Page 24 of Black Heart

“Tell him to stay where he is. I’m coming in.”

“Received, Detective Black. I also have two patrol cars heading to your location.”

“Received,” Tristan said as he pulled over and parked the car.

Marty shifted nervously in her seat as she watched him pull on a bulletproof vest and grab a shotgun.

“What do you want me to do?” Marty asked as she watched him.

“Stay here and stay the hell out of my way,” Tristan said without looking at her as he climbed out of the car, staying low. He ducked as he ran towards a small one-story brick house, gesturing for the curious neighbors watching from their driveway to return to their homes. Marty watched as he carefully peeked into a side window and then the front windows.

“Detective Black, the baby is starting to cry. The little boy can hear the men running towards them now,”the dispatcher announced, making Marty swallow hard as she watched Tristan kick open the front door and ducked inside the house seconds later. Her stomach clenched into tight knots as she watched him disappear. A minute later, the quiet neighborhood was disturbed by a series of gunshots.

* * *

Tristan slowly walkedinto the house. A small noise to his right drew his attention. He looked down to find a teenage girl bound and gagged with duct tape, cowering on the hardwood floor. Never taking his eyes away from the doorway, Tristan wound his arm around the girl’s waist. Clenching his jaw tightly against the pain tearing through his shoulder, he carried her to a small closet in the living room and placed her inside before closing the door.

He heard several large men running along the hallway to his left as the sounds of a baby screaming filled the small house. “Where is it?” one of the men demanded.

“You said this house was supposed to be empty, asshole!”

“I didn’t know the girl was staying home sick!”

“Shut the fuck up and find that baby! I don’t care if you have to throw it into the dryer, just shut it the fuck up!”

Tristan swore under his breath as he stepped into the hallway and raised the shotgun, aiming it at two men wearing stained handkerchiefs over the bottom half of their faces.

“Police. Drop your weapons now!” Tristan ordered.

Both men’s eyes widened as their trembling hands automatically rose towards the ceiling.

“Put your weapons down now!”

The men flinched and that’s when all hell broke out. Their fingers tightened on the triggers, releasing several shots into the ceiling before they dropped their weapons to the ground. When their guns continued to go off a few more times, barely missing Tristan’s shoulder and leg, they dropped to the ground and covered their heads with their hands. Realizing the triggers had locked, Tristan swore as he jumped out of the way of the faulty guns, all while keeping his gun aimed at the men cowering on the floor.

“We didn’t mean it!” the balding one screamed after the last shot fired.

“Shut the fuck up before I put you in a dryer, you piece of shit,” Tristan snapped as he carefully retrieved the hair-trigger weapons and handcuffed the men. He found two knives and another gun on each of the men. He pulled the men into the living room, where he cuffed their wrists behind their backs and their legs together because he was in no fucking mood for any more bullshit today.

After they were secured, Tristan walked through the house, making sure there weren’t any more surprises waiting for him. Once he was certain that it was clear, he shifted his attention to finding the children.

“Hey, buddy, it’s the police. It’s okay, you can come out now,” Tristan said over the sounds of the screaming baby as he made his way down the long hallway, pausing only long enough to glance inside each room.

A few seconds later, he walked into a pink room covered in boy band posters and headed straight for the closet door. He set the safety on his shotgun and set it aside before he lightly knocked on the closet door.

“My name is Detective Black. Are you ready to come out?” Tristan asked softly.

“How do I know you’re really a police officer?”

Tristan took a knee in front of the closet door. “Well, I guess you have me there. What if I show you my badge? Will that work?” he asked, trying not to frighten the poor kid any more than he already was.

The baby continued to scream as the boy thought it over. “I guess,” was his response after a short pause.

Tristan pulled his badge off his belt and slipped it beneath the door. A few seconds later, the door tentatively opened and a little boy wearing pajamas, who couldn’t have been older than ten years old, crawled out on his knees, barely able to hold the screaming baby boy in his arms.

The boy sniffled as he struggled to stand up. Tristan reached over and took the baby into his arms. The baby continued to cry, but Tristan didn’t care. He was so relieved the kids were safe.

“I-I tried to get him to be quiet, but he’s hungry,” the little boy said as he stood up.

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