Fang agreed so readily, Neil figured he was up for it all along, even eager. He called another officer over. “Get an ambulance over to the Belcourt Greenhouse. I don’t care how they do it. Get another plough if you have to. We have an officer down. Maybe more. And get as much backup over there as possible.”
The front seat of the behemoth was wide enough to fit the four of them comfortably, albeit without seatbelts. Fang swung around the accident vehicles still waiting to be processed. A hundred metres farther, he manoeuvred the truck around the highway barrier.
Once past the barrier, Fang lowered the plough and hit the gas. Snow flew to the side of the highway. Industrial windshield wipers scraped the curtains of falling snow aside almost before they hit the window. Fang took his foot off the gas to round the corner onto Concession 10, then sped up again.
Neil turned to Bernie and Thea. “Go in with your weapons ready. I’ll try to take him out with the Taser. If I can’t … I’ll get out of your way.”
Fang looked away from the road long enough to catch Neil’s eye. “If this is the guy who killed Faith, shoot the bastard. Never mind your sissy-ass Taser!”
On one level, Neil agreed, but he wanted the suspect alive. There were too many unanswered questions about all three deaths. If Dwayne and Bliss were dead, all bets were off. He shook off the cold paralysis of fear that threatened to shut down his ability to make the correct decision. He needed to remain clear-headed. Bliss couldn’t be dead.
“Did you raise Dwayne on the radio, Chief?” Thea’s voice was steady, but Neil knew she had to be sick with worry for Dwayne. He should have brought someone else with him, but Thea — and Bernie — were his two most experienced officers at the accident scene.
“No. He called me on his cell instead of the radio. I don’t want to chance using it now. It might put them in more danger.”
Fang gave the steering wheel a hard yank to the right. The plough hit the eight-foot snow drift that covered the entrance to the greenhouse parking lot. It cut through without hesitation, throwing snow fifteen feet sideways. Fang stood on the brakes and the truck shuddered to a stop.
The iron light standards surrounding the parking area were dark. The front of the greenhouse where the foyer and offices were situated was cloaked in darkness. A faint greenish light emanated from the interior of the greenhouse, reflecting up through the high glass roofs. On a clear night, the glow could be seen for miles, but tonight’s heavy snowfall absorbed it like a white shroud.
“Stay here,” Neil ordered Fang. To the others, he said, “We don’t want to announce ourselves by breaking in through the front entrance. We’ll go around back to the atrium.”
The path to the back door of the atrium was completely covered over with snow, heavy as sand. They slogged through it, with every nerve in Neil’s body screaming for speed. Fear gripped his heart.
The atrium door was locked, but a section of glass wall had been smashed in, the opening large enough for them to squeeze through. “Quiet now. Weapons ready.”
Was he making a mistake carrying a Taser in his hand instead of his Glock? Both Thea and Bernie were good shots — on the practice range. Neither of them had used their guns on a person. Neither had he.
They ran silently across the atrium. As Neil’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw a helmet and a parka by the door. Not Cornwall’s or Dwayne’s. Good. Maybe he’d have a chance with the Taser. He peered into the hallway. A woman’s voice. Not Bliss. “Subject is female. Sounds like Andrea Bains. She may have killed two people. Consider her dangerous,” he whispered.
He ran into the corridor, Thea and Bernie on either side.
He reached the open doorway to the first plant room. If Andrea Bains glanced up, she would see the three cops bearing down on her. But she was looking at her feet, pointing a gun at something on the floor. No, not the floor, she was aiming under the table.
Before he could shout a warning, Bliss crawled out from beneath another table, directly behind Andrea. She held a Glock in her hand. He readied the Taser and sensed Bernie and Thea fan out on either side.
He yelled “Drop the weapon,” but didn’t wait for compliance. He threw himself into the plant room and hit the floor. Bernie and Thea crouched on either side of the doorway, taking aim. He pulled the trigger the same instant Andrea whirled on Bliss and they both fired.
Bliss’s bullet crashed through the glass over their heads. Then she fell.
CHAPTER
fifty
The bitch had shot me twice. Or, more accurately, she had winged me twice. If the medics don’t have to dig a bullet out of you, you’re winged, not shot. That’s what the intern told me when the ambulance dropped me off. He slapped a couple of dressings on and said I’d have to wait to have my shoulder stitched up and my calf treated. They had to look after the cop first. Then they shoved me into a cubicle with a curtain around me, alone. I couldn’t stop shaking and I was so cold. What I wouldn’t give for my jeans, sweatshirt, and a heavy blanket.
The injury to my calf hadn’t been caused by a piece of flower pot after all. That’s how close the bitch’s bullet came. I still buzzed with adrenaline, and replayed again and again the sight of Andrea’s body jerking when Redfern zapped her with the Taser. Then Bernie handcuffed her while she was still vibrating. Excellent! I think she might have peed her pants. I was only sorry I didn’t have video.
I heard a moan, close by and familiar. Wrapping the thin cotton blanket around me, I slid off the bed and peeked around the curtain. Across the room was another curtain, another bed. I scuttled over the cold tile in my bare feet. My calf hardly hurt.
“Hey, Dwayne! How goes it, buddy? What’s the damage?”
Dwayne lay propped against a nest of pillows. While I had to wait for medical treatment, they had rushed him into x-ray, then wrapped his chest with bandages. Oh, to be a cop.
His face twisted in pain. “Three broken ribs. They taped me up. But you’d think they’d give a guy something for the pain. I feel like my lung is punctured. What about you? You’re bleeding.”
“Yep. Shot twice! And not even stitched yet.”
“You look pretty bad. But if I were you, I’d lie down and try to bleed a bit more. When the Chief gets back, we’re in for a world of trouble. You might want to wash your face, too. Maybe take a weed-whacker to your hair.”
“In trouble for what? Almost being killed?”
“For you taking my gun. They can charge you with lots of things. Like assault with a weapon, possession of weapons dangerous to the public, careless use of a firearm. Me? I gave up my firearm and I think that’s a hanging offence. This might even mean my badge.”
I leaned out to make sure no ears were in flapping distance. “That’s bullshit. But here’s what we’re going to do.” I couldn’t believe how sharp my mind was, considering the past few hours. “We’re going to tell Redfern that you were unconscious and I took your gun to defend our lives. If I get charged with anything, bring it!” I was a pro at doing forlorn and pathetic. The judge would give me a medal. Maybe ask me to marry him.
He mulled that over, then said, “I’ll go for that. I lost consciousness due to the pain of my injury. You tried to save us both. Too bad you aren’t a better shot, Bliss. If the others hadn’t arrived in the nick of time, we would both be dead now.”
I heard voices in the hall, getting louder. I pointed at Dwayne and said, “Remember, zip it. Volunteer nothing.”
I was back on my bed by the time Redfern pulled back the curtain. I took one look at his face and burst into tears. Again. Crap, this had to stop. I hadn’t seen him since the bitch shot me. Suddenly, Redfern had been there by my side, touching me, brushing my hair back from my face. Then the EMTs arrived and scooped me up with Dwayne and transported us to the hospital where I had been waiting for hours by myself. I cried harder. Oh, man, I hated myself. I was turning into a wimp.