and Hinojosa headed down the sides of the building to cover the back doors, while Mackey and I approached from the front. Brigit crept along quietly behind me.
The few windows on the warehouse were boarded up, providing no view into the interior, but the tall sliding doors on the front of the warehouse could easily accommodate a city bus. I stopped next to the oversize door, crouching behind a stand of scraggly boxwood shrubs in desperate need of pruning. The foliage wouldnât provide much, if any, protection, but if the bank robbers decided to come out shooting, the bushes might shield me from view long enough to take them out. Mackey bent down behind the bushes on the other side of the door.
After visually verifying that we street officers had the building surrounded, Detective Jackson grabbed the mic for my squad carâs P.A. system. âThis is Fort Worth PD,â her voice blared through the speakers. âThe building is surrounded. We know you have the city bus inside. Put your weapons down and come out with your hands in the air.â
Gun at the ready, I waited, my thigh muscles burning with the crouched stance. On high alert, I was aware of every blink of my eyes, every beat of my heart, every breath of air entering and leaving my lungs. Come out , I willed the men. Now!
Ten seconds passed with no response, no sound from within the warehouse.
Jackson put the mic to her mouth and repeated the order. âCome out with your hands up. Now!â
Still no response.
Dammit! The last thing I wanted to do was rush into the building, into the unknown. It was like heading down an unmapped river in a canoe, not knowing whether a deadly waterfall lay just around the bend.
When thirty seconds had passed, Jackson motioned with her hand. My eyes met Mackeyâs across the span. Unlike me, he wasnât quaking in his loafers trying not to wet himself. Rather, he looked like he was having the time of his life, like he couldnât wait to kick some bank robber/bus-jacker ass. Blurgh. What I wouldnât have given for some extra testosterone right then. Too bad you couldnât rent testicles on an hourly basis. Nuts-R-Us. Thereâs an untapped market.
Mackey and I bolted out from behind our respective bushes at the same time, though his longer legs got him to the warehouse door two steps ahead of me. He grabbed the handle and slid the large door open, the sunshine now forming a bright square on the floor of the dim warehouse. Gun raised in both hands, Derek darted inside. Brigit and I followed immediately behind him.
It took a second or two for my eyes to adjust fully to the relatively dark interior, which was lit only by what meager light could stream through the dusty windows situated high on the walls and the open door. When my eyes finally adjusted, they took in an ancient, dilapidated forklift missing at least two tires, a series of rusty pulleys hanging from the ceiling, and row after row of rolled-up carpet stacked ten to twelve feet high. There was no bus in sight, but with the piles of carpeting impeding our view we couldnât see more than a few feet in any direction. The bus could easily be hidden among the towering rolls.
At first, the dimly lit warehouse appeared empty, but then we heard the soft sound of footsteps. Mackey gestured to get my attention then cocked his head, indicating heâd approach from the far end of the warehouse and that Brigit and I should proceed along the narrow pathway flanking the front wall.
After nodding in acknowledgment, I gave my four-legged partner the signal to follow me and crept as quietly as I could down the space, stopping at the edge of each stack of carpet to peek around it. I only hoped I wouldnât peer around a pile to find myself staring down the barrel of a rifle.
Nobody was between the first and second stacks. Nobody between the second and third ones, either. But when I peeked around the third stack, my eyes spotted a large black
The few windows on the warehouse were boarded up, providing no view into the interior, but the tall sliding doors on the front of the warehouse could easily accommodate a city bus. I stopped next to the oversize door, crouching behind a stand of scraggly boxwood shrubs in desperate need of pruning. The foliage wouldnât provide much, if any, protection, but if the bank robbers decided to come out shooting, the bushes might shield me from view long enough to take them out. Mackey bent down behind the bushes on the other side of the door.
After visually verifying that we street officers had the building surrounded, Detective Jackson grabbed the mic for my squad carâs P.A. system. âThis is Fort Worth PD,â her voice blared through the speakers. âThe building is surrounded. We know you have the city bus inside. Put your weapons down and come out with your hands in the air.â
Gun at the ready, I waited, my thigh muscles burning with the crouched stance. On high alert, I was aware of every blink of my eyes, every beat of my heart, every breath of air entering and leaving my lungs. Come out , I willed the men. Now!
Ten seconds passed with no response, no sound from within the warehouse.
Jackson put the mic to her mouth and repeated the order. âCome out with your hands up. Now!â
Still no response.
Dammit! The last thing I wanted to do was rush into the building, into the unknown. It was like heading down an unmapped river in a canoe, not knowing whether a deadly waterfall lay just around the bend.
When thirty seconds had passed, Jackson motioned with her hand. My eyes met Mackeyâs across the span. Unlike me, he wasnât quaking in his loafers trying not to wet himself. Rather, he looked like he was having the time of his life, like he couldnât wait to kick some bank robber/bus-jacker ass. Blurgh. What I wouldnât have given for some extra testosterone right then. Too bad you couldnât rent testicles on an hourly basis. Nuts-R-Us. Thereâs an untapped market.
Mackey and I bolted out from behind our respective bushes at the same time, though his longer legs got him to the warehouse door two steps ahead of me. He grabbed the handle and slid the large door open, the sunshine now forming a bright square on the floor of the dim warehouse. Gun raised in both hands, Derek darted inside. Brigit and I followed immediately behind him.
It took a second or two for my eyes to adjust fully to the relatively dark interior, which was lit only by what meager light could stream through the dusty windows situated high on the walls and the open door. When my eyes finally adjusted, they took in an ancient, dilapidated forklift missing at least two tires, a series of rusty pulleys hanging from the ceiling, and row after row of rolled-up carpet stacked ten to twelve feet high. There was no bus in sight, but with the piles of carpeting impeding our view we couldnât see more than a few feet in any direction. The bus could easily be hidden among the towering rolls.
At first, the dimly lit warehouse appeared empty, but then we heard the soft sound of footsteps. Mackey gestured to get my attention then cocked his head, indicating heâd approach from the far end of the warehouse and that Brigit and I should proceed along the narrow pathway flanking the front wall.
After nodding in acknowledgment, I gave my four-legged partner the signal to follow me and crept as quietly as I could down the space, stopping at the edge of each stack of carpet to peek around it. I only hoped I wouldnât peer around a pile to find myself staring down the barrel of a rifle.
Nobody was between the first and second stacks. Nobody between the second and third ones, either. But when I peeked around the third stack, my eyes spotted a large black
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