False Witness

by Worthington, T. S.

  John immediately started walking too fast. Declan tried to grab him and hold him back, but he was already practically jogging towards the kid. Declan knew that this was not going to end well. John was too green. He was too much of a rookie, he was too much of a cocky asshole, and he was too damn stupid to realize he knew basically nothing.

  The dealer turned around suddenly, saw John and instantly took off running.

  “Dammit!” Declan howled.

  He leapt into a hard sprint easily catching up with John, who despite being a gym rat was not as fast as he was. It did not take Declan long to overtake him and get closer to the dealer who was now rounding the next corner and heading down the next block.

  Declan followed close behind him. He wanted to shoot the guy but he did not have probable cause to do so. He had not witnessed any evidence that the dealer was armed and he was not able to identify the man so he could not say whether he could be considered dangerous or not. It was not Josh Rames, he could see that. If it had been Josh the chase would have not been necessary because that man would be lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood.

  Declan saw the dealer ahead of him now, he was fast as lightning. Declan was not sure that he would be able to catch the kid or if his endurance would hold up that long. Dammit! Why did John have to constantly do things his way when they were clearly flawed?

  “Freeze! Police! Stop!” Declan yelled in vain. He did not think that would actually work, because it never had, but he was required to at least yell verbal commands at the suspect he was chasing.

  He knew where he was going. Before the dealer even turned the next corner he knew that the bastard was running into the woods. If he ran into the woods it would make finding him that much harder. He had chased a suspect in the woods once in his career and the bastard had indeed gotten away. But of course they were forced to search the area all night long and an eight hour day turned into an eighteen hour day all because of these damn woods.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot!” Declan yelled. He absolutely had no authority to shoot a suspect who was not armed or known to be dangerous, but some of them didn’t know that and it had worked before.

  But not this time. In fact Declan could tell that the dealer was pulling away farther. Either he was getting faster or Declan was running out of wind and slowing down. If he had to pick it was most likely the latter.

  “Shit!” he heard John yelling behind him as he realized that they were taking this chase into the woods.

  Declan stopped at the entrance to the wooded area. It was not a big area, just a small wooded area that had yet to be developed on the edge of the city, but it was plenty big enough to get lost in and to hide in.

  “Why did you stop?” John asked.

  “We have to split up. I’ve chased in these woods before. You go right and I’ll go left. We will try to sweep around to convene in the middle that way one of us is likely to see him somewhere, if we can get there faster than he can.”

  John took off down a path and Declan started down the other one. The midday sun was suddenly cut out from view. The woods were dark, atmospheric. He’d never been a big fan of wooded areas. They were confusing and too easy to get lost in. It was like a giant maze devised by Mother Nature and you were lucky if you found your way.

  But he actually knew these woods fairly well. And if you walked far enough you were bound to come out on a city street.

  The branches scraped against his face as he ran, swerving and bobbing around trees, trying to duck some branches but missing others completely. He felt like everything in the world was suddenly trying to kill him. Plants were attacking him, what felt like swarms of insects flying around everywhere and landing on his skin.

  He hated nature. But this was the job. It was often dirty and usually thankless. That was part of the wonders of it.

  Declan was moving quickly looking in every possible direction for any bit of clothing or any thread of evidence that showed that the suspect might have come that way, but he was being cautious too. Just because he didn’t see a gun did not mean that the suspect did not have one. It could have been a small gun, or something tucked in his pants. He could have had it behind him on a holster under his hooded sweatshirt. It was unlike a drug dealer to operate unarmed, but if he was new to the game then sometimes that mistake was made. But usually after seeing some other dealer get shot because he didn’t have a gun then that was usually enough to convince them.

  He was almost to the end of his clearing. He could see the city streets not far off. If he kept going he would end up on Mercer Street. He started to turn to his left and circle around. Hopefully John adhered to the plan and they could box the perp in and catch his ass. If he was not used to running through those woods then he was probably still with them.

  Something out of the corner of his eye. Movement. A dash of color. Was it red? The suspect was wearing a red, hooded sweatshirt. Was he associated with a gang?

  Declan followed the narrow path, the twigs and branches slapping him in the face were not even fazing him anymore. It was amazing how quickly one could adapt to things sometimes. He tried to control his breathing, keeping it in slow, steady gasps of air. It was a trick he’d learned a long time ago to keep yourself calm under the type of pressure where you knew that one wrong move could get you killed.

  It was easy for some of the people they dealt with to stay calm under pressure since they were psychopaths. It was all too easy to remain calm when killing someone or someone was trying to kill you when you did not value life of any sort, not even your own, and you did not feel fear.

  Declan sometimes wished he was that way. He knew many cops who were and it made the job a lot easier. But he sure as hell would not want to be partnered with any of them. Actually, he might have been.

  A sudden movement to his left.

  Declan wheeled around with his gun and realized he was face to face with John. They both lowered their weapons and nodded without saying a word. Maybe the kid was learning something after all.

  Declan pointed up the middle of the loop they had just made. John nodded.

  Declan led the way, moving carefully, slowly. They had rushed to get to this point and found nothing. If the perp was still there then he was straight ahead of them somewhere. They just had to move slow and carefully. It was almost like some sort of a Chess game.

  Every single noise was amplified by the silence. Every sound of every bug, every bird, and every sound of nature was ringing in his ears, followed by the clomping sound of their feet pressing down on the grass beneath them. Declan once again concentrated on his breathing, slowly in and out. It was the only thing that centered him sometime.

  Bang!

  The sound exploded in his ears and he thought he’d been shot, but Declan’s reflexes spun his body towards the sound of the explosion and he fired three shots straight ahead towards the shadowy figure.

  The figure fell to the ground as he squeezed off another shot. Declan’s breath was now gasping quickly in and out as he tried to get himself under control and realize what had just occurred. He’d been shot. He knew it.

  But he was not in pain.

  Declan looked at himself, checking his chest, his ribs, his back, legs—everything seemed fine. He had dodged a bullet, literally. Or the perp just missed.

  But he hadn’t missed. It was like a light switch turning on in his head and he found himself spinning and firing as one continuous motion without a moment’s thought or delay. All of his training and experience were right there, all of it summed up in that moment. He thought about what would have happened if he’d been killed. Maria would have received the phone call to be dreaded of all phone calls. The call that every cop’s wife dreads getting. She would have been broken into pieces.

  Or would she? After all she was a cheating, lying bitch. And John was the bastard who was helping her do it.

  Declan looked back at John, ready to bash his head in.

  But he wasn’
t there.

  That was when he heard the gasp.

  John was down. He had been hit in the chest with a bullet. He was the one the perp had shot at first.

  He was on his back, struggling to breathe. Declan quickly got down on the ground beside him to assess the injury. The bullet appeared to have hit him just above the top of the sternum, but he would say it missed the heart. But he wasn’t a doctor and he didn’t know for sure. He was just a cop who’d seen his fair share of shooting victims and gone through standard first aid training at the academy many years ago.

  Blood was trickling out of his mouth, which was a pretty bad sign. John was in trouble. He was not going to live long. If he had any chance of survival then Declan needed to call it into the station right then and have them send an ambulance as fast as possible. And then it was still going to be close. He would have to stay with John and try to keep him from going into shock which would exacerbate his issues and death would become imminent.

  Watching John lying there fighting for his life Declan was filled with emotions. He knew that he could help him. He knew that he could give him a good chance of surviving this, but that was just not in the cards.

  As John watched in horror at what was happening to him Declan could practically read what was going through his mind. He expected him to call for help and then try to comfort him until help arrived.

  Declan had been waiting for a sign. He’d been wondering how he was going to accomplish his objective of killing John Farnsworth and some stupid drug dealer had basically done it for him. Well, almost. It was like a gift from the heavens.

  He had to take advantage of this. No one would know and he would be able to get away with it scot free. He wouldn’t have to think of a scheme; he wouldn’t have to think of a plan to commit the murder and then dispose of the evidence and the body. It was all right here. John Farnsworth was about to become an unlucky fallen cop.

  “Don’t worry, I’m going to call for help,” Declan said.

  He could practically see the relief in John’s eyes.

  “After I kill you,” Declan added.

  John’s eyes filled with terror. He tried to speak, but was only able to choke on blood.

  “Careful now,” Declan said. “You don’t need to say anything. You should just relax. You are hurt pretty bad.”

  Declan looked around to make sure that no one could possibly be there to see them. Somebody may have heard the gunshots, but given the neighborhood that was a daily occurrence and no one was coming to see what was going on.

  “Now, you may be asking yourself why I want to kill you,” Declan said. “Well, I find you to be incredibly annoying, arrogant, self-centered, you are a dangerous cop to be around because you attract the wrong type of attention and you won’t listen to anybody. So there’s that, but mostly I want to kill you because you’ve been fucking my wife.”

  John’s eyes grew wide as saucers.

  “How did I know? Well, looks like you are as bad at hiding that as you are at being a cop. But it’s ok. I’m going to take care of it right now.”

  John tried to plead, but was unable to speak. His eyes were full of fear and Declan found that he was rapidly enjoying that. It was almost…delicious.

  “I will punish my wife over time in various ways, but right now I just want to get rid of you. You are the biggest problem. Goodbye, John.”

  Declan placed his hand over John’s mouth and pinched his nose together between his thumb and index finger.

  John began to writhe in pain, trying to do anything he could to get air, but his body was not responding. He was losing blood fast anyway, and the lack of oxygen he was now dealing with was exacerbating the trauma.

  Declan expected to feel some perverted sense of pleasure while taking this bastard’s life. But instead he felt nothing. Nothing except a mild form of satisfaction that justice was indeed being served. He was taking care of a problem and fixing his marriage all at the same time. No one forced John to do what he did. He brought all of this on himself. There was no one to blame but John.

  Was he to blame somehow? Was he to blame for his marriage dissolving to this point? Declan didn’t think so. As far as he could tell his wife still loved him and there had been no real decline in the relationship. Not as far as he could tell. Was it a purely sexual thing she was doing? Was he not satisfying her in bed anymore? He knew it had been a while since they’d been intimate, but that was one of those things that faded in a marriage over time.

  John tried to wiggle his lips away enough to get some teeth out to bite Declan using this one last futile chance to save his own life. It was beyond pathetic and Declan had to laugh as he applied even more pressure. The pig was not going to get any air at all; he was going to see to that.

  He was suddenly filled with rage and he had to fight the urge to squeeze the man’s face off as he cut off his air supply, but he knew that would leave the wrong kind of evidence. This way it would look like he just went into shock and that his lungs gave out. Plus Declan was taking his time in calling the paramedics. A few minutes would not be able to conclusively say he had done such a thing if anyone even suspected it and there was no reason for them to.

  John stopped moving and his eyes grew dazed and stayed open, unblinking, unclenching. There was no life in there at all. To be honest Declan had only seen basic brain activity in his eyes to begin with. The man was dull as a post.

  Declan kept applying the pressure for a few more minutes. There was no sense in giving up too soon. He was going to make sure that this prick was dead as a doornail. Chalk it up to the streets to take the life of another innocent cop.

  It was a jungle out there, in more ways than one.

  Declan pulled away just then and looked down at the dead body at his feet. It was so strange that this had been a real, live, human being a few minutes ago. And now because of a few fatal errors the man was no more. And soon he would be worm food, rotting in the earth where he belonged so he couldn’t try to destroy anyone else’s life.

  Declan pulled out his phone and called it in to the station.

  “We have shots fired. An officer is down, administering CPR and waiting for paramedics and backup. Suspect is also down. Requesting two ambulances. Repeat, two ambulances.”

  Declan was proud of the urgency in his voice he’d managed to conjure up. Maybe he should retire from police work and go into the theatre. That was an idea. He could join an off Broadway show and play the bad guy. Apparently he was pretty good at it.

  He sat back and waited for the paramedics while he tried to get the laughter out of his system.

  It had been a damned good day.

  Chapter 4

  “Life Goes On”

  “… and that is when I spun and pulled the trigger. Three bullets hit the suspect at fairly close range and he went down. I then noticed that officer Farnsworth was down as well. I assessed the situation and quickly called it in. I put pressure on the wound to stem the bleeding and when he passed out I began to administer CPR because I noticed he was no longer breathing.”

  Declan finished relaying his statement for the third time, this time to Bryan Lawrence, the head of Internal Affairs. It was standard procedure for when you fired your weapon in the field and also for when you witnessed the death of another officer. He had told the story to the lieutenant, then the captain.

  He was surprised by how easily the lying came easily to him. It was a very likely story and most of them already knew that this was what happened from looking at the crime scene. They just needed to get his statement. He just hoped he didn’t have to spend too much time with the station shrink like he did the last time he’d had to fire his weapon. Some cops were not cut out for this line of work and they may have whined like little sissies because they had to shoot down some bad guys, but he was happy and proud to do it each and every time he’d had to gun someone down. Every time it was them or him and he was damned sure in that position to be the victor.
/>   “Ok, it looks like we have everything we need,” Bryan said.

  “Alright. Am I free to go? It’s been a long day and I want to get home to my wife. I haven’t even had time to call her yet. She is probably freaking out if she’s watched the news.”

  “Sure. You will need to meet with the shrink tomorrow, just as a precaution. You’re a veteran cop; you know the drill.”

  Declan nodded in agreement. Shit. He knew that was going to happen.

  “She will call you to let you know what time to meet with her,” Captain Mathews said.

  “Sure thing,” Declan replied. “I’m sure she can give me some tips to smooth this over. Something like this you don’t ever really get over. Losing a friend and colleague, taking another man’s life, and almost losing your own in the process. Even for a veteran like me that is not an easy thing to deal with.”

  Declan could hardly believe the shit spewing from his own mouth, but it seemed to be the right thing to say right then and watching the expressions on everyone’s faces while he said it let him know he was on the right track. So he decided to run with it a bit.

  “I just want everyone to know that John was a good cop with a bright, promising future. But this is the world we live in. This is the world we live in where a good cop can be gunned down for trying to make the streets we live on safer for us all.”

  “Thanks, Declan. We are relying on you to help the younger cops get through this, too. Being a veteran you can show them the ropes so to speak, because as awful as this is it is something they will experience in their future careers. Losing a valuable member of the team can rattle even the most seasoned cop, but it’s especially tough on the rookies,” Captain Mathews said placing his hand on Declan’s shoulder.