Entry #3 in the "A Year in the Life" series. The Brillows clan takes a somewhat unplanned family vacation, and run into trouble in a little mountain town called Jackpot. You know the drill -- CSI is not my sandbox. If it were, Brass would get more chances to be a Big Damn Hero.
99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall
by Alice Day
CHAPTER SEVEN
The police SUVs moved in a discreet convoy across the nighttime plateau, finally turning onto a dirt road that led into the foothills around Jackpot. Brass tried to adjust his borrowed Kevlar vest, wincing a bit at the straps dug into his shoulders. Just be grateful they had a spare, and don't think about Willie Cutler. Or Bell. That isn't going to happen again, dammit.
The Homicide captain closed his eyes for a moment, remembering Catherine and the way she'd dragged him off to a corner before the convoy set out. "I can't stop you from going, can I?" she said.
He took her hands, grateful that she didn't pull away. "Baby, how many of these kids you think have been in a shootout?" he said quietly. "Brooks can use me, even if I just stand there and relay orders."
"All right. But I expect you to come back in one piece," she said, before leaning in and giving him a single, fierce kiss. "We still need to talk."
He watched her wrap an arm around Lindsey and head back into the break room to wait. Even with the situation ahead of him, he felt a sliver of anxiety float away. They still had to talk, but he hadn't lost her.
Please, Ellie, just come back.
Next to him, Brooks studied the road. "We're closing in on Mack's cabin. Once we get into position, I want you to coordinate between our group and the guys on the perimeter," he instructed.
"Got it."
The car radio squawked. "Boss, this is Andy."
Brooks grabbed the handset and clicked the button. "Brooks."
"Boss, we just found the doc's jeep on the road down the hill from Mack's cabin. The back windows and one tire were shot out -- looks like there's a round in the engine, too."
As far as Brass knew, there was only one "doc" in Jackpot. Brooks' expression went tight. "Was he there?"
"Nope, and we didn't see any blood. What do you want us to do?"
The lieutenant scowled. "Go ahead and set up the perimeter -- if he got out of there in one piece, we'll find him later. Lemme know when you're in place."
"Roger."
Brooks clicked the handset back onto the hook. "Goddamn it, Dale," he growled.
Brass glanced at his new superior. "You think he's okay?"
"He hasn't been okay since 1991," Brooks said cryptically. "But he knows this area better than anyone -- if he didn't take a round, he's probably hightailing it back to town. I hope."
A few minutes later, they spotted a police SUV blocking the road ahead. Brooks pulled alongside it; Brass recognized the driver as the tall young blond who had been flirting with Ellie and Lindsey.
"All the cabins in the area are clear, and Katie's shooing the last of the kids at Wilson Point back to town," he said. "We're good to go when you are, boss."
"Okay," Brooks said, grabbing the radio mike again. "Let's get the wagons into a circle, people. Check in when you're in position, then turn your damn cell phones off -- if I hear one ringtone tonight I'm gonna stick your phone where the sun doesn't shine."
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
Ellie gritted her teeth, forcing herself to ignore the throbbing pain in her left foot as she staggered along behind Sterling. From the feel of it, slamming her foot into that rock had broken at least one toe, maybe more. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it until they'd gotten away from the maniac with the gun.
You can do this, Jersey -- suck it up, just keep moving.
She had no idea how far they'd come or where they were going. All she knew was that Sterling kept pulling her through unseen holes in the dark brush, keeping her upright as they moved downslope. Every other step felt like hot slivers of glass, and she fought to keep herself from moaning. Suck it up, suck it up--
He yanked her behind a tree, and she gasped as she fell against the rough bark. Trying to get her breathing under control, she stared at the focused stranger who'd replaced the shy veterinarian she'd danced with earlier. Jesus, it's like watching Sheldon Cooper turn into Jack Bauer.
Sterling glanced at her, frowning. "Are you all right?"
She shook her head. "My foot. I think something's broken."
He grimaced. "Okay, I know a place where we can hide -- it's about ten minutes away. Think you can make it?"
She winced, trying not to flex her agonized toes. "Do I have a choice?"
"Not really."
"Shit. Okay, let's go."
The next ten minutes would become her new standard for hell.
CSICSICSICSICSICSICSI
The cabin up on the ridge was an old one, but well-kept and weather tight. Inside one window, a dim light could just be seen. Next to the cabin was an old red pickup truck heavily caked in mud. One of the deputies had already run the plates, confirming that it was Willard Moses' vehicle.
The police SUVs were now lined up in a staggered chevron along the road. The police officers were in place behind opened doors, rifles aimed at the cabin. Brooks nodded at Brass, who thumbed his radio. "Perimeter, you ready?" he murmured.
Four voices crackled back acknowledgement.
"Okay, let's do this," Brooks said, pulling out a bullhorn and thumbing the button. "Willard Moses, this is Lieutenant Brooks of the Jackpot Police Department." His amplified words echoed along the scrubby foothills. "We know you're in there -- put down your weapon and come out with your hands up."
The echoes died, and the cabin door remained closed. "Moses!" Brooks barked. "This is your last chance -- come out with your hands up!"
There was no response.
Brooks frowned. "Figures. All right -- tell Andy and Jackson to fire a couple of smoke bombs through the windows."
Brass went to press the radio button, then hesitated. Something was pinging his gut, hard. The pickup parked right next to the cabin, the lack of response, the single light in the window, almost as if Moses wanted them to know someone was there. Something's wrong.
"Alan, I got a bad feeling about this," he muttered.
The taller man gave him an annoyed look. "It's a little late to be getting the heebie-jeebies."
"No -- it's like he's daring us to rush the place. What if he left Janine and Missy in there, then booby-trapped the cabin? We could set something off if we start tossing shit through the windows."
Brooks chewed his lip. "You got a point. Who's on perimeter behind the cabin?"
"Rich."
"Good -- sneaky SOB thinks he's James Bond." He thumbed his radio. "Rich, this is Brooks. You got that night scope with you?"
"Yup."
"We think Moses might've booby-trapped the windows. You think you can get a good look at one and check it out?"
"Yeah, boss. Gimme ten."
They waited, all senses tuned to the small cabin on the hill. Finally, the lieutenant's radio crackled. "Boss, I can see some sort of wire taped to the inside of the window, like a security system," Rich reported. "There's also a godawful bunch of holes dug up behind the cabin."
Brooks smirked. "He was looking for something. Okay, get back into position--"
"Wait -- I can see someone on the floor," the deputy said. "I think it's Janine -- shit, boss, she's banged up something bad. And Missy's next to her."
Brooks cursed. "What about Moses?"
"Don't see him."
"Okay. Recon the rest of the windows, check for wires, and for God's sake don't get your ass shot off."
The lieutenant thumbed off the radio, and Brass could hear his teeth grinding together. "So either he's out in the hills somewhere, waiting to pick us off--"
"Or he took off after Sterling," Brass said. "You know these GNM types -- what's he more likely to do?"
Brooks blew out a harsh breath. "Playing sniper isn't their MO," he decided. "And Dale's Jeep looks like one of our SUVs in the dark -- Moses might have thought he was a cop. Sonofabitch's gonna be in for a surprise there."
Before Brass could ask why, the radio chirped. "Boss, all the windows got those wires on them. Can't see anything on the front door, but I ain't gonna try it."
"Yeah, don't. Perimeter, stay where you are -- do not try and enter." Brooks glanced at his newest deputy and nodded. "Okay, now it's time to call in the troopers. My guys don't know shit about bombs."
Brass ran the situation in his head. It would take a bomb squad unit from the state police at least ninety minutes to get there; depending on what Moses did to her, Janine could die in that amount of time. Plus there was a little girl trapped in that cabin. No matter how Janine was mixed up in her dad's murder, Missy didn't deserve to pay for her mother's mistakes.
So much for talking -- Catherine's gonna ream me a new one for this. "Moses' truck is still here, so he must've planned on coming back," he pointed out. "I did a stint with Marines EOS -- Explosive Ordinance Disposal. It was a while ago, but I don't think this schmo is a rocket scientist when it comes to things that go boom. Lemme take a look at the door, see if I can figure out what he did."
Brooks stared at him. "First Grissom, now you," he said, shaking his head. "Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you people in Vegas?"
"Hell if I know," Brass admitted. "Look, normally I'd be happy to wait for the troopers, but--"
"Janine and Missy, yeah, I know." After a long moment the other man sighed, then pulled something off his belt. "Fuck a swan. If we're gonna do it, let's go do it."
Brass plucked the Leatherman tool from his hand. "What's this 'we' shit, white man?" he said. "You stay here with your people -- if I need help, trust me, you'll know."
Brooks snorted. "Fine, but watch your ass."
Throwing him something halfway between a wave and a salute, Brass started up the hill, keeping as low to the ground as possible, and painfully aware that every breath stood out in the cold night air as a white puff of vapor. Yeah, you better hope Moses went after the vet, Jimmy boy, because you're making yourself one heap big target right now.
He paused five feet away from the cabin door and got to his hands and knees, almost putting the side of his head against the ground as he studied the approach. No tripwires. Good. Raising up to a crouch, he frogwalked to the door and examined it.
There it was, right at the bottom hinge. A pull-loop switch -- two stripped loops strung around each other's wires, one wire deliberately snagged on a nail in the doorjamb and the other on a nail in the door. All it would take was someone to open the door, tugging the stripped loops into contact, and boom.
"You asshole," Brass muttered. Crouching down, he carefully cut through the wires, then slid a wire out of one bare copper loop, breaking the trigger circuit. Okay, let's see just how smart you are. He licked suddenly dry lips and wrapped his hand around the door handle, pressing the thumb latch.
The door creaked open. Easing it back, he peered around it and spotted the pull-loop wires. They were attached to a pipe bomb lashed to the back of the door with duct tape. Oh, yeah, this is great. Sucking in his gut and praying the vest wouldn't catch on anything, he eased through the opening, pulling his weapon and Maglite as soon as he was clear.
He played the beam around the single room. Propane heater against the far wall, camping stove set up next to it, folding captain's chairs scattered around the room, what looked like a folding table against the right wall next to a cot. Five windows, one each in the back and side walls, two flanking the door. A pipe bomb was lashed under each window, trip wires leading to the dusty glass.
And two shapes huddled in the middle of the cabin floor.
Brass holstered the gun and knelt next to Janine Jones. The woman lay on her side, contorted into an S shape. Her face looked badly bruised, evidence of Moses' interrogation techniques, and she clutched her stomach and moaned softly. Next to her, Missy Jones stared at him with huge, terrified blue eyes.
"Hey, you must be Missy," Brass said softly, shining the light on his own face. "My name's Jim -- I'm a policeman, like your grandpa." When she didn't react, he fished his badge out of his pocket and showed it to her. "See, here's my badge. I'm going to get your mom and you out of here, okay?"
The girl cringed against her mother's side. "The bad man," she whimpered. "The bad man, he's coming back--"
"That's why I'm gonna get you out of here, honey," Brass continued, keeping his tone gentle. "But I need you to do something for me first. I need you to get up and walk out of the cabin. Can you do that for me?"
The little girl shook her head. "Momma--"
"I know, honey, but I need to get you out of here first." He had an idea. "You know Lieutenant Brooks?"
Some of the panic leached from her eyes. "Uncle Alan?" she sniffled.
Brass smiled. "Yeah, Uncle Alan. He's waiting for you down the hill with all the deputies. You think you can go down there by yourself?"
Missy stared at her mother, her eyes swimming with tears. She finally nodded.
"Good girl," he said, holding out his hand. Very hesitantly, Missy took it and let him pull her to her feet. He guided her to the door. "Now, I want you to go through the door without touching it, okay? Once you're out, go straight down the hill -- you'll see the police cars on the road."
She looked up at him, terrified again. "Don't wanna go out there," she cried. "The bad man's out there."
Brass couldn't blame her for being scared; the kid had already been through enough to land any rational adult on the Thorazine Express. "Okay, honey," he sighed. "I'll take you down the hill. Now just slide through the doorway, and don't touch the door or the frame."
"O-okay." With his guidance, she went through the gap and waited for him outside the cabin. He turned sideways and edged through the doorway; just as he cleared it, something moved off to the side. He lunged in front of Missy and pulled his gun.
And stopped as Brooks raised his hands, the female deputy next to him already going for her own weapon. "Whoa up, hoss," the lieutenant said. "Thought you could use some help."
Missy dashed to the other man. "Uncle Alan!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his leg.
He leaned down and picked her up, hugging her. "Hey, punkin," he murmured. "Delilah's gonna take you down the hill to my car, all right? And I'm gonna help Jim here get your momma out of the cabin."
She wrapped her small arms around his neck, refusing to let go. "Bad man," she whispered.
He patted her back. "I know, punkin, and we're gonna catch him," he promised. "But we've got to get your momma to a hospital, all right? Delilah's one of my deputies -- she'll take care of you, and if she sees the bad man, well, she'll make sure he can't hurt you, right, Delilah?"
"Right, boss," the deputy said, hand dropping to her holster in a promise.
"Okay, you two go on, now." He handed the reluctant little girl to Delilah, and they started back down the hill. Once they were alone, Brooks' expression turned bleak. "Tell me he didn't touch her."
"I didn't see any bruises," Brass said. "But that doesn't say much. Looks like he took most of it out on Janine, though -- we better get her to an ER." He turned back to the doorway, then paused. "Oh, and don't touch the door -- there's a pipe bomb taped to the back of it."
Brooks stared at the door as if it'd grown a goat's head. "Oh Jesus Christ."
Getting the unconscious Janine outside turned into a life-sized game of Operation, as the lawmen cautiously eased her through the gap in the front door. Once all three were outside, a brisk wind sprang up, making Brass's cheeks sting with the cold as they pulled Janine into a chair carry and started down the hill. It wasn't until they were almost to the first police SUV that he realized what else a brisk wind could do.
Such as slam an open door against a wall.
Behind them, a bright series of flashes and a stuttering roar ripped through the night. Brass and Brooks were driven to their knees, instinctively huddling over Janine to protect her. Later, they realized that the door bomb had gone off first when the breeze blew it open, smacking it against the cabin wall. The window bombs went off immediately afterwards, belching a ball of flame into the Nevada sky.
The Homicide captain felt arms yank him up, pulling him behind an SUV as chunks of wood and debris rained down around them. Panting, he realized Brooks was next to him again, as two deputies carried Janine into the blast shadow of the vehicle. The lieutenant turned dazed eyes to him. "Good timing, huh?" he bellowed.
Brass touched his ear, distracted by the ringing. "What?"
"Good timing!"
"Oh. Yeah!"
"Boss." Delilah knelt in front of them, exaggerating her lip movements. "You okay?"
Brooks stuck a finger in one ear, wiggling it. "Yeah, just kinda deaf. I want you to get Janine and Missy over to St. Luke's," he ordered. "And stay with them -- get a local cop to spot you if you need to use the john."
The deputy nodded, turning and instructing her colleagues to load the battered woman into the SUV where Missy was already waiting. "We checked out Dr. Sterling's jeep and found this," she added, holding out a purse to Brass. "ID says it belongs to an Ellie Brass -- you know her?"
Brass felt his already stunned gut lurch again. He grabbed the purse out of Delilah's hands, digging for the wallet and flipping it open. The first thing he saw was a California driver's license with a familiar blonde sneering up at him.
"Oh, shit," he said weakly.
