“Sheldon, this town will burn to the ground before you ever surrender power.”
“You know me, Alex; I serve at the pleasure of the people.”
More like to service the people, she thought.
Just then Abby knocked on the door. “I need you, boss.”
“You’re the man, Sheldon, but now I got to get back to work.”
“Goodbye, Alex.”
She hung up the phone and turned her attention to Abby.
“What do you need, Abs?”
“I just got a call from a monitoring company for a commercial burglary alarm over on Renlow,” Abby said, as she walked into the room and handed her a slip of paper with an address written on it. “Hutch is out handling another vandalism call across town, seems like the graffiti artists are expanding their turf.”
Alex looked down at her watch. It was just about that time of the morning that most commercial locations were opening.
“No problem, it’s probably just an accidental trip,” Alex said, as she got up from the desk. “Besides, I need to get some fresh air. Arguing with him drains me.”
“I hear that,” Abby replied. “I think he secretly has a crush on you.”
“I don’t think even I could drink that much,” Alex said, as grabbed her jacket and headed out of the office.
“Be careful.”
“Oh, Abby,” Alex said, pausing in the entrance doorway. “How many people do we have working the four-by shift?”
“Just Steve Harper, why?”
“Call Paul Murphy and ask him if he wants some overtime,” she said. “See if he can do a modified shift, like a six to two, and have him give special attention to the area hit with the graffiti. I don’t want the board bitching that we aren’t being proactive about it.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Alex headed out of City Hall and got in her car. Renlow was on the southwestern side of town and was specifically zoned for commercial business. It was also one of the few places that she rarely responded to. Burglaries, commercial or residential, were just not that big of an issue in Penobscot. In fact, it had been almost a year since they’d had one and that had involved a keg of beer being taken from a storage shed behind the Lion’s Head bar.
The problem with commercial burglary alarms was that most times they were accidental trips, meaning that the most likely culprit was a careless employee who had forgotten to enter their code when they arrived or had inadvertently hit a panic button. The problem for law enforcement occurred when it wasn’t.
Alex slowed down as she entered the general area, watching the street signs, as she searched for the address. It was one of the last buildings before the train tracks, a non-descript white stone structure that featured a single door next to a closed loading bay. A small sign above the doorway identified the business name as Internal Affairs.
You’ve got to be shitting me, she thought.
Nothing good had ever come out of a trip to Internal Affairs for Alex.
She drove around the location, making sure there were no other entrances or exits that she could make out, before returning to the front. She parked the car on an angle, away from the door, to give herself maximum amount of coverage in case things went south quickly. She got out, unholstering her gun, and held it down at her side, as she approached the front entrance.
Alex stood off to the side and peeked through the door, scanning the interior to see if she could identify any potential threats. The door opened into a long, narrow hallway that ended about thirty feet ahead. She could make out an unoccupied desk, which sat near the back of the room, along with two closed doors positioned on either side of the hallway.
Well that’s not ugly, she thought.
It was a cluster-fuck scenario for a cop, especially one going in alone. Alex would be going in blind until she cleared out the doors on either side of the hallway. If she chose the wrong door to clear first, well, it was basically goodnight, Alex. She would be entering a funnel of death if someone happened to be behind the other door.
“Fuck me,” she said softly, as she weighed her options of which there weren’t many.
Sucks to be you, she thought, as she reached for the door handle.
“Hello?” Alex called out, as she stepped inside the location. “It’s the Police, is anyone here?”
She listened intently, for either an answer or to hear any type of movement.
“Guess it’s time to dance.”
She raised her gun up, scanning for threats, as she made her way down the narrow hallway. The door on the left came up first and she reached over and opened it, immediately moving to her right, as she cut-the-pie and scanned the interior.
Alex breathed a sigh of relief when she found it to be a small, unoccupied bathroom.
“One down, one to go,” she said.
She continued down the hallway, taking everything in, her senses working overtime; she reached down to grab the door handle when it abruptly swung open.
For a moment time stood still. She felt herself retreat, moving backward until she hit the wall behind her, even as her finger began wrapping itself around the trigger. The twenty-something young man, who’d been wearing a pair of earphones and carrying a large cardboard box, dropped the package and let out a high-pitched squealed like a teenage girl at a boy band concert.
“Don’t shoot!”
“Sonofabitch,” Alex exclaimed, as she lowered the gun and grabbed the kid.
She yanked him out into the corridor and pushed him against the wall, quickly patting him down for weapons. “Are you alone?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice breaking with fear.
“Do you work here?”
“Yes, I do.”
Alex stepped back. “Okay, junior, let me see some ID, slowly.”
The young man reached into his back pocket, withdrawing his wallet, and slowly handed his license to Alex.
“Jacob Adams,” she said, as she read the license, noting that he was a resident of Penobscot.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”
“I know it’s you, hotshot, I see your photo here,” she replied.
“Sorry, ma’am,” the man replied nervously.
“Do you have an alarm here, Jacob?”
For a moment, the kid stared at her with a blank expression and then his eyes went wide, as he came to terms with the extent of his screw-up.
“Oh shit, I forgot to turn it off again, didn’t I?”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” she said, handing him back his ID. “Now how about you and I go correct that little error?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, as he turned and began walking down the hall toward the desk.
Alex watched as he keyed the code into the pad and the light changed from red to green. The young man turned back to look at her, the color only now returning to his face.
“You’re not going to tell my boss are you?” he asked.
“Well, that depends, Jacob,” Alex said, making a show of replacing her gun into the holster and locking the safety in place. “We’re not going to have this problem again, are we?”
“Oh, God, no,” he replied. “I swear.”
“That’s good, because I’m really not a morning person and I’d hate to shoot you before my first cup of coffee. So why don’t you take me on a tour, Jacob, just to make sure everything is buttoned up tight.”
The young man led her back through the doorway he had come from and into a large warehouse. The cavernous room was filled with row upon row of large, industrial grade, steel shelving units. After a few minutes it was clear that the place was secure and that there were no other persons present.
“So what the heck kind of place is this, anyway.”
“Mail order,” he replied. “We ship online orders out from here.”
“What? Like those fancy foam pillows and rubber sealants?” Alex asked.
“Uhm, no,” the man said sheepishly, “its other stuff, ma’am.”
&
nbsp; “Other stuff?” Alex asked curiously. “Like what, funky colored cookware?”
“Mostly adult stuff,” he said. “You know; DVD’s and things like that.”
“Ah, gotcha,” Alex replied. “Got anything good? Any recommendations?”
The young man stared at Alex, a look of fear and apprehension gripping is face, as he tried to formulate a reply.
Alex let out a laugh, “Don’t worry, kid, I’m just messing with.”
Relief washed over the man’s face.
“Don’t forget to turn off your alarm from now on,” she replied, as she headed out the door.
“I won’t, I promise.”
Alex got back in the radio car and picked up the radio mic.
“M-11-1 to base.”
“Base, go with message, M-11-1,” said Abby.
“Mark it as an accidental trip, worker on scene and properly identified.”
“10-4.”
“You need anything before I return to the office?”
“We’re low on coffee, boss,” Abby replied. “If you don’t mind swinging by the store on your way back here, that would be great.”
“Copy, I’ll pick some up before I come back in,” Alex said and hung the mic back up on the holder.
Who the hell buys movies anymore? she thought, as she put the car in drive and headed back into town.
CHAPTER FIVE
Alex slowed her patrol car and rolled down the passenger window, as she approached the parked vehicle.
“Hey, you want to do my shopping for me too?” she asked, directing the question toward the woman loading groceries into her trunk.
Mildred Parker, the wife of the former police chief, turned to look over at Alex.
“I already do, sweetheart,” the woman said with a laugh, as she walked over toward the car. “With the amount of time you spend eating dinner at my house I’m going to claim you as a dependent on next year’s taxes.”
“You can come over to my place for dinner anytime,” Alex replied.
“Alex, you overcook minute rice.”
“I said you could come over for dinner; I never said say it was going to be edible.”
“I think we will just keep things the way they are,” Mildred replied.
“I can’t help it if you’re a great cook,” Alex replied.
“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear.”
“I’d settle for an apple pie,” Alex said.
“God, I know you so well,” the woman replied, reaching into the trunk and removing a large bag of apples.
“Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite?”
“Kiss ass,” Parker replied, placing the apples back in the trunk.
“Hey, from what I hear you’re going to have to start pandering for my vote pretty soon.”
“Oh really,” Mildred replied, eyeing her suspiciously. “And who is this vile wretch that is spreading such slanderous rumors about me.”
“Oh, you know me,” Alex said coyly. “I never kiss and tell, Peter Bates.”
“Mmmm, remind me never to do a crime with the good doctor or with you, for that matter.”
“Well, I think he was just trying to give me fair-warning for when Sheldon explodes.”
“Good Lord, that’s a scary mental image.”
“So are you serious about running as well?”
“Actually, I was waiting to talk to you about,” Mildred replied.
“Me? Why?”
“Why to get your opinion, my dear. I do value your judgment on things.”
“Momma, not to seem snooty, but I’m a big-city cop who’s been banished to working out in the sticks, I wouldn’t rate my judgment as being all that very high.”
“Okay, well then you’re a scrappy little shit who, despite all her messing up, still manages to land on all fours.”
“Well, since you put it that way…..”
“We’ll discuss this matter later, in private.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t forget, Friday at five. If you’re late, the bunco ladies will have everything devoured before you get there.”
“I won’t be,” Alex said, craning her neck in an attempt to peek into the trunk of Parker’s car. “Hey, you don’t happen to have coffee in there, do you?”
“Sorry, you’re on your own with that.”
“Is it crowded in there?” Alex asked, hooking her thumb in the direction of the grocery store.
“It’s Monday morning and that pathetic excuse for a store manager has only one bubblegum chomping cashier working, what do you think?”
“Not worth it for a container of coffee,” Alex said. “I’ll just head over to the quick mart”
“Smart girl.”
“I have my moments,” Alex replied. “Love ya, I’ll see you Friday.”
“Love you too, Alex, be safe.”
“I will,” Alex said, closing the window.
She put the car in drive and made a left onto Main Street. A few blocks later she pulled into the parking lot of the Penobscot Quick Mart.
Alex sat in the car for a moment, as her mind went back to the burglary alarm call. She had come so close to shooting that dumb kid. She tried never to second guess things, but she couldn’t help question if the lack of sleep wasn’t going to end up causing her to make a stupid mistake one day.
If he had reacted any other way would it have ended differently? she wondered.
It wasn’t like he would have been the first person killed for being dumb. In fact, she had a mental list of dumb asses that she would like to shoot and that list grew daily.
She took a final drag on her cigarette then dropped it to the ground, stepping on it as she got out of the car and headed toward the front entrance.
“Like Sheldon,” she muttered to herself, as she reached out to open the door, “or at the very least, Juggs.”
That last part made her smile, as she removed her sunglasses and allowed her eyes to acclimate to the dark interior. She had been in the store enough to know where the coffee was kept and she headed to the left without even thinking.
The store wasn’t crowded, which was normal for this time of the day. Just up ahead a young, blonde-haired girl quickly turned the corner and she noticed a woman was squatting down, holding onto the bread rack for support. Another step forward and she realized that there were several others on the ground as well. The woman looked up at Alex; her face ashen and eyes wide in terror.
The sudden clarity of the moment hit her like a ton of bricks; she had blithely walked headlong into a shit-storm.
Asshole, she chided herself, as her hand instinctively moved toward her sidearm, drawing it out of holster, and she began scanning the area for threats.
She knew better than to walk into a store without first looking through the door.
Alex motioned with her hand for the group of terrified shoppers to stay put, as she began methodically checking out the store. The Quick Mart had four main aisles, each of which was roughly forty feet long, with a small produce area up front and a frozen food / dairy section along the left wall. Up front, along the far right wall, was a small, elevated cashier area, behind which the store kept a small quantity of hard alcohol and cigarettes.
Alex heard a shuffling noise that came from the direction of the cash register area.
“Police, let me see your hands,” she called out, as she began to advance forward.
The police response to incidents like this is generally counterintuitive to what the average human mind wants to do. Take a look at any major incident, like a mass shooting, and you will see folks fleeing the scene or hunkering down behind shelter. Even when their numbers vastly outweigh those of their attackers, they will do anything they can to put as much distance as possible between them and the perceived threat. Inevitably, the police respond to the scene and, going against all human logic, they run toward the threat; often putting themselves between the victims and the perpetrator.
For the responding police
officer things are much more different. As they move forward, things begin to slow down immensely, as the mind tries to process all of the incoming data. Split second decisions must be made as to who is a potential friend or foe. Eyes continually scan the scene for threats and weapons; as they continue to move forward. As if this wasn’t enough, they must also fight to stave off a condition that is known as tunnel vision, which can occur during high stress and elevated production of adrenaline. When this happens, the individual suffers an extreme loss of peripheral sight resulting in a constricted, circular tunnel-like field of view.
Alex felt it begin; the slowing down of movement, the muffling of sounds, the narrowing of her vision. She had been here before and she fought back against it. She was just about at the cash register when she caught movement at the far left end and swung around in that direction, focusing on the Smith & Wesson’s front sight.
“Police, don’t move,” she screamed.
As Alex watched, a figure clad in dark clothing emerged from behind the counter and began running. She knew she was screaming orders, but they were too muffled for her to hear. She could feel the rush of blood in her ears, as she moved toward the potential threat. Then she saw the figure turn slightly, their arm rising up, and she caught the glint of polished steel.
Time stopped.
She watched as the front site came to rest on her target, felt her finger begin to constrict on the trigger and then in an instant the interior of the store was filled with a thunderous roar as her weapon fired.
The .9mm round struck the dark figure, slamming him backward into a shelving unit that held an assortment of wine bottles.
The figure collapsed to the ground, followed a split-second later by a number of bottles whose shattering glass added their own noise to the chaotic scene.
Alex continued moving ahead, scanning as she went, until she reached the crumbled body lying on the floor. She extended her foot forward, stepping on the gun, and slid it back on the floor, away from the body. Then she reached down, pulling the mask from the perpetrators head.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, as she stared down into the lifeless eyes of a young kid.
Blood was already beginning to pool beneath the body, mixing with the alcohol. She reached down, feeling for a pulse, but she already knew that it was too late.
Brooklyn Bounce (Alex Taylor Book 3) Page 4