John Avery - Black Cobra

But his big brother was dead now, and he couldn’t take the fall for him this time. Jason was finally going to experience, first hand, what Johnny Souther had tried so hard, and for so long, to protect him from.

Always the teacher, Detective Harness looked at his partner. “Roberts,” he said. “Pretend you’re in charge. What would you do in this situation?”

Roberts’s grin widened. He had always thought he should be the one in charge. “I’d waste this fucker right here, right now,” he said, without hesitation.

Jason swallowed and glanced at Harness.

Harness returned Jason’s glance. “I’m not sure I’d recommend that, Roberts. In case you missed that chapter in the handbook, police brutality is frowned upon in this city.”

“No one would ever know,” Roberts said, eyes widening at the thought. “Basic self-defense… stands up in court like a dick on prom night.”

Roberts’s clever bits of humor always put a smile on Harness’s face. That, and the fact that he was fearless, were why he had chosen Roberts as his partner in the first place.

Beads of cold sweat had formed on Jason’s brow; his chances for escape were diminishing by the second. If he was going to make a move, he’d have to make it soon.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his pistol lying on the floor, three feet from him, and, in spite of a serious adrenaline rush, he forced himself to stay calm.

“Cuff him,” Harness said to Roberts. “And be quick about it. We have that fatal car crash to attend to. I’ll meet you in the car.”

“Yes, sir,” Roberts said.

Harness turned to leave.

Roberts glanced down to pull two long, white zip-ties out of his equipment belt. Jason saw him, dove for his gun, rolled over, and fired, the bullet smacking Roberts square in the chest, sending him flying onto his back as his shotgun discharged harmlessly into the ceiling.

Harness wheeled around and fired, catching Jason in the thigh as he leaped to his feet. Jason tackled Harness, sending the two of them crashing over a table and onto the floor. Both pistols came loose.

Harness scrabbled for the shotgun, but Jason outweighed him by forty pounds, catching his arm as they rolled over again and again in a desperate struggle. At last Jason managed to grab a handful of Harness hair and slam his head into the chrome base of a barstool, knocking him unconscious.

Just then Harness’s backup arrived in a blaze of flashing lights and deafening sirens.

Jason took one look, and then limped out the back door just as the front door exploded open.

When Detective Harness came to, two uniformed officers were kneeling next to him. “Roberts?” he said, looking around. He tried to sit up, but the officers gently held him down.

“Officer Roberts is dead, sir,” one said. “Please don’t try to move.”

Harness waved the officers off and sat up, his head pounding. He spotted Roberts lying motionless a few feet away. It was true: his partner, and long-time friend, had taken a bullet through his heart. He looked at the officers urgently. “The suspect,” he said. “Where’s the suspect? ”

“He evaded us, sir.”

“ What? ” Harness demanded. He glanced outside and saw the black Hummer still parked in front of the diner. “He’s on foot and bleeding from a fucking gunshot wound to the leg! How the hell could he evade you?”

“We’re sorry, sir. H-he was gone when we arrived. There’s an APB out and at least three units are —”

“ FUCK! ” Harness shouted, pounding the floor with his fist. “ They’re wasting their time!” He got to his feet and looked around, disgusted with himself. “You’ve got this covered?” he said, indicating the crime scene.

“Yes, sir.”

Harness headed for the door, throwing Roberts’s body a quick salute on his way out.

Exiting the diner, Harness was blinded by the flashing lights of an ambulance parked halfway up on the sidewalk. Two harried paramedics, the oldest no more than twenty, were heading his way, pushing a heavy gurney. He stepped aside to avoid losing some toes.

He walked over to check out the black Hummer, noting that the front end was smashed in and there were fresh streaks of silver paint scraped into the chrome and down the right side.

He and Roberts had cruised by the accident scene on their way to the diner, and one look at the gruesome wreckage had told them three things: 1) It was a felony hit-and-run; 2) There were no survivors; and 3) The other vehicle had been big and heavy. Could it be he was standing next to the other vehicle?

He checked the glove box for the registration. The Hummer was registered in the name of Jason Souther.

I knew it! Harness thought miserably. He had had the guy in his grasp! The thought sickened him.

He shined his light around the vehicle’s interior and was shocked to see a young boy, twelve or thirteen maybe, asleep on the back seat covered in a wool blanket. He quietly opened the rear side door and laid a gentle hand on the boy’s leg, speaking softly.

“Kid… are you all right?” he said.

Aaron jerked awake and tried to lift his head, but the pain was too great and all he could manage was a feeble groan through gritted teeth.

Harness lifted the blanket gently to see what he was dealing with: The boy looked bad, his face blackened and bloodied. Two purple gashes were obvious on the left side of his face: one, partially healed, across his upper left cheek bone, and a fresh laceration running vertically from there to his lower jaw line. But both had clotted over and could wait.

Harness opened Aaron’s oddly oversized, black overcoat. It was damp and smelled like wet dog. Fresh blood seeped from a bandage in the area of his chest and shoulder. He closed the coat and replaced the blanket, and then he pulled his sleeve down over the heel of his hand and wiped some of the dirt and blood from Aaron’s face.

He thought of Jason Souther, finding it hard to believe that a man would drive so recklessly with his child on board. If he ever married and had children of his own, he would never do that.

Sorry, kid , he thought sadly, but if we ever catch up with him, your daddy’s going to prison for a long, long time.

Back in the diner, the officers were busy filling out a report. The two paramedics had zipped Officer Roberts and Johnny Souther up in fluid-tight body bags and were preparing to lift one of them onto the gurney.

Harness leaned out of the Hummer and called to them. “Hey kids!” he shouted. “Leave those poor bastards for the coroner. Trundle your butts out here and help the living .”

The paramedics looked at each other then quickly followed the detective’s orders.

Harness stood by while the paramedics transferred Aaron onto the gurney and carefully strapped him down in preparation for loading into the ambulance.

Aaron was awake. He looked at Harness. “My mother,” he said weakly. “I-is she okay?”

Your mother was with you? Harness thought, incredulous. He had assumed that the boy and his dad were the only passengers in the Hummer. He was about to ask Aaron to explain, when suddenly a clear image of the crash scene flashed into his mind and he made the connection. He’d been concentrating on the wrong vehicle!

“Wait a minute…” he said. “You and your mom… you were in the Aston Martin?”

Aaron nodded.

Oh my God , Harness thought. “I thought you were —” He glanced at the Hummer and stopped himself. This was too much to believe. “Was anyone else in the Aston with you?”