Watchmen had removed the risk she’d faced outside Dizzy’s. She would know, immediately, if the person she aimed at presented a threat. She slipped her weapon back into the holster on her hip. She wouldn’t hesitate. Not this time.
They got out of the car. They met at the trunk. Detillier popped it open.
“You’re going to have to wear federal colors, I’m afraid. At least they’ll protect you from friendly fire once the others arrive.”
“I got no problem with that.”
Detillier walked away from her, talking into a handheld radio, describing the scene and their plans for the folks on their way. Things were about to get crazy, Maureen thought. In minutes the parking lot would be a forest fire of emergency lights. She took off her leather jacket and tossed it in the backseat. Detillier reached into the trunk, handed Maureen a Kevlar vest. Shaking her head, she tapped her heart. “Already armored.”
She grabbed a blue windbreaker that said FBI in big white letters across the back and pulled it on. She tightened her ponytail.
“The female shooter inside,” Detillier said, returning to the car and pulling on his own armor and jacket. “That description mean anything to you? Any chance that’s your girl, Leary?”
“That’s not her in there.”
“You sound pretty sure,” Detillier said. “Nobody’s been able to find her for a month and a half. Could be she found her way back to the Watchmen and that’s where she’s been hiding.”
“We found her last night,” Maureen said. “In Lafayette Cemetery with her throat cut open.”
“Dead?”
“Indeed,” Maureen said. “I was going to tell you after lunch. Other matters took precedence.” She could hear the sirens approaching from every direction. The boys were coming, with their big guns and their armor that fit. She’d get cut out of the action. “Let’s get going. I feel like I’m standing here waiting for someone else to come and do my job for me. I don’t like it.”
“If we can do it,” Detillier said, “these people are worth taking alive. No matter what they’ve done. What these guys did today? Trust me, it isn’t the endgame; it’s the beginning. If we can get from these two what’s coming next, we can save lives.”
“You don’t have to tell me my duty,” Maureen said.
“These aren’t the two who shot Preacher.”
“I’m no vigilante.”
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” Detillier said. His radio squawked with multiple voices. He turned down the volume. “You are going to approach from the right side of the entrance so that you don’t cross in front of it. When you get there, stay flat against the building. I’m going to loop around to the other side, come at the entrance along the left side of the building. I will clear the entrance. You got that? Me first around that corner. Me. Once I’ve cleared the entrance, I will signal for you to come in behind me. As we enter, you will cover my back, and I will cover yours. Depending on what we find, or what finds us, we’ll use the registers for cover, reconvene, report in, and strategize from there. Got it?”
“I got it,” Maureen said.
“See you inside,” Detillier said. And for the first time, he smiled at her. He’s done this before, Maureen thought as the agent scampered away, and he enjoys it.
*
Maureen watched as Detillier made his way across the parking lot. He covered the distance in crouching sprints, using cars and trash cans for cover. No sign of life came from the Walmart. No one else came out. She couldn’t hear anything happening inside the store, but the approaching sirens grew louder. Two helicopters now hovered low overhead, no doubt relaying the scene back to the approaching forces.
Part of Maureen wanted to wait for backup. That was certainly the safer play. She knew a few people in the Tactical Unit. She’d actually worked with Tactical once, serving a warrant in Central City. They had the armor, the gear, and firepower equal to what the two Watchmen shooters had. They were a paramilitary unit unto themselves. But I’m here now, she thought. And a bigger part of her couldn’t wait to get inside the store. She wanted to be the one to make the arrests, and if that didn’t happen, to be the one who took down the people who’d killed her fellow officers. There could be hostages. They couldn’t be abandoned. She had so much to prove. To the brass, to the other officers in her platoon, to her entire department. To Atkinson. To Preacher.