Page 20 of Tough Justice

“I am,” she admitted. “It’s my first search warrant, and I never even went to cop school or wherever you guys get trained to kick in doors and take no prisoners.”

Deck laughed. “A doctor with a sense of humor. I like that.” He did, actually. She was turning out not to be quite as tight-assed as he’d expected. “Everything will be fine. I promise. When we hit the house, you stay—”

“I know, I know.” She waved her hand in the air, cutting him off. “Stay in the truck. I got it. Trust me, I have no intention of stepping outside unless someone is overdosing.”

“That’s not the way this works.” He pulled a small portable radio from a cupholder and handed it to her. “If I need you, I’ll call you on this. It’s already turned on and set to the frequency we’ll be using. To talk, just push the button on the left side but wait about one second before speaking. Unless you specifically hear me request your assistance, you don’t leave the truck. Got it, Doc?”

“Okay. And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me ‘Doc.’ I have a name. It’s Tori.”

Ookay. Now it was official. Although he didn’t harbor any illusions that this elevated him to “friend” status. “In that case, you can call me ‘Deck.’”

“Why not Adam? That is your name, isn’t it? It’s on your business card.”

“People have been calling me Deck ever since the Academy. Guess I’m just used to it at this point.”

“Is that what your mother calls you?”

“No. She calls me Adam. She’s the only person I let call me Adam.”

They drove the remainder of the way in silence. A mile from the target, he pulled over and strapped on Thor’s mask, then he donned tactical gloves specially fitted over the long-sleeve shirt he wore. Last, he pulled on a snug-fitting hoodie and his own mask.

As they drove past Cheesman Park and turned onto Colfax Avenue, it was as if someone had flipped a realtor light switch. Large, grand houses morphed into dirty little row houses with unkempt yards. Vehicles parked in driveways were no longer Mercedes and BMWs, but beat-up, rusty cars and trucks.

Thor pranced back and forth on the bench seat behind them, his excited snorts escaping through the mask’s ventilation cups.

Deck parked just past the one-story house they were hitting and flung open the door. “I’ll leave the engine running so you’ll have AC, but no joy rides.”

“Funny.”

When she gave him a sarcastic smile, he hid a quick grin behind his mask then popped open Thor’s door with the key fob on his belt. As it always did during a warrant, his pulse jacked up. His breathing sounded raspy through the mask. He hooked on Thor’s leash, and as a team, they rushed to the front door. Half the group stayed with him, while the other half continued on to the backyard to cover the rear entrance and windows.

He pointed to the vehicle in the driveway—a battered Chevy Camaro. One of his team ran to the car, sidearm out as he searched through the open windows. The blue minivan Deck had expected to find in the driveway wasn’t there.

Six of them crowded onto the tiny porch. Deck unclipped Thor’s leash, tucking it into his belt before pounding on the front door. With his head down and his tail erect, Thor’s body language told Deck everything he needed to know. There were illegal drugs in the house.

He signaled to a burly state agent carrying a battering ram. The big cop sent the heavy iron ram crashing against the door, ripping it off both hinges and sending it flying backward inside the house.

Deck, Thor, and the other agents went inside, weapons out and shouting.

“Police, don’t move!”

Two men wearing white T-shirts and white paper masks covering their mouths and noses flung their hands in the air. In front of them was a table covered with plastic baggies and a small scale. Even with the masks, based on stature alone, Deck could already identify the men as not being the main dealer they were looking for. Alonzo Jones.

Also perched on the table was a larger bag containing gray powder. These guys were in the middle of portioning out smaller baggies for distribution, and no way was Deck taking off his mask. “Where’s Jones?” With his mask on, he had to shout to be heard. Both men shrugged.

“I ain’t telling you anything, cop,” one of the men said.

“Me, either.” The other guy pulled aside his mask and spat on the table.

Whatever. If they wanted to play hardball, so could he. Getting locked up tended to loosen lips.

“Cuff ’em,” he ordered the other agents.

“We got a runner!”

“Thor!” Deck shouted, pointing into the room the voice had come from.

Thor took off, bounding out of sight. Deck barely caught up with his dog in time to see another man—this one carrying a gun—hurling himself out an open bedroom window. Deck started to call his dog back, but Thor was already leaping through the broken screen.