Yeah, I’m new on the job—a rookie—but I have the drive, and something my partner doesn’t have … young legs. Sure, Pete, the veteran who's been on the force three years, has some time on me, but he’s grown fat, slowed by an abundance of Krispy Kremes and Jolt cola.
That’s why I’m chasing the suspect, while my brother-in-blue calls it in back at the squad car. Robbery. Alleged robbery. But from my perspective, there’s nothing alleged about it. I see the perp, as he runs and winds between buildings to lose me, with the stolen goods under his arm. And I’ve got him right in my sights. Gaining, in fact.
The suspect, he looks young, ignores my command and climbs awkwardly over a fence into someone’s backyard. It slows him and I’m there, grasping a piece of his shirt before he wriggles out and sprints on. I scale the fence easily, and give him one more chance to surrender.
“I said ‘Freeze’!”
My radio cracks to life, “You talkin’ to me, Pauly?”
Frustration doesn’t slow my pursuit as I respond to my partner. “No, Pete. The suspect.”
“You get him yet?” Pete’s voice sounds relaxed and he smacks loudly into my radio. He better save me some Krispy Kremes!
“Almost.” I assure him.
Weaving a bit from fatigue, the suspect looks back at me, fear in his eyes.
“Don’t …” he pants, “tackle me this time, Pauly.”
My lip curls at the memory. This suspect’s gotten faster since our last foot race. But, then again, so have I.
Our shadows collide as I dive on the perp and bring him to the lawn. He gets a face full of grass as I fumble for my cuffs. With the boy squirming against my hold, I don’t even hear the sliding door open behind me.
“Pauly,” a woman’s voice interrupts my apprehension, “let your brother up, and call Pete on your walkie-talkie. It’s time for lunch.”
I turn and glare at the woman, who shakes her head at us.
“Okay, Mom.” With a sigh, I release my little brother, the fugitive, who jumps to his feet and slugs me in the arm.
“I said don’t tackle me, Pauly!” he whines. “Next time, I get to be the cop.”
My mother steps outside, surveying the yard. “Can’t you boys find a park to play in? Look at my garden!”
Reluctantly, I call Pete in, who emerges a little too quickly from the side of the house. “Time to eat!” He claps.
Accomplices. All of them.
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