Cop Hunch

Part 5

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. Get your hands up where I can see them." Tom raised his hands and started to turn around. "Don't move. Carol, get his gun and his handcuffs." It was only then that Tom realized that Harper wasn't alone. Carol Johnson was with her. His hunch had been right, they were in it together. The councilman's wife approached Tom from behind. She reached to his left side and removed the gun from its holster. She then reached for the handcuffs that were placed on his belt at the small of his back.

For a brief instant, Tom realized that Carol had positioned herself between Pamela Harper's gun and his body. Tom immediately decided to take advantage of the situation and spun his body around, catching Carol off-guard. Pamela, startled by the sudden movement, fired at the cop. But she hadn't judged her aim and instead of hitting Tom, she hit Carol Johnson in the back. The force of the shot threw her body into Tom. Tom pushed her away and she collapsed lifelessly in a heap.

Tom didn't stop his motion, nor did he stop to try to find his gun. Instead, he took off running for the nearest cover…the house. Shots were fired at him. He dodged the bullets, without knowing where they were hitting. Unfortunately, he dodged into one. He felt the bullet cut a path into his lower back and out the right side of his abdomen. The force of the bullet hitting his body was like an elephant's kick to the spine. He was thrown to the ground as pain caught his breath. He didn't think he would be able to move, but he knew that he was dead if he continued to lie there. Forcing himself to his feet, he took out running to the side of the house. Knowing Pamela was behind him somewhere…not far away. He tried to hide himself in a dark crevice of the construct. His head started to spin, his vision becoming fuzzy. No, I can't pass out now! He leaned back against the wall and found that his legs would no longer support his weight. His back slowly slid down, leaving a trail of blood on the frame, until he found himself on the floor, leaning heavily against the wall for support.

God, it hurts. You've really screwed up this time, Ryan. Tom looked down to examine the bullet wound. It was hard seeing the damage, with only the full moon and the construction spotlight providing illumination. Tom could tell, though, that blood was continuing to gush from his right side despite the pressure his hand was providing. He could also feel a warm, sticky wetness growing on the back of his shirt. Got to keep moving. Where is she? God, it hurts.

Tom tried to clear the tears that were clouding his vision. He had to regain control over the pain. Calming his breathing, he listened for any sound of movement. She was out there some where, looking for him. He had to get out of this place and find help. Cassy…where are those visions when I need them?

He attempted to rise to his feet, but dizziness overwhelmed him. He collapsed backwards against the partially completed wall. This is the last time I ever listen to one of my hunches. Harry's going to kill me. Hell, Cassy's going to kill me. Pain peaked in his abdomen again. Tom stifled a groan. I only hope they get the chance.

Mustering his strength, Tom pushed away from the wall which had been protecting him. He had to make it back to the Mustang. It was only 200 feet away at the most, but in his current condition, it could have been 200 miles away. If he had any hope of getting back to the car without her spotting him, he would have to avoid the spotlight and stay in the shadows. That would add another 100 feet to his trek. If he still had his gun or his phone he could stick it out right where he was. Without them, I'm a sitting duck…check that…a wounded duck. Making it to the car meant getting to his radio and help. His left hand dropped to his back pocket. He still had his keys and he was sure he could drive back to the main highway if he had to. But he had to get back to the car first. He looked toward the construction site entrance, and could see the faint outline of the Mustang. There was no movement. He heard nothing but his own breathing. Well, Ryan, what do you have to lose? No help is coming. It's just you and her and you can't stay like this forever.

Tom took a deep breath, the pain gripping his side, and slowly left the protection of the partially constructed house. He set his sights on the bulldozer, which was half way between him and the safety of his car and moved as quickly as he could. Every step created a piercing pain through his body. He was losing a lot of blood and he was pretty sure that shock was going to be visiting him soon. If I can make it to the car, I'm clear. The thought kept running through his mind like a broken record, emphasizing the purpose of each step.

He made it to the protection of the bulldozer unscathed. Resting his body against the cold metal frame, he listened for any signs of his assailant. Nothing. Has she left? Maybe she took off. She did just shoot a cop in cold blood. He concentrated on the entrance again. His car could be clearly seen now, the safety it provided pushing him on. It's not far now. The gapping hole of the swimming pool loomed before him…Johnson's grave …if he could just clear the hole then run the last fifty feet he'd be home free. A chill ran through Tom's body, but his face felt feverish, his eyes blurring again. Not now his mind screamed at his body. He rubbed his left hand over his eyes, trying to clear them so he could see. The last thing he needed was to trip over something because his vision was too foggy to make out the ground in front of him.

Tom gathered his strength once again and took another deep breath. With his right arm pressed against his side in a wasted effort to block the pain, he took out running towards the entrance. Following the shadows, his path took him to the ridge of the swimming pool. The sound of a cannon shattered the silence and Tom felt his right shoulder explode. The force of the bullet's impact spun his body around. He lost his balance and plummeted into the recently dug pit. The last thing he saw was her face…the face of a killer. Great hunch, Ryan, Tom thought as his body impacted with the dirt in the bottom of the hole.

Tom groaned. He hurt all over. He didn't have the strength to move. He heard the loud noise of an engine…the bulldozer. He felt something pelt his body. As his mind became cognizant of his surroundings, he realized that dirt was falling on top of him, slowly building to avalanche levels. He yelled out for it to stop. He had to get himself out from under the growing mound. His mind told his body to move, but his body wasn't cooperating. He couldn't seem to get his legs and arms to move together. Everything was disjointed, the pain in his side crippling. He couldn't feel his right arm. Blood was pooling beneath him, turning the already wet dirt to slick, crimson mud. Suddenly, he realized that he no longer heard the engine, just a buzzing in his head. Dirt was still falling into the hole, but not at the same magnitude and force as it had been just a few seconds before. The buzzing in his ears began to grow louder. He couldn't help himself. He knew that he was going to pass out.

Pamela Harper had successfully dumped half of the mound of dirt sitting at the north edge of the pool into the hole. It wouldn't take much to cover the cop's body completely. She could then dump Carol's body into the hole next to her husband's and cover them both. She backed the bulldozer up and ran the scoop forward again. Suddenly, she realized she wasn't alone. She reached down to grab for her gun, but before she could complete the motion, she felt the cold metal of a gun pressed against her neck. "Don't even try it." Pamela withdrew her hand and looked at the source of the voice. It was a woman and below her on the ground was an older man, who also had his weapon drawn and trained on her. Pamela wasn't stupid. She couldn't win this battle. "Turn it off," the woman shouted over the engine noise. Pamela reached down and killed the engine. The gun was taken from her, she was pulled from the cab and pushed to the ground.

Cassy had seen a still body lying on the outer edge of the hole. Turning it over she found the face belonged to Carol Johnson. She checked for a pulse. Nothing. She yelled to Harry, "It's Carol Johnson. She's dead."

"You're under arrest for the murder of Carol Johnson." Harry slapped handcuffs on Pamela and read her rights.

Cassy looked for Tom. He was no where to be seen. She ran back to the bulldozer and peered over the edge of the pit, playing the beam of her flashlight into it.

Cassy immediately saw the body of her partner lying at the bottom on his back, dirt covering most of his body. He wasn't moving. Her breath caught as fear raced through her body. She ran to the ladder and lowered herself as quickly as she could into the hole. Panicked, she shouted to Harry, "Call an ambulance…Tom's hurt!" Harry didn't waste any time; he pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance and backup. Cassy jumped the last four feet into the hole and ran to Tom's side. She knelt, brushing the dirt from his body, trying to find where he was injured. Her hands ran across the sticky wetness on his right side and shoulder. With a quick intake of air, she jerked her hands away, afraid of the pain she might cause. He groaned, his left arm pushing her away. "Tom…Tom it's me….Cassy." His eyes fluttered open and met Cassy's. "Don't move. You're hurt…bad."

"Did you…did you get her?" Tom asked, attempting to sit up, ignoring Cassy's orders.

Cassy pushed her hands gently against him, forcing him back down. "I said, don't move. Lay back." Tom complied. "We got her."

Tom's movement had cost him. His breathing became labored. "She shot…Carol Johnson. Derrick Johnson…over…there." Weakly, his left arm raised and motioned to a spot a few feet away. For the first time, Cassy noticed the body partially buried in the dirt. She shook her head and returned her gaze to her partner. Cassy took a quick inventory of Tom's injuries. She saw fresh blood continuing to well up from the wounds. She was perched on slick mud; the knees of her jeans were soaked. It was only then that she realized she was kneeling in Tom's blood.

Cassy heard Harry yell to her, "Cassy, how is he? Is he okay?"

"He's been shot…twice. Harry, he's losing a lot of blood. I need something to keep pressure on the wounds. Suddenly Harry's jacket was flung over the side of the hole. Cassy looked up to see Harry looking down at her. "Use this." Cassy rolled the jacket tightly and used each end to press against the two wounds on his front. Tom moaned at the renewed pain as the pressure woke his nerves. "I know it hurts, Tom, but we have to stop the bleeding."

"I know…" Tom began to shiver uncontrollably. Cassy knew that blood loss was sending his body into shock. She yelled up to her boss. "Harry, see if you can find something to use as a blanket. Tom's going into shock." There was no response, but she knew instinctively that her captain was looking for a blanket.

"Here." A plastic tarp was tossed down to Cassy. She caught it and wrapped it around Tom the best she could. She didn't want to move him for fear of making the bleeding worse.

"Cass…how'd you…find me?" Tom whispered between chattering teeth and disjointed breathing.

"I got your messages on my machine. I tried calling you on the cell phone, but there was no answer. I called Erin to see if she had heard from you…she hadn't. Thank God she was there, though. She was able to find the directions to this place. I called Harry and we came out here. We missed the turn. We had just turned around when we heard gunfire. It took us a while to make it up the road in the dark." She paused for a moment. "You know, that was a pretty dumb stunt you pulled tonight," she admonished her partner. When she had heard the gunshot and later when she saw Tom lying in the hole, she prayed he was alive. She bargained with God that if Tom were alive, she wouldn't lose her temper…she wouldn't yell and scream at him for being so stupid as to come out here alone, but now the fear of the situation was starting to wear on her and her anger was welling up. "Damn it, Tom, what in the hell did you think you were doing…coming to this place alone, with no backup…and don't you dare tell me it was a hunch!"

Tom winced, whether it was from the pain or the tone of her voice, she wasn't sure. His chest was tight, his breathing labored. "I'm sorry, Cass…I didn't…didn't think this would…happen…It was just that…one thing…led to another…and before I knew it…I wasn't in control…of the situation anymore…" his voice trailed off. "I'm sorry…" he repeated, "I didn't…I didn't mean to scare you…" before he completed the sentence, his eyes had closed and he lost consciousness.

"Tom!" Cassy shouted, slapping him gently on the face. "Thomas Ryan, wake up! Don't you dare pass out on me when we're in the middle of an argument…" she used her best bitchy voice…that always gets a rise out of him. There was no response. She felt for a pulse, afraid at what she would find. It was thready and weak. Panicked, Cassy's tone changed immediately. "Tom!…Tom! Don't do this, Tom…" Cassy was shouting, but no longer out of anger…only out of fear and love.