Arms of an Angel
The day dawned cool but beautiful. The birds sang a melody of ease and satisfaction as the breeze drifted the clouds away like a curtain. The sky was a crisp blue; it was a picture of divine simplicity over the city streets. People began making their way out of their buildings, off to another day of work. It was a run of the mill town. Everyone got up at the same time every day, went to work, and got home at the same time every day. The streets and avenues were always congested, but it felt homey.
In the 55 precinct, silence was never golden. On a silent day, something was wrong. It was never welcomed but it was never really despised either for the men and women who kept charge in the area. For the emergency medical services, silence meant safety and control. Cooler temperatures meant people stayed off the streets and out of trouble. For the paramedics, it was an appreciated change of pace. They could sit around the fire station and relax, maybe even enjoy an entire meal without any interruptions. The fire department could at least revel in the fact that they wouldn't have to wear heavy turnouts in 80 degree weather. Their coats may even be warmth on a cool 50 degree morning like this.
However simple the cool weather made life over at the firehouse, across the street, the police department knew the drug dealers and hoodlums who made life one giant, pain-in-the-ass foot pursuit, would be mingling around today because they wouldn't sweat and suffer the discomfort of standing on the corner of the park with the heat beating them down. The kids wouldn't be manipulating the fire hydrants for the rest of the year either, which meant more water pressure for the bucket boys, and of course one less neighborhood complaint of decreased water amounts. It really was difficult to believe some of the asinine bullshit people could come up with, just for a little bit of attention from a uniform. Yeah, just get the police over to make everything better, so they didn't have to worry about getting their hands dirty… Maybe silence was golden. At least that way, a couple of panting breaths and some sore legs would be spared, rather than wasted chasing someone down for their crack possession.
"55-David, reports of attempted robbery. Citibank, corner of Mercer and Canal." The dispatcher's burly voiced cut through the light, morning banter of Officers Yokas and Boscorelli. Bosco rolled his eyes and grabbed for his radio on his shoulder.
"55-David, 10-4 corner of Mercer and Canal." He released the button on his radio and looked at Faith. Her attention was on the road which, of course, was crowded with the typical 7:30 am traffic. "So much for peace today. I knew when I woke up this morning that today was going to be a beautiful day. Guess you can't have beauty with peace and quiet." He huffed, crossed his arms, and looked out his window.
Faith couldn't keep a small smile from her face. Sometimes, working with Bosco was the equivalent to working with a small child. Generally, as her partner, he was comical and relieving. Not to mention, he was a damn good cop. He had the right amount of compassion for what he knew was right. He would back Faith up without looking back. He had absolutely no sympathy for neurotic jerks and people who deserved whatever it was that was coming to them. But who's to blame him? Too much compassion in this line of work got people killed.
"There it is, on the left." Faith pulled the car up to the corner and got out. Bosco was moving with much less enthusiasm. "You know Bos, the quicker you get your butt moving, the quicker this can be done with, and the quicker you can have some breakfast." It wasn't typical that the pair worked the day shift, but so many officers had called out with some sort of bug. No doubt, this shift would end up being a 24 hour shift.
"Well I am hungry… I just hope I don't have to chase anyone. In and out. Quick and simple. You know?" Bosco had shut his door and now they were making their way into the bank.
"Nothing is ever that easy. Remember beauty and peace." Faith giggled as Bosco rolled his eyes.
"Well, I'm going to make it that easy. I want breakfast." Bosco said as he pushed the bank's giant door open.
. Together, Bosco and Faith rounded a corner. They drew their guns as they proceeded slowly into the main area of the bank.
A tall and slender man stood with his back facing the partners. Bosco cautiously continued to walk forward towards the desk. The man continued to point a long barreled, wooden rifle down at the floor. There was a small cry from somewhere around the pillar that separated Bosco from the man. His heart dropped when he realized the cry was coming from a small child. The tips of his ears warmed up as his temper threatened to flair. He had a good enough visual on the perp who was advancing towards the location of where Bosco assumed the cry was eminating from.
He looked over his shoulder and saw Faith there behind him. Her jaw was set but her bottom lip began to quiver slightly as she battled her emotions. Bosco didn't want to see her cry so he turned his attention back to the scene from hell in front of them. The man had disappeared from the partners' line of vision. Bosco felt his heart begin to beat wildly as he assumed the worse. The child's cries had turned into blood curdling screams. He dared a glance around the pillar again.
A chilling scene played out in front of him. The man had moved to stand directly in front of a blonde girl. She couldn't have been more than 5 years old. She appeared to be the only person in that bank… most of the other hostages had been moved into the bank vault. This man was trying to use this girl as bait. Bosco felt sick as he watched the man grab the girl's hair in his fist and dragged her to her feet. She barely stood as tall as his thighs. She let out another whimper; no other sounds were heard in the bank. Bosco was momentarily grateful Faith was behind him and could not witness this without giving up their position.
His finger perched on the trigger of his gun which he held halfway up. His wrist began to shake with anger as he looked back and saw the little girl with the barrel of the man's gun to her tiny, blonde head. She was crying freely now, screaming at the top of her lungs. The two officers knew it was better that the vault door had been locked shut, as to drown out the baby's horrified screams. Seconds had barely passed by when Bosco had decided he had enough. He peaked around the pillar again and the young girl's eyes had met his. She reached her arms out in his direction and began to wail louder. His gun was level with the captor's head. The perp had detected a change in the child's behavior and noticed her stare around his massive leg. He turned around just as Bosco shouted for him to drop his weapon.
"Tsk, tsk… I don't like interruptions." The man's voice was husky and thick. Bosco's eyes narrowed as he cocked his gun and took aim.
"Drop your weapon NOW!" Bosco yelled again. Faith had inched her way up to Bosco's previous position against the pillar. Bosco had hoped she would stay there. The little girl resembled Emily. His heart bounded against the walls of his chest as he watched the man in front of him slowly smile, all the while, Bosco kept his gun level.
"No." Bosco watched in absolute horror as a loud crack filled the room along with a small whimper as the girl fell to the floor. Her blonde hair mixed with red.
Bosco took less than a second to react as he pulled the trigger back on his own gun. Faith jumped behind the pillar as a curtain of silence filled the room. Bosco had taken off in the direction of the two victims.
Faith stood where Bosco had moments before. She watched him kneel down next to a small figure, she assumed to be the child who was crying. He had checked for a pulse and her eyes filled with tears as she saw his shoulders slump forward and he hung his head. She also noticed he took no notice to the man who lay writhing in pain a few feet from him. His gun had been blown clear across the room along with the bottom half of his right forearm.
Bosco was removing his jacket and gently placed his across the girl's upper half. He looked down at the growing pool of blood that seeped and oozed its way out from under the left arm of the jacket. His stomach lurched as he thought of the look the child had given him when she was aware of his presence. She had looked at him for help and all he succeeded in doing was help her be killed.