"Did you go to the Pavilion last night?"
He hesitated a moment. "No. I told you. I went to my apartment after I got off my shift. I ordered a pizza and played video games.”
"I need you to step out of the vehicle.”
His face wrinkled. "What for?”
"Step out of the vehicle and put your hands on the hood."
"Am I under arrest?”
"You will be if you don't comply.”
He huffed and grumbled, then flung the door open and stepped out of the vehicle. I climbed out of the car at the same time.
Connor assumed the position and put his hands on the hood. This wasn’t the first time he'd been arrested.
Connor had the same build as the assailant. He wore the same type of skinny jeans and had the same black canvas sneakers.
I was 99% certain this was the guy.
Connor had tried to cover up the odor of marijuana with an air freshener, but it was still there. The law had recently changed, and the odor alone was no longer probable cause. But a half-smoked joint in the ashtray sealed his fate.
“You got a medical card?”
“No.”
“I need you to put your hands behind your back," I said.
"Man, what the fuck!? You’re arresting me? For what? I didn't do anything!”
"Possession of marijuana," I said.
It was still illegal at that point.
I slapped the cuffs around his wrists and read him his rights. The marijuana gave us probable cause to search the rest of the vehicle.
Jack popped the trunk and looked inside. "Well, well, well. Look what we have here.”
14
The plastic jug of sulfuric acid in Connor’s trunk was damning evidence.
I called dispatch for a patrol unit and stuffed the perp in the back when the squad car arrived. Connor’s car was impounded, and we headed to the station. JD and I filled out reports, and I called Isabella. I asked her to look into Connor’s cell history, and she was able to tell me a few interesting things.
We paid the perp a visit in the interrogation room.
“Care to explain why you have acid in your trunk?”
Connor remained silent, staring at me with those narrow eyes as he contemplated his next move.
“Right now, you’re looking at aggravated battery. Second-degree felony. 15 years. That’s if you’re lucky. If the prosecutor wants to call sulphuric acid a deadly weapon, the charges get bumped up. You could be looking at attempted murder. 30 years to life.”
I let that sit there for a moment.
“You’re a reasonably young guy. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life behind bars?”
The wheels turned behind his eyes.
