1 relay his status?” dispatch asked.
An eternity ticked by in slow seconds before there was a response.
“Gang 1, we’re in the alley west of Chestnut, north of Sixth, code 4, code 4. Suspect in custody.” Nick was still breathing hard but in control.
Carly expelled a breath and wiped sweat from her brow. Code 4—suspect in custody—were wonderful words.
She looked at Joe, who smiled. “That gang sergeant is on it,” he said.
Carly nodded, flushed with relief and pride. “I’m going to check out the car, start the inventory. Do you mind a few more minutes?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Besides, I want to find out what Porter was doing running from the poh-lice.”
“Yeah, I guess I’d like to know why the punk cost me one good partner.”
Carly opened the trunk to grab her report forms. The property in the stolen car needed to be inventoried and then the car itself recovered and sent to the tow yard. She waswalking toward the green sedan when dispatch called their unit designator.
“I’ll take it,” Joe said.
The dispatcher had a request from the unit who was with the passenger, the guy who’d jumped out of the car while Trey kept going. They asked Joe to go to a clear channel. Carly listened as she filled out the information asked for on the tow sheet. Omar Garcia, the unfortunate gang member, had a broken leg. The unit needed to know if they were going to charge him with anything or if he was going to be an RNB—released not booked. Carly could hear him howling about his innocence in the background.
“I just got in the car,” the gangster cried in a plaintive whine. “He just picked me up. I didn’t know it was stolen.”
Joe told the unit to release him, and Carly agreed. Unless they could prove Omar helped steal the car, there was nothing to charge him with. A juvenile might be charged with joyriding in such a case, but Omar was an adult. The medics were transporting him to the hospital anyway, so he wouldn’t be disappearing into the woodwork or stealing more cars anytime soon.
She stuck her head in the 10-29 car and saw a collection of fast-food wrapper trash. Pressing the trunk release, she straightened up in time to see Nick and Mickey walking her way with Trey Porter between them. Flanagan and Lopez were also with them, and everyone but Trey was smiling. Running someone down in a foot pursuit was almost as gratifying as catching someone in a car pursuit. This was a twofer.
“Hey, Joe, what happened?” Nick asked.
“Didn’t pick my feet up, I guess.” He stood, supporting himself on the open patrol car door. “Why’d you run, Trey?”
The gangster didn’t answer and wouldn’t even look at Joe.
“We’ll inventory the car and wait for the tow if you want,” Nick said, leaving Trey to Mickey and walking to where Carly stood.
Suddenly a camera flash went off. Duncan Potter had found them.
Carly gave Nick a look and ignored the camera. “I’m almost done with the vehicle form. I just have to check the trunk.” Together they moved to the trunk. “You can wait for the tow, though. I want to get Joe to the hospital.”
“No problem. You did us a favor. Trey was on our list of guys we wanted to talk to tonight. Thanks for finding him.” Nick glared at Potter. “Back off. You contaminate anything, I’ll be happy to book you.”
Potter said nothing—he rarely did—just kept snapping photos.
Carly concentrated only on Nick. “My pleasure. How’s it going tonight?” she asked. “Things seem tense.”
Nick nodded. “Tense and angry. We’re sitting on gasoline waiting for a match to drop.”
Carly had an overwhelming urge to grab Nick in a hug and implore him to be careful, maybe even whine a little bit. But she realized he needed to focus on the bad guys right now, not on her personal crisis of faith.
“Any indications that the shooting really was a gang hit?”
Nick sighed. “No one is talking. The Ninjas are angry three of their own were
An eternity ticked by in slow seconds before there was a response.
“Gang 1, we’re in the alley west of Chestnut, north of Sixth, code 4, code 4. Suspect in custody.” Nick was still breathing hard but in control.
Carly expelled a breath and wiped sweat from her brow. Code 4—suspect in custody—were wonderful words.
She looked at Joe, who smiled. “That gang sergeant is on it,” he said.
Carly nodded, flushed with relief and pride. “I’m going to check out the car, start the inventory. Do you mind a few more minutes?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Besides, I want to find out what Porter was doing running from the poh-lice.”
“Yeah, I guess I’d like to know why the punk cost me one good partner.”
Carly opened the trunk to grab her report forms. The property in the stolen car needed to be inventoried and then the car itself recovered and sent to the tow yard. She waswalking toward the green sedan when dispatch called their unit designator.
“I’ll take it,” Joe said.
The dispatcher had a request from the unit who was with the passenger, the guy who’d jumped out of the car while Trey kept going. They asked Joe to go to a clear channel. Carly listened as she filled out the information asked for on the tow sheet. Omar Garcia, the unfortunate gang member, had a broken leg. The unit needed to know if they were going to charge him with anything or if he was going to be an RNB—released not booked. Carly could hear him howling about his innocence in the background.
“I just got in the car,” the gangster cried in a plaintive whine. “He just picked me up. I didn’t know it was stolen.”
Joe told the unit to release him, and Carly agreed. Unless they could prove Omar helped steal the car, there was nothing to charge him with. A juvenile might be charged with joyriding in such a case, but Omar was an adult. The medics were transporting him to the hospital anyway, so he wouldn’t be disappearing into the woodwork or stealing more cars anytime soon.
She stuck her head in the 10-29 car and saw a collection of fast-food wrapper trash. Pressing the trunk release, she straightened up in time to see Nick and Mickey walking her way with Trey Porter between them. Flanagan and Lopez were also with them, and everyone but Trey was smiling. Running someone down in a foot pursuit was almost as gratifying as catching someone in a car pursuit. This was a twofer.
“Hey, Joe, what happened?” Nick asked.
“Didn’t pick my feet up, I guess.” He stood, supporting himself on the open patrol car door. “Why’d you run, Trey?”
The gangster didn’t answer and wouldn’t even look at Joe.
“We’ll inventory the car and wait for the tow if you want,” Nick said, leaving Trey to Mickey and walking to where Carly stood.
Suddenly a camera flash went off. Duncan Potter had found them.
Carly gave Nick a look and ignored the camera. “I’m almost done with the vehicle form. I just have to check the trunk.” Together they moved to the trunk. “You can wait for the tow, though. I want to get Joe to the hospital.”
“No problem. You did us a favor. Trey was on our list of guys we wanted to talk to tonight. Thanks for finding him.” Nick glared at Potter. “Back off. You contaminate anything, I’ll be happy to book you.”
Potter said nothing—he rarely did—just kept snapping photos.
Carly concentrated only on Nick. “My pleasure. How’s it going tonight?” she asked. “Things seem tense.”
Nick nodded. “Tense and angry. We’re sitting on gasoline waiting for a match to drop.”
Carly had an overwhelming urge to grab Nick in a hug and implore him to be careful, maybe even whine a little bit. But she realized he needed to focus on the bad guys right now, not on her personal crisis of faith.
“Any indications that the shooting really was a gang hit?”
Nick sighed. “No one is talking. The Ninjas are angry three of their own were
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