Lee arrived at the spot, a dumpster located behind a now abandoned strip mall. He drove around the place twice just to make sure that he didn’t see anything out of place. The asphalt of the parking lot was cracked and growing a bumper crop of rank weeds. One rusted out hulk of a pickup truck was parked on two flat tires. Its windows were broken out and it had been tagged by a number of the local graffiti artists. The back alley was separated from the property next door by some boxwoods that had grown to monstrous proportions. All of this but no people in sight.
Satisfied he stopped the car and got out. A stiff wind whipped against him as he walked to the green and rust red metal box. Sanders had said that it would be in a brown paper parcel taped underneath. Lee knelt down and felt along the bottom, careful not to cut himself on any rusty shards of broken metal. His effort was rewarded with a smooth package sealed with heavy gray tape. “Looks like you were a man of your word.”
He wrenched it free and started to open it. A second thought about the words he had just spoken stopped him. He doubted seriously that Sanders was anything of the kind. His coming here had been fueled by judgment clouded by emotion. Who was to say that this thing wouldn’t blow up in his face? For that matter, if it didn’t would the “antidote” even work? Maybe the only purpose that his being here served was to be kept from assisting his friends. The sound of an engine and tires crunching on loose gravel made his head snap up.
There, pulling into the alley’s mouth was a patrol car. No way that was an accident. It didn’t block him in per se. He could get to his car and get out the other way, but shaking the tail with a lead that small in a car as old as the one he was driving was unlikely. He slipped his burden in his pocket and held up his hands. He recognized the patrolman that got out of the passenger side as Steve Calhoon. The strawberry blond hair was a dead giveaway. He was average height and had the beginnings of a pot belly. If memory served the other person would be his partner Jenna Yardsley.
Calhoon’s hand was on his gun, but it was still in its holster. “Hi Lee.” He said in a voice that was trained into the neutral tone you used with perps, authoritative without being confrontational.
“Calhoon.” Lee nodded.
“You need to come back to the station with us.” It wasn’t quite a demand, too polite for that. But it carried the weight of that holstered weapon
Lee shook his head. “Afraid I can’t do that. I know why you’re here and I know you and Jenna are good cops, honest cops. You know I am too right?”
“I’ve got my orders Lee. You know that. So honest or no, you need to come with us. If there’s a problem we can work that out downtown. Don’t make me draw down on you.” His tone indicated how distasteful that would be. Pulling your gun on a brother officer was never anything you wanted to have to do.
“Tell you what. You let me go and I promise that after all this is over I’ll turn myself in.” Lee knew how ridiculous that sounded coming out of his mouth. There was no way he’d let himself go were their situations reversed.
“Now you know better than that. The chief himself put out the APB on you.”
“So how did you know I’d be here?” Lee lowered his hands very slowly.
“Anonymous tip phoned in. We were the closest unit.”
Lee could hear the chief’s muffled voice in his head. Paulie made the “anonymous tip” there was little question of that in Lee’s mind. Still, it didn’t matter who did it or why. Lee needed a way out and there was only one. It might wind up getting him shot, but that was a chance he needed to take. “Fine. You got me fair and square.” He walked to Calhoon very slowly, bringing both hands together for the cuffs.
Satisfied, the patrolman removed his hand from the butt of his pistol and went for his cuffs.
Lee could see Jenna through the windshield. She was a handsome brunette woman and always reminded him a bit of Lauren Bacall. The powerful car’s engine still rumbled and her hands stayed on the wheel, just in case Lee took off on foot. An uneven place in the pavement provided him with a likely looking place to trip. He did, but instead of falling he stumbled into a crouching run. That carried him into the door, pinning Steve between it and the car. A quick right to the man’s chin put him out, at least for a moment.
A yank on the door and the patrolman’s body fell to the pavement. Jenna couldn’t believe what she had just seen. Still her training kicked in and she yanked the shotgun from its clip on the dash. Before she could put her finger in the trigger guard though, Lee had reached in and grabbed her by her right forearm. She was dragged out onto her partner’s sprawled form and now Lee had the shotgun.
“Sorry Jenna. Now, you need to lie down on your stomach.” She did as she was told, her face carved from stone. He put his knee into her back and cuffed her one handed. He gave Calhoon the same treatment. Reliving them of radios, weapons, and keys took a few minutes. Then he helped them both to a sitting position against the wall. Sometime during this process Calhoon woke up.
Knowing what was going on, if not why he looked up at Lee. “Some honest cop.” He groaned a little. “I think you cracked one of my ribs.”
“If what you’ve been told about me was true you’d both be dead right about now.” He watched them take that in and saw Jenna nod. “As it is I need your car and guns for a bit. In return I want you to do me a favor.”
“After what you pulled?” Jenna snorted. “Give me one good god damn reason.”
“I think I can do that.” He pulled out the parcel. “I’ve been told that this will bring Sara McDowell out of her coma. When you get picked up I want you to get it to the hospital. After I do what I need to do, I will turn myself in. Then you guys get a turn. That’s the best I can do.” Without waiting for an answer he pitched the package between them and ran to the cruiser.
The police band radio was on, but quiet. He turned it up and pointed the car’s nose towards downtown. He wanted to deliver the antidote in person, but he had promised to help these people in their fight. It was after all his fight too. Pondering his future was something he’d had time to do and he knew that he didn’t have one as a police officer anywhere. If he didn’t wind up in prison then he’d need to disappear. He didn’t have any hope that the woman he loved would recover. He had no family to go to and precious few friends. In that he and Matt York had much in common.
He was now just a few blocks from the coffee shop. The police cruiser pulled over and he grabbed the microphone. “Attention all units, officers down at 4000 Marketplace Drive.” That was the address where the old strip mall stood. “Please respond.” He racked the mike and finished driving the rest of the distance. Turning onto the street he saw some bikers pass him going in the other direction at a good clip. Then he saw the devastation where the front door used to be. He grabbed the shotgun and parked. Free of the car he sprinted the last few yards, ready for almost anything.
