“Copy.”
“Baker-123, coming in from the southeast.”
“Copy.”
“Take Belt,” Chisolm ordered sharply. He didn’t care anymore about training at this point. Katie was running around in the dark with an armed robber. She needed backup. “And hurry up!”
“This is L-123. All other units set-up a perimeter, four blocks in each direction,” Sgt. Miyamoto Shen said, his voice calm and authoritative.
No one answered, leaving the radio clear for Adam-116.
At the corner of Belt and Sinto, Chisolm directed Payne to turn left. The rookie did so, still way too slow for his liking.
“Hit all your lights. Everything. Light up that yard.” He pointed at the construction yard to the northeast. An eight-foot fence ran all along the south side of the yard.
Good, thought Chisolm, already out of the car and scanning for movement. That should slow him down a little.
Payne scrambled out of the car, knocking his side-handle baton out of its holder. It clattered onto the pavement. Chisolm ignored him, continuing to scan from behind the curtain of light created by the patrol vehicle’s spotlight, high beams and takedown light located on the roof in the light bar.
Nothing.
Fifteen seconds of nothing on the air from Katie.
Then twenty.
Chisolm scowled. Radio should check on-
“Adam-116, an update,” came the dispatcher’s voice.
There was a terrible moment of silence. Chisolm’s drew his gun and held it at the low-ready position. He saw Payne in his peripheral vision and watched the rookie mimic his stance.
“I got him, he’s running near the south fence.” Katie’s voice was labored and tense. “Westbound.”
“Copy. Westbound near the south fence. Baker-123?”
“I’m almost there,” Stefan Kopriva replied.
Then where the hell were they? Chisolm thought.
There!
He saw a figure, short and slender, running hard near the fence. The figure pulled up abruptly, probably noticing the lights. Chisolm drew a bead on the figure, trying to see his hands but unable to at this distance.
“Adam-112, I see him about mid-block,” Chisolm told Radio.
There was a flash of light from the figure’s hand and a loud bang.
“Shots fired!” called Katie.
Chisolm carefully aimed at the figure, but held his fire. The danger of cross-fire was too great. He would give Katie and Stef a few seconds to take cover, at least.
The suspect climbed the fence. He went over it military style with almost no effort, climbed rapidly up one side, swung over the top and then dropped to the ground in two quick, controlled movements. He landed in a crouch and immediately fired in Chisolm’s direction.
Chisolm ducked next to the wheel well, using the engine block for cover. He heard the sound of shattering glass as the bullets struck the patrol car. He popped up and returned fire over the hood of the car, squeezing off three quick rounds. The muzzle flash took away his already minimal night vision. He scanned for movement but saw none.
“Adam-112 to -14, do you see him?” Chisolm keyed the mike with his left hand while keeping his pistol pointed where he’d last seen the suspect.
“We’ve taken cover here in the yard. We lost visual on him as soon as he fired.”
“Copy. -12 to Radio, he may have fled southbound.”
“Copy, southbound.”
Chisolm heard a moan from the driver’s side and glanced over. Payne was nowhere in sight. The spotlight was dark. Chisolm ran around the back end of the car and saw Payne collapsed on the ground holding his face. He could see dark blood next to him and seeping through his hands.
“Adam-112, officer down,” Chisolm spoke into his portable radio. “I need medics to my location.”
Radio copied his transmission as he knelt next to Payne, still keeping his weapon trained on the threat area. “Payne?” He asked gently.
Payne moaned. “It hurts.”
Chisolm pulled Payne’s hand away from his cheek and saw the cut. It was two inches long and had probably been caused by flying glass after the spotlight had been hit.
“You’ll be okay,” he said through gritted teeth, then keyed the mike. “Adam-112, injuries are a facial laceration, not life-threatening.”
“Copy, I’ll inform medics.”
Chisolm stood by with Payne as a dog handler arrived on scene and began a track. He remained alert but at Payne’s side for twenty minutes during the track until it was called off. The K-9 officer advised that it was likely that the suspect had gotten into a vehicle at Sharp and Elm.
Medics, who had been standing off until the area was declared secure, arrived and treated Payne, who seemed to be slipping into shock. Chisolm watched as they wiped the cut with iodine and put a gauze pad against it to stem the bleeding, which had slowed to a trickle. An ambulance transported Payne to Sacred Heart Hospital for stitches.
As the ambulance pulled away, Chisolm picked up Payne’s gun and put it in his briefcase. The young officer had not asked about it once. Chisolm felt sorry for him. Not only because he’d been hurt but also because it was very apparent that he was shortly going to have to recommend that Payne be fired.
What the hell, Chisolm thought. I was his teacher, his doctor and now I am going to be the axe-man. Bad night for us all.
Thomas Chisolm, despite being a fourteen-year veteran of the police department and former Green Beret with two tours in Vietnam, could not shake the sinking feeling in his chest as he kicked the shards of glass from the spotlight to the curb of the street. He couldn’t stop wondering how much worse it was going to get.
Saturday, August 13th
Day Shift
0554 hours
Officer Karl Winter made his way out of the locker room and toward the roll call room for his fifth day shift of the week. He walked past the sergeants’ offices and the lieutenant’s office to get there, but didn’t even turn his head. Despite their rank, he held most of his superiors in contempt. Besides, he remembered when some of them were rookies who could hardly keep from handcuffing themselves instead of the suspect.
Officer Stefan Kopriva passed him on the way out of the roll call room. The graveyard officer had changed into plain clothes before finishing up his reports.
“Go home and get some sleep, kid,” Winter said.
“I will,” Kopriva said, his voice a tired croak. He slid his reports into the IN box, muttered, “G’night” to Winter and headed down the hallway.
Winter remembered those days well enough. Kopriva had three or four years on the job, and he’d spend quite a few more on graveyard before he gained enough seniority to bid another shift.
Not me, Winter thought, and smiled inwardly. Nine months to go and he’d retire. Not long. Just like waiting for a baby to be born. Only the delivery would be a piece of cake and when it was over, he and Mary would sell the house and move up to the lake cabin where he planned to catch so many fish they’d have to re-stock the lake.
Winter’s thick mouth broke into a half-smile at the thought.
The roll call room was unimpressive and square, with three large tables, one for each sector. Most of the shift was already present. Winter walked toward his seat at the Charlie sector table. He noticed several graveyard patrol officers at the back of the room, still working on reports.
“Milking the system, Chisolm?” Winter asked.
Chisolm looked up. The intense look on his face melted and he smiled at Winter. “Call me a dairy maid.”