“I can see that,” Keller says, her tenor hinting at the overkill. “What happened?”
Arpeggio shakes his head, like he doesn’t have time for this. “Mintz and a uniform came to interview the janitor. When they climbed the porch, he surprised them, shoved them both down the stairs, and ran inside. Now he’s not responding.”
Keller watches the men in tactical gear, who appear too eager. “The Bureau has some top-flight negotiators,” she says. “I can get one over here who can—”
“No need,” Arpeggio says. “But I do need you to stay over there, where it’s safe.” His eyes drop to her pregnant belly. “I’ve got enough problems today.”
Keller doesn’t fight it. She and Atticus head to an area adjacent to the command center.
“I got the guy’s jacket and probation file,” Atticus says, handing Keller the iPad. It’s short, and she reads quickly. The custodian, Randy Butler, is no serial child molester. His conviction for lewd conduct with a minor was nearly twenty years ago when he was eighteen: he got his sixteen-year-old girlfriend pregnant.
“It says he shares custody of a son with disabilities … autism, apparently. The kid would be about seventeen,” Keller says.
She watches as Arpeggio, followed by men in black, climbs the steps quietly. They’re in stacked formation, headed to the front door.
Keller turns to Atticus. “Do you have Detective Mintz’s number? I need to talk to her.”
“Yeah, but she’s right over there.” Atticus directs his attention to a small group watching the breach team. As the armored officers reach the top of the porch steps, Arpeggio raises a hand, then closes it to a fist, and the team stops. He pounds on the door.
“Police! Open up!”
Keller hurries over to Mintz. The detective’s eyes move from the breach team to Keller. She wears a sling on her arm.
“Detective Mintz, I’m glad you’re all right. Did you get a good look at who shoved you down the steps? Arpeggio said it was a surprise attack. Are you sure it was Randy Butler?”
Mintz’s eyes flash. “It was him. I mean, I think … We were coming up the porch and he just charged. We both lost our footing and he ran inside.”
Keller hears a commotion from behind them. Yelling. A confrontation with the officers maintaining the perimeter. Keller recognizes the civilian from the photo she’s just viewed on the iPad. He looks older than in the mug shot, but it’s him. The custodian. The man who’s supposed to be inside the house.
There’s a loud Boom. The battering ram cracks through the door and the men disappear inside.
Keller runs over toward the custodian. By then, Randy Butler is on the ground being cuffed, two officers restraining him. Keller shouts for the officers to stand down.
“My son,” Randy Butler cries, craning his neck up from the blacktop. His tone is breathless and frantic. “He’s a gentle boy. But he gets scared. I don’t want them to think…”
“Shit.” Keller races to the command center and tries to speak with a man wearing a headset mic, the communications lead with the breach team. He’s focused intently on the house and waves her away.
The team is likely at peak adrenaline, clearing each room in the zone. If the kid inside makes any sudden moves …
Keller takes a deep breath, then speed-walks across the street, holding her badge high in the air, making clear she’s a friendly. The tactical lead calls out to her, but she makes her way up the steps and through the broken front door.
Inside, she moves slowly. She can hear heavy footsteps upstairs. Voices shouting the word clear every few seconds. Her pulse is banging in her chest, in her neck.
“I’m with the FBI,” she bellows. “You should stand down!”
The footsteps continue.
She yells again, louder. “FBI! Stand down!”
The movement stops.
“The perp’s detained outside,” she yells.
The dwelling plunges into silence.
“The person in the house is his son! He has a disability! He may not understand what’s happening.”
At last, Arpeggio appears at the top of the stairs and glowers down at her. Behind him, two officers in tactical gear guide a handcuffed man, a teenager, down the staircase.
At the foot of the stairs, Arpeggio opens his mouth to speak, then closes it, then storms out the door.
Keller approaches the officers restraining the boy, who—far from struggling—appears to be shutting down.
“Jimmy?” she says softly.