Free Time to Live: Part Five by John Gilstrap

and the world can be right again. You could die doing something good, Brad. You could make—”
    The line went dead.
    “No, don’t!” Carter yelled, but it was too late. When he redialed the number it was no surprise that Brad had turned the telephone off. Slamming the steering wheel in frustrated fury, Carter marched back to the cop at the roadblock.
    “Look, officer,” he said. He produced his prosecutor’s badge again. “I’ll say this once more, and you’ll either listen, or I swear I will have every one of your tax returns from now until doomsday audited, and I’ll pull every string I can to ruin your career. And all of that’s just a backup in case I can’t get an indictment for criminal neglect if something happens to my daughter. I need to speak to the officer in charge of this incident, and I need to speak to him now.”
    When he saw the color drain from Trooper Evanow’s face, Carter knew that he’d broken through to the young cop.
    * * *
    The sudden anger startled Nicki. “Brad, what is it? What did they want?”
    “Nothing,” he said, but a different kind of heat in his eyes told Nicki differently.
    “What was the big explosion about?”
    “Nothing, okay? It was about nothing.” He fiddled with the phone, then barked at Gramma, “How the hell do you turn this goddamn thing off?”
    Gramma pointed with a nod. “The upper left-hand button.”
    Brad pushed the button and the phone made a sound like a whistling bomb as it turned off. He dropped it back into her purse and paced the living room, holding his side tightly.
    He limped over to stand in front of Nicki and gestured to Gramma. “If I let her go, will you promise to go with her?”
    “Not a chance. We made a deal. We’re sticking together till the end.”
    “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
    “Till the end, Brad. We’ve gotten this far together, we can see it all the way through. I’m not going. I love you.”
    The scowl lines deepened as he looked at her, and she tried to cheer him with a soft smile.
    “I’m not going,” she said again.
    Brad looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t bring himself to speak the words. He stomped the floor and rattled something in his gut that made him fold at the waist. “Shit!”
    “What is wrong with you, Brad?”
    He made himself stand straight, despite the pain. “Not a thing,” he grunted. “Not a goddamn thing.”
    Nicki watched as he drew his Leatherman and limped toward Gramma.
    * * *
    Trooper Hayes had transitioned to his role as tactical sniper, and he wondered if it was possible to have worse conditions. A new wave of pelting rain had rolled in, pounding him and his team. Matt and his spotter, Luis Martinez, a close friend since the Academy, lay ridiculously close to each other atop the dune at the rear of the house—side three—each taking advantage of the limited cover provided by the jungle-camouflaged tarp they’d stretched overhead. While the true purpose of the tarp was to protect their equipment, they were nonetheless grateful for a little cover.
    “Are we having fun yet?” Matt grumbled.
    “Just remember that this adrenalin rush is what SWAT is all about,” Luis drawled, his tone heavy with irony. “Want me to take over on the trigger for a while?”
    Both the spotter and the shooter were equally trained as marksmen. If this had been a more intense standoff, a switch might have been in order. As it was, with the windows closed, and no one appearing to be in any kind of a hurry, stress hadn’t become an issue. “Nah,” he said. “I’m fine.”
    “He said he wouldn’t be taken alive,” Luis said. “What’s your bet?”
    “I bet it’s easier to talk about than do,” Matt said. “I give it even odds.”
    “Assault units, get ready!” The voice in their earpieces startled them both. “Perp’s got a knife and he’s moving for the old woman.” The warning came from Muhammad Dali, the Voice of God for this operation, the one who passed