The parking lot of Barnet Marine Park after closing was occupied only by a dozen unmarked police cruisers and a large armoured trailer-like vehicle, as well as an ambulance standing by to give medical assistance just in case anything went wrong; in a situation like this, Rachel supposed all sorts of things could go wrong. A cruiser blocked the drive into the parking lot, and two constables in helmets and body armour, carrying scary-looking assault rifles, blocked their way in until they confirmed their identities and radioed to their superiors that they were there. As they pulled into the parking lot, the doors to the trailer opened, and Detectives Pak, Marsden, Tracey and Goncalves all came pouring out to meet them.

Rachel watched them as she climbed out of the Highlander, still reeling from Joe's pronouncement. She made herself snap out of her despondency and focus on the business at hand. Logan's life depended on what she did in the next few minutes.

"The gang's all here," Rachel said to them with more exuberance than she felt. "Is this the IHIT thing again?"

"If we can get our hands on McTeague, we can get closer to closing the file on Jenna Davenport's murder," Tracey said, offering his hand to Rachel and Joe. To Joe, he said, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Detective Tracey with the New Westminster Police. This is my partner, Detective Maria Goncalves." He indicated Goncalves.

"Joe DiTomaso," he said. "I heard you helped Rachel down in Queensborough a few years ago."

Tracey smiled broadly, exposing the diastema Emma had commented on the last time they'd seen him. "Yeah, that was an interesting case, one you can tell the grandkids."

"We have Emergency Response Team members stationed at various points along the path you're going to walk, keeping watch in the trees for any ambush," Pak said. "We also have a sniper with a scope focused on the path further up, where McTeague's team will likely be travelling to meet you."

"Jesus," Rachel breathed. "Are you expecting bullets to fly?"

"We live by the Boy Scouts' motto, 'Always be prepared,'" Marsden said. "Although I went through the Girl Guides, and I have to tell you, if you put enough of us on a rocket ship, we could terraform Mars."

Rachel chuckled, until she saw what was in Marsden's hands. "Um, are those for me?"

"I'm afraid so. It's just a precaution, but better to be wearing them than not."

Rachel took a deep breath and said, "This is for Logan."

Marsden helped Rachel slip the Kevlar vest over her head and cinched it snugly in all the right places. She took the helmet and slipped it on Rachel's head, adjusting the chin strap for her as if she were a child, and then manipulated what looked like a little microphone so that it rested in front of Rachel's mouth. "There's a radio embedded in the helmet, tuned to our channel," she said. "It will allow us to stay in constant contact with you." She pulled down the visor. "Keep this down when you're on the move, to protect your eyes."

"Ok," Rachel said.

"How does it feel?" Goncalves asked.

Rachel shrugged. "I feel about twenty pounds heavier, about to head into battle. Am I taking a suitcase or something?"

"It's in the mobile command unit with the commander of the Emergency Response Team. We still have a minute before the scheduled exchange."

"Can I call my husband before I go in, if we have a minute?" she asked. 

They all nodded soberly, and Rachel pulled out her phone and lifted her visor. She called Al on speakerphone because she wouldn't be able to hear him through her helmet in regular mode, and he picked up on the first ring. "Rachel?" he said.

"Hi, honey."

"Are you there now?"

"Yup, I'm suited up like a soldier."

She could hear him take a shaky breath on the other end of the line. "Please be safe," he said.

"I'll do my best. I'm doing just what they tell me to do."

"Yes, don't be a hero. Call me when you're finished."

"I will."

"Hey, Emma wants to talk to you, hold on."

Suddenly Emma was on the phone. "Hi, Mum."

Rachel felt tears sting her eyes. "Hi, baby. Are you okay?"

"I'm worried."

"Why are you worried?"

"I don't want you to get hurt."

She laugh-cried and said, "Oh, but you should see me right now. I have a bullet proof vest and helmet on. I'm invincible!"

"Okay. Are you gonna get Logan back?"

"Yes, baby, I am. Don't you worry."

"Okay. I love you."

Now she was in full ugly-cry mode. "I love you too, baby. Can you put Al back on?"

Al took the phone and said, "I love you, Rachel. You'll kick ass like you always do."

"Thank you. I needed to hear that. I love you too."

"Good. Now go get Logan."

They said their goodbyes, and Rachel hung up and took a deep breath. 

Suddenly she felt a hand on her arm, and she turned to see Joe. She threw her arms around him, awkwardly because of the armour on her, but he squeezed back hard, and it made her feel better.

"I can come with you," he said.

"You can't," Pak said. "I'm sorry, but that's not in McTeague's instructions, plus we don't have armour big enough to fit you; has anyone ever told you how massive you are?"

"Only every day."

Rachel unlocked from the embrace, regretfully, and wiped her eyes. "It's okay, Joe, I don't want you endangering your life too."

He looked her square in the eye and said, "If anything doesn't seem right, you run, do you hear me? Don't try anything stupid."

She chuckled, suddenly feeling better. "I won't."

Pak looked at his phone and said, "Okay, let's get ready." He gestured to an armoured constable near the trailer, who nodded, went inside the trailer, and emerged a few seconds later with a large, metallic suitcase.

Suddenly she heard a male voice at her ear. "Testing. Testing." It was the radio. Rachel looked around, and the constable carrying the suitcase waved at her and pointed at himself.

"Hello?" she asked, because she didn't know what else to say.

"Good, we can hear each other," the constable said. "Your radio is good to go."

"That makes me feel a little better. Just a little, though."

Rachel turned to Joe, who was looking at her in confusion. "They were testing the radio," she said, seeing the detectives nodding out of the corner of her eye. "One more thing: if I die, promise me you'll reconcile with Lauren."

Joe burst out in surprised laughter. "Jesus, Rachel, what a thing to ask."

"I'm just saying, life's too short to hold on to hurt. Promise me."

"Okay, Rachel, whatever you say."

She was only joking about dying, but she was still scared. When they handed her the suitcase, which was a lot heavier than she thought it would be, it suddenly became real.

Pak nodded and dialled a number on his phone. "She's coming down the path now," he said to the person who answered, probably McTeague.

He hung up and placed a hand on Rachel's arm. "Okay, let's go. This way."

She pulled down her visor, and he guided her to a trail that led from the parking lot down to the beach facing Burrard Inlet. As she walked, she thought she heard Joe's phone ringing. She hoped it was Lauren. She hadn't called since she'd informed them another car was following the car they were following. Rachel hoped she was okay, and realized she might never know one way or another. She might die tonight, but, curiously, she felt removed from it. This wasn't the first time she'd stared death in the eye. She'd once sat across a desk from a man with a gun, who'd later used the gun to take his own life. Granted, she'd fled from the room screaming right after, but until then she'd been calm and still.

"When you reach the shore, place the suitcase on top of one of the picnic tables, and then walk back the way you came," Pak said. "I can't go any further with you. Good luck, Rachel."

She sighed and nodded. "Thank you, Detective Pak. For everything. Thank the others for me, too."

"Don't worry, you'll be able to do it yourself." He gave her an encouraging pat on her armoured back.

She went one step at a time, down a path with trees on both sides, trying not to think about the possibility of guns pointed at her or around her.

"Rachel?" Another male voice in her ear. "It's Pak. Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," she said, "and happy to. I'm feeling really exposed right now."

"Don't worry, our guys have their eyes out, and don't see anyone close to you. Do you see anything?"

"It's dark here in the trees; there aren't many lights around. Will you keep talking to me?"

"Of course."

"Can you tell me if Joe's on the phone right now?"

"He is, as a matter of fact."

"Have you guys heard from Lauren and Joanie?"

"We have people in the mobile command unit in constant communication with Sergeant Mara."

"I'm worried about them. They're not surrounded by police in body armour."

Pak chuckled. "You're one of a kind, Rachel. You should be worried about yourself right now."

"Well, honestly, worrying about them helps me focus on something other than my own anxiety. I can't help feeling there's something we're missing, like there's more than one piece to this."

"I'm sure there is, that's why we've weighed you down with a helmet and vest."

"What about Logan? He won't have a helmet and vest. What if McTeague tries to kill him after she gets the money? Worse, what if the rival gang has people out here, looking to get rid of him?"

"We've planned for every contingency, Rachel. You just focus on doing your part."

She walked on. "Pak?"

"Yes?"

"What about those girls?"

"What about them?"

"Do you think they're within reach as well?"

"Honestly? No. We're not even entirely sure Logan is within reach."

"Then what the hell am I doing here?"

"The only thing you can do. She's calling the shots. We just have to make sure you're protected when you bring the money and keep an eye out for her crew and track them after they take the money. We have a tracking device embedded in the suitcase."

"You don't think they're listening in on this channel, do you?"

"Anything's possible."

"You're not making me feel better, Pak."

Finally she emerged on the rocky beach, from which she could see, in the moonlight reflected off the waters of Burrard Inlet, the wooded North Shore mountains. The views looked similar to the ones in the photos, and she wondered if McTeague's crew made its drops in this area somewhere, and if subconsciously they'd chosen this site for the exchange because it was an area they knew well. 

She looked around and found the picnic tables nearby. It was eerie seeing the park so empty. She could imagine it bustling with families and beach goers. This must have been McTeague's plan all along, to stage the exchange in a lonely place after dark.

She began walking to the picnic tables when suddenly Pak said, "Wait!"

"What?" she said, whipping around to see if someone or something was coming her way. Pak sounded worried or scared. "What's going on?"

"Stand by," he said. "We're getting some conflicting messages from our team in the field."

Rachel stood still, feeling very, very exposed. "You don't want me to put the suitcase on the picnic table?"

"Just... hold on..."

A sound in the distance. And another. And another. Jesus, were those gunshots? "Are you hearing that?" Rachel asked in alarm.

"Yes, we're getting intelligence that there are shots fired, not by our team. We have yet to determine who's doing the shooting. Stay where you are, we're sending a constable to you."

"Are you telling me things have gone sideways?" she asked.

"Don't worry, this is one of the scenarios we planned for."

"What about Logan? What if he's in that crossfire?"

"We have our team moving toward the gunfire. They will do everything in their power to ensure his safety."

She spun around again, frantically searching for any sign of the approaching constable, feeling like she might faint. "Fuck," she breathed. 

More gunshots. They sounded closer now.

And then, emerging from another path, closer to the picnic tables than she was, another figure she couldn't see clearly because they were still in shadow.

She froze. This couldn't have been the constable because they were all behind her. 

If this was someone in McTeague's crew, she was in trouble.

She hoped her helmet and vest worked as well as they were supposed to.

Uh-oh. Things went to shit pretty quickly. Let's see what Joe's doing while Rachel was heading to the drop-off point by clicking "Continue reading." If you like what you just read, hit "Vote" to send this title up the ranks. If something doesn't ring true about police procedure, hostage exchange or emergency response tactics, leave a comment. I strive for authenticity.