“There he is!” I said, pointing at a red Ford Focus barreling toward us on the opposite side of the street, and Paxton swung the car around to follow the Focus in a maneuver I was sure they didn’t teach at the police academy. I almost pissed myself because the rear of the car fishtailed, and I thought for sure we were going to wreck before he was able to straighten out the wheel and smash the gas pedal again.
We didn’t. I rested my hand on my heart.
Paxton grinned at me and flipped the siren on. He was like a kid with that thing, and for a second he had the shiniest smile I’d ever seen. The wailing added to the chorus of the other cruisers behind us. I looked over my shoulder and caught the eyes of Stauder, a cop who worked out of the Downtown Station, and he gave me the middle finger because Paxton had cut him off as the lead car. I fired a double middle-finger salute right back at him, and his partner slapped his arm and waved a hand, probably telling him to pay attention to driving.
“He’s a feisty one, isn’t he? Mr. Ford Focus, what is your problem?” Paxton tutted, unruffled, and reminded me why I liked him in the first place—he was unshakable under pressure, unlike most of the fucks we worked with.
We came to an intersection, and the Focus wobbled toward the right. “He’s turning!” I shouted at Paxton.
“Oh, I see it. He thinks he’ll fool us. Hold on.”
Paxton spun the wheel and kept right on the Focus’s ass, and the man swerved. Paxton cursed and did the same thing because a boy on a bicycle was cowering in the middle of the street with his hands over his head. He couldn’t be more than fifteen, and that would be bad press for our badges, so I was happy Paxton missed him. The kid looked up, and I swore I could see his soul nearly leave his body as he made eye contact with me and his mouth fell open.
The Focus in front of us swerved back into the correct lane, but something happened and the car jerked to the right. Maybe one of the tires blew. We were going way too fast, and I assumed the man behind the wheel wasn’t trained for this type of situation because he lost control quickly.
“Fuck,” Paxton and I said at the same time as the Focus swerved farther right and slammed through a group of women standing in front of a shoe store, then plowed into the building itself. Paxton stomped on the brakes and the abrupt stop left my stomach feeling like it was still six blocks back.
“Oh God,” Paxton said, and I could hear the horror in his tone. “Those poor people.”
We fumbled with our seat belts, then flew out of the car. I had my service weapon in my hands in an instant, running toward the Focus buried by gray cinder blocks and half the sign for Zen’s Shoes. Paxton glanced up at the facade, which seemed to be swaying more than was healthy—buildings shouldn’t move like that. I coughed, and he waved his hand at the dust that hung in the air. I passed two bloody women on the sidewalk, and there had to be more of them because there had been at least eight in the group, but I couldn’t shift gears to aid-and-support mode until the suspect was arrested. The wailing of sirens on the cruisers that pulled in behind us ensured someone would help the victims.
“This is why we shouldn’t chase people in the city,” Paxton muttered, mostly to himself. I didn’t give a shit if civilians died, not really, but he did. We’d been instructed to go after the fleeing driver, and there would be a circus in the media now, blaming us—rather than the man who caused the problem in the first place.
“Not now.”
“I’ve told them more than once we should track down people like this later to de-escalate these situations. I know they were worried he could be armed and that he might shoot someone, but the roadway was the clearest danger,” Paxton said, rubbing sweat from his temple on his shoulder while keeping his gun pointed straight ahead. “It’s not a good idea—”
“Not now,” I barked at him, and he nodded as we approached the car from the left side. I couldn’t have gone on the other side if I wanted to because it was blocked by piles of damaged wall.
“Yes, bloody hell,” he said, and I knew he’d simply been rambling away his nerves, but I couldn’t wait to see who had caused all this mayhem.
We both gasped when the door was slung open by the driver.
“On your knees! Now!” I shouted.
Paxton stood at the ready by my side, gun aimed toward the ground rather than the suspect. He was always more willing to give people a chance than me. One of these days I would be shooting someone before they took him out.
The man sobbed as he climbed out of the car. He looked sickly pale, and blood streamed down his nostrils, probably from the airbag that was hanging out of the steering wheel. His white T-shirt was covered in drops of brilliant red, and he had a ratty military backpack strapped tight to his body. His blond hair was greasy, as if he hadn’t seen the inside of a shower for a long time.
“On the ground!”
There was shouting nearby, but I ignored it and focused on the criminal in front of us.
“No, you’ll think I did it! And I didn’t! I’m not going down this way.” He turned to flee.
Paxton swore.
I took off running and secured my gun in the holster while I was on the move. It helped that the guy wasn’t very fast, and I slammed into his bony back and sent him sprawling to the ground onto a pile of cinder blocks, which had to hurt, but I didn’t particularly care. Once I had my hands on his shoulders, I rolled him and did a quick pat down, then stood and dragged him onto his feet. He grimaced and pure terror had his eyes rolling back in his head.
“What do you think, we’ll think you did?” Paxton demanded as he stopped at my side. I had to give my partner credit, he was barely huffing at all. His face was dirty from all the dust floating around us and he swiped his arm across his forehead.
“Kill Wennie,” the perp howled. He spat blood on the sidewalk. “But I didn’t. I just knew he had a stash of money in the house, so I took it. He’s dead, he don’t need it.” He cried until bloody snot ran down his face. “Wennie was already dead when I got there!”
“Where?” Paxton snarled, and delight skittered along my spine. I would love to see him lose it on a suspect, but so far I’d never witnessed it.
The perp shook his head.
I pointed my finger in his face as his pathetic existence began to wear on me. I wished I could throw him out into the street and run him over. “You already hurt people, you idiot. Some of those women you mowed down—” I gestured behind us. “—on the sidewalk are dead, for sure. No way around it.”
