Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“I’ve got the warrant!” Ryan arrived from the courthouse, holding the document triumphantly in the air.
I surged out of my seat, grabbing my hat. “Let’s go.”
Cheryl logged the time, and the five of us split up into two patrol cars. We were going to raid the hair salon. We had established significant evidence to conduct a search, and we were looking for anything criminal: drugs, guns, and cash. I couldn’t give Lindsey the heads-up—that would have been unprofessional. I just had to hope that we could get the entire staff locked down safely before conducting our search.
We turned our lights on as we cruised down the street, storming the mere five blocks more for a show of power than necessity. When executing any search, one of the most important things was to establish authority from the get-go. We had a couple of ways of doing that, but the most common was to go in wearing all our gear, carrying our guns. That usually did the trick and spooked any suspects into cooperation.
We parked in front of the salon, sirens blazing. The five of us climbed out onto the street, wearing uniforms and vests, armed with our search warrant. It was Wednesday, the day they seemed to conduct most of their nefarious activity. We had reason to believe the entire management was in attendance that day. It wasn’t often that Katrina, Lena, and the assistant manager were in the building at the same time, but once a month, we discovered, they had a team meeting. We had documented all of their comings and goings over the two months we had been watching them. Now that we knew their patterns, it was time to stop them before they hurt anyone else.
I swung the door open and stepped inside, followed by my team. Lindsey looked up from her customer, a smile hovering behind her eyes. Then she saw our play of power, and her jaw dropped open. Ava was there too, and the two women exchanged a frightened glance.
“What’s going on?” Lindsey asked.
I moved past her to the back office where I knew the managers were hiding. I pounded my fist against the wood, identifying myself as a police officer.
“Police! Open up!”
There was a scuffling noise from inside, followed by a clatter. I tried the doorknob and found it locked. I put my shoulder against the particleboard and pushed, opening the door with minimal force. A window leading to the back alley was open, and I just caught the back of the assistant manager as she slid down to the ground.
“They’re running!” I yelled back into the salon before climbing through the open window.
My feet hit the pavement outside, and I took off running. I could see the women ahead of me, bobbing up and down as they sped away from the scene of the crime. They split up, one running back toward the main street, one continuing down the back alley, another diving deep into the neighborhood behind the shops. I followed Katrina, who had veered into the neighborhood.
I chased her down sleepy streets, past crosswalks painted bright white for safety. She tried the handle of every car door she passed, slowing her progress. When she hit on one that opened, she yanked it free from the frame and kept running, putting up a barrier between us. I shifted around the open door and kept gaining on her.
She swerved left and then right, trying to throw me off. I chose a middle path, closing the distance until I could almost touch her. She panicked, climbing up someone’s sloping front lawn and hopping the fence into their backyard. I was about to follow when I heard the loud bark of a dog closing in on her.
She shrieked, stumbling back the way she came. When I reached the fence, she was clinging to it, desperate to climb over. A family canine was growling at her heels, its mouth full of her pant leg. I reached over the fence and gathered her to my chest, pulling her free. She sobbed, collapsing into my arms as I laid on the handcuffs and read her the Miranda rights.
The family came running from their front door, a mom, dad, and two kids. They stopped dead in their tracks, finding a policeman struggling with the neighborhood salon owner on their front lawn. All the fight had gone out of Katrina, and I didn’t have to warn her to be silent. She stood patiently, just thankful to be alive.
“What’s happening here?” the dad asked.
“Is that your dog?” I asked.
“It’s my dog,” one of the kids said.
“Your dog deserves a medal.” I winked. “They caught a bad guy today.”
“Really?” the kid shrieked.
“Yeah,” I laughed, walking my prisoner back down to the sidewalk. I said nothing on the entire march back to the salon. She didn’t give me any trouble, her head bowed so that her hair created a curtain in front of her eyes. She didn’t look at me or say anything. I took a glance at her torn pant leg and could see a little scratch running down into one shoe. We would have to get that looked at. She wasn’t limping, but I wanted to cross all my t’s for this case. It wouldn’t do to have her claim bodily injury in the pursuit of justice.