Chapter 1
Wednesday 3:00 p.m.
Another day dealing with the slime of the world. Detective David Whitman sighed and peered out the windshield of the sheriff’s department vehicle through his aviators at the ratty house a block ahead. He rolled his neck. Relief accompanied a series of pops.
“Tense much?” His partner and friend Brandon Pierce smacked the piece of gum he’d shoved in his mouth a few minutes ago. A pre-raid habit. One that annoyed David, but if it kept his partner calm, he wouldn’t complain. The key to going home after each shift—never lose focus.
He glared at his partner. “Just because you think you’re bulletproof doesn’t mean I do.” He knew all too well how one stray bullet changed lives. He’d lived it.
Get out of your head, man.
David shifted in the passenger seat and adjusted his Kevlar vest. A check of his tactical pants pockets confirmed the extra ammo.
Search warrant Wednesdays. David inhaled, held it for ten seconds, and exhaled. As a member of ICAC—the Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force—he prepped and planned for days like today. Still, he itched with uncertainty. Things could go wrong in an instant. And he refused to lose anyone else he loved. His team, above everything else, was family.
He tapped twice on his vest pocket that held a picture of his parents and sister, plus another of his deceased fiancée. The ritual grounded him during the more dangerous aspect of his job.
“You think he’ll be there?” Brandon tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs.
David examined the neighborhood. “Our Confidential Informant had eyes on him a little while ago.” He’d repressed the urge to hug his CI when the man disclosed the location of Jimmy Roberts.
One by one, the ICAC team removed child predators from the streets. At times, it seemed the unsavory individuals popped up faster than baby rabbits. But each arrest gave the team a sense of satisfaction that kept them going.
David drummed his fingers on his thigh. The warm summer air draped over him and sweat trickled between his shoulder blades.
“Let’s go make friends.” Brandon gave him a cheesy grin and slipped from the vehicle.
“Finally.” David sent up a quick prayer and followed his partner's actions. His body hummed with adrenaline as he approached the weather-worn cottage.
He and Brandon slipped to either side of the tattered screen at the front entry and placed their backs against the house. He shifted and peeked inside. His line of sight, a direct path through the interior.
Jimmy Roberts, child predator and all-around creep, sprinted toward the rear of the dwelling.
The back door swung open and slammed against the rattrap of a house.
“Pierce!” David flung open the screen door.
“On it!” Brandon’s voice trailed off as he jumped from the porch and tore around the side yard. For a guy who had ten years on David, the man could run.
David weaved through the garbage-laden house to the rear exit. The stench made his eyes water. He blinked, clearing his vision, and bolted down the steps into the cluttered backyard.
The suspect had panicked and taken off before David’s teammates Sandy and Rick moved to cover the rear entrance.
So much for serving a quiet little warrant.
Beer cans and garbage cluttered the ground making the obstacle course more difficult. He dodged a grill and bumped into a lawn chair. With a grunt, he got his footing and continued the chase.
What happened to Brandon?
“Police! Stop!” David tapped his mic. “Heading north towards the back alley.”
“Copy.” Sandy’s voice wobbled over the radio.
Times like today, he agreed with the people who considered him weird for his choice of work, but he found purpose and maybe a little justice working to take down those who committed crimes against children. Plus, it took him away from the big city streets. After the tragic death of his fiancée, he wanted nothing to do with that world. His heart couldn’t take another loss like that.
He vaulted over a small wall. “Police! Stop!” He mentally rolled his eyes. As if that had worked the first time.
Boots crunching in the dried grass, David’s foot landed in a shallow hole. His ankle twisted and he stumbled. Fire shot through his leg, but he gritted his teeth and kept running.
