Free Forests of the Night by James W. Hall Page A

more bruises, honey.”
    Gracey tore away from the hug, her eyes wild and scarlet.
    â€œWhat do you know? Driving around in your bulletproof vest all day, reading the rule book. What do you know about anything?”
    â€œOkay, fine, e-mail your teacher. Use my laptop. Just stay here till I come back. Promise me.”
    â€œSure, Mom. Whatever.”

Seven
    â€œHe’s in the bathroom, okay? He had to piss. Jesus, Charlotte, what the hell’s going on with you?”
    She stepped over to the front window and tugged the drapes aside. Panther’s red pickup truck was still there.
    â€œCharlotte? Talk to me, damn it. What’s going on?”
    She swung around, brought her voice to a hoarse whisper.
    â€œFBI SWAT team is on the way. We’ve got a minute or two at most.”
    â€œWhat!”
    With a slash of her hand she silenced him.
    She gave him the two-sentence version. FBI Most Wanted list. Eight homicides. When she was done, Parker stared up at the glitter of the crystal chandelier. His lips parted but no words came.
    â€œGracey’s in my office. You go stay with her, Parker, and I’ll keep Panther occupied till they get here.”
    Parker clamped his lips and shook his head.
    She gripped Parker’s elbow and tugged him toward the door.
    â€œStay with your daughter. I’ll handle this.”
    He roused himself from his daze, stared at her hand, and shrugged loose.
    â€œNo,” he said. “No fucking way.”
    She pointed a finger at him and he stared at it, bewildered.
    She angled away from the door, lowering her voice to an airless hiss.
    â€œThis is my territory, Parker. When Panther’s in custody, feel free to take charge, habeas corpus to your heart’s content, but this situation right here, right now, this is what I’m trained for. This is what I’m about. Okay?”
    He stepped back from her, hand rising to brush his cheek as if a bullet had skimmed his flesh. She’d never pulled rank on him before or used her cop voice. Never tried it, never had to.
    Something shuddered in Parker’s eyes. Perhaps he felt the faint slip and buckle of the tectonic plates, no earthquake yet, but a crack in the foundation of their bond.
    Charlotte found a softer voice, as close to gentle as she could manage.
    â€œGo stay with Gracey. Please. It’ll be over in minutes.”
    â€œOkay, okay.” He showed his palms. “But no gunfire, right? Taking him alive, that’s the idea.”
    â€œAlways is.”
    She shot a look at the door. Empty.
    â€œIt’s got to be more than that this time. You’ve got to protect him, Charlotte, you’ve got to be absolutely sure.”
    â€œKeep your voice down.”
    Parker backed off to a harsh whisper.
    â€œDon’t let this get out of hand. Go the extra mile, okay? Promise me. You’ve got to promise.”
    â€œWhat the hell, Parker?”
    He dabbed his tongue at his upper lip and stared again at the empty brilliance of the chandelier.
    â€œThat boy…” Parker swallowed and couldn’t go on.
    â€œThat boy what?”
    Parker shook his head and lowered his gaze to hers. He shook his head another time as if refusing some command.
    â€œWhat is it, Parker? Talk to me.”
    â€œHe’s my son, Charlotte. My flesh and blood.”

    It wasn’t Frank Sheffield’s fault. He repeated Monroe’s address twice to the airfield dispatcher and thought he heard the confirmation behind the layer of static. But the MTS handhelds the chopper personnel used were regularly desensed by the Nextel site a half-mile away from where they were stationed. Depended on the weather, number of cell-phone calls coming and going. Miami field office had been complaining to D.C. long before Sheffield took over. Memos and more memos. Get them better equipment or move the chopper field somewhere out of the dead zone, or else blow the goddamn tower.
    Finally, last year D.C. sent