Run to Ground(16)
Theo pulled on the lead, but Viggy resisted for so long that Theo began to worry he’d have to lift the seventy-pound dog and carry him to the scene.
“Viggy…” He hauled on the leash again, and the dog reluctantly climbed out of the car.
“What’s wrong with him?” Blessard asked from just a few feet away. Theo stiffened. He’d been so occupied with getting Viggy out of the car that he hadn’t even noticed the lieutenant approaching.
Rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, Theo kept a tight grip on the leash to prevent Viggy from slinking underneath the car to hide. “He’s been this way ever since Don…” Theo had to stop when Don’s name caught in his throat.
“Yeah.” Blessard eyed the dog with sympathy. “Think we were all knocked sideways by that.”
Clearing his throat didn’t seem to help move the impediment. “Ready?” he asked gruffly, wanting—no, needing—to change the subject.
“Let’s do this.”
Theo squared his shoulders and walked up the weed-choked two-track that led to the compound gates. The sun lit the ever-present mountain peaks towering over the trees, turning the whole scene into a postcard. Holding back a cynical snort, Theo glanced behind at a plodding Viggy. The two of them were as far from a picture-perfect pair as they could get.
With a sharp shake of his head, Theo tried to refocus. They just needed to pull themselves together long enough to go in, find the explosives—if there were any—and get out. But he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at the lackluster dog again, feeling an echoing pang of emptiness.
Yeah, this is going to be bad.
* * *
“Gordon Schwartz is talking with one of our negotiators. Said he’s trying to convince Romanowski—our robbery suspect—to voluntarily come out and talk to us.” Blessard spoke quietly, his usual carry-through-the-crowd voice muted. “Glad Schwartz didn’t manage to talk him into that yet. We’ve been waiting for a while for a way to get a look inside of that place, see what kind of toys our buddy Gordon and his minions have been collecting.”
Theo grunted acknowledgment before asking, “Any idea what kind of weapons he’s got in there?”
“No.” Lines of displeasure creased the skin between Blessard’s bushy gray brows. “We’ve gotten some unreliable witness accounts that claim his collection is anywhere from a couple of shotguns all the way to a fully stocked armory. Best guess is that it’s somewhere in the middle-to-arsenal range. Schwartz is teetering on the edge of crazy, and I’d rather know what he’s got stockpiled before we’re involved in a standoff.”
Theo made a wordless sound of agreement as they approached the closed compound gates.
“You’re not coming in!” yelled a short, stocky man on the inside of the gate. Theo had seen him around enough to recognize him as Gordon Schwartz. “This is my home! You can’t come inside my house without my consent. If you try to break in here, you fascist bastards will be trampling my constitutional rights!”
Hugh, the closest officer to the fence, raised a hand in a placating gesture even as his posture stayed alert. “You’re not in trouble, Gordon. We just need to come inside to talk to Romanowski.”
“He’s coming out.” Schwartz glanced over his shoulder, the tension on his face belying the certainty in his voice. “Give me a little more time. I’ll keep talking to him, and he’ll come out.”
Blessard strode forward until he was standing next to Hugh. As Theo stopped well back from the gates, Viggy slunk to the end of his leash and sat as far from the compound as he could get, his ears flat and unhappy.
“Fuck your warrant!” The yell from Schwartz drew Theo’s full attention, and a tense readiness rippled through the crowd of cops. With a whine, Viggy leaned against Theo’s hold on the leash, his tail curled between his hind legs. Theo knew that, if Viggy weren’t restrained, he’d be running back to the safety of the car. It hurt to see how timid the formerly confident dog had become. “It’s nothing! It’s a piece of paper. You know what piece of paper trumps your search warrant? The Constitution of the United States! And the Constitution says that I have the right to protect my home.”
A year ago—hell, even two months ago—Theo would’ve been buzzing with adrenaline, alert and ready for whatever was going to happen. Now, he just felt a heavy wave of weariness press down on him. It was just another day, another call, another rotation of the hamster wheel, another chance for one of his fellow cops to get hurt or killed or messed up in the head. His muscles ached with the pressure of his resignation.