Jack jumped over the wall, running after the fugitive. He was safe as long as he could see the running man. He doubted that the man had been hit—the shot from his team member was more of a distraction tactic than anything else. Jack didn’t care either way. The shooter just saved his life.
“Operations?”
Another team member caught up with Jack.
“Here, Jack.”
“We need to get a helicopter and dog squad here, and fast.”
“Will do.”
Jack could hear the heavy breathing of the man running beside him. Their target disappeared into some shrubbery. Jack stopped and motioned to his team member to retreat. They couldn’t risk becoming targets of an unseen assassin.
The dark street was awash with streams of red blue lights as the backup team starting arriving. Jack could hear the sound of a helicopter in the distance.
We’re going to get you, Mr Wizard.
Toby crouched behind some bushes, hiding from the helicopter and its powerful spotlights lighting up the path and parklands around him. He’d soon be the centre of attention. Soon be the actor on stage. Soon be visible to the world. He enjoyed the limelight but needed a strategy to get out of this predicament.
The park ran alongside a freeway, and the good council had installed tall bland concrete walls to act as sound barriers to keep the residents happy. Sadly, they planted more grass than shrubbery, which didn’t give him many options. If he ran from his hiding spot onto the grassland he’d be exposed like a rabbit, and the walls were too high to climb. The only option was to go back the way he came.
Two men shielded behind a vehicle at the top of the parkland, safe from him and his arrows. Not that his arrows could shoot that far. Other officers joined them. Some crouched as they approached, avoiding imaginary bullets or arrows. One officer had a dog on a lead. The dog looked fitter than the one he’d befriended earlier.
Going back the way he’d come was looking less and less like an option.
The thwump, thwump, thwump of the helicopter was louder. He imagined a dragon weaving through the sky to rescue him, but instead of red flames spewing out of a dragon’s mouth he saw white light invading the darkness. The helicopter’s floodlight swept all before it and illuminated the dog charging down the hill. He took out his crossbow. The dog he would shoot. Then he’d need to give himself up.
The bright light flooded the dark greenery, revealing his presence. He lifted his hands to shelter his eyes from the blinding light. The dog growled, but couldn’t see it. He fumbled on the ground, found his crossbow, placed it on his shoulder, and took aim in the direction of the growling. The arrow bolt made its usual swish as he fired it.
But no thud, no yelping.
The arrow had missed its target. A force pushed him backwards and he felt the dog’s jaws clamped on his arm. He dropped the crossbow, rolled to try and get away from the dog. Now on his back, he shook his arm in a vain attempt to dislodge the canine, but the dog bit down harder.
Two shadows appeared. “Keep still. We have weapons aimed at you.”
“Can you get this mutt off me?”
“I would be nicer to the dog, sir. He has a distinct advantage over you at the moment.”
Toby sighed and nodded.
The dog released its grip. He looked at the two officers pointing their weapons at him.
“Please roll over, sir. We need to handcuff you.”
He tasted the dampness in the soil, then turned his head in the direction of his backpack. He thought of the little doll in there, his redheaded doll crammed up against his meagre possessions. They’d bought the doll at the market on the island. His high priestess purchased it, and she called it her spirit doll. They did a ritual to awaken the doll, to invite a spirit to take up residence. It became his pet, his mentor. The doll wanted the redhead dead, and he’d been given the doll to make sure he completed the task. His eyes watered up. He’d let the gods down.
He’d miss his precious doll.
<°)))><
The office was generally quiet, as it should be for a Sunday night—the madness of another weekend nearly past although some dregs would still linger on. It was like society built itself up to climax at the weekend, and all the rolled-up tension was released with the assistance of alcohol or drugs.
Jack sat in the incident management room, the tightness in his chest gone. He looked around. Some officers were entering details into the police management system, detailing their roles in apprehending the suspect. Photos of the items found in Watts’s backpack were displayed on the monitor in front of him. It wasn’t the crossbow or the handgun that intrigued him but the doll. It seemed out of place.
“Thought you’d be here.” Catherine said, pulling up a chair next to him.
“What you doing here? I told you to rest.”
“Come on, Jack. We’re a team. Do you need any help with your reports?”
He sagged into his chair. He had a few of those to do.
“Look at the doll, Cath.” Jack pointed to the screen. “With all that we’ve seen, I wouldn’t be surprised if that is some kind of voodoo doll.”
Catherine stared at it. “You may be right, Jack. It would be good to destroy it. But I’m sure it’s going to be needed as evidence.”
“Not sure why. Maybe the red hair.”
“Maybe, but let’s get these reports done so you can get home to your family.”
Reports. All part of the job. Needed to be done. Because he needed to make sure this crazy man got put behind bars indefinitely.
“You contacted Ruby?”
“Yes. She broke down. Told her she could go home now and that we’ll come visit her during the week. Sent one of the ‘counselling officers’ with both her and Zoe.”
Jack continued to stare at the doll. He needed to get home. He needed Erica. He needed some kind of cleansing.
