B00CCYP714 EBOK Read Online Free
Author: R. E. Bradshaw
behind the front desk. There would be no replacing her. They broke the mold after Ernestine Womble took her first breath. There would never be another like her.
Rainey was also worried about Mackie. He was sixty-one years old and slowing down, not to mention he was overweight and his knees were giving out. Junior, Mackie’s nephew, and a few other runners did most of the fugitive recoveries without the six-foot-six, more than three-hundred-pound bear of a man ever leaving the office. She could not imagine why Mackie would have gone after Maybelline without telling her, and worse, not verifying who was in the house. It wasn’t like him to be caught unaware.
Flying down the two-lane blacktop as fast as she dared, Rainey was consumed with guilt for not being there for Mackie. He had been sick with a virus back around Christmas, missing the triplets’ birthday party because of it. He was having a difficult time getting back up to speed, but Rainey had not noticed it affecting his decision-making. Mackie did not make mistakes like walking in on a desperate bail jumper in a house full of kids. It just did not make sense.
The phone ringing through the sound system stopped her analysis of Mackie’s behavior. She glanced at the touchscreen display in the center of the dashboard for the caller ID. She pressed the answer button on the steering wheel, activating the hands-free communication system.
“Rainey Bell.”
She recognized the smooth good ol’ boy drawl of the Durham County Sheriff’s Office negotiator, as soon as he started to speak.
“Sorry to drag you out at this time a night, Rainey,” he said, in his slow, deliberate delivery. “Captain Wiley Trainer, here. I’m told you are aware of the situation.”
People who mistook Wiley’s accent and measured manner of speaking as a sign he might be a bit slow were mistaken. He was as wily as his name implied. His ability to remain calm, while those around him experienced adrenaline overload, made him an exceptional negotiator.
“Yes, I’m on my way,” Rainey answered, falling behind traffic on the two-lane state road. “Dammit!”
“What’s that?” Wiley asked.
“Traffic. I’m getting bogged down by traffic.” Rainey turned the emergency flashers on, honked the horn, and roared past two cars, before pulling back into the right lane. At times like this, she missed the blue lights and siren she once had at her disposal.
“From the sound of that engine, you can get here quick. Let me have somebody meet you up on I-40 and bring you in,” Wiley suggested.
“That would be excellent,” Rainey said, flooring the six-point-four liter Hemi V8 engine around another car. There was a sharp curve to the left coming up, and then a mostly straight shot to the on-ramp of the interstate. “Tell them I’ll be at the on-ramp from state highway seven-five-one in about five minutes, driving a black Charger. Tell ‘em to turn on their radar. I’m the hot one coming at them,” she shouted over the engine roar, as she paddle-shifted down and banked into the curve.
Rainey heard Wiley’s muffled arrangements for her escort. She powered the Charger through the apex of the curve and rocketed out the other end, happy to see no other brake lights ahead.
After a moment, Wiley’s voice was back in the speakers. “You keep it between the lines, Rainey. I need you here.”
“What does Maybelline want, Wiley?”
“She wants to talk to you. I told her you were coming. Talked to Mackie, too. He’s hurt, but breathin’. I got her to give up most of the kids and one of her adult daughters, but she still has the baby, a toddler, and the other daughter in there with her. Angeline, I believe it is. She stayed behind. Said she wasn’t leavin’ her sister’s baby in the line of fire, and her two-year-old would not leave without her. So that’s where we stand.”
“Where’s the baby’s mother? Maybe she could talk Maybelline into giving herself up.”
Rainey could
Rainey was also worried about Mackie. He was sixty-one years old and slowing down, not to mention he was overweight and his knees were giving out. Junior, Mackie’s nephew, and a few other runners did most of the fugitive recoveries without the six-foot-six, more than three-hundred-pound bear of a man ever leaving the office. She could not imagine why Mackie would have gone after Maybelline without telling her, and worse, not verifying who was in the house. It wasn’t like him to be caught unaware.
Flying down the two-lane blacktop as fast as she dared, Rainey was consumed with guilt for not being there for Mackie. He had been sick with a virus back around Christmas, missing the triplets’ birthday party because of it. He was having a difficult time getting back up to speed, but Rainey had not noticed it affecting his decision-making. Mackie did not make mistakes like walking in on a desperate bail jumper in a house full of kids. It just did not make sense.
The phone ringing through the sound system stopped her analysis of Mackie’s behavior. She glanced at the touchscreen display in the center of the dashboard for the caller ID. She pressed the answer button on the steering wheel, activating the hands-free communication system.
“Rainey Bell.”
She recognized the smooth good ol’ boy drawl of the Durham County Sheriff’s Office negotiator, as soon as he started to speak.
“Sorry to drag you out at this time a night, Rainey,” he said, in his slow, deliberate delivery. “Captain Wiley Trainer, here. I’m told you are aware of the situation.”
People who mistook Wiley’s accent and measured manner of speaking as a sign he might be a bit slow were mistaken. He was as wily as his name implied. His ability to remain calm, while those around him experienced adrenaline overload, made him an exceptional negotiator.
“Yes, I’m on my way,” Rainey answered, falling behind traffic on the two-lane state road. “Dammit!”
“What’s that?” Wiley asked.
“Traffic. I’m getting bogged down by traffic.” Rainey turned the emergency flashers on, honked the horn, and roared past two cars, before pulling back into the right lane. At times like this, she missed the blue lights and siren she once had at her disposal.
“From the sound of that engine, you can get here quick. Let me have somebody meet you up on I-40 and bring you in,” Wiley suggested.
“That would be excellent,” Rainey said, flooring the six-point-four liter Hemi V8 engine around another car. There was a sharp curve to the left coming up, and then a mostly straight shot to the on-ramp of the interstate. “Tell them I’ll be at the on-ramp from state highway seven-five-one in about five minutes, driving a black Charger. Tell ‘em to turn on their radar. I’m the hot one coming at them,” she shouted over the engine roar, as she paddle-shifted down and banked into the curve.
Rainey heard Wiley’s muffled arrangements for her escort. She powered the Charger through the apex of the curve and rocketed out the other end, happy to see no other brake lights ahead.
After a moment, Wiley’s voice was back in the speakers. “You keep it between the lines, Rainey. I need you here.”
“What does Maybelline want, Wiley?”
“She wants to talk to you. I told her you were coming. Talked to Mackie, too. He’s hurt, but breathin’. I got her to give up most of the kids and one of her adult daughters, but she still has the baby, a toddler, and the other daughter in there with her. Angeline, I believe it is. She stayed behind. Said she wasn’t leavin’ her sister’s baby in the line of fire, and her two-year-old would not leave without her. So that’s where we stand.”
“Where’s the baby’s mother? Maybe she could talk Maybelline into giving herself up.”
Rainey could
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