Chapter 3
THREE
Olivia pumped her arms and legs, regulating her breathing.
Pushing her normal workout run pace almost to her limit.
If these criminals insisted on running more than six miles, she was going to have a problem.
Junior, on the other hand, seemed to be just fine.
Of course. Her partner chased the bad guys up ahead, running like he could go forever. Like he wasn’t even sweating.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed for her radio, calling in their location in the neighborhood—a complex of townhomes—requesting backup to their location.
Units were on the way, but she needed them here now if they wanted any chance of ending this without anyone getting hurt.
The four convicts and one corrections officer had fled the scene of the crash almost as soon as she and Junior had shown up.
Tires squealed.
She raced around the corner of the next street, and between two rows of garages that faced each other, a pickup truck raced away from them with at least two people inside. A prisoner and the guard? She wasn’t close enough to see. Two more men in orange jumpsuits continued to race down the street.
“Stop! Police!”
One of them, a gray-haired man, hesitated, turning slightly.
As if he wanted to be caught. Did that make any sense?
These were hardened criminals, by the look of them, but she really didn’t know if they were serving long or short sentences.
They could’ve been sent to prison for any number of things.
Olivia lifted her gun slightly, holding it with both of her hands. “Stop, or I shoot!”
She wasn’t about to shoot anyone in the back, even if they were a convicted criminal. Especially not when they were unarmed. She just needed them to believe she might.
Junior closed in on the other man, who had focused back on his attempt to flee.
At the end of the street, a patrol car pulled in with lights flashing. Their K-9 unit. She relaxed a fraction.
The man Junior was chasing made a hard left and ran between two garages. A nondescript man except for the jumpsuit. Dark hair. Pale.
Her older guy did the same but took a right. She followed him down someone’s back walk. He stopped at the door to the house and kicked hard, beside the handle, but it didn’t open.
She closed in. “Hands up! Stay where you are!”
He turned to her.
Recognition flashed through her. She’d been part of the operation that had brought this guy in over a year ago. “Damien Wallace.”
His eyes narrowed. “You want me, come and get me.”
“That’s not how this works, Wallace. Turn around and put your hands on your head. We do this my way.”
He started to chuckle and took a step toward her.
“Sir!” Cole, their K-9 officer, was here. “If you do not comply, if you resist in any way, I will release my K-9, and you will be subdued.”
Wallace’s attention flicked over Olivia’s shoulder, and he didn’t like what he saw.
Olivia couldn’t see behind her, but Cole was no doubt there, holding the collar of his K-9 German shepherd, Titan. She took a slight step to the right, just so she didn’t get in the way of their tag-team training.
She’d had a bad experience with a big dog a long time ago. As a rule, she didn’t hate dogs, but she would never be comfortable around them.
“Turn around. Hands on your head.” Olivia didn’t allow for any argument in her tone.
Behind her, shots rang out across the street. Junior.
Cole said, “You want me to get this?”
She backed up until she was level with Cole, keeping her attention—and her weapon—focused on Wallace.
“Go.” He knew she wanted to get to her partner.
“Copy.” She turned and ran, reassured at leaving Cole to bring in Wallace. He had the man pinned with nowhere to go—and he had his partner with him.
She needed to go help hers.
Olivia raced between the two rows of garages, the backs of the townhouses facing each other. Most were three-story and thin, stacked side by side. Painted with fall tones in different sections so that they were interesting.
One door was open.
She listened first, then entered. “Ramble!”
A distant “In here!” was the only reply.
She raced through the house, which had minimal furniture all in the style of that Swedish store. Light pinewood and low, clean lines.
Toward the front door, in the entryway, Junior sat up against the wall. “He got my gun.”
Olivia hissed. “Looks like he shot you with it.”
“Shoulder.” He gritted his teeth. “Help me up. We need to go after him.”
“Did he take a hostage?”
Junior shook his head. “House was empty.”
“Can you ID him?”
“Never seen him before.”
But he could confirm the man’s identity when they got the prisoner transport list. “Did he say anything?”
“I had him cornered. I closed in and he tackled me. Got the gun.” Junior hissed out another breath. “But before he did…he said, ‘Not looking a gift horse in the mouth.’”
“I’ve never understood that expression.”
Olivia’s teachers had told her that she, uh, wasn’t the smartest person. Which didn’t help her desire to study hard if she was only going to fail anyway, but she’d managed to pass at least. “What is he going to do?”
“Get revenge. He was babbling about ‘little mouses’—that’s what he said—and all the ways to kill them and how fun it’s going to be. Who knows? That guy wasn’t right in the head.”
“That your diagnosis, Doctor Ramble. Clinically insane?”
“My shoulder hurts.”
She got hers under his good arm. “Up we go.” Olivia lifted him to his feet, and they walked out the back door together. Across the road, Cole led a cuffed Wallace out from between two garages, his K-9 walking beside them.
She stiffened. Couldn’t the dog be on a leash?
“Careful, he’ll realize you’re afraid.” Junior seemed to think it was at least a little amusing.
“Ambulance?” Cole called over. “I called in for another car so he can be taken to holding at the station.”
Cole’s K-9 vehicle held him and another cop, and the dog in the back. It wasn’t designed to hold prisoners or suspects, as it had no back seat.
“I don’t need an ambulance.”
Olivia said, “Yes, you do. You were shot.”
“I’ll bet it missed anything vital.”
“Doesn’t matter. You faced down a criminal and got hurt. That makes you a hero.”
Junior said, “Heroes don’t let their duty weapon get stolen.”
Cole’s expression shifted. He knew how bad that was—and not just that it meant a lot of paperwork. They needed to find the criminal who’d run off and get Junior’s gun back, or he would feel responsible for any crime committed using it. Whether he was guilty or not.
Cole said, “Come on,” and led Wallace to his car.
Olivia got on her radio and requested an ambulance for an injured officer. The dispatcher told her that all ambulances were occupied on other calls and asked for more details.
Junior grunted. “I can make it to the car.”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, but he was too close for her to really focus on his face. “Sure?”
“Nothing wrong with my legs.”
Another patrol car pulled onto the street. Officer Anthony Thomas got out. “You guys see a Hispanic guy, kind of pale?”
“Orange jumpsuit?” Cole walked Wallace over to load him in the back of Anthony’s car.
Anthony shot him a look. “That’s the one. I spotted him a couple of streets away. Wasn’t sure if he’d come this way.”
“That’s not the guy who shot me. He was white.”
“I lost him. I think it was Alonzo Sosa.” A tendon in Anthony’s square jaw flexed. “I circled a couple of times, but he got away.” His eyes flared. “I should’ve triple-checked the streets around here and found him.”
Olivia said, “He could be hiding in a hundred places around this complex. It would take hours to go from room to room and search all of them.”
“He got away.”
She said nothing because there was a lot of responsibility to go around, and it wouldn’t lessen Anthony’s feelings to tell him not to have them. “I’m taking Junior back to our car so he can get checked out.”
Anthony nodded. “I’ll get Wallace to the station and touch base with the lieutenant.”
“Keep us updated.”
Cole came back over. “Titan and I are going hunting.”
“Catch something good.” Olivia steered Junior toward the end of the street so they could head to the car. He really didn’t need her help to walk, but she wasn’t interested in letting him go right now. When they were out of earshot of anyone else, she said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
Junior could’ve been killed.
That guy probably thought he had killed her partner.
“Guess you feel like…maybe you should get me an awesome Christmas present right now. Since I might’ve died.”
Olivia would’ve shoved him away if he wasn’t injured. “Who says I didn’t already get you an awesome Christmas present?”
“Sweet.” He moved his arm and groaned. “Ouch.”
“Come on, hero.”
She knew as soon as he was patched up, he’d want to get back to work.
They had escaped criminals to find.