© 2005 by Karen O'Leary



“Let’s move in,” the head of narcotics, Captain James Gilbertson summoned his small army.

His second in command, Lieutenant Sheila Bachman motioned for her squad, a mixture of swat team officers, narcotics agents, local police, and sheriff’s deputies, to close in on the century old, broken down mansion. For the past ten years, the once stately home housed an unusual smattering of street thugs, narcotics dealers, and ex-cons. Gunshots could be heard at times and occasionally a dead body was discovered in a nearby grove.

“This is the police. We’ve got you surrounded,” Captain Gilbertson’s deep base voice boomed out. “You’ve got five minutes to come out with your hands in the air, or we’re coming in.”

Sheila’s body tensed as adrenaline shot through her veins. She pulled her gun from its holster and clicked off the safety. Keenly alert, she scanned the front of the house. No movement at any of the windows.

She quickly reviewed last evening’s interview with the teenage gang member now in protective custody. He provided her with a layout of the building’s two floors. It was Saturday morning, a time when their witness said most of the occupants would probably be passed out or hung over. She said a quick prayer for all the officers risking their lives to shut down this criminal haven.

“Two minutes to go.” Her partner, Sargeant Brent O’Malley, stepped up beside her. “Everyone’s clear on the plan.” A gabled porch spanned the entire length of the front of the mansion. Two groups of officers were assigned to check the windows to the right and left of the staircase while the remainder secured the entrance.

“Let’s do it.” Lieutenant Sheila Bachman stood at the bottom of the stairs, supervising the process.

A minute later, a deputy from the right reported a man lying face down on the living room floor. The left saw nothing significant. “Make sure you have at least ten officers before approaching him,” the lieutenant directed. “We have no idea if there are others in there behind the furniture.”

“Time’s up,” the captain announced. “We’ve got a search warrant, and we’re coming in.”

Lieutenant Bachman led her group forward. They crouched down on either side of the front door. Sheila checked that everyone was clear of the entrance and windows before nodding to her partner.

Sargeant O’Malley reached up and turned the knob. “It’s open,” he whispered. He paused a moment, then shoved the door inward.

Sheila tensed, expecting an onslaught of semi-automatic fire in retaliation. The silence was eerie. She peeked around the doorframe. “It’s clear. Let’s go.” A group of thirty officers burst through the entrance. A third of them followed the lieutenant towards the massive staircase sweeping up in majesty to the upper rooms. The others fanned out to search the lower level. Three more groups of law enforcement agents would be storming in the other entrances. No gunfire. Sheila breathed a sigh of relief.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Lieutenant Bachman pointed to the right. Three officers remained in the hall, while the remaining seven charged into the bedroom, their weapons drawn. A woman lay motionless, spread out on the bed. Sargeant O’Malley swept his gun from side to side as he approached her.

The lieutenant cautiously stepped forward to investigate a lump lying along the wall. She pulled back the blanket. Wide, terrified-looking eyes stared back at her. The child began to tremble. Sheila holstered her gun. “It’s OK. We’re not going to hurt you.” She smoothed the stringy, dirty blonde hair from the little girl’s face.

A tear trickled down the child’s left cheek. “My mommy won’t wake up.”

Sheila picked up the bony wrist and felt a weak but steady pulse. “Someone’s checking on her for you.” She forced herself to smile.

The listless youngster slowly nodded.

“My name is Sheila. What is yours?”

“Holly,” the child responded, barely above a whisper.

Her partner walked over with slumped shoulders. Sheila straightened up to receive his report.

“She’s stiff.” Brent glanced at the dead woman as two officers covered her with a sheet.

A pressure weighed on Sheila’s chest. She took a deep breath. “She’s the girl’s mother.” She looked at the little waif as tears welled up in her eyes. “Can you radio in for the medics? I’ll stay with her.”

“No problem. I’ll leave a couple of officers to guard the door. The rest of us will check out the other rooms.”

“Thanks partner.”

Sheila sat down cross-legged in front of the frail-looking youngster. “Holly?”

No response.

She picked up the girl’s limp arm, her own heart beating rapid fire in her chest. The pulse remained weak but steady. She checked the right pupil—pinpoint. Anger welled up inside the officer known for her coolness under pressure.

“What have you got?” a loud voice yelled out, typical of a rookie.

Sheila’s tensed shoulders relaxed as veteran paramedic, Jill Montgomery, followed pulling a stretcher behind her. “I think she’s been drugged.”

“Looks like she’s pretty dehydrated too.” Jill started an intravenous while the other medic attached a heart monitor. They quickly prepared their patient for transport.

Sheila handed Jill her card. “Tell County she’s part of an investigation. I’ll be over later after we wrap things up here.”

“No problem.”

Sheila stood a moment composing herself, puzzled by her strong reaction. She prided herself in remaining detached, objective, and methodical. Emotions could wind up getting someone killed.

Lieutenant Bachman stepped into the hall as a group of disheveled officers led a tattooed hulk towards the stairs. Brent trailed with a purple-haired teen, screaming obscenities. Her partner smiled. “I can’t wait to unload this one on a transport squad. There’s three more two rooms down to the left.”

Sheila recognized an elderly, street wino, cuffed and sitting on the floor. “Hey Wily, how did you get mixed up in this?”

“A young gal dragged me in here out of the rain one night. They’ve got grub and plenty of sauce, so I stayed.”

She smiled, knowing they would get him cleaned up and processed, find him a warm bed at a shelter, and then by morning he’d be roaming the streets.

The other two were a husband/wife burglary team. Several warrants were issued for their arrest. They’d probably end up in the state pen.

Two hours later, the last suspect was hauled away. Sheila ran her fingers through her short auburn hair. “Brent, do you think you can finish up here? I’ve got to get to the hospital and check on Holly.”

Her partner raised one eyebrow. “Holly?”

“The little girl in the room with the dead woman. The medics took her over to County. She was unconscious when they left.”

“Go,” his urgent voice pushed her towards the door.

*******

Lieutenant Bachman flashed her badge. “The paramedics brought in an unconscious little girl named Holly a couple of hours ago. I need to see her.”

The emergency department receptionist punched a few keys on her computer then replied, “I’ll call the back and let them know you’re here.” She hung up the phone. “You can go in.”

Sheila bolted through the double doors marked authorized personnel only.

“Whoa,” called out x-ray tech, Lowell Thomas, smirking. “Who lit a fire under your boots?”

“Do you know anything about the little girl the paramedics brought in from the mansion?”

The tech swallowed. “You’ll have to check in with the nurses. I’ve got to go. He stepped through the open elevator doors.

The charge nurse, Gina Burns met Sheila in the hall and flung an arm around her shoulders. “I’ve heard you guys had a tough morning up at the mansion. How about joining me for a cup of coffee in the conference room, and I’ll fill you in on Holly?”

The sleep deprived officer dropped her weary body onto a chair, feeling defeated.

Setting a steaming mug in front of her friend, Gina began, “She respiratory arrested in the ambulance. The medics got her tubed. Her pulse was down in the fifties by the time they brought her in. We tried everything.” The nurse paused before delivering the final blow. “She didn’t make it.”

Sheila felt the color drain from her face. She gripped the edge of the table. “She was too young to die.”

A few minutes passed in silence. “Do you want the rest?” Gina asked.

Squaring her shoulders, the officer nodded.

“Someone shot her up. She had a fresh needle mark on her arm. The preliminary drug screen was positive for opiates and barbs. We sent off for a complete assay.” The nurse took a deep breath. “She was sexually assaulted too.”

Sheila squeezed her eyes shut as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I can’t take any more. Maybe it’s time to turn in my badge.”

“You don’t mean that. You’re just exhausted and discouraged. If you give up there’ll be more creeps on the loose hurting kids like Holly.”

The telephone rang. Gina got up to answer it. “Just give us a few more minutes then send him in.” She hung up and returned to her friend.

“Sheila, it’s easy to get down when you deal with the rot of the world. Remember the pep talk you gave me last week.” Gina placed a hand on her wounded comrade’s arm. The warmth of friendship flowed into the defeated officer, bringing balm to her soul.

Brent’s out there waiting to see you. How about a quick prayer before he comes in?

Sheila nodded.

“Dear Lord, Help us through the difficult times. Give us the courage and strength to stand up for what is right and defend those unable to protect themselves. Keep Holly safe in your loving arms that she might know the joy of eternal life with you. Amen.”

A quiet, somewhat hesitant knock summoned Gina. She opened the door to a concerned-looking sergeant. “Is she OK?”

“Come in and see for yourself.”

Brent rushed over to his partner. “I heard about the little girl. How are you doing?”

“The nurse over there patched me up a bit. I think I’ll make it.” Sheila managed a hint of a smile.

“Good.” Brent sighed. “The captain said I should take you home. You’re not to show up at headquarters until Monday.”

“Wipe that smug look off your face O’Malley, or I’ll have you doing desk duty for a month.” Sheila turned toward her friend. “He revels in any opportunity to boss me around.”

“Just doing my duty lieutenant.” Brent saluted.

Gina laughed. “Knock it off and get out of my emergency department. I’ve got sick people to take care of.”



HEY! and don't forget to e-mail Karen O'Leary if you have a comment!


gksm@cableone.net

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Karen O'Leary writes for and has served on the editorial board for her parish newsletter for three years. She has written articles for the “Journal of Christian Nursing”, FaithWriter, “Mystical Rose”, and “Write Now”. She has also published poems in the “The Gem”, with Cross Way Publications, “Smile”, “Poet Speak Digest”, “Art With Words”, among others. We very much appreciate her contribution to the work at More Than Novellas!



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