quick shadow move. Might’ve been my imagination.”
“Might’ve not,” Marcus growled. He unsnapped his holster, and Lincoln and Taylor followed suit.
They were ten feet from the house. On top of the musky scent of soaked grass, Taylor thought she could smell a hint of gasoline. She stopped midstalk and turned to Lincoln. “Smell that?”
“No. I don’t smell anything.”
“Oil,” Marcus said. “Smells like a garage.”
They shared a look of horror, having the same thought at once. Was someone trying to set this house on fire? Caution thrown to the wind, Taylor took off in a sprint. As she turned the corner of the house, she barely caught a glimpse of a shoe dangling off a retaining wall.
“There he is!” she shouted, racing to the wall. She missed grabbing the ankle that belonged to the shoe by a fraction of a second. “Dammit, he’s gone over the retaining wall. Parks!” she yelled. “Parks, get your freakin’ dogs over here! He went over the wall!”
With that, she took a running jump, pulling herself over the wall in one clean leap. She landed hard on the other side, breath knocked out for a moment. She could hear rustling and muttered cursing. Lincoln and Marcus came over the side.
“You okay, LT?” Marcus hauled her to her feet.
“Yeah, yeah, let’s go. He went through there.” She pointed into the dark woods. Lincoln snapped on a Maglite, Marcus followed with his. They could hear someone making his way quickly through the brush. Dogs were barking, people were screaming. Taylor took off after the noise.
Branches scraped her face, and she put up an arm to ward off their blows. The shadowy figure they were chasing couldn’t be more than forty yards in front of them. The going was rough. Marcus tripped on a branch and his Maglite disappeared, making Lincoln’s one beam the only light they had. Then suddenly, the forest cleared and they were racing through the field that led behind the farm. Taylor could see the man they were chasing, he was getting winded, slowing up. She was gaining on him, could hear a dog to her right making tracks toward them. She didn’t want to be mistaken for the perp by the dog; he wouldn’t be discriminating when he started to bite.
She pushed herself a little harder, long legs stretching out, running as hard as she could. The man was five feet away now, three…She left the ground and had her arms around him, taking him down from behind. He fought and kicked, lashing out, screaming at her. Lincoln was right behind her and grabbed on to the man’s leg, fighting him, trying to get a hand on his arms. The man turned ever so slightly in Taylor’s arms, and suddenly she saw stars. The impact of his fist snapped her head back and she almost let go. Suddenly Marcus was there, he and Lincoln had him. They rolled him over, snapped on the cuffs. She finally thought to breathe, realizing it hurt everywhere she could feel.
The German shepherd was three feet away, on point, barking furiously at the suspect. The cacophony of shouts and barks nearly drowned out the suspect’s screams.
“Get off me, you pigs! I didn’t do anything. Get the fuck off me.” The man was only able to squirm under Lincoln and Marcus’ combined weight.
The dog’s handler appeared, calling him off. The German shepherd barked a few more times, then stood at attention, droplets of rain gathering on his whiskers, whining. Four more men came into view, and Lincoln rolled to the right, giving them access. Marcus got to his feet, dragging the man with him. The officers were all screaming different commands, pushing the suspect around. Taylor rolled onto her butt and sat, catching her breath.
“I’m telling you I didn’t do anything. False arrest, false arrest. Let me go!”
“That him?” she asked, the roar quieting at her commanding question. “Did we get the son of a bitch?”
The man was practically being strip-searched, with affirmative answers coming from all involved.
“Got a ski mask here.”
“Got the knife.”
“He’s got rope in this pocket. Shut up, you crazy motherfucker. We’ve got your ass.”
Taylor rose to her feet. She strode to the man, who was still struggling. He stopped when he saw her, smiling a crazy smile. Her eye hurt, her head hurt, her legs were tired. But it looked like she had her man.
There were several flashlights trained on him, giving plenty of light for an initial assessment. She gave him a once-over. He was wearing black cargo pants and a black T-shirt. He was thin and wiry, with ropy muscles snaking along his forearms. He was wearing black combat boots.
“Quite the little ninja, aren’t you? What’s your name?”
“Fuck you.”
“Nice. Any ID on him?”
A few more pats, then a laugh. “He’s got his wallet in his pants pocket. What a frickin’ idiot.” The officer passed Lincoln the brown leather wallet. He opened it and extracted the man’s driver’s license.
“Smart move, Norville. Folks, I’d like you to meet Norville Turner. Norville, meet the people who are responsible for making your life a living hell from here on out.” He looked at Taylor, shaking his head in the gloom. “Brings his wallet along. Brilliant.”
“I didn’t do nothin’. You got nothin’ on me, pigs.” Turner started struggling again and was quickly subdued.
Taylor got eye level with him. Stared into his eyes, searching. Realized that they’d taken him down for good. She wrinkled her nose. He smelled like dirty oil. “Shut up, Norville. Your fly’s open, you dumb ass.”
He lunged and before she could jerk away, he spat at her. “Stupid cunt. What the fuck’re you doing? I didn’t do nothin’.”
Taylor wiped at her face, furious. His captors started in on him again, but she stood her ground, waiting. When all the struggling and yelling finally stopped, she smiled back at him. Then she hauled back her right arm and landed as hard a blow as she could right into his jaw. His head snapped back and his knees buckled. The officers around her whooped and laughed. Lincoln came to one side, Marcus to her other.
“When he wakes up, tell the fucker he’s under arrest.” Shaking her hand, her ponytail streaming down her back, she turned and walked away.
Taylor crashed back through the woods with Lincoln and Marcus in tow. Her head was throbbing and she was having trouble seeing out of her right eye. She felt wonderful.
Returning to the scene, they saw complete pandemonium at hand. More patrol cars had piled into the street, an ambulance was parked catty-corner to the driveway of the victim’s house, lights flashing merrily in the night. The ubiquitous news vans had arrived. Taylor checked her watch, it was nearly 5:00 a.m. The newsies would be able to give live shots on the early-morning broadcasts.
“Lincoln, Marcus, get on the horn with Price, tell him what just went down. I want to check in with the victim, see how she’s holding up. You’ll need to get the suspect down to booking, then make up a six-pack for me. We’ll want to see if the victim can ID him. Maybe the mask slipped. Either way, he’ll need to be processed. Make sure it all goes smoothly for me, okay?”
“Gotcha, boss. I’ll call ahead and have a photo array put together. I’m sure we can find five mug shots similar to this hosebag.” Marcus took her by the arm, turning her toward him so he could get a better view. “You’re gonna have one helluva shiner in a couple of hours.”
Taylor used gentle fingers to explore her face. Wincing, she decided she didn’t want to see what she looked like anytime soon. “Yeah, well, all in the line of duty, you know?”
Lincoln appeared at her side, offering a chemical ice pack he’d lifted from the back of the ambulance. “Here you go. You want me to stick around?”
“No, you two go handle downtown. I’m all right here. Thanks, though.” She nodded at them in dismissal and started toward the house, holding the ice pack over her eye, trying not to jar her head. It had been a while since she’d taken one in the face, and she’d forgotten how much it hurt.
Brian Post was exiting the house as she reached the front door.
“Hey there, good to see ya, LT. Heard you took the bastard down all by yourself.”
Taylor dropped the ice pack from her face. Post whistled long and hard.
“Wow, that’s some shiner. You okay?”
“I couldn’t be better. How’s our vic?”
“You need a towel?” He eyed her dripping hair dubiously.
“No, it’s letting up.”
