I STOOD THERE, hoping someone might notice us and come to my assistance. Not a lot of police officers worked
in the building, but there were some. Where were they?
Arjan Marku r epeated, “Let that guy go. You and I got business.”
I wondered how good Marku was with a pistol. I considered acting like I was releasing Owens while instead pulling
my duty weapon from my right hip. Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure a way to do it without putting Owens at risk.
Marku must’ve been some kind of mind reader. He said, “Don’t do anything stupid. In fact, look at me and raise
your hands.”
I turned to face the Albanian and spread my arms wide.
He said, “Slowly pull your pistol out of the holster and toss it on the ground.”
I couldn’t think of a way to stall him any longer. Marku didn’t look nervous or stressed. That made him dangerous. I
did as he said and used my thumb and index finger to pull my Glock from my holster. It went against all my training
and instincts to toss the gun onto the rough, broken asphalt.
Owens sort of followed me as I backed up closer to my car. Marku st epped toward us with his pistol still raised, then
made a wide arc around us and looked in each window of the car to make sure there wasn’t anything inside that I
could use to disrupt his plan.
Then he motioned with the pistol and said, “Let’s go for a ride.”
Owens was frozen next to me. I took a st ep toward the car, but Owens turned so his hands, still handcuffed behind
him, could grab my shirt and ke ep me from moving forward. He muttered, “I wouldn’t.”
I don’t know why, but that was enough for me. I pulled my keys out of
my front pocket and casually tossed them to Marku. “I’m not your chauffeur.”
I slowly backed away from the car a few st eps.
Marku caught the keys with his left hand and smiled. “You’re right.
You’re nothing to me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna take you somewhere and enjoy whatever I do to you.” I
noticed how Owens was looking on expectantly as Marku slipped the key into the door’s lock. That’s when it hit
me. I knew exactly what was going on and what Owens’s warning meant.
As Marku pulled the handle to open the unlocked door, I turned and shoved Owens to the ground. Marku reacted to
the movement and angled to get a better shot at me as I dove down too.
It never came. I heard an odd sound come from under my car, and a moment later everything turned a bright white. I
felt a wave of heat envelop me. The force of the blast knocked me backward. I slid across the nasty asphalt until I
bounced off the wheel of a MINI Cooper.
I was trying to ke ep conscious. It felt like a losing battle. I lay on my back, looking up at the gray sky.
As if from far off, I heard someone shouting. Then I realized it was Owens, who was on the ground behind the car
next to me while my Impala blazed like a bonfire. Through some divine luck, there weren’t other cars parked close
to mine.
A detective from my squad ran up to me and checked my pulse quickly.
I looked at him and all I could manage to say was “Finally someone showed up.”