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another officer scooped it up.
    “Room’s clear,” he called.
    Cole and his team progressed through the kitchen while more
officers moved in to secure the front of the house.
    “We’re unarmed,” someone called from a backroom.
    “Come out with your hands up, where I can see them, one at a
time.” Cole gestured for his team to fall back. They took up defensible
positions in the kitchen and living room facing the back bedrooms and den.
    “I’m coming out,” the same voice called from the den. A
moment later a black male in his late thirties came out, his head ducked low
and arms up high.
    “Keep coming, through the hall and into the living room,”
Cole directed. This would put the suspect out of the line of sight from the
room to where the rear guard could take him into custody.
    Cole held his breath as the man passed, smelling of meth and
pot. It turned his stomach.
    “Who’s next?” Cole yelled.
    “I have a baby, don’t shoot,” a female voice shrieked.
    The woman’s voice made his blood run cold. A baby? No one
had said anything about a woman, much less a baby. All nine suspects were
supposed to be male.
    “Come out slowly, ma’am,” Cole bit out without grinding his
teeth.
    A plump Caucasian woman with wild curling hair and crazed
eyes edged around the corner, a bundle on her shoulder. She had to be in her
thirties, though meth had aged her and he could make out marks on her skin
where she’d picked at herself. Meth bugs. Enough of the drugs made a person see
things that weren’t there. The baby in her arms didn’t squirm or make any
sounds. Not even with all the commotion going on around them.
    The woman crept past him and he listened to the sounds of
scuffling as officers descended on her. The nails-on-a-chalkboard squall of the
child was a relief.
    “Anyone else back there?” Cole yelled.
    “No one else here,” the black man said loud enough for Cole
to hear.
    He ground his teeth then. Where were the other four
suspects? Five if they didn’t count the woman.
    They began a sweep of the house, finding no one else. A full
meth lab had been set up in the den at the back of the house, with a damn
cradle next to one of the cook areas. It made Cole sick to think of a child in
those conditions.
    The entry team continued its sweep, going from bedroom to
bedroom, each more disgusting than the last. There were stashes of cook
materials, mattresses with a pile of used condoms in the corner and rotting
food.
    One last room.
    He positioned himself to cover the entry to the bedroom. Two
officers pushed the door in and did a visual sweep.
    “Clear,” one called.
    “Holy shit, Sarge, look at this,” Aaron said.
    Cole followed them into the room and stopped cold over the
threshold.
    A six-foot-long table was set up with four folding chairs
positioned around it. Pipes, wires and packages of what appeared to be C-4 lay
scattered.
    This was beyond his skill level.
    Cole grabbed Aaron by the back of his vest and opened the
radio channel. “Everyone out now. I need the bomb squad, yesterday.”
    A mass exodus began, everyone rushing out of the house.
Officers sprinted to the neighboring homes, evacuating the inhabitants.
    The whole game had just changed.
    * * * * *
    Cole stared at the black box sitting on the bed—the
companion box to the red one Tanya had purchased but refused to show him.
    He’d taken it in from all sides, studying it, contemplating
what it meant. It appeared innocent enough, but experience had taught him that
bad things came in pretty packaging. With the initial surveillance complete, he
stood at the foot of the bed to consider his options and make a mission plan.
    Why had Tanya purchased a Bondage for Beginners Kit?
    Last night she’d scrambled to hide it after he’d embarrassed
her, but she hadn’t returned it yet. Of course it had been hidden, but he’d
gone searching on the off chance it was still around. He’d located it in the
coat closet along with her derby gear. The