Page 3 of Target Acquired
Five and a half months in and she was still hoping.
Her gear was hot despite the cold weather, and Dolly’s air-conditioning hadn’t reached into the back yet, so sweat slid down the groove along her spine.
“All right,” Buzz said. “Get ready.”
Finally, they rolled through the police barricade and to a stop at the edge of the convenience store parking lot. Kenzie checked the pistol at her hip and grabbed her medical kit, maneuvering it to the middle of the vehicle where she could snap it open in a moment’s notice.
The men stood behind the protection of the SWAT vehicle, and Cole—she only referred to him as Garrison in front of the unit—exited his 4Runner, dressed in his gear, to join them. Kenzie couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been. Probably working one of the many cases he juggled in addition to his duties with SWAT.
And then it was time to focus. She listened as they ran through the plan once more if the negotiator on scene couldn’t talk the armed man down.
Two gunshots sounded. Glass shattered. Screams from inside the store echoed. Kenzie jumped out of the vehicle, her feet hitting the asphalt as the men swarmed toward the store, each heading for their area of responsibility, or AOR. Kenzie hung back but positioned herself so she could watch everything go down, listening for calls for help. The comms in her ear spit information nonstop as the members stayed in touch, giving by-the-second updates.
Cole’s orders came through and she visualized their movements through the store.
“Stay safe,” she whispered. “Please stay safe.”
SERGEANT COLE GARRISON relished his role on SWAT when he wasn’t working as a detective with the Lake City Police Department. And right now, he was trying to stop a shooter who seemed content to put bullets through windows and inventory before he escalated to people.
Cole and the team had entered through the back of the store in silence and stood next to the candy aisle, out of sight of the convex mirror above the checkout counter ten yards ahead. A woman and young child huddled next to the freezer in the corner. Cole raised a finger to his lips in the universal sign for silence. The woman—probably the kid’s mother—nodded and pulled the child closer.
If he waved them out the back door, the noise could cause the shooter to turn and then they’d all be up the proverbial creek. They’d managed to stay out of sight of the worker at the checkout, but if he took his eyes off the gun pointed at him, he might spot them. They needed to act before that happened.
The man with the weapon stood at the counter, his back to Cole and the team, gun held at arm’s length on the quivering teen at the cash register. “I said get him out here! Tell him to come face me like a man!”
“I tried, Kev! You heard me. He won’t come out of the office!”
The shooter and the worker knew each other. Good. Maybe. Especially if they were friends once upon a time. Might make it less easy to shoot the worker.
“He got me fired and he won’t even face me?” Kev scoffed. “Typical. What a coward!” He paused and rubbed his free hand down his face while the hand with the gun never wavered. Then he gave his head a slight shake and flicked the weapon toward the exit. “You’ve always been nice to me. I got no beef with you. Get out of here.”
The teen behind the counter darted around the side and bolted toward the door that led to the parking lot.
James had his weapon up and ready to fire. He nodded to Cole that he had a shot, but Cole balled his fist and held it up—the signal for everyone to freeze. If the shooter was going to let people go, he wasn’t going to interfere with the process. “Let’s see how this is going to play out,” he said, his voice one decibel above silent.
Greene signaled Otis to the floor. The dog lay on his stomach but was ready to spring with the force of a catapult should the moment come. He kept his eyes on his handler while his ears twitched.
The guy with the gun aimed himself and his weapon toward the office. “Leo! You’re dead, man! Stacy left me and it’s all your fault!”
Cole signaled Greene, who gestured to Otis.
The dog launched toward the suspect. The guy turned just as Otis clamped his jaws around the forearm of the hand holding the weapon.
A scream ripped from the man’s throat and he pivoted, weapon still clutched in his hand, barrel aimed at the team.
“Everyone down!” Cole’s shout echoed as the weapon barked and the team dropped.
Greene slammed the shooter to the ground with a command for Otis to release. Within seconds, he had the man in cuffs. “Clear!”
As one, the unit rose to their feet and moved in—all except Cowboy. He lay on the tile, gloved hand clutching his head while blood flowed between his fingers.
“Cowboy!” Cole darted to his teammate, hand reaching for his radio. “Kenzie, get in here! Officer down!”
Almost before he’d finished the order, she was through the door and at Cowboy’s side. “Cowboy, let me see it,” she said, her voice low, calm, the eye in the middle of the storm.
Even Cole thought his blood pressure might have lowered a fraction. He nodded when she gently tugged Cowboy’s hand from the side of his head.
“How bad is it?” The man’s voice sounded like he had gravel in his throat.