Chapter 2

Holly woke me with another kiss in the morning. “Thank you for everything yesterday,” she said emotionally.

“Hey, I’ve got to take care of the person protecting me,” I teased.

That afternoon the police arrested the group that had been after me. The man I had done the face plant with outside the theater finally told them what they needed to know so they could get the necessary warrants. When we went in for our final interview, the captain of the detectives, Captain Oliver, came in. “Officer Weston,” he said in a formal voice.

“Yes, sir?” she replied, standing.

“Actually, perhaps I should say Detective Weston,” he said, breaking into a grin and handing her a gold badge. I think everyone in the room was just as surprised as I was when she hugged me, squealing excitedly.

“Thank you, Sir,” she finally replied as she shook his hand.

I took Holly out to dinner to celebrate. “You’re driving home, right?” she asked before we ordered. When I nodded, she ordered a Mai Tai to drink. I was surprised after dinner when she wanted to go back to my dorm room. When we got there, she wanted to take a shower, and expected me to join her.

“You won’t get into trouble for this?” I asked warily. She assured me that she wouldn’t. Our shower took longer than usual.

In the morning, she made sure I understood that we were nothing more than buddies. We’d gotten to know each other, and she knew that I intended to continue farming when I graduated. “I don’t mind dealing with bull, but not the kind I have to rake and shovel. I’m a city girl and wouldn’t be caught dead on a farm beyond a short visit,” she explained.

Still, she’d call every couple of weeks, frequently more often. If I wasn’t dating someone, she’d come over for a night or two, depending on her work schedule. She was still listed as my roommate in case the department wanted her to work undercover again.

In early November, I was sitting in my chemistry lecture, one with more than a hundred students in it. The lecture was held in an auditorium like an indoor amphitheater, specifically designed for large lecture classes. It was commonly referred to as “the babble pit.” I was surprised when Captain Oliver entered the room during class and walked onto the stage in the front of the auditorium. He spoke quietly with the professor after flashing his badge.

When they finished talking, the professor turned to the class, looking expectantly out across all the students’ faces until he found me. “Mr. Reynolds, it seems that the local gendarmes are requesting your assistance with a case,” he announced. The rest of the students were also looking around, trying to see who was in trouble.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Shirley, my current girlfriend and chemistry lab partner asked anxiously.

“Nah, that’s the captain of the detectives I told you about. I’ll get the rest of the notes from you tonight, or call if I’m going to be late,” I said as I hurriedly gathered my papers and stuffed them into my backpack.

“Be careful,” she said nervously, giving me a quick kiss.

“I’m a civilian so they won’t let me get close to anything dangerous,” I assured her, and then walked towards the door at the front of the auditorium.

“Good to see you again, Captain Oliver,” I greeted him as I reached to shake his hand right before we exited the room.

Once we were outside and the door had closed, he explained. “I know that you have classes, but Holly suggested that I ask you to help us with a case. U.S. Marshals are trying to protect a federal judge that someone took a shot at two days ago. Yesterday, they took another shot at him, and wounded one of the Marshals guarding him. The shooter is a sniper using a very good suppressor.

“The Marshals asked us for some help with traffic control and some extra eyes. We have SWAT out trying to locate the shooter but aren’t having any luck. Any chance you’d be able to locate him like you did before?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m willing to try,” I replied. As soon as I agreed, I sensed the direction of the danger.

“Actually, once I agreed to help, I could feel the danger. There are two sources of danger, but they are near each other,” I said as I pointed in the direction of the danger.

“Are they nearby?” he asked.

“No, they’re not a threat here. I don’t sense an immediate threat like the one I did the time that man shot at us in the parking lot. They’re probably waiting for their target.”

He called someone. “I just got confirmation, but there are two separate bogeys. We don’t have their 20 yet, but we’re en route.”

When we got to the car, he gave me a vest to wear and headed southeast, the direction the feelings were coming from. I stripped off my shirt and put the thin vest on, then pulled my T-shirt back on over it. The feeling got stronger as we got closer. “I think we’re almost there,” I finally told him.

“Two more blocks,” he confirmed. We stopped at a roadblock and looked over an aerial photo of the neighborhood. I oriented the photo, got out of the car, and stood next to a fire hydrant that I could see in the photo. Then I drew two lines across the photo, each line showing the direction of one of the two sources of danger that I felt. Being this close, there was much more separation between the two distinct sources. Captain Oliver drove me a block away and I did the same thing. The four lines had two intersections, providing us with the locations of the two snipers. One sniper was in the house directly behind the judge’s house. The second was in a five-story apartment building four blocks away.

We met the SWAT team at the apartments. They insisted that I dress appropriately for the occasion, wearing a set of their bulky body armor, and even a freaking combat helmet. I felt like one of the bomb disposal guys you see on TV. “Man, this would have been perfect for Halloween,” I teased them.

We snuck into the apartment complex from the side opposite the one where the sniper would be if he was watching the judge’s house and rode up in the elevator. Two officers who each had the heavy class 4 riot shields stood in front to protect us each time the elevator door opened. At each floor, we stopped, and I pointed up until we got to the top floor. I nodded and pointed down the hall. Captain Oliver stayed next to me as we moved slowly and surprisingly quietly down the hall until I pointed at a door and nodded.

Captain Oliver pulled me back towards the elevator and then called someone with his cell phone. “We have a civilian witness who pointed out the apartment the sniper is in. It’s apartment 517,” he informed them.

“Thanks,” he said several seconds later. “We got the warrant,” he said quietly to me as he motioned to the officers waiting outside the apartment by quietly punching his fist into the opposite palm, and then pulled me even farther away. The next second, the quiet was shattered. The door crashed in, and officers were shouting, “Police, we have a warrant,” as they swarmed into the apartment.

There were several single shots fired followed by silence.

Several seconds later, the captain’s radio came to life. “Suspect at the back of the house wounded and captured; suspect in the apartment neutralized; one officer slightly wounded,” someone reported.

“Any more out there?” the captain asked me.

I closed my eyes and concentrated for a few seconds. “Nope, that’s it,” I replied.

“We have confirmation that’s all of them,” he reported over the radio. Nearly a minute later, three of the SWAT officers exited the apartment. Two were helping support the third officer who was wounded.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” I told him.

“Hey, kid, without you it could have been much worse. The shield and my armor stopped it enough that it didn’t even completely penetrate my body armor,” he said, showing me the back end of the bullet still sticking out of his body armor.

“We owe you big time for this,” the captain told me. “C’mon, the head honcho from the Marshals Service wanted to meet you if this worked.”

We drove to the mobile command post that was now parked in front of the judge’s house. I realized that I was still wearing the oversized SWAT armor. I also realized how hot it was inside the armor even though Thanksgiving break was only a week and a half away. The captain led me to the van and said something to someone inside, and then came back out to stand next to me.

“Deputy Marshal Dwight Spencer, this is Jim Reynolds,” Captain Oliver said as he made the introductions to the man who exited the command vehicle.

I stuck my hand out and we shook, but the Marshal frowned. “I thought you said he was a civilian,” he said.

“He is, we just covered him up a bit to keep him safe,” the captain chuckled.

“Is it true that you can tell where a threat is?” the Marshal asked.

“Yes and no,” I replied. “I can always feel it if there’s a threat to me. By concentrating on the feeling, I can tell the direction of the threat relative to me. Today was the first time that I tried to locate a threat to someone else. It was only after I agreed to help that I felt the two threats here.”

“And you were in class then?” he asked.

“We were in the hallway just outside of the classroom,” I replied.

“Mind if we use you a few times?” he asked.

“No, but keep in mind that I’m a full-time student and can’t afford to miss many classes,” I warned.

“Law enforcement major?” he asked.

“Agriculture, I’m a farmer at heart and always will be,” I replied proudly.

“We’ll see if we can’t change your mind,” he chuckled.

Holly came running up just then and hugged me. “You came to help,” she said excitedly.

When the Raleigh PD SWAT van arrived, she dragged me over to change out of the bulky armor I still wore. The rest of the SWAT team had already changed, and shook my hand or slapped me on the back when I got there. “I gotta admit,” the head SWAT guy said as he shook my hand, “we thought this whole thing was a load of manure, but you called both snipers and they were right where you said they’d be. We didn’t even know about the second one behind the judge’s house.

“Joe said that you were upset because he got hurt. Don’t be because he’ll be fine. All he has is a bad bruise and a cracked rib. Because of you, we all go home to our families tonight. There’s no telling how many people would have been hurt or killed before we found both snipers,” he said with a lot of emotion in his voice.

They snickered when Holly continued dragging me into the van and then began stripping my armor off. The team were all sticking their heads in and chuckling, knowing that I only had a T-shirt, socks, and my skivvies on beneath the armor. They all had gym shorts in their gear to wear. They all started laughing when I was down to my boxers and T-shirt.

“C’mon guys, guys, I was his bodyguard for several days and saw him wearing much less than this,” she commented nonchalantly. “I can confirm that he sleeps in the buff,” she continued. The guys were rolling with laughter by then.

“Too bad you have a girlfriend,” she whispered.

“It depends on how open minded you are,” I commented, hoping to shock Holly. “Shirley shares ... as long as she gets to join the fun,” I chuckled.

“Really?” Holly asked, actually sounding interested, so I explained our relationship.

“Why don’t you introduce us? I understand she’s a looker,” Holly suggested in a sultry voice. Then she reached out and closed my mouth. Fortunately, the other guys hadn’t heard the last part of the conversation.

I pulled the head of the SWAT team aside and asked him a few questions about their armor and the everyday vests the regular officers wore. Then I asked how many officers the department had, and how many SWAT officers.

“I heard that your armor is made up of pieces you bought from military surplus and other places, and not all are matching suits,” I said.

“True,” he replied, wondering where this was headed.

“Give me a ballpark figure what it would cost for you to buy top of the line armor for the SWAT officers, and the best everyday vests for the other officers,” I asked.

“Around four hundred thousand dollars,” he replied after a minute of thought.

“Anything else SWAT needs?” I asked.

“World peace,” he riposted.

“I mean equipment,” I replied.

“I know, I’m just wondering why you want to know,” he said.

I motioned Holly over. “Can I afford to spend $400,000?” I asked her.

She looked back and forth between the SWAT captain and me. “Yeah, why?” she asked cautiously.

“You’re going to buy all that?” he gasped.

“As long as no more than a handful of people know who bought it, and they can keep their mouths shut.”

“Our two snipers would like better rifles and scopes; we could use day/night scopes for each of our rifles, and we could use more ammo so we can spend more time at the range. We’re limited to how much ammo we can burn through each month.”