Page 22 of Operation: Sharp Angel

“ETA five minutes,” Tommy ‘Louisa’ Flores’s voice came through comms.

Tessman looked back into the closet. Becca had stood and was maneuvering around the downed man and what he now identified as the mirror on top of him. “You any good with a gun?”

“Good enough,” she said, holding the weapon lower but with both hands in the proper position, prepared to raise it and fire if needed.

“Cover me while I check him out.” He pointed to the man under the mirror in the closet. “Jackson is in the house. Don’t shoot him.”

She stepped all the way out of the closet and pressed her back against the nearby wall, her eyes fixed on the open bedroom door and the hallway outside of it. She still felt light-headed and her chest felt constricted.

Tessman stepped into the closet and found one of the Tango’s hands. He pulled it out from under the mirror and checked for a pulse on his wrist. Nothing. He lifted the mirror and leaned it against the wall. It was heavy. The man was still. He checked for a pulse at his neck, finding blood, but no pulse. He turned his head and saw a large wound at his temple and just behind it, which was the source of most of the blood. Then he quickly patted the guy down, looking for a wallet or some ID. Nothing.

“He’s dead,” he told Becca as he emerged from the closet.

She didn’t tear her gaze or her aim from the bedroom door. She merely nodded, not sure how she felt about that. The only emotion she could identify was relief that she wasn’t the one dead in the closet.

He didn’t know how to read her silence. He came in close to her. “It was self-defense.”

“I know it was,” she said. “Now what?”

“Stay a few steps behind me. We need to clear the rest of this floor. Cover me while I check each room.”

She stepped into the hallway behind him. At the top of the stairs, she glanced down and saw Jackson. He was pulling a man who lay crumpled near the bottom of the steps off of them and into the entry. She wondered if he was alive or dead. She assumed he’d been shot by Tessman or Jackson.

She watched Tessman methodically check each room, moving slowly, deliberately, soundlessly, and checking under every bed, in every closet, in every corner. Watching him as he did this, she no longer saw him as the young guy she’d originally thought of him as, regardless of his actual age. He moved with confidence, training, and precision with what she would guess was lethal accuracy. He was a Marine, just as he’d said.

“Second floor, clear,” Tessman transmitted to Jackson and Yvette.

She followed him down the stairs. The entry light was on now. A large splatter of blood was on the wall halfway down. And then at the landing, there were several smudges of blood. The carpet in both spots had large bloodstains as well. She was sure there was blood in the closet. She stifled a nervous laugh. It looked like she’d be calling that crime scene clean-up company back and paying to replace the carpet.

Tessman gazed at her with confusion and concern when he heard her small chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t really a laugh. It was an I don’t fucking believe I have to call the crime scene cleanup company back to this house.”

Tessman nodded. He understood. It had been a nervous emotional release. “Careful, don’t step in the blood. We don’t want to track any through the house.”

She nodded and carefully stepped around it as she descended the stairs.

“Control, going off transmit now,” Tessman broadcast. He then switched his comms to listen only.

“Roger that, Moe,” she acknowledged.

“Arrived on scene,” Flores transmitted. “Coming in the front.”

Tessman took Becca by the upper arm and pulled her towards the kitchen. They stepped past Jackson and the bleeding man. “Step away from the door. Two of our team members areentering.” Then he noticed she still held the Tango’s gun. “Let me have that.” He took the weapon from her.

Jackson had moved the body far enough in so that its position didn’t interfere with the front door opening. He kneeled over the unconscious man, with his back to the wall the stairs were on. He had pressure on the chest wound with one hand, his weapon still in the other as the entire house hadn’t been searched.

“Becca, can you get us a few kitchen towels?” Tessman prompted.

“Sure,” she said, and then hurried into the kitchen.

Flores and Robinson came through the front door, weapons held at the ready. “Status?” Flores asked.

“Dead Tango in the master bedroom closet. This one has a GSW to the thigh and the chest. He’ll live,” Tessman said. “Second floor and this floor clear. Stairs to the basement are around this corner, as is the door to the garage. They need to be checked out.”

“The back door was open when I got here. Check out the back after you clear the house. The first time we checked this place out, we found cigarette butts and flattened grass out back just within the tree line.”

Becca had just re-entered the room and heard what Jackson had just said. She dropped the stack of towels on the floor beside Jackson and the wounded man. “You think someone could have been watching the house from back there? The person or persons who actually killed them, don’t you?”

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