Glancing back even further, he saw where he’d dropped his shotgun when he’d dove away from the bullet. The weapon was just barely visible in the tall grass.
He decided against retrieving it now. The big thing would just slow him down. His handgun would work better in a foot pursuit.
Cautiously, he inched around the building’s corner.
Just as he’d suspected, the shooter wasn’t lying in wait, ready to pick him off. He’d already scaled the waist-high fence and was cutting through the other backyard that lay beyond it.
“We’ve got a runner!” Jack called out while sprinting after him.
At forty-two, Jack wasn’t old.
He wasn’t young, either. His aching knees throbbed every night to remind him of that.
Still, he stayed in good shape and the short fence wasn’t too much of an obstacle. It didn’t slow him very much. But his quarry had a head start and was skinny, with far less muscle than Jack’s broad frame possessed. The guy’s lanky legs carried him swiftly across the yard. Instead of going for the gate, he veered right, toward the fence that separated it from the next property.
Damn it,Jack thought.This guy is going to keep hopping fences to slow me down rather than just going to the street.
For a moment, it looked as if the man’s luck changed, though. Losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and his silver handgun tumbled beyond his grasp. Rather than spending the precious few seconds to collect it, he hurried to his feet and kept going.
He was bounding the other fence when Jack stopped to retrieve the firearm. It couldn’t just be left behind. What if kids lived in that house and they came out to play in the backyard? Keeping everyone safe took precedent, always.
As soon as Jack had it tucked into his waistband, he continued the pursuit.
The suspect’s fall hadn’t turned out to be the stroke of good luck Jack was hoping for. On one hand, it had disarmed him.Removing a firearm from a dangerous situation was always a positive. The perp had already shown that he was more than willing to use it.
But it had taken precious time for Jack to secure the weapon, and this was a situation where seconds counted. So, in actuality, that tumble had slowed Jack down more than it had the perp.
Oh well. Jack would just keep pressing on.
He’d eventually catch his man. He always did. First things first: another hurdle to vault.
“Damn. My knees are really going to tell me about this tonight!” he grunted, even though there was no one around to hear.
His black dress slacks tore on the top of the fence, but that was the least of his concerns. Once his feet smashed into the next yard, he pumped his legs hard.
“Police! Stop where you are!” he yelled.
He didn’t expect the command to do much good, so he wasn’t surprised when the guy kept on running.
The chase continued all the way across the backyard, with the suspect once again not veering toward the gate and the front of the house. He wanted to keep hopping fences, it seemed.
That’s exactly what he did. Eventually, Jack knew it would have to stop once they reached the end of the street. But the perp was most likely betting Jack would tire out before then.
They wouldn’t make it that far to see.
The guy vaulted the next fence and zipped past a doghouse that rested on the nearby concrete-slab patio. The pitbull inside didn’t seem to like that very much, because he charged out with a vicious snarl and attacked the invader.
Screams filled the air as the suspect was knocked flat on his back. With the dog on top of him, he thrashed about, trying to twist free of the beast. It was no use. The dog was just too damn strong and not in the mood to show mercy.
Jack couldn’t just sit back and let the man be mauled. As angry as the dog seemed, he might very well tear the intruder from limb to limb. So, he grabbed the pepper spray clipped to his hip and jumped the fence. Yelling and trying to make as much noise as possible, Jack stomped his feet. He had no desire to actually hurt the animal and would only do that if it was absolutely necessary to save a life.
The snarling pitbull looked up at Jack. A strand of slobber hung from its heavy jowls. Those small, narrow eyes gave Jack the creeps, though he tried not to show it. Dogs were smart. He was fully convinced they could sense fear. This one was clearly there for the purpose of guarding that yard. And he sure didn’t look like he was going to quit that job anytime soon.
To the left, just off the patio and resting near the tan brick wall of the house, was an old motorboat that was in worse shape than the rest of the property was—and that was saying something.
The boat was on a trailer, but by the looks of it, some time had passed since it had been taken to any body of water. A quick glance at the trailer told Jack it was in the same condition as the boat. But none of that mattered to him. It rested high enough that the dog couldn’t reach it.
“Get up there!” he yelled to the man.
