the Dirty Dozen - Chapter 53

   The chief asked the investigator, if he managed to get anything out of "the three stooges". He remarked back that he might as well have picked up three gang-banging hood rats, it was the same deal. Searching the two cops handcuffed to the tree, yielded a couple more playing cards. All were identical to the one they found on the tree limb.

   The chief had all his cops except Steve go and drive around, asking and looking for any sign of Merry. Nothing was turning up, when the state police investigator got a surprise phone call from home base. They explained they had been forwarded a strange 911 call. A woman dialed 911, and said she had been attacked late the night prior, by a large number of policemen before dawn. She said they had tried to kill her.

   The investigator, hearing this news, groaned. Then, the voice on his phone asked him if he wanted the good news first, or the bad news. He picked good news. The good news? It wasn't another case similar or identical to the one he was already on. He thanked god and practically jumped up and down, as if he had dodged a bullet. Then, he calmed down and asked for the bad news. The bad news, was that she had barricaded herself in and would not come out for anyone, unless they were "real police" that she could "trust".

   "Are you forgetting something?"

   "The location. I need to know where to go, don't I?"

   "Oh."

   "Yeah, I can see where you wouldn't be sure that was on the good news page or the bad news page. Thanks. I'll see what I can do."

   "What do I want? Call back, explain who you are, and ask for clarification."

   "What do you mean, of what? I need to know what constitutes real police, don't I? How can I even try to bargain in good faith, if I don't know exactly who or what is being asked for. Find out, then please let me know."

   "No, keep this on cell phones only. I don't want the press getting a whiff of this shit, until I know what's going on."

   "Thanks."

   "Chief? A female dialed 911 a little while ago. Gave her name as our missing waitress. You wanna guess where the call traces to?"

   "Uhm… no idea."

   He pointed at the locked bar.

   "What's the deal?"

   "Woman said she was attacked by a large number of police, that tried to kill her. Said she had barricaded herself inside, and would not come out for love nor money, until, and I quote… the real police get here, that she can trust."

   "Okay, that being?"

   "I asked them to call the number back, and get clarification on that one."

   "Are you considering calling in SWAT to blow the doors and go in like the guns of the Navarone?"

   "No. I'm not. I don't feel like any of us are in danger. There were no reported hostages. I say we wait. Your vote?"

   "I'm in favor of waiting. Can I tell Panic she's alive?"

   "Please."

   "Panic? Can I get a moment…"

   The chief took him aside and explained to him the news. When asked why he wasn't happier, he explained that now he was worried they were going to shoot her, or simply give her the gas chamber. The chief suggested they wait a little while and see what went down, as they were waiting for something that they didn't know exactly what it even was yet. Panic asked how they would then know what that even was, and the chief suggested that they would know it when they saw it, hopefully.

   The investigator was happy to get a quick call, assuming it was his clarification of who he needed here to get the woman out. He was wrong, he was being notified from home base that the FBI was inbound.

   "Three ring circus directly. Locals… state… and now? The Feds are coming."

   "I guess we all kinda knew that was coming, didn't we? Might as well call the CIA and the NSA to join in the party, maybe they'll bring beer."

   "Yeah. Just like you had a big mess and had to hand it over to the state? I got the same deal. I have over a dozen out of state local cops, dead on scene. I have cops, drugs, guns. I have first one, now three cops? I don't know what to call them. Technically they're witnesses… but… right now? I had to choose victims or perpetrators? I'd have to hunch on perpetrators. This is a jurisdictional nightmare. The feds coming in? Like a marriage vow. For better, for worse. But, like any shotgun wedding? It's happening."

   "Chief? You could call your boys back. We located the girl, right?"

   "Yes. We did. Hmm. Anyone want lunch? I missed breakfast. Anyone else on the same page?"

   Everyone thought pizza was a great idea.

   "Panic? Rob? Don't even think about pitching in on this one. Deal's a deal."

   Panic wondered aloud…

   "Anyone think I should try to go in and talk to her?"

   The investigator smiled, and gently reminded Panic that she was definitely on edge, had possibly killed in excess of 12 police officers, and was almost certainly still armed. Did he still think it was a good idea?

   "Well. If I walk in with a pizza…"

   "It's your ass."

   Panic murmured…

   "I've heard of suicide by cop. What would this be if she caps my ass?"

   When the pizza finally arrived, Panic was handed an extra large pepperoni, and handed the cell phone and all he had to do was press send.

   "It's me honey."

   "I know your voice. Am I on speaker?"

   "No."

   "Do you want to come in?"

   "Yes."

   "Tell them I'm armed. Everyone backs up from the door. No funny business. I lock the door behind you."

   Panic related this accurately, and let her hear it in the phone.

   Everyone gave the door a respectable berth, and he walked in, holding a pizza like a delivery guy. Which of course he had been before.

   Merry looked out, game face on, and slapped the heavy steel door shut, and everyone heard the locks engaging. She made sure they saw she was armed.

   "Hey… you brought me something to eat…"

   "Yeah. Brought you a pizza too."

   "Mmm. Do we have time for that?"

   "Are we on video and audio?"

   "No. Think, the boy's place? Plus I checked."

   "Hun. You're in an awful good mood, considering."

   "Honey? I had one drink, and took a good nap. I'm more bored than anything. Did you know that Uncle Mike is on his way?"

   "No. All I heard, was that the FBI was coming to take over."

   "Which will be Uncle Mike. I've been texting him on my burner phone, to his burner phone. He said, and I quote… that he has complete authority to do anything he wants, as he decides it. This is all just for show now, from that moment out. How did your little performance go?"

   "Oh. I played the much distraught boyfriend, who can't find his missing girlfriend."

   "Touching."

   "Very. Was touching, one of those Freudian slips?"

   "It might be. Quickie?"

   "This is hardly the time or the place."

   "What? The hard part was over last night. Today? I admit I worried a little, but, once Uncle Mikey texted me he was in charge and on his way? I knew it was a done deal. The rest? Is just drawing it all out as long as possible for… drama."

   "Hmm. What are my instructions?"

   "You're about to meet Uncle Mike for the first time. Simple as that. He'll probably give you a little public lip, just to make it look good. He said not to take it personal."

   "I understand."

   "Let's eat?"

   They each crammed as much pizza as they could stand into their mouth for several minutes.

   "Does everyone buy that I did it?"

   "At first? Everyone was thinking bikers. Then? Wondering where you got your own SWAT team. Then? They're coming around to the idea, yeah."

   "Mmm. Quickie?"

   "Do I have to?"

   "Hmm. May I remind you, that I'm going to get self defense? I won't be away from you for very long once this is over. You? Might not want to be telling me no, so close to our big night coming up soon."

   "What would a yes entail then. I like to review my options."

   "Chair. Middle of the floor. I want to sit on you, facing you. On the scale from full out quickie, to slow? Leaning more towards quickie. Don't want them busting down the door, thinking I'm doing anything to you."

   "Oh no. Please don't."

   They completed their planned act, then quickly got up and pulled their clothes back up and on.

   "Remember, tell them I don't trust anything with a badge, because over a dozen police officers tried to kill me."

   "Not much of a stretch, I'm really hardly lying, when you think about it."

   "I know. Makes it easier, doesn't it?"

   "It does."

   "I give you my permission, that you can brag to little Robbie only, and on the sly. He's obviously very trustworthy."

   "They're going to ask me how you're doing. What do you want me to report?"

   "Tell them, that you've never seen me like this. I'm slightly nervous and agitated? But… mainly calm. Say something like… she seems more worried about me, than herself. That should be enough mixed signals, to keep them guessing."

   "It's your ballgame."

   "How are my boys doing?"

   "More or less, they just stand around, rubbernecking. No one asks them to leave, so, they just stay. The officers, I'm talking about. Everyone else was brought in for residue, and passed, and went back home."

   "All right. Time to get you back out there. If I can, I plan on making you be my go between. No sense in letting sixteen different assholes march in and out of here. After all, I have reason to be paranoid, right?"

   "Makes sense."

   "One more thing, let me know when they start processing the scene. They'll start taking me more seriously, after that."

   "How do I go out?"

   "Walk out, and I'll give you a little shove."

   They walked to the door, then Merry turned him around, and unlocked and opened the door, and gave him a shove on the shoulder out. Looked around, and slapped the door shut. Threw the locks.

   The investigator wanted to know what she was like, did she make any demands, etc.

   "Honestly? A little agitated… or nervous? Not much really. Mainly? Just kinda… calm. I kept trying to talk about her and what was going on? She kept asking about me. Which I thought was weird, but, hey. Demands? Just one. She said I'm the only one goes in and out. Food or whatnot. Trust thing, I guess."

   "You… have a problem, with going in and out?"

   Panic shrugged.

   "I'm fine. I didn't do anything to her. What do I have to fear. Cops though… not high on her list, all things considered, at the moment."

   "Panic. Would it be fair to say, that your opinion… is that the situation, whatever the situation might actually be… is stable. Static. Not… volatile."

   "Definitely. She hasn't threatened anybody. Hasn't threatened herself. No yelling, no screaming. Like I said… strangely calm."

   "What's the main topic of conversation in there?"

   "Like I said. She keeps asking about me, how am I doing. Other than that? She keeps emphasizing… that a bunch of policemen came to kill her."

   Chief wanted to know what they were going to do. Investigator shrugged.

   "I played a hunch, it worked out like I thought. She doesn't seem to want hostages. If she's not volatile, if she's not… screaming and yelling, demanding things, wanting revenge. Hell, I'm perfectly content to wait. I have no shots fired on scene. I have no threats. The situation is static. She's not going anywhere. I don't want this bad situation escalating in any way. It's not de escalating, but, I'm fine the way things are. No news, is good news. I just hope the feds arrive and like my play book."

   "Anything else you want or need?"

   "Only this. Has she… admitted doing anything. Taken credit for…"

   "Nothing like that. To be fair, I didn't bring it up. She didn't either."

   "We know she's armed. What does she do with the gun the whole time you're in there? Does she point it at you, wave it around, anything like that?"

   "No. Won't point it at me. Once I'm in, we're away from the door? She keeps it with her of course, but, just sets it down and talks like… normal. When we go to let me out? She has it again. Look, if you're asking if I'm being held at gunpoint in there? No, I don't feel like that at all. You gotta remember, I'm a gun guy. I'm always at gun ranges. A gun laying on the table, while I'm bullshitting? Totally normal to me."

   "All right. If anyone wonders. Situations like this, in my experience? End one of three ways, typically. One, they pop themselves. Two, take the suicide by cop solution. Three? They… eventually come out. When they're ready. I'm a patient man. I will not set time limits, and issue threats and orders. With no immediate danger, everything calm like it is now? I'll keep it that way."

   "What can we do while we wait?"

   "You have any suggestions?"

   "What about…"

   Panic pointed up and over, in the direction of up on the hill.

   "Oh. What about them? I have sixteen badges, I have sixteen cops accounted for. One way or the other. That situation isn't deteriorating any more than it has already on its own."

   "We have the temporary gift of no press here hounding us. I'm guessing there's work to do up there…"

   "Oh, that. Truth? Once I call for body bags, the press comes running. I can't move a thing body wise? Until the experts have gone over the scene, and processed it. That typically brings the press running too. Every hour I buy, by putting it off? Keeps those assholes off our back."

   Chief wondered aloud…

   "Things are quiet here, for now. I can hold the fort down, down here. If you want, I have three warm bodies you can make use of. You're… competent to poke around, right? You can use the free manpower. I'll instruct them to take orders from you up on the hill."

   "Hmm. I have a digital camera. I have evidence baggies and gloves. I could bag and tag a few things. As long as I take notes carefully, I won't jeopardize anything chain of evidence wise. If you're offering the manpower…"

   "Boys? Follow the nice investigator. Follow his instructions to the letter. You're going to assist him taking evidence and a look see at the scene."

   The investigator spent a couple hours. He started with the cars. He documented which cop owned each car by glove box paperwork, and which four cops were in each car. He matched badges to wallets to cars. He photographed anything he took out, including the baggies of drugs.

   With his three helpers under his direction, he led them in the same procedure up on the hill. He labeled each man by name in his notes and matched it to the photographs of the scene. He mainly searched pockets and anything close by, and kept track carefully. Labeling the baggies with labels he wrote on with his own coding system.

   When he was done, he came back down with stacks of large manila envelopes. Chief wanted to know if there were any surprises.

   "Well. Remember the card game, chief."

   "Yeah."

   "The cops were not card players. Every body has at least one card. All the same card, you know which one. Don't tell anyone, I'm keeping that private for now. One of the little things I'll try to keep out of the press as long as I can. One mouth has a card placed in it."

   He drifted over to Panic, and idly walked a few steps to keep their voices alone.

   "Panic. Any chance, you would… try to do something for me? I'm curious about something."

   "Depends. What do you want?"

   "Your girl in there. Any way I could get… fingerprints?"

   "Do you want me to just ask for them? Or, are you suggesting I take her in a glass of water, and I try to keep a straight face when I carry the glass out by holding it carrying it over a stick… I'm sure she won't notice me doing anything strange."

   "Yeah. I see your point. She trusts you, and I don't want to disrupt that."

   "Want me to just ask her straight out, politely? All she can do, is say no. Do you expect her to roll her fingers one at a time across paper, or…"

   "I'd be happy right now, with a good deliberate palm print. If she said yes."

   "Dial the phone…"

   He did, and handed it to Panic…

   "Hi Honey. It's me… yeah, I'm still here… well, I was bored anyways, you know… well, actually, yeah. Some people out here, were just wondering, if you wouldn't mind too much, giving them a palm print."

   "Really… okay, hold on…"

   "She wants to know, if a clean glass casserole dish, a square one? If she were to press her palm firmly on it without smudging… would that be good enough for now?"

   "Tell her that would be lovely."

   "They like that idea, hun… um, okay. See you in a minute…"

   He hung up and handed back the phone.

   "Everyone quiet, and back away from the door."

   Panic walked over to the door, with everyone away from it. Knocked. Waited a short pause. Merry opened the door, and handed a clean, clear, glass square casserole dish to Panic to hold. She took her right hand, and pressed it firmly with her fingers spread out some down into it, held it, then pulled back straight up. Panic held it with his left hand, then she handed him another casserole dish. She transferred her gun held at the ground into her other hand and repeated the procedure again, with that dish in his right hand.

   She scanned around with slits for eyes, and nodded her chin up. Panic stepped back a few steps, and she once again slapped the door shut and locked it. Panic brought the two casseroles over to the investigator, and he took them with gloved hands, each into a really big baggie, that he labeled.

   "Thanks…"

   The investigator worked his phone a little, and a short while later, he handed over the evidence to the person in the car, after they signed a form for him, and they each took copies, and another copy in the box he handed over. Then they waved and the car went off. He meandered back to the chief.

   "Chief? I got her palm prints. I'm getting a rush on the prints, and I'm mainly interested in the cards. I'll admit that I'm curious as all holy hell, if her prints are all over those cards. How about you? Also, I'm getting the drug baggies printed as well. The rest? I'm not spastic to hear back."

   The chief wagged his head, calculating, smiling a little.

   "You're curious. You don't know whether to expect her prints on the cards. You're a little curious about the prints on the drug baggies, too."

   "I am. The cards? Either way. The drug baggies? I'm thinking someone disabled the radiator hoses on the cars, so, that's access…"

   "If, and that's a mighty big word, if… but, if you had to make a decision right now, for some reason, to charge her or release her… which way would you lean?"

   "Honestly? If I could wave a magic wand, and have me and her sit down, no one else around. Take our time, and just talk, and she was willing to tell her story? My hunch is, depending on what she said of course, but my hunch? These dead cops are guilty as sin of attempted murder. Along with a host of other tag along charges."

   "And if the prints don't match up?"

   "Well, that's the thing. Even if the card prints don't match up to her. Even if she put the baggies there… these dead cops? Are in no way absolved of attempted murder."

   "Ballistics? Expecting any surprises?"

   "I'm the same way there. I'm curious. But… even if I get surprises with ballistics? Nothing changes the basic, central facts of the case. Sixteen cops, off duty, on their own time… on their own money… tracked her down to here, from hundreds of miles away. They came and asked for this, it just didn't go their way."

   "Barring any gigantic surprises, you wouldn't file murder?"

   "No. Jury would never buy it. 16 men? Tracking down and cornering one girl, alone or even not? No way. I wouldn't even try to walk that one past a greedy first year prosecutor. One woman on that jury? It's a no. Just one man on that jury, doesn't feel it was fair play? It's a no."

   "What's the worst you would risk, if you got surprises back."

   "Tampering? Disturbing the peace? Code violations for living in a shed? Maybe littering for scattering brass around?"

   The chief smiled. Shook his head.

   "You know, chief, there's one thing burning a hole in my pocket. I would love to know, how this shit got started. I mean, wouldn't you just love to know what IA in that city would have to say about these dead assholes? I would bet, nothing good. This? There ain't no way this is these guy's first night at the rodeo. Shit like all this? They took a lot of little steps, then bigger ones, to arrive here."

   "Does the fact she's a woman, play into this at all?"

   "Technically, to the letter of the law? We both know that's a legal no. In reality? We both know… that just puts the ball further into her court."

   "Are you thinking self defense?"

   "I'm keeping an open mind. I have to play devil's advocate, entertain any possibility, but… unless something very strange changes the course of all this… I'm having trouble seeing her as anything other than a victim. Chief… in your gut, you're wondering the same thing I'm wondering, I'm sure. You said you worked ten in Chicago… you curious how many other times these guys did this? Before now?"

   "Oh. If I could read dead minds? I'm sure I would be pissed."

   "Oh, chief. Almost forgot. One of the cars? Had a cheap civilian scanner in it. Pocket job. We found it, set to monitor one frequency, and one frequency only. Wanna guess it?"

   "This is a small town. Other small towns nearby. Small forces. We all share one frequency, the CTSS codes are all that keep our calls separated. Anyone wants to shout to all of us at once? Just flick the CTSS code switch off. I know I'm right, huh?"

   "Yep. They were monitoring your frequency. So they would know if anyone was just happening by. Every step we take, it's just another shovelful of dirt on these guys. Those three amigos? That lived? I can't imagine what kind of story them and their lawyers will try to cook up to try to explain this, but, I'm pretty sure it ain't gonna fly."

   "Now all we have to do, is hope the situation doesn't go sour. The feds coming in worries me. I don't wanna see some jackass try to hurry things up to make it home for dinner."

   "The press is gonna have a field day with this. Thank god we're out in the sticks, but, that's not going to save us forever."

   "Don't even remind me. Please. We both know, it's going to be a pressure cooker. Let's just try to enjoy the relative peace and quiet while it lasts. It's going to be a fucking circus."

   Panic now had a direct cell connection to Merry's phone, but, it was her burner phone she talked to Uncle Mike on. The scene cops couldn't record or read texts from that without knowing about it and the number. He texted her burner.

   "Starting to process some of the scene. Mainly cards for prints. Waiting on dead pigs and ballistics and grids. No press yet."

   "Am I making a good pouty face when I'm at the door. Don't want to embarrass you. Ha."

   "Wait till they pin the cards on you. You will look even more pouty to them. Hee hee."

   Panic went and sat next to Rob. Rob asked what he was doing? When he was sure no one was in earshot or looking carefully, he casually told Rob…

   "Oh. Texting Merry… killing time… don't tell anyone I have another line to her."

   "Sure. Panic? Why are you acting like this is no big deal?"

   "I can't tell you, just trust me. Rob? Between me and you? This is gonna get dragged out some, for drama. That's all. Merry said she trusts you. Dude, how cool is it, my girl just capped some dirty cops, has a real standoff going. I went in and we banged on a chair in the middle of the bar floor."

   "Panic? You're crazy. You know that, right?"

   "Uh huh. You admit you're crazy too?"

   "Oh yeah. We're both nucking futs, what we used to do when we was younger…"

   "Yeah, but, I got you beat now. I finally beat a German at something…"

   "What?"

   "Coolest date night ever. Ha!"

   "You're winning something else, too, Panic."

   Idly between thumb taps texting Merry on the burner number…

   "Oh. What…"

   "You're crazier than I am, I think. Fuck it, your girl might be crazier than I am…"

   Panic just smiled wan, and laid back texting. His back on the grass, next to Rob. Who had his arm over his buddy's shoulder, supposedly consoling him to any onlookers.

   "Rob? We're not going to start fucking, are we? I'm willing to wait for Merry, you know."

   Rob chuckled.

   Within an hour they killed waiting, the investigator had a quick talk to someone on his own cell. He went and had another pow wow with the chief afterwards.

   "Chief? I got preliminary on the cards and Merry's glass prints. Rough look over? Positive match. The cards taken at random? All look like her prints, so far. Now, that's not court-able, but, I'm willing to assume it for now."

   "Do you have all the cop's prints? To do the drug baggies?"

   "Not yet. Waiting on that, all cops have prints on file… but the important thing? The prelim says not a trace of her prints is on the drugs.

   The chief whistled.

   "This change things any?"

   The state homicide investigator made a face, moved his hands around a little.

   "Some. Yeah. I honestly had trouble believing what I found here. I was thinking the bikers helped her. She's up on the hill, in the cabin, the cops come hunting her, everyone opens up on them. That's what I was thinking…"

   "And now?"

   "I'm starting to think it's… maybe just her."

   Chief pointed at the disabled cars. Said nothing.

   "New theory. You change the theory, to match what you find at the scene. Not the other way around. Now? She's not hiding up in the cabin. I'm thinking… she's down here. Probably hiding behind the bar. The cops move up in the dark. They're gonna be talking. Planning. Moving slow. I guess she could have taken a knife. Cut the hoses on the cars. Double timed it up the edge of the woods line. Went in the back door of that cabin. The rest? Fairly obvious. Getting more obvious, every minute."

   The chief looked at the locked up bar, and back.

   "She's dangerous."

   "Very."

   "Are… you changing our wait and see strategy?"

   "Nope. I was originally thinking, I don't want anything happening to the best witness I got here, that will actually talk to me. Still thinking that. Of course, why lie. If we agitate her, threaten her? What do you think is gonna happen if she charges out the front door with a gun? Hmm?"

   The chief looked around, then back.

   "Doubt she'd come out the front door. She'd probably sneak out the side door and come up around us. I mean, like you said, you adjust your theory to meet the facts."

   State homicide just nodded.

   "You blame her, chief? I think I got a scared victim in there. Scared, but. Angry. Paranoid. I don't wanna antagonize her into doing something stupid. Right up till now, she hasn't done anything really stupid. She… hell, she probably doesn't even understand she's in a better position than she thinks. I don't want her doing anything to herself."

   Panic came walking up to the chief and the homicide investigator. He paused a few steps back. Politely. Waiting for the private conversation to be over.

   The chief nodded, and homicide nodded back. The chief smiled and waved at him.

   "Panic. What are you standing over there for? You're invited."

   "Well, I'm a civilian. When we're in the doughnut shop in town? I'll jump in the conversation. You boys? You're working. Didn't wanna be rude."

   "No, no. Come join the conversation. You know her better than we do. You? You're on good terms with her. We, uh, we were just talking, and… we don't wanna go in and eat pizza with her. Come on, let's talk…"

   So Panic joined the conversation. Homicide started gently quizzing him. Panic recognized instantly, this was another Speedy. And a Speedy always wants information. A Speedy won't yell and scream, a Speedy will stay calm and keep you talking.

   "Panic. Women… women don't usually do this. Men usually do this. Act out. Confront their enemies. Head on. When this started for me? I walked on, looked around. I'm thinking… where's the men. I honestly thought I was going to come up with a surprise on the residue tests. Honest to god. I was expecting either the bikers, obviously… or, maybe the cops here… sorry chief, I gotta cover all my bases. But seriously, there's no residue around. Your girl in there? I'm betting she's covered in it."

   "Well… if my girl just shot up those cops, then… I'd think that would be obvious."

   "Panic. When I said men do things like this, I wasn't kidding. Women? tend to slap people, yell and scream. When women get this mad? They tend to do poison. They shoot people in their sleep if they have to. They talk men into doing shit like this for them. What's she like? Everyday…"

   "Chief? Help me out here. My girl is… well, she's cute. Funny. Smart alack. Nice sense of humor, always making a joke, a pun."

   "Is she… demanding? Possessive? Jealous? Paranoid?"

   "No… none of that. Wants to talk about everything. Doesn't wanna fight about everyday stuff. Like I said, she's really sweet. Well… till now, I mean."

   "Panic. You honestly telling me, she went from baking cookies and knitting… to all this? Overnight? Come on… no history of violence… no warnings, whatsoever."

   The chief and Panic shared a smile.

   "Go on chief, tell him."

   "Tell me what?"

   "Panic's sweet little girl? She's… she's a cute girl. Easy on the eyes. But… she's not a girly girl, like he said. Tall, strong, athletic. At the doughnut shop? Most of the girls sit at their table, and me and my cops, we sit at our table. Any guys come in we know? Boys tend to sit at the boys table. Girls go sit with the girls. We don't make people do it, it's normal…"

   "Go on…"

   "Go on what. She never once will sit with the girls in town. They invite her, she doesn't like 'em. She wants to sit with the guys."

   "Well… what's she wanna talk about?"

   "Whatever we're all talking about. We start talking about our high school sports days? She talks about playing triple AAA sports, too. More like one of the guys, than any of the girls in town. No history of violence, like a cop would think of it…"

   "But… go on…"

   "Well. You know how girls get. Fuck with each other. Smile at the other girl's guy… that kinda shit?"

   "Catty girl shit. I'm following… she does that?"

   Panic and the Chief shared eyes, and chuckled. The chief continued…

   "Oh no. See, the little girl that works at the doughnut shop? She was… well, to be honest, she was all but giving Panic here a fucking lap dance every morning. Right in front of his girl. Smiling at her about it."

   "Hmm. She said something, huh?"

   "No. She ignored it a bunch of times. Then? Panic here, said he got a lecture about it. Then… she handled it herself."

   "What did she do? Threw coffee in the girls face, made a scene, embarrassed her, right?"

   "Oh no. She got her alone for a little girl talk. Closed her eye for her. Said if she does it again? She'll close both her eyes next time."

   "Oh. She didn't slap her, then…"

   "Uh uh. She hit her like a man. I wasn't just making a joke, she closed her eye. She looked like a man just laid her out. Knocked her right the fuck out."

   "Oh. You didn't… arrest her?"

   "No. This… it's a small town. You live in a small town? You grow up in one?"

   "Yeah. Not too far from here. A little ways off, but…"

   "Okay. Then you understand small towns. The locals? The women are all out parking in cars, and I don't mean with their husbands and boyfriends. The husbands and boyfriends? Argue and get into fights over it. I mean, go figure, right?"

   "I see where this is going… but tell me…"

   "Right. I can't arrest everyone every week. I'd like to arrest the women for causing all the problems? I ain't allowed to say boo, you know how it is today… women's rights and all that shit…"

   "I'm hearing you…"

   "I ain't making my job any harder then it already is. I let everyone sort out their problems, then all my boys know my standard operating instructions. You get on scene, everyone is into it? Hose everyone there down with mace, and do it twice… then? Send everyone home… I'm not getting everyone divorced, and putting up with the fallout from that down the road. What I do? It works. You raise hell? You get maced. Why should the husbands lose their jobs, and lose their families, when the women are causing all the problems."

   "So, she gets along with guys. She… doesn't get along with the girly girls, then…"

   The chief shrugged.

   "No. She goes down to the diner in town, once that was done. She talks to all the girls there. She acts like a… girly girl with them…"

   "Hmm. Panic? This… lecture you got about the lap dances at the doughnut shop. She… hit you? Threaten you? I need to know how the person in there thinks…"

   "Well. I got tickled."

   "What?"

   "Yeah. Not as funny as you'd think. I had… some equipment around me. She sat on it. I couldn't get up. She… wouldn't quit, until I promised there wasn't going to be any more… problems at the doughnut shop. Like I said, I got a lecture about it."

   "It sounds… cute, funny… but… she was serious about it, right?"

   "Oh yeah."

   The homicide guy looked around. Gazed up the hill, at what he knew was up there. Looked at the cars that had been disabled. Looked back at the locked up bar.

   "She thinks like a guy. She gets along with guys. She doesn't fly off the handle. She keeps her cool. She played sports. She plans things. In sports? Us guys learn to control our impulses. Have a plan. Stick to the plan, when it's time to play a game."

   He walked around in a little circle, looking at things again.

   "She planned this. She knew they were coming. She was scared, but, she wanted to be able to put up a fight. I bet she was a sports star, unless I miss my guess. Tall, strong girl. Probably smart. Keeps her cool. I can see her being one of the team captains. Hanging out with the coach. Helping call plays. Keeping the other girls in line."

   He walked around again. Looking. Thinking.

   "You see, most women don't play sports. They play girls and they play boys. That's what most women know. Now, boys are different. They grow up roughhousing. Playing sports and fighting it out. So, boys think differently. When they become men? Sports men, look at things differently… than guys that didn't play sports."

   "Tall? Strong? Yeah… grew up playing ball with the boys. Probably fighting with the boys, too, until it was dating time. She liked sports. I don't even know, and I bet she was good at it."

   "Panic? Chief? She handled her little situation at the doughnut shop? Just like a man will handle it. Keep your cool, let them go. Then? When its time? You get them alone. Get right in their face? You confront them. Ready to act… just like a man will. That doughnut girl? She called her bluff. She made a mistake, calling this girl's bluff. She was ready and willing, and more importantly able to carry through on her threat to quit fucking around."

   "Panic? We all already know she's a biker girl. You've been here with her before. How do the bikers treat her? Those guys over there? Their buddies that came out? Those ain't regular bikers. You see, most outlaw biker gangs… they have different members."

   "There's social members, and, one percent members. Now, we're not in California, we're in Pennsylvania. We only have one outlaw biker gang. The Pagans. That's it. All the other outlaw biker gangs in this state? They all wear a "P" patch. Indicating they're part of the home team. There's no competition here in Pennsylvania, everyone knows, this is their home state. Period. The other biker gangs here? That's the farm teams. Tryout clubs. Their idea of little league. You make it there? You're not a social member, you're the real deal? You can move up. Prospect for the… big league team."

   "Panic… most biker gangs. Only some of the members, wear the 1% patch. Not the Pagans. Every one of them wears the 1% patch. They're not big, they're one of the smallest national biker gangs, but… you'd never know it. Even the Hell's Angels quit fucking around with the Pagans, and that's the biggest biker gang out there, hands down."

   "You guys ever hear of the Hellraiser's Ball?"

   "No…"

   "Nope."

   "Eh. I'll tell you about it. Now, Pennsylvania is Pagan territory. Home state. Home turf. They tolerate social biker clubs, but, if anyone wants to wear the one percent patch? Claim to be a tough guy? You either wear the P patch, indicating you're part of the tryout club system? Or else. They don't negotiate in Pennsylvania. They tell you, and that's that."

   "Now. Hellraiser's Ball. Philly? That's their home town, in their home state. The fucking mafia in Philly? Won't fuck with these guys. They treat them like another mafia family. They invite them to a sit down, all polite like. You negotiate. You don't want trouble you don't need. You don't negotiate with other gangs, unless you respect what they can do. The mafia treats them nice? That should speak volumes about these guys."

   "Hellraisers Ball, was in Philly. Once a year, the bikers all put their happy faces on, for the public. Little kids get to have their picture on the big custom bikes. There's merchandise for sale. It's a goddamned convention, like, any other legitimate convention. Well, the Hell's Angels had the balls, to buy a gigantic booth. Join the fun…"

   "That didn't gel. Everyone just knows, you don't do that. The Hell's angels, and the Pagans have been at each other's throats for a while. It goes back a good ways. Now, remember… the Hell's Angels? They're, like, the gold standard biker gang. The biggest worldwide, the biggest here in America. They… were not prepared for the Pagan's response."

   "What did they do?"

   "A bunch of Pagans, all got together. They wrote out their wills. They armed themselves. They went into the convention, and right out in the open? They attacked. Right out in public, no screwing around. It was a fucking mess. No one could do anything, except run for cover. There's guns, knives, ball bats, people swinging combo locks on chains around. Pipe bombs. After a set period of time? Like a military attack, they just suddenly scattered like mice, and almost all got out."

   "What happened then?"

   "Oh, we got a few, but… everyone took their colors off. Most weren't on bikes… they just got out, blended in, most of them got away. The Hell's Angels? Learned their lesson… there's no hiding from these guys. Not even hiding in public. Smallest biker gang, sure… but also the most violent one there is. They don't act… they don't act… then? Bam! They're like… small, violent… they're pretty much, the special forces of the outlaw biker gang world, really. Hells Angels? Big. Lots of soldiers. Pagans? Few. Still respected, and they can hold their own, with their small numbers. Just like special forces."

   "Now then, Panic?"

   "Yeah."

   "You a biker?"

   "Not at all. Not my thing."

   "I know. I pulled your jacket. You're a clean guy. What was it like hanging out here? With her."

   "No big deal. Ain't the first time I ever went to a biker bar before. You don't act up? They're fine."

   "Your file says, you grew up in Pennsylvania. The southwest. South of Pittsburgh."

   "So? Everyone, gotta come from somewhere, you know."

   "This isn't the first time you've ever been around these guys? Is it."

   "Aw. Saw them growing up. There's no getting away from seeing them in all the bars. You don't give them any shit? They're fine."

   "You were in the Air Force. Computer programmer."

   "Yeah."

   "You know these guys, growing up?"

   "Not really. Now, a friend has one in the family? I know them through that person."

   "Your boys out where you're working on the property. Gun range, chief tells me. You're used to hanging out with cops. Military. Biker bars, too. You… have no problems hanging out with tough guys, do you?"

   "None at all. I actually prefer it."

   "Prefer it? Why?"

   "Regular guys. I get sick of all the bullshit. Pecking order bullshit. Now, you hang around with actual tough guys? None of that shit. I have less problems, hanging around military and bikers, than I ever did around regular guys. And for the record?"

   "Yeah…"

   "I learned to stay away from cop bars. I prefer biker bars, every time, to cop bars."

   "Why?"

   "Cops off duty? Start fights, act like assholes. You get in a fight that they start? They all pile on you, like pussies. Then? You get arrested, just for getting mugged, and you didn't even do anything. I don't mean it personal, but, off duty cops? Are assholes. Plain and simple. I hang out at a biker bar? I'm the same guy I am at the cop bar. Quiet. Polite. I don't want any trouble, and I don't stick my nose into anyone elses problem. Cop bars? Hanging out out with all their butt buddies? The ambulance and fire dicks? Assholes. Biker bars? Nobody starts any trouble, when you're quiet and polite. The cops? Start trouble with anyone they think they can get away with it. So? I hang out at the biker bar, no cops there. Less trouble."

   "Wow. Panic, you don't mince words."

   "No I don't. Sorry if I offended you. You asked."

   "But, you like hanging out with the chief here. His cops. What's the difference?"

   "The chief seems like a nice guy. His cops? Are all polite. I never saw any of his cops, running around, pushing civilians around, waving their badges like bullies. I like them."

   "Chief?"

   "No, I hear what he's saying. You ask any of my boys, I don't put up with that shit out of my cops. Look, I came from Chicago. All the Chicago cops pull the shit he's describing. I tried to put a stop to it? I'm the asshole. Civilians can't be scared of the cops. It's counter productive. I got out. I'm the chief here? I made sure all my boys know, I won't tolerate that shit. They're to be polite and helpful, to all civilians. I better see them carrying people's groceries, and stopping to help change a tire, off duty. End of story."

   "All right. Panic? I started this, asking how the bikers here, treat your girl. Will you tell me?"

   "Sure."

   "Well?"

   "What's to tell. They're nice to her. Polite. Me? I like nice. I like polite. This ain't my world. Its hers. She wants to tend bar here? For a part time job? Fine. I've been here with her, its okay."

   "These guys, aren't smacking her on the ass, asking for blowjobs, none of that shit?"

   "No."

   "Are… you aware that's what most girls that come and hang around get? It's what those girls like? It's what they expect?"

   "I don't care what the other girls are like. I only care about mine. She doesn't let guys paw her up. At all. Out at our work camp? After work, the boys all drink beer around the campfire. You put your hand on her ass? She warned the boys once. Said she'll taser the next guy that puts their hand on her."

   "What happened?"

   "Ten minutes later? She taser-ed the next guy that touched her."

   "Kinda cute, but… it ever happen again?"

   "Not once."

   "So, how do these guys treat her?"

   "Like I said. They're all polite to her. Yeah, I seen the scooter girls, they smack them on the ass. My girl? They're polite. They don't do that to her. They shake her hand all polite like, and smile at her. So? I don't mind if she wants to hang out with her friends, or, even tend bar here."

   Panic's cell phone went off.

   "Ah, boys? This looks important. I kinda been waiting on this call. Will you give me a second here? Don't mean to be rude to you guys."

   "Not at all. Please."

   Panic walked away several steps, and spoke a while. Then he came back after hanging up.

   "Okay, sorry. I was waiting on that call. Finally got it. Hey. Remember you asked me what the problem was in DC? What the connection was? I told you, I wasn't allowed to tell you. I gave my word, and I keep it."

   "Yeah…"

   "That was them. FBI? Couple miles out, be here in a little bit. IA is coming in too."

   "Internal Affairs? FBI or… DC city?"

   "Oh… both. One of each in the car with the FBI guy, they said. They hitched a ride."

   "I just love this. The FBI's coming? About to hit my scene so I can do the hand off? They call a civilian on scene, instead of me. Instead of the chief of police. What the hell's going on, Panic?"

   "Well, if you let me finish talking? I just got the go ahead, that I'm allowed to talk to you about DC. I guess, all this shit going down? No keeping the fucking lid on the bullshit any more."

   "Great. Talk to me."

   "Me and Merry. I was in DC, working my case, with my state police partner. We're… consulting at the FBI on our case. This ain't got nothing to do with me and him. This… is all bullshit that just… kinda happened."

   "Keep talking to me. I get the feeling I'm finally going to get some answers that add up."

   "Merry? Is a material witness to a set of crimes in DC. That's FBI and DC city cops, both. Merry was about to get ready to come in, and testify. Against cops. Dirty cops. Merry… kinda survived an assassination attempt. In DC. Dirty cop got shot full of holes. My job? They couldn't stick her in any normal safe house. FBI or city safe house. They wanted her safe, and out of town, until they could round up the assholes. That? Is why we're hiding out here."

   "Well. That explains a lot. I wondered what all the DC connections were. Merry already killed one dirty cop, in self defense. His buddies? Came up here to finish the job. I'm getting the picture now."

   "Yeah… except one teensy part you got wrong."

   "What part's that?"

   "Merry didn't grease the dirty pig."

   "Oh, I forgot. Biker girl. Some enforcer handled the heavy lifting. Gotcha. Makes sense, really…"

   "Uh, no. You still ain't got the right idea… I don't know how to say this? I'll just spell it out."

   "Please."

   "I killed the dirty cop. I was in bed staying over with Merry? Asshole had one of those automatic lock pick deals. Was going to come in and shoot her, and me too, right in bed."

   "How did that go down?"

   "We got out. I got her away, then I circled back once she was away safe. I mean, all I know, is some asshole just tried breaking in to her apartment, quietly. I went back to confront the burglar."

   "And?"

   "Fucker held a badge up. Yelled police. At the same time he shot me in the shoulder. I put 14 rounds into that asshole. No one expected that shit. IA got me to get her the fuck outta dodge. Keep her safe on ice, until it was time to testify. Now? We got this. These assholes? Will be the ones they didn't round up, getting that whole party started."

   "You got shot? You okay?"

   "Ah. Most cops can't shoot for shit anyways. Pussy barely scratched my shoulder. They're only tough guys when you see they all have one guy cornered, then they all spray and pray. I'm a gun guy. It's my hobby. I watched tapes of shootings… honestly, it's fucking embarrassing."

   "Cops? You're embarrassed how they shoot?"

   "Locals, yeah. No offense chief. State cops I hang out with? Yeah, they can actually handle themselves."

   "Who do you shoot with at the range, then?"

   "Ah, you know. The usual suspects. Cops, ex cops. Military, ex military. IDPA competitors. Serious hunters. Bench rest shooters. Couple SWAT guys, couple real life snipers. Cowboy action shooters that do the gunfighter competitions. You know, the usual. I don't hang out with 'Bubba' shooters. No offense, chief."

   "None taken…"

   "Panic?"

   "Yeah."

   "Panic… you and your buddy, you're clean. The residue. You weren't here."

   "No. Honestly, I figured Merry had the bikers lined up to help her. I mean, I knew something was up, but, I didn't think it was this shit going down. If I'd have thought for one second this was going down? You can bet your ass, I'd of been up there with her. I shoot long range. I'd have posted up and started dropping guys. I mean, I hold a quarter inch easy at 200 yards. I'm a little bit pissed, I wasn't invited to help. The fuck is the use of being good with guns, if the one fucking time you're needed, no one calls you, you know? Fuck me."

   The chief and homicide, just gave each other a look. The chief turned around, so as to try to not start laughing. The homicide investigator pinched his nose, and palmed his face.

   "Well, that's what I get for working homicide, we're always the last to know anything… question?"

   "Yeah."

   "Anything else I need to know, that I don't know?"

   "Hey. I gave my word to IA, and IA at the FBI too. I couldn't tell anyone. We thought getting her out of the city, off the grid? Would keep her safe while they rounded up the assholes. Well, you can see how that turned out."

   "Panic?"

   "Yeah…?"

   "You and your buddy passed residue. So did all the bikers. You're telling me, that Merry did this all herself?"

   Panic looked around…

   "I guess so. Honestly, the last couple weeks, I was kinda impressed. I mean, she handled her Glock okay and all, but… she had that sissy la la center-mass shit… she wanted to shoot with the boys, they showed her stuff. She's decent on silhouettes, I gotta tell you. I'm proud of my girl and all. Fucking A."

   "Jesus Christ on a Popsicle stick…"

   "Oh yeah. Merry said, when you finally started, you know, doing the whole scene thingy?"

   "Yeah…"

   "I was allowed to give you this…"

   Panic handed over a small SD card.

   "What's this?"

   "She said it was for whoever was investigating. That's you. This was a homicide, you're the homicide guy, right?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Okay. So, it's yours."

   "Well, what is it?"

   "It's an SD card, could have music on it, or… video or digital pictures. I assume you know how to use it, right? You just plug it into the side of a laptop, and see the files… then? You just double click on a file…"

   "Panic, I know how to open up a digital picture, on my laptop. I mean, what the fuck is it?"

   "How the fuck am I supposed to know? What, am I a goddamned mind reader? Am I supposed to stick it on my forehead, and say… oh, it's coming to me… I see… assholes coming to kill a waitress… no. I don't have fucking ESP. She gave it to me, told me to wait, until you started doing the scene. You? Started doing prints and bagging shit. So? There you go."

   "Don't you think I could have used all this information earlier?"

   "Do you follow orders?"

   "Sure…"

   "Okay. My orders, were to hide her. Keep her safe. Out of the city, out in the sticks. I follow orders. Now, I was ordered… I wasn't allowed to say anything. To anybody. For any reason. It would jeopardize her safety. So? Once again, I followed orders."

   "But, this card…"

   "Oh. More orders. In the service? We had a saying… lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way. When someone takes charge? Decides to lead? You either follow orders and help. Or… you get the fuck out of the way. Huh. Kinda seems to me, like she's had it up to here with all your cop games, and dirty cop games, and no one will do jack shit. She? Took the bull by the horns. That? Is leadership. So? I refuse to not be in my own girl's corner, I can't just get out of the way. So, I followed orders. I always follow orders, to the letter. Are we good?"

   "Yeah. We're good. You're… taking this all, pretty… calm."

   "That? Is because… raising my voice? Getting all worked up? Doesn't help anything. In a pressure situation? You remain calm. Use your head. I'm trying to do that. Now. I followed orders. I gave you the card. You? Are free to do whatever you want to do. You can throw the card away, it's yours. You can look at it. You can put a stamp on it, and mail it to Santa Claus. That? Is your business. I can only suggest to you. You? Are in charge. Make a decision."

   "Well. Anyone want to look at what's on this? Chief? Panic? I got a laptop in my car…"

   The chief and Panic followed to his car. The chief got in the front seat, at Panic's hand motion. Panic hopped in the back seat, arms and head over the seat, waiting to look.

   "Well? Let's see what we got. Might as well watch this, see what's really going on. Before the feds get here, and probably fuck this whole thing up. Maybe we can get her out of there, before the Feds get here, and turn this whole thing into a three ring circus. Thank god the press ain't here yet. Problem. Anywhere the feds go? The press follow like puppy dogs."

   The investigator got his laptop out. Nice one. Wide screen. He pushed it forward on the seat between him and the chief, so all three of them could see the screen clear.

   "Chief? Panic? Everyone got a good view?"

   All agreed.

   "All right. Let's see what we got here… I have, a folder. I'm opening the folder up. Okay. I have a text file. It's named 'towhomitmayconcern.txt'… I have another one? It's named… 'forpanic.txt'… I also have another folder, its called… 'assholes'… all right, you see what I see… who wants to watch what, first."

   No one spoke.

   "All right. Dealer's choice. Let's see what 'assholes' is… I can about guess…"

   He opened the assholes folder, and a number of image files, and a few video files, came up.

   "Let's see what we have here…"

   All the image files, one after the other, were all high resolution photos of men. Adult men with fishing vests and fishing hats on. Tons of them.

   "Chief? Any of this look familiar?"

   "Oh yeah. That's my town. Every one of those photos. These guys are all over the place, all over town."

   "Look at the times and dates, down in the corners of the photos… this goes on for over an hour…"

   "Fishing, my ass. Look at this shit… this is four carloads of cops, all staking out the entire town. They got here early in the morning, and stayed all day. Casing the town. They were looking for her… all goddamned day. That one asshole? Can't even tell me where the bait shop is. Lying motherfuckers…"

   "Let's see the video clips…"

   Every video clip was the same. Men in cars. Watching. Pointing. Drinking coffee and cans of refreshments. In one video, then another, you would occasionally see a head go down, stay down a while, then come back up.

   The chief wondered aloud…

   "What's that going on?"

   Homicide told him…

   "Assuming they're not giving each other blowjobs? Doing little lines of coke. These guys drove all night, and had to case town all day. Then? They had to wait for late at night to go kill the girl. Merry saw them in town, and took pictures. Took videos. Documented them. Look at the photos. Several are of the license plates. Probably with a big telephoto lens. She wanted whoever found this? To know who to go and get."

   The chief wondered aloud…

   "How did she know the hit was coming?"

   "Chief? This is a small town. New faces? Stick out like a sore thumb. She saw carloads of guys with brand new fishing vests, and brand new fishing hats on? She knew what was up. She… knew it was coming. Anyone here go fishing?"

   "Sure. I fish a lot. Normally, with George. The property owner getting the range built. I normally fish with him… he's away on business a while? I started fishing with Panic here. Why?"

   "You guys ever see a single fisherman, in a brand new fishing vest? Fishing hat? Its always wrinkled up, dirty. These are brand spanking new. You don't go out of state, on a fishing trip, and not have your regular old stuff on. These guys think they're fitting in? All they're doing is drawing more attention to themselves."

   The chief chuckled.

   "City boys. Think they're playing country boys. Morons… hey I worked Chicago. Cop off duty? Trying to 'fit in'? Never can pull it off, that's what the undercover boys are for. These are… all beat cops, couple detectives, I bet. I'm seeing… I guess, detectives are driving… beat cops are the passengers."

   "That's what I see, too."

   "Chief? Panic? Anyone know about doing coke? If not, I can fill you in…"

   "No. Go ahead…"

   "Cocaine. Most casual users, do a line at a party. Usually special occasions. Birthday, New years, whatever. In small doses? For casual users? It's a fun party drug. Everybody can drink more, everybody is all amp-ed up gently, talking and telling jokes. Pleasure chemicals flood the body. Everyone can magically stay up late, drinking, having fun. Then? You can fuck your wife or girlfriend like you mean it, after the party. It's just good old fashioned American fun."

   "What's that got to do with these guys?"

   "This isn't casual use. Look at the times. These guys are used to it, and using it to stay up all night driving, stay up all day, stay up until the hit comes late at night. Now, anyone ever get coked up for a bar fight before?"

   "No."

   "Nope."

   "Yeah. If you know you're going to be into it? Carload of guys have a couple beers, then do some big blasts of coke. Then? You settle down ten minutes later, and everyone goes into the party, the bar, whatever. You find the guys you're having a problem with? Then you jump them. Cocaine? Makes people feel good, and it makes them feel powerful. Your brain whizzes, your body whizzes, it's like a mild adrenaline, that never goes away."

   Panic asked…

   "So… what about the heroin?"

   "Oh. that's called a night cap, different people call it different names. If you're doing a bunch of coke? When you wanna come down, you snort a line of heroin. Now? You can go to bed, and get up and go to work. Also? After you blast off, right before the big gang hit? You do a little snort of the heroin… you don't really feel pain as much, and you're extra calm. Energy out the ass, hero beer muscles… and you're calm from the heroin. Better living, through better chemistry, folks."

   "Didn't help them much, did it?"

   "No, it didn't. These were city boys, city cops. They're used to just going in, surrounding someone, putting them down. Once Merry lured them out there? Strung out for two days? Soon as things got hairy, well… now they can't think. Cocaine and an H-snort is only good for a cowboy hit. Soon as it lasts and you start taking fire for any length of time? Works against you. If it worked perfect, the military would issue it to troops. It ain't for professionals… this is for amateurs, to feel like tough guys."

   "Panic? I think mister Chicago chief here, he already knows this. This is for you. You know the behavior you were describing? What cops in cop bars are like on the weekends, hanging out?"

   "Yeah. Assholes with badges."

   "Well, that's textbook cocaine cops. They get it cheap, or even free. On the job. From letting the right people… do their thing. Now, to be fair. Most cops don't do it. Some do… and of those that do party on the weekends like that? It's just that. Weekend party. But? Always a few of those, that figure out… hey, let's make some quick cash! Then? They always recruit other good party cops around them. You want a vacation house? You want a truck or a Harley with no payments? You wanna take the family on a vacation? Here's how you do it."

   "I can see those three assholes in the back seat of that car? Heads bobbing up and down. I don't believe this… Panic? Your girl, documented the hit. We got the plates. We got their faces, close ups. She didn't want anyone to not know who to go and get, after this was over."

   The chief looked at the homicide investigator.

   "Tell him. He's been calm through this. He's helping best he can. He's not a cop. He has a right to know what this all is…"

   "Panic? Your girl… I don't think she… expected to live through this. She… well, she survived one hit. She knew another one was coming, she just didn't know when. She played sports. She wanted to take it to them, get as many as she could. When she saw sixteen dirty cops, casing the town? She figured this was it. She… figured she should be dead already, got lucky. This? Worst case possible. She can't go to the cops. She decided if she was dead anyways, why not take as many with her as she could get to."

   "We gonna read the text files?"

   "Panic. I been through this before. Most normal people? Just run and try to hide. When they're found? They go down. But… some people? When the writing's on the wall? No way out, this is the end coming… well… they figure it's logical, if I'm dead anyways soon, might as well get it over with, and see how many I can take with me."

   Panic got quiet.

   "She was making her last stand. That cement front cabin. That was the Alamo. That, was the Vikings, that volunteer to hold the bridge, and cover everyone's retreat. They don't plan on living. They want to see how many they can take with them before the game's over."

   "Yeah Panic. Thing is. When people know they're done for? Most people run and hide. A few people though… they make you earn it. These are the people, that stand up, with holes in them… and calmly take aim and take a few more with them. And, every once in a while? They actually get lucky and live through it. She's one of the lucky ones."

   Panic asked calmly.

   "Okay, so, what's the fucking problem? Isn't this a clear cut case of self defense? Dirty as fuck dirty cops? Screwed up one assassination attempt, now, they get a team of assholes together, to come up and finish the job? What more do you need?"

   "I need her out of that goddamn bar. Problem is, she probably thinks she's going to the gas chamber. Probably thinks, soon as she steps out? Someone is gonna pop her, for killing cops. She knows she ain't out of the woodwork yet. She ain't gonna trust cops, for shit. None of us. And after what all she's lived through? I don't exactly blame her."

   "So… who are we gonna get?"

   "She called 911. She said she won't come out, until… the real cops, the cops she can trust at all? Get there. Do, you think that's the FBI?"

   "I hope she's waiting on the FBI. Aren't we running out of cops to bring in? Locals… state… FBI is about all that's left, right?"

   "FBI, you said they'd be here any minute now. I hope they don't send some cowboy asshole."

   Homicide looked at the chief again.

   "Panic? I about know what I'm going to find in the text. It's… going to be the 'manifesto', of the shooter. They always explain why they did what they did. I can already about guess the plot line to that letter."

   "And the other one with my name on it?"

   He sighed.

   "Panic. Remember what you told us? You were spending every night there with her?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Well, you went home to get your laptop, right?"

   "Yeah…"

   "She knew you'd be… helpful. After what you did for her in DC. She had to know that one. Thing is… when you fell asleep and didn't come back… well… she could have called you, she didn't. She… she wanted you to be out of it. She figured she was dead anyways, in all probability, why get you killed too."

   "I'm going to read the manifesto now. Everyone okay with that? I mainly mean you, Panic…"

   "Yeah. Go. Before the third ring of this goddamned circus gets here, and starts the clown act, for the TV cameras."