Jen and Karin made their way inside the building. Oliver called for backup and then quickly joined them. The three cops all took off in different directions to knock on doors. They had two questions for everyone: do you know who owns the blue sedan parked out front and do you know Colin Rankin? They all stayed on the same floor together but spread out along the hallways to cover more ground. So far, no one had answered 'yes' to either question.
Hopefully backup from headquarters would arrive soon and they could be done with this nonsense. After all, Jen had promised to pick up curry for her family, and she was running rather late on that. But she was just so close, and she couldn't give up now, not till they got a result. There was someone in this building who had the keys to that blue sedan. Someone who had looked very nervous in going to it. And maybe it was entirely unrelated to the shooting, maybe that wasn't the getaway car that Rankin had used to flee the scene of his crimes. Or maybe it was but Rankin was not with him any longer. Maybe this was all a dead end. But for now, this was the only lead they had. Jen had to follow it. The mystery and the compulsion to find an answer would dog her steps till she solved it. It had always been that way for her on these cases that wormed their way under her skin. She wasn't even a Homicide detective anymore. Not a detective at all, in fact. She was a sergeant in the public relations department, which just made her a glorified publicist for the police. This here, tirelessly hunting down criminal suspects, this was what she was born to do. And even though she had gladly relinquished that duty years ago, that drive had never really left her. This case in particular, it hit far too close to home. Jen would have never even considered getting involved in the field otherwise. She had far too much else in her life to focus on to concern herself with running about carrying a gun anymore.
"Good evening, State Police, can I ask you a couple questions?"
Jen smiled, overhearing Karin's polite questioning down the way. She was careful and considerate and clever in a way that Jen certainly identified with. Karin was perhaps a bit more rigid than Jen had been as a detective and certainly bubblier. Jen never had possessed that 'cute' quality that Karin Smith with her doe eyes and bright smile had so effortlessly. But Karin was tough as nails when it came right down to it, and Jen was pleased to have her around. She was a nice foil to Oliver's quiet, stoic, gruff manner. And he was certainly useful as well. People were friendly to Karin while they were a bit afraid of Oliver. Both methods gave them helpful responses to the doorknock.
On the third floor of the building, Jen knocked on a door which was opened by a man wearing jeans and a black jumper. The same man they'd seen go to the blue sedan and take the carryall out of the boot. He took one look at the badge she held up and slammed the door in her face.
"Over here!" she called to Karin and Oliver. Jen knocked on the door again. "State Police, open the door!" she commanded.
For good measure, Jen pulled out her gun. She'd promised Nick she'd be safe, and she would be. This was just a precaution.
The other detectives rushed to her side. "Kick in the door," she commanded. One of them would be capable of it, surely. And of course, Oliver, with his solid muscled build, was more than able to do so. The flimsy lock on the cheap wooden door splintered away.
And then the shots rang out. Jen and Oliver and Karin all backed up behind the wall to avoid the gunfire.
"Colin Rankin!" Jen shouted amidst the flurry of gunshots, "You are under arrest for the murder of Father Daniel Lewisham and the attempted murder of Duncan Freeman and Nick Buchanan!" She did not have a warrant authorizing such charges, but at that moment, she did not care and it did not matter. She needed to convey her authority as a police officer and, most pressingly, establish that Rankin was in fact in there.
"Freeman's dead!" a voice shouted. "That bastard got what he deserves! I shot him half a dozen times!"
"Twice in the stomach, and he's fine! Talking and laughing with his fiancée!" Jen yelled back. It gave her a twisted sort of pleasure to be able to honestly say that, especially to this hideous man who had tried so hard to destroy everything for them.
A visceral shout of a man who had failed his one purpose in life sounded from inside the apartment. Jen could not help but feel slight vindication at that.
"Time to give up, Rankin," Jen called out. "You and your partner, put the guns down and come out quietly. No one else has to get hurt."
There was a slight pause. A single moment of silence as everyone waited to see who would make the next move. And then the man in the jeans and black jumper came sprinting out of the apartment, shooting a handgun wildly behind him.
"Oi!" Karin shouted. She ran after the man and tackled him to the ground, getting the gun away from him.
But he was ready. He let her get momentarily distracted by the gun and kicked her in the gut to get away. He clawed his way up and stumbled and ran through the hall to the stairs.
"Oh bloody hell," Karin groaned, coughing from having the wind knocked out of her. "I'm on it, Sarge," she said to Jennifer as she got up right away and kept chasing him.
Inside the apartment, everything had gone quiet. Jen and Oliver shared a look of concern. She gestured to him to cover her. He nodded. She took a deep breath to steady herself as the adrenaline coursed through her body, causing her to practically vibrate where she stood. Jen adjusted her grip on her gun and held it in front of her as she entered the room.
"Not another fucking step."
The cold voice was very different from the aggravated shouting she'd heard from Rankin just a moment before. He stood there, waiting for them. Holding the same automatic assault rifle Jen had seen pointed at her family in the church. "It's over, Rankin," Jen said calmly, still holding her gun at the ready. "The police have the building surrounded. There's no way to get out of this."
"I'm not going back to prison," he snarled.
But Jen stood firm, undaunted. "You murdered a priest and you shot two police officers in a room full of witnesses. My best friend and my husband. You could have killed my children," Jen said. Despite her vitriolic rage, her voice was even and strong. "I was standing right up on that altar, Rankin. And I was right there to arrest you the last time. You will not live a single day of freedom ever again, and you have my word on that."
Rankin shouted out again in anguish and frustration. He knew he'd lost. He knew he couldn't get out of this. He knew the end was coming. But he wasn't going to go without a fight. He opened fire.
Jen screamed and dove to the floor and fired four shots in rapid succession. And then everything went quiet. Deathly quiet.