Chapter 4 #2
“So much for my energy smoothie.” Michael sped down the block and turned at the next corner. The streetlights reflected off the wet streets after the rare rain shower that afternoon.
“I don’t know how you drink it at all.” Finn shuddered. “Or that horrid swill you consume every morning.”
Michael glanced at him. “You’ve gotta be the only cop I know who hates coffee.”
“You don’t know the power of a good Irish breakfast tea. Now that’s the way to fuel your day.”
They pulled up to the little mom-and-pop convenience store before Michael could respond. Game time. They both stepped out of the car but stayed back to assess the situation from behind their doors.
The front door of the store was propped open. Lottery posters and painted advertisements on the windows covered up any line of sight into the place. Michael could only see part of the front counter and the tobacco products behind it. A light inside flickered.
“Police! Come out with your hands up!” Michael waited and listened.
The only sound was whimpering.
Finn called out the same order.
An older teen girl in slouchy joggers and a crop top slowly came out, holding up shaky hands and crying. “They…they left.” Her voice hitched.
Michael ran to her. “Are you okay? Are you sure they’re gone?”
She nodded.
Finn, his weapon out, entered the store. The girl trembled. She was probably scared out of her mind. She didn’t seem injured though.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Why don’t you sit here on the curb?” Michael led her to the edge of the sidewalk, glancing back at the store. He really should cover Finn, but he couldn’t leave the girl like this and unprotected. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Michael asked her.
“I…I just came to get snacks for our study group. I was standing at the back by the drinks when these men started yelling. Which I thought was weird, because Mr. Carter is a quiet guy.”
“Who’s Mr. Carter?”
“The owner. I live right down the block in those apartments, so I come here a lot.” Her eyes widened. “Did they take Mr. Carter? Is he okay? I didn’t see him when I came out.”
“We’ll find him.” Michael tried to give her an encouraging nod. “What happened after the yelling?”
“They started shooting.”
“Can you tell me how many shooters were there?”
“I don’t know.” She whimpered. “I couldn’t see the front counter. I just covered my head and prayed.” Tears coursed down her face. “They were yelling. And shooting. And punching things, I think.”
“What were they saying?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice was just a shaky whisper. So much for an eyewitness statement. Hopefully there was surveillance footage.
More sirens blared, two cop cars screeching into the parking lot. Officer Jasmine DuPont jogged up. Michael passed the teen off to her, anxious to get back to Finn and make sure he was covered. The girl had said the assailants were gone, but he would be checking himself.
Michael kept a tight grip on his gun. “Finn? Find anything?”
He stepped over a pile of chips and meat sticks, the upturned rack lying across the front aisle. As he swept the area, the only movement that caught his eye was the fan in the corner.
“It’s all clear in the back. They must’ve had a getaway car behind the building.” Finn walked past the candy, back toward the front entrance.
A moan sounded from behind the counter. Michael holstered his gun and ran toward it. On the floor lay a man, bloodied and bruised. Finn rushed over.
“Sir?” Finn called out.
“This must be Mr. Carter. The witness said he’s the owner.” Michael knelt beside him.
The man didn’t move. His chest rose and fell, but the rather large pool of blood under his head couldn’t be good.
Who had he ticked off?
There were no bullet wounds that Michael noticed, but he could hardly see the man’s eyes for the swollen contusions on his face. And with the angle his arm was bent at, a fractured ulna would be listed as one of many injuries in the report. Being passed out was probably a blessing at this point.
“He’s been roughed up good,” Michael mumbled as he continued to scan the injuries.
“You’re telling me.” Finn took a pulse. “We need to call an ambulance. Why don’t I do that, and you can take over the first aid, Dr. Mike.” Finn stepped back and called for medical assistance.
“Sorry, buddy.” Michael lifted the least swollen eye.
Pupil dilated normally. Breathing shallow.
Pulse a little high, indicative of stress and pain.
He searched for something to splint the broken arm.
A pile of papers lay scattered at the man’s feet, but under the counter, by a couple mousetraps, was a cardboard box he could use.
Michael pushed aside what looked like bank statements.
He grabbed the cardboard and had started to stabilize the arm with a dust cloth when the EMTs arrived on scene and took over.
He stepped back against the counter. He wasn’t a doctor or even a med student anymore. That part of his life was over.
“Come on.” Finn nudged him. “Let’s give them space.”
“Right.” Michael might not be a doctor, but he had his own job to do.
He couldn’t heal the beaten man, but he could figure out who’d hurt him and find justice for him.
He tried to imagine the scene as he stood there behind the cash register.
At least two men coming in the front. Weapons out.
Michael scanned the counter. The cash register was closed, but a small stack of envelopes lay there, one partially open.
Looked like he’d been going through his mail.
The name Isaac Carter, typed across the top of the letterhead, gave him a pretty clear identity, at least for the man on the ground.
The EMTs boarded Mr. Carter and carried him out.
Finn chatted with Officer DuPont by a wine display.
Michael was about to join them when a thump from the small cabinet under the counter made the hairs on the back of his arms stand up.
Now the mousetraps made sense.
Ugh. He hated mice.
He should just leave it and walk away. Let Mr. Carter de—
Sniffle. Thump.
Okay, that was too big to be a mouse.
Michael slowly opened the door of the cabinet. A little boy with big brown eyes stared back at him and fell into his arms.