And we're back! Remember what I said about the "Ghost of Jackson" back in Chapter 4? Yeah, I'm about to explain that. Here we go.
Tim was restless. He was tossing and turning while Lucy slept soundly next to him. Physically, he knew where he was. Mentally, he was wandering through some of his most traumatic memories - Afghanistan, Iraq, all of his injuries on the job...every time that he'd almost lost Lucy. He was almost asleep (again) when he heard a familiar voice.
"Sergeant Bradford."
"Huh?" Tim looked around for the voice, not seeing anything. Grunting, he tried again to go to sleep.
"Sergeant Bradford."
The voice was much closer this time. Tim looked around the room again. At first, he didn't see anything, but something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't much movement, just a quick gust of wind. He was about to go back to sleep when he felt a presence in the room that wasn't him or Lucy. He quickly produced a gun from his nightstand when the voice spoke again.
"You don't need that."
Tim looked around the room again, finally seeing but not believing. "West? Aren't you dead?"
Jackson's face fell. "Why did both of y'all have to lead with that?"
Tim looked confused. "Both of us? What are you talking about?"
"Lucy saw me, too, when she was being held captive."
"So...what? You're a trauma vision? A ghost?"
"Something like that."
"What the hell are you talking about? It's a yes or no answer."
"It's a bit more complicated than that. See, when a person dies, sometimes their spirit is tied to an object."
"Just like that?"
"Well, it has to be something that the person had a special attachment to, like a pocket knife or a stuffed animal-"
"Or a Saint Michael medal?"
"Yeah, like a- Did you say a Saint Michael medal?"
Tim nodded. "Yeah. Lucy still has yours."
"I know she does. But the thing is...I'm ready to go."
"Go?" Tim had a puzzled look on his face. "Go where?"
Jackson sighed. "I'm ready for my spirit to leave this world. Does that make sense?"
"Then why don't you? Is something keeping you here?"
"Exactly. In order for my spirit to move on, the item keeping me tethered here has to be destroyed. Burned, specifically."
"Lucy's gonna be pissed when I tell her."
Jackson smiled, if it could be called that. "Better you than me, Sarge."
Tim sighed. "You got anything else? I'd kinda like to go to sleep now."
"Yeah, one last thing. I'm glad you and Lucy finally got together. You're both the guardian angel that the other one needs. That's why I'm ready to go."
Tim nodded. "I'll talk to her in the morning. Oh, and Jackson? Thanks."
With that, Jackson vanished and Tim fell into a deep sleep.
It was almost noon by the time Tim woke up, the smell of coffee drawing him from his slumber. He opened his eyes to see Lucy, still wearing only that damn t-shirt.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," she teased.
"Morning," Tim replied, sitting up. "What time is it?"
"Almost noon."
"Noon? I don't even sleep till noon when I'm on Midnights."
"I know. But you looked so peaceful. I wanted to let you sleep."
Tim reached out and pulled Lucy into him. "I love you so much. Look, don't tell anyone else, but I'm glad you let me sleep. I've been so fucking exhausted the last couple of days."
Lucy smiled at Tim's admission. "You talk in your sleep, by the way."
"What did I say?"
"A bunch of stuff I couldn't understand. But you also said Jackson's name a couple of times, and something about him being dead."
Tim's face fell. "Yeah, so...West's ghost, spirit, whatever you want to call it, paid me a visit last night. He said he's ready to go."
"Go? Go where?"
"Well," Tim took a breath. This was going to be difficult. "His spirit is attached to his Saint Michael medal. In order for his spirit to be set free and for him to move on, it needs to be burned."
"And then he's free?" Lucy's eyes filled with tears. "Just like that?"
"Just like that. You know, he told me why he's ready."
"Really? What was it?"
"Because we finally got together. He said that you and I are the guardian angels that the other one needs."
Tim brushed a tear out of Lucy's eye and pulled her closer to him, placing a gentle kiss on top of her head. A faint rumble interrupted the tender moment.
"What was that?" Lucy asked.
"What?"
"Listen."
The rumbling sound was a little louder this time. "I think that's my stomach," Tim joked. "You wanna go get some food?"
"Is that even a real question? Let's go!"
Traffic in Los Angeles sucked, no matter the time of day. It took them three hours to get to the taco truck that Lucy read about, and another ten minutes to find parking. By the time they made it to the truck, the line was halfway down the block. They were third in line when Lucy grabbed Tim's arm.
"Don't turn your head," she told him, "But check your ten o'clock."
Tim looked where Lucy indicated, and his blood ran cold. Vasily Antonov was freely moving around in public. So much for full mobilization. "No fucking way. Lucy, stay behind me. If he starts shooting-"
"You're not thinking about going after him?"
"He killed Thorsen and two Deputies. He kidnapped you and tried to strap a bomb to you. This is a chance to put him down."
"He's moving."
Tim looked again, motioning for Lucy to follow him. Sure enough, Antonov was beginning to move through the crowd on the beach. He hadn't realized yet that he'd been spotted as he made his way to his car, which happened to be one block from where Tim had parked his truck. Antonov left the space, followed soon by Tim and Lucy.
"You got his plate?" Tim asked.
"LXC-483," Lucy replied.
"Good." Tim called dispatch while keeping a safe distance from Antonov.
"Los Angeles Police Department."
"This is Sergeant Tim Bradford, badge number 34831. I'm in pursuit of fugitive Vasily Antonov. He's driving a green Honda Civic, California Lincoln-X-Ray-Charlie-483. Requesting backup and an airship eastbound from the Santa Monica Pier."
"Sergeant Bradford, be advised that Vasily Antonov has a warrant to be executed with extreme prejudice. Exercise caution."
"That warrant hasn't worked yet. He's moving freely through the city."
Grey had just sat down at his desk and unwrapped his lunch when the call came in over the radio.
"All available units, Air 16, Air 12, an off-duty officer needs assistance. Sergeant Tim Bradford reports contact with Vasily Antonov, eastbound from Santa Monica. Suspect vehicle, a green Honda Civic, California license number Lincoln-X-Ray-Charlie-483."
"Aw, shit!" Grey grabbed his radio and headed for the supply room for a war bag, listening to the broadcast on the radio.
"Off-duty officer reports suspect vehicle is heading south on 405 toward Long Beach. Speed is 85."
Grey made his way to his shop and started out of the station with more officers following behind him. Periodic updates for the pursuit came in over the radio.
"Control, this is Air Twelve. Suspect vehicle has turned onto the 110 southbound toward San Pedro."
Grey hit the sirens and put the accelerator on the floor as radio broadcasts continued to periodically come in.
"Suspect vehicle now south on 110 toward Harbor Freeway."
Grey keyed his microphone. "Control, 7-L-120. Alert Harbor Patrol that our fugitive is headed their way."
"7-L-120, roger. Harbor Patrol has been notified."
"Control, this is Air Twelve. Suspect vehicle has turned onto CA-47, Seaside Freeway."
Grey looked at his GPS. He was still ten miles from the turn-off on the 110.
Tim pulled off the exit at Ferry Street, keeping a safe distance behind Antonov as he turned onto Terminal Way. There were two cars separating Tim and Lucy from Antonov as they turned onto Earle Street, then onto Cannery Street, and finally onto Barracuda Street. Antonov pulled off into a cold storage facility. Tim drove past him in order to avoid suspicion, parking his truck behind a row of eighteen-wheelers and calling Dispatch.
"Dispatch, this is Sergeant Bradford, Badge number 34831. Suspect Vasily Antonov has pulled off at San Pedro Cold Storage on Barracuda Street. Advise all responding units to roll in Code 2 High, beginning at Ferry Street. Requesting Airship as well."
"Roger, Sergeant Bradford. Additional units and Airship en route."
Tim ended the call and loaded his weapon. Lucy knew the look on his face.
"Tim, don't do what I think you're going to do," Lucy said.
"Backup units should be here soon," Tim replied. "Point them to me. Lucy, I don't want you to get hurt again. Wait in the truck."
Lucy pulled Tim in for a quick hug before he climbed out of the truck and began to sweep the building, stopping only to turn on the video recorder on his phone. He checked every trailer and checked all the vehicles along the service bay. Everything was empty. He saw an open door and heard a crash inside. He followed the crash and entered the building, finding that it was surprisingly well-lit.
"Antonov!" Tim yelled. "Give it up! This place is about to be surrounded! You killed three cops; there's no way you make it out alive!"
"Sergeant Bradford! It's so wonderful to hear your voice again!"
"Why don't you come out from wherever you're hiding and see my face? Then we can end this!"
"Now where is the fun in that? The hunt is more thrilling!"
"I'm done with your goddamn games, Antonov! Get your ass out from wherever you're hiding and turn yourself in!"
A crash from behind Tim got his attention. He turned around and saw Antonov, holding a .45 in his hand.
"Alright. Here I am."
Tim trained his weapon on Antonov's midsection. "Drop it," he ordered.
Antonov laughed hysterically. "You really think I am going to just drop my weapon? You're going to kill me either way. I might as well go down fighting."
Antonov swung his gun around, pointed at Tim, and pulled the trigger. The gun jammed, and Tim took his shot. He fired four times and hit Antonov in the chest with all four shots. Vasily Antonov was dead before he hit the floor.
I didn't try to hide my pistol
I didn't even try to run
I just sat on the porch, smoking one of his cigarettes
And waited for the cops to come
Backup units, led by Grey, arrived at the moment that Antonov dropped to the floor. Detective Harper and a coroner weren't far behind. Tim stopped the recording and handed his phone over to Grey.
"I recorded everything," Tim said to Grey and Harper. "From the moment I breached to the moment I put him down."
"How many shots?" Harper asked.
"Four. He tried to shoot at me, but his weapon jammed. I fired all four shots, hit him center mass."
"Is this your personal phone, Bradford?"
"Uh, yeah."
"There's no steamy texts or pictures on here, right?"
Tim quickly grabbed the phone from Harper. "Maybe I'll just AirDrop you the recording."
"That definitely seems like a better idea."
Tim sent Harper the recording and dropped his phone in his pocket. "D'you need me for anything else at the moment?"
"I think you're good. Just keep your phone handy."
"I will." Tim left the building and made his way back to his truck, where Lucy was waiting outside for him. He opened his arms for a hug, but instead, she started hitting him.
I don't know if he's an angel
'Cause angels don't do what he did
He was hellbent to find the man behind
All the whiskey scars I hid
"You. Complete. ASS. HOLE!" She accentuated each word with a slap to Tim's chest. "I heard the shots. I thought he got the drop on you."
"No second-rate SPETSNAZ wash-out is going to get the drop on me that easily." Tim held Lucy at arm-length to avoid being hit again. "Luce, look at me. Not a scratch or a hair out of place. I'm completely fine."
Lucy gave a watery chuckle and looked Tim in the eye. "You're still an asshole."
"Yeah, maybe. But I'm your asshole."
"Shut up."
"They don't need me here anymore. Do you want to try to get some food? Again?"
"Hell yeah."
I never thought my day of justice
Would come from a judge under a seat
But I knew right then I'd never get hit again
When he said to me
Tim opened the passenger door for Lucy and helped her up before getting in himself. He started the truck and immediately turned up the radio.
"I love this song."
"Wait in the truck
Just wait in the truck"
Whoa (whoa)
Have mercy on me, Lord
Have mercy on me
Have mercy on me (hey), Lord