“I got him!” Frank shouted.
“I was just coming down to see what was going on,” the kid said.
“Show me your hands!” Frank shouted again.
The kid didn’t move.
Heck snatched the kid by the collar and yanked him forward, trying to throw him face first to the ground. The kid wrenched backwards and broke free, yelling, “Don’t touch me, man. Get the fuck off me!”
Heck grabbed him again, going for the kid’s jacket, putting himself in Frank’s line of fire as the two of them struggled. Both of them yelling. Heck screaming for the kid to get down on the ground. The kid screaming at Heck that he didn’t do anything.
Frank ran forward to join the fight when he heard a loud pop and saw a small puff of air escape from the back of Heck’s left armpit.
The smoke twisted in the air as it climbed toward the streetlights above, toward the dark, starless sky and dissolved into nothingness. Heck’s shoes scraped the pavement as he staggered backwards and collapsed.
The kid had a small silver revolver with duct tape wrapped around the handle. A junk weapon. The kind that might blow up in your hand if you fired it. Suddenly, the revolver barked and Frank felt something smash into his knee like a baseball bat.
Joe Hector was sprawled out on the concrete, face contorted in agony as he coughed up clots of black blood. Frank felt himself tipping over, going down on his left side as though someone had kicked his leg out from under him. As he fell his gun came up, and whether it was by accident or some deeply ingrained instinct driven into him since the Academy, he could never say, but Frank fired. He fired and the kid’s hand came up to clutch his neck, screaming as blood spurted between his long, thin fingers.
Life drained out of that young face as he sank to his knees, staring at Frank in disbelief. Tears spilled down his cheeks even as his eyes lost their light and he slumped forward, striking his head against the concrete.
Frank struggled to prop himself up, to see the twenty feet of dark distance between him and the two figures laying on the ground. He couldn’t see the suspect. Heck was face down on the pavement groaning, “Help me, man. I’m dying, Frank. I’m fucking dying.”
Frank tried to get up but his leg wouldn’t work. He dug his elbow into the hard sidewalk and dragged himself forward like a mountaineer scaling a mountain with an ice axe.
Heck’s sobs filled the night air, “Fuck, oh fuck, I’m dying. I yelled at Andi before I left because the house was a mess and this fucking asshole shot me and, and—” He started coughing again, choking on his own blood.
“You’re not going to die!” Frank shouted, dragging himself frantically forward, trying to keep his gun up. Trying to get eyes on the kid. Trying to ignore the thousand shards of glass inside his leg.
“Help me. Please!”
“Is he dead?” Frank hollered.
Heck gagged on blood as he turned his head to look back at the body lying next to him. “Aw, Christ. He’s just a kid,” Heck whimpered. “Just a fucking kid.”
“He still has a gun! Heck! Is the suspect dead?”
He finally reached Heck and leaned over him to see the kid’s empty hands and the puddle of blood spilling off the sidewalk, into the gutters. He looked down at Joe Hector and shouted his name. There was no response.
Nine hours before the shootings, Detective Vic Ajax stood in the station parking lot, stuffing his hands into his army coat’s pockets, trying to keep warm. Headlights appeared at the end of the driveway and he sighed with relief. The girl looked like she was sixteen years old with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She parked her beat up unmarked next to where he was standing and got out, adjusting the tank top under her heavy winter coat. Vic looked at the ground as she shifted her boobs around to reach inside her bra and withdraw the heroin. Maybe a brief look, he thought. Just to maintain the chain of custody.
“How did I beat you back here?” he said. “You were in front of me.”
Aprille Macariah dropped the bundled wax baggies into the palm of his hand and shrugged. “I got stuck in traffic.”
“How did it go?”
“Fine. I still can’t tie him to the house, though. He’s real cautious about the wife and kid.”
“Damn.”
She smiled and reached back inside of her bra, sticking her hand inside the cup covering her left breast. “Billy did give me a present though.” She produced a small bag of white powder, the size and shape of a gumball, and said, “Here’s a free eightball for my troubles. Our boy’s moving cocaine now too.”
Vic took the baggie from her and felt it with his fingers. “It’s warm. You must have hot boobs.”
She cupped her breasts in her hands and said, “I might as well enjoy them now before they go away. At least I know the next time I get pregnant I’ll have an awesome rack.”
Vic smiled slightly at the comment and nodded but did not speak.
“What? Am I supposed to mope about that shit forever? Let’s go,” she said. “I’m freezing.”
Sergeant Joseph Hector was sitting in the roll room drinking a cup of coffee as Aprille walked into the station. He did not look up. “Hi Sarge,” she said.
Heck’s only acknowledgement was a grunt as he continued staring at the newspaper. Aprille clicked her tongue and turned to head down the stairs toward the detective’s office. She passed Vic and said, “I’m moving up in the world. At least they grunt at me now.”
Vic stuck his head into the roll room, “You can’t say hi to a fellow officer?”
“As far as I know, she does not exist,” Heck said. “The Chief of Police told all of us directly that we are not allowed to discuss the existence of a female officer in this police department, period. Even among ourselves.”
Vic rolled his eyes, “That’s asinine. You know she’s a cop here.”
“All I know is a blonde chick with big jugs spends a lot of time with you down in your office. You hitting that?”
“Nope.”
“Liar.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Gay?”
“I’m married with two kids, Heck.”
“Doesn’t mean shit. My cousin was married to a guy, they had a kid and everything. He turned out to be a fag.”
“All I see is a fellow officer,” Vic said.
Heck picked up his paper and said, “Well since I’m not allowed to acknowledge the existence of a female officer, I can openly refer to her as the blonde with big jugs. You seen my patrolman anywhere around?”
“Nobody was in the parking lot. Just you and Frank tonight?”
Heck nodded and tapped a piece of paper, “Got an important new memorandum from Staff Sergeant Erinnyes. Patrol is hereby ordered and directed to increase traffic enforcement between the hours of four and six AM. This is his big push for Chief, Vic. Numbers go up and he can run and tell the Township how he’s increasing productivity and revenue. You mark my words.”
“Never happen,” Vic said.
“You better pray it never happens. If he makes Chief you’ll be pushing a black and white faster than shit runs through me after a cup of coffee.”
“I meant him running anywhere would never happen. More like a wheezing jog.” Vic smiled and patted the drugs in his pocket, saying, “I’ve gotta lock this stuff up and get going. Be safe tonight, Sarge.”
“Unless some half-asleep asshole runs me over trying to get to work tomorrow morning, I should be just fine,” Heck said.
Vic went down to his office just as Aprille was shutting the door. She turned suddenly and gave a start as he came around the corner. “Christ, you scared me,” she said.
“You leaving?”
She nodded quickly and braced against the hallway wall to let him past. “I’m still having some issues from the miscarriage. Not feeling well at all.”