The Elwood City Police Department was having a quiet night. The officer glared out the window and saw a black SWAT team vehicle was entering the parking lot. But this wasn't a normal SWAT vehicle. It had no name of any agency on the car.
What on earth?
At least fourteen heavily armed men entered the building. "We're here for Crosswire!" the biggest and meanest looking member said.
"What? On who's orders?" The guard moved his hand toward his gun, but realized even in his panic he was greatly outnumbered.
"Ours," he replied simply. His voice was firm and confident.
"This is not acceptable!" the officer insisted. He noticed that while the men wore uniforms, no names or logos were on any of them. These men were a mystery.
One of the men shot his left foot. He fell over and cried in pain.
"That's a warning," the man who had shot said. "Pull a stunt, and I will shoot to kill."
"Let's roll," the large man ordered, and they ran to the cells.
The officer moaned in pain while reaching for his walkie-talkie. "Armed break-in! Send help!"
"Don't bother with that stuff," a reply sneered, "we've already got all the prison guards to surrender!"
Another gunshot could be heard from the other room along with a male scream. He swore it sounded like Ed Crosswire.
The pain in his foot was becoming unbearable. Desperate, he noticed the cord to the desk phone. He grabbed it and knocked the phone over, then quickly picked it up to call an ambulance.
He got a busy signal the moment he picked it up.
Had this mystery SWAT also jammed the phone lines?
He felt his vision blur, but vaguely made out the men had returned. But this time Chip Crosswire was with them.
"Excellent work, gentlemen" Chip remarked as they ran out the front door. "Now to Miami!"
The officer lost consciousness. He was taken to the hospital eleven minutes later.
Ratburn was back in the interrogation room. Only this time, he was being questioned by four cops and a federal agent. Ratburn wasn't nervous this time. In fact, he hadn't been this happy in years.
"I'll answer all your questions," Mr. Ratburn announced grandly. "But first, I want a celebration. Can I have fireworks? Toffee peanuts? Perhaps some dance tunes? My first request is Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead, of course."
"You can dance on Crosswire's grave later, Ratburn," a DEA agent responded. "In the meantime, did you know this would happen?"
"No, I wasn't aware of Chip's planned break-out and assassination of Ed," Ratburn answered. "But I'm not really surprised it happened. I had been aware that Chip was his succession plan for some time. What I didn't know was Chip apparently making contacts from prison."
"Is that why he had Ed killed? To replace him?" a DEA agent asked Ratburn.
"I assume wanting revenge for his mother's treatment was also a factor. Not to mention Ed embarrassed the cartel. Either way, it was a glorious thing indeed."
"That talk would help you much, Ratburn," a cop responded.
Ratburn snickered. "I'm here for life no matter what I do. You know, I was actually convinced that my arrest had ruined everything. But now I've finally accomplished my main goal. Say, how did Millicent take the news when you interviewed her?"
"She was not particularly forthcoming about where Chip might be going," another cop responded. "Perhaps you know?"
Ratburn shrugged. "Well, that's quite obvious. He's going to Miami."
"To do what?" the DEA agent asked.
"Isn't it obvious? Meeting with the pilot, of course," Ratburn responded.
"Perhaps your finally ready to give the name of the Miami pilot?" another cop asked.
"Never. If I give that name, Millicent and I will be taken out like Ed just was."
"Can you then at least tell how they managed to get a entire SWAT vehicle?"
"Crosswire's cash was deeper than you realize," Ratburn explained. "It made bribing and placing spies in law enforcement agencies easy as pie. I'm only surprised that Chip choose such a theatrical way of breaking out. I assume it's meant as a signal for other drug rings."
Arthur coughed while covering his mouth and arm to avoid the smoke.
"Dad! Grandma Thora!" Arthur called again.
Loud screaming came from Thora's room. Her room, right above the kitchen, could no longer be seen.
"Arthur!" David had finally found Arthur and grabbed his hand.
"Dad, Grandma Thora is still in her room."
"Arthur, it's too late for her! I'm sorry."
Arthur wanted to disagree, but noticing how Thora's screaming had suddenly stopped, he realized in terror his father was right.
"Come on, we have -"
Just as David said this, the stairs collapsed in on themselves.
"What now? The front door was all we had!" Arthur cried.
"The only way out is to jump out the window from my bedroom and try to land on the car. Are you ready?"
"Isn't that dangerous, Dad?"
"Extremely. But it's all we have left. Now we have to make a run for it, so when I count to three you do that. Okay?"
Arthur nodded.
"Okay. One, two, THREE!"
David and Arthur ran. The fire was burning slower in the bedroom than the rest of the house, but it was still overwhelming. David opened the window quickly and jumped out, landing on the car with a loud thud.
"JUMP ARTHUR!"
Arthur leaped out the window and felt panic as he fell downward, banging the side of his leg against the front headlight.
"OW!" Arthur cried.
"I saw them in the backyard earlier. Come on, we have to cut through the bushes!"
Arthur was still in pain from the jump, but he nonetheless followed David through the bushes until they reached the backyard. Jane was passed out, Kate was sobbing while Pal tried to console her, and D.W. stood watching.
"How long do think the house will stand?" D.W. asked curiously.
David froze. It was D.W. who started the fire, wasn't it? Of course.
"Say, why hasn't Grandma Thora come to backyard?" D.W. asked.
"Arthur," David said calmly. "Go knock on the Molina's door and ask to use their phone, then call 9-1-1. And once you report the fire, be sure to add that it was a deliberate arson, and that we all know who did it."
"What?" Arthur turned his gaze toward D.W. in shock, who gave no reaction.
"Hey, Mom?" Buster asked.
"Are you ready for bed?" Bitzi asked.
"I was just thinking about the Crosswire case. About that pilot they keep talking about."
Bitzi's stomach sank. "Oh, really?"
"Yes. And we both know a pilot who spends a lot of time in Miami, don't we? And who meet the Crosswires?"
"I suppose we do," Bitzi responded.
"What do we do about it?" Buster asked.
"It's quite simple, Buster," Bitzi answered, "we never tell a soul as long as we live. Agreed?"
Buster nodded. "Agreed."