RELEASE TO OBLIVION

Bobby didn’t have to tell Alex to call for backup-she was already on her cell phone. In spite of the bitter wind Bobby unbuttoned his coat and jacket and slipped off his gloves. His left hand moved to grasp his gun as he and Alex stepped to the front door. Bobby rang the bell with his right hand. He could feel the vibrations of his muscles and nerves, and it seemed that the tension wavered in the air like an electric current between himself and Alex. A crash and muffled shout came from inside the house. Bobby and Alex were on the brink of shouting when the door flew open to reveal a terrified boy of seven or eight. Bobby rushed forward, but an invisible hand suddenly tried to shove the door close. The door slammed against the detective
with such force that the edges splintered against him. Bobby, stunned, bruised and cut, stumbled forward into the house and fell heavily on his knees. He was dimly aware of a dark figure standing over him and of Alex screaming “Police! No! Drop it…!”

Alex fell on top of him, and then rolled away. Bobby turned toward her, and gasped when he saw blood. “God,” he thought, “let that be mine.”

“Alex!” He couldn’t keep the panic from his voice.

“Scratch, Bobby, just a scratch. Go after them—he’s got the kid. I’ll stay here with her…” Alex had managed to get off the floor and was holding her left arm.

Bobby stood up and surveyed his surroundings. A woman, sobbing hysterically, was curled in a ball at the foot of the stairs.

“He’s got him, he’s got him. He’ll kill him…he’ll kill Isaac…” The woman screamed over and over.

Bobby grabbed her and raised her to a sitting position. “Where…where has he taken him?” he asked, trying not to let his voice betray his own panic.

The woman focused briefly on him. “The…roof…there’s a stairway to the roof…” The woman wildly shook her head toward the stairs.

Bobby turned to Alex. “Go, now,” she said. “I’ll stay with her and tell the backup what’s going on.”

Bobby rushed up the stairs. He didn’t see Alex lean heavily against a wall and slide down it.

George Fritz had the advantages of knowing his house and a brief headstart, but he had the disadvantage of trying to control his terrified son. Bobby bounded up the stairs and by the time he reached the third floor he could hear the boy’s cries just above him. Bobby scrambled up on the fourth floor landing in time to see Fritz shove the boy up a door in the ceiling.

“Stay away!” Fritz screamed as he disappeared through the door.

Panting, Bobby reached the ladder Fritz had left dangling from the exit. He paused briefly to catch his breath and consider his options, but his decision was made when he heard Isaac scream, “No, daddy, get away…no!”

Bobby rushed up the ladder and shoved the door to the roof open. He was expecting Fritz to be waiting for him, and that expectation saved Bobby’s life. His raised right arm took the wildly slashing knife, and Bobby swung his gun with his left hand into Fritz’s body. Fritz staggered backwards, scrambled to his feet, and rushed over to grab a cowering Isaac. Bobby
dragged himself to stand and leveled his gun at Fritz.

“Drop it, Fritz.” Bobby tried to even his ragged breathing.

Fritz pressed the knife into Isaac’s throat. Bobby could see the sliver of red it made. “No, you drop it!” Fritz shouted.

Bobby looked at Isaac and tried to will the terrified child’s eyes to meet his. Isaac found Bobby’s gaze. “Trust me,” Bobby thought. “Just look at me. Trust me. I’ll get you out of this.” Isaac responded to the detective’s unspoken thoughts and ceased struggling. His terror filled eyes centered on Bobby.

“Mr. Fritz,” Bobby’s voice was unnaturally calm and controlled. “I can’t drop my weapon—not as long as you’ve got your son.”

Fritz tightened his grip on Isaac. “Back off!” he shouted.

The cold wind whipped through and seemed to freeze the sweat on Bobby’s body. His head throbbed mercilessly, and he could feel blood dripping down his face and his arm. “I’m so tired,” Bobby thought. “I can’t do this…I just can’t…Alex…what’s happening with Alex…” He forced himself to focus on Isaac, and for one brief horrible moment he saw the face of an eight year old Bobby Goren caught in the clutches of his screeching mother. Bobby blinked, and found Isaac desperately concentrating on him.

“Mr. Fritz,” Bobby wondered how his voice sounded so calm. “You’re an intelligent man. You know the only way we can end this well is for you to release your son.” Bobby held his gun leveled on Fritz but made no move towards him. “You love your son…”

“Of course!” Fritz yelled. “I want my son to love me…respect me…And because of her…no one knows what I’ve gone through.”

“You want your son…you want everyone to know your story…” Bobby thought he might have a way to reach Fritz.

“She betrayed me! Another man…she was mine, and she tried to protect him!” Fritz waved the knife but still held Isaac.

“If you want people…your son…to know your story…if you hurt your son, no one will listen. Mr. Fritz, you need to let him go…so people will listen…”

Fritz briefly relaxed his grip. A beat later the piercing shrieks of sirens filled the air, and the world began to move in slow motion. Isaac kicked wildly, and shimmied out of his father’s grasp. Bobby leaped forward as a gurgled cry of rage came out of Fritz’s throat. Bobby grabbed the boy and drew him inside the cocoon of his large frame. Bobby wrapped himself around the boy and turned his back to Fritz. The detective threw his bloodied right arm back at
Fritz, and his fist struck Fritz’s wildly slashing arm. The knife flew out of his hand and over the edge of the roof.

“Run!” Bobby screamed at Isaac. “Downstairs…run!”

The boy sped towards the open door. Bobby spun to level his gun at George Fritz, who stared at his empty hand. Fritz, seemingly unaware of the detective, rushed after his son, and his chin banged into the barrel of Bobby’s gun. Fritz sprawled on the roof, and Bobby swiftly grabbed his handcuffs, spun Fritz around, and snapped the cuffs on him. “George Fritz,” Bobby began, “you’re under arrest for murder…” The rest of Bobby’s recitation was lost in Fritz’s
stream of obscenities, screams of innocence, and pleas for mercy.

Two patrol officers cautiously emerged from the door. Bobby shoved Fritz over to them. “The kid?” he asked anxiously.

“Fine,” the sergeant replied. “Downstairs.”

“My partner…Detective Eames?” Bobby was already stumbling toward the door.

“The ambulance is on its way…You look like you need it too…”

The sergeant’s voice was lost to the rising panic in Bobby’s head. Alex…Alex needed an ambulance?

Bobby encountered a station house of cops as he stumbled down the stairs of the Fritz home. Several tried to offer him help, or words of congratulations, but he was driven to reach Alex. He nearly fell over Deakins on the second floor.

“Damn, Goren, are you all right?” Deakins caught Bobby by the arms and held him captive.

Bobby thought, “No, I’m not…I’m hurt and tired and scared and I want Alex…” but he uttered only one word. “Eames?”

“The ambulance just got here, but she’s aware and worried about you. I think she’s going to be ok.” Deakins maintained his grip on Bobby’s left arm and helped him down the stairs. “Frankly, you look a lot worse than she does.” Deakins was pale and relieved—the drive to the Fritz house had been some of the more difficult moments of his professional life. His relationships with his two best detectives had always been complicated, especially with Goren, but his respect and affection for them was real.

“The kid has told us a little—you did a good job, Bobby.” Deakins led Bobby over to a corner of the entryway. “Take good care of them,” he said to an EMT, and walked away.

Bobby ignored the EMT and pushed through the crowd. Alex, her coat and jacket gone, sat up against the wall. Another EMT was attaching an IV, and a white bandage with red splotches covered her left shoulder. Bobby dropped heavily to his knees next to her.

Alex looked at him and gave him a smile. “Hey,” she said, “I hope I look better than you.”

Bobby wanted to cry out with joy, but sound wouldn’t leave his throat. “Why,” he thought, “is my head on the floor?” He thought he heard Alex’s voice calling his name from a long way away. He thought he felt hands touching him, other voices calling for Detective Goren, but he couldn’t focus. “I should’ve called Carmel Ridge about Mom,” Bobby thought, and then his
mind surrendered to the darkness.

End Chapter