As Finn pushed through, the fire alarm sounded. “Whoops. They just turned this thing off too.”
They walked out into the cool October night. A crumpled fast-food wrapper rolled across the deserted parking lot. Movement in the shadows by one of the loading docks caught Michael’s eye.
“You see that?” He peered into the dark edges of the parking lot.
“Yep. Your turn to take the lead.”
Pulling out his Glock 17, Michael moved toward the dark corner as a figure sprinted across the pavement and down an incline. He lost him in the line of evergreen trees separating the mall parking from a movie theater—until a shadow shot out from between the trunks. The person slipped around the corner of the yellow stucco building just as Michael pushed through the trees. He was gaining on him. Sounded like Finn was right behind him too.
“Suspect on foot. Gray hoodie, black jeans!” Michael yelled back to his partner.
“I’ll call it in. You go that way. I’ll go around the front.”
After a quick glance over his shoulder to see Finn pulling out his radio and disappearing around the corner, Michael surged forward. A blur of gray and black flashed ahead. “Police! Stop!”
Gray Hoodie slowed enough to look behind him.
Aw, man. It was a kid. Probably too young to even shave. The flash of fear in his eyes must’ve given him extra speed as he bolted around the dumpster. But Michael’s coffee had kicked in. He sped forward, kicking up loose gravel. Lunged and grabbed the kid by the arm.
“Get off me. I didn’t do nothin’!” The teen wriggled, but as skinny as he was, it wasn’t much of a fight.
“If you didn’t do anything, why did you run?” Michael adjusted his hold and spun the kid around to face him.
Finn jogged from the other direction and came up behind the boy. “What do we have here?”
“Good question.” Michael released the kid’s arm. He wouldn’t get far if he decided to take off. “Let’s hear it. Why are you out here? It’s well past curfew.”
“I just needed some air. I couldn’t sleep.” The boy was practically shaking in his ratty sneakers. The stained hoodie hung from his shoulders.
“What’s your name?” Finn asked him.
“Stitch.”
“That can’t be your real name. Let’s see some ID.”
The kid shrugged. “Ain’t got none on me. I can’t drive yet.”
“Then it looks like you get a trip to the precinct.” Finn hooked the kid around his upper arm and led him away.
“I didn’t do nothin’! I swear!” He swung his head, looking from Finn to Michael and back again. He tripped, but Finn’s grasp kept him from hitting the pavement.
A glimmer of metal in the boy’s front pocket caught the orange glow from the streetlight above them.
“What’s in your pocket?” Michael asked. The three of them stopped at the edge of the theater parking lot.
A grubby hand shoved its way into the pocket. “Nothin’.”
Michael held out his own hand. “Show us now. It’s only gonna be worse for you later.”
“It’s just somethin’ I found, is all.”
“Then let’s see it.” Michael made a gimme motion with his hands.
“I swear, I found it. I didn’t steal nothin’.”
Michael had learned with his own brothers that a hard look and long moment of silence could work wonders. He waited.
Finn snickered. “Better spill it, laddie. You’re getting the Martinelli stare-down.”
