Page 16 of Chasing Honor

“One-Palmer-One,” I responded.

“One-Palmer-One, Two-Delta-Five requesting backup at 307 Main Street. Burglary in progress.”

“One-Palmer-One, copy. Any further code response?”

“ASAP. One-Palmer-One.”

“Copy that. One-Palmer-One en route.”

Lorenz flipped on the lights and sirens and headed in the direction of the burglary.

“Think it’s another convenience store?” he asked taking a right corner so fast I had to grab the oh shit bar to keep myself upright. “This would be number five in the last seven days.”

With the drug problem being what it was in the area, increased armed robberies were on the rise. The crime rate had spiked over the last few months, leaving our chief’s ass on the line, as if he could control the criminal behavior in the area. The department was short-staffed, hence most of us were pulling doubles and weekend duty. My once monthly on-call schedule had recently changed to once weekly. I didn’t mind the overtime, but the burnout rate in the department was increasing. I didn’t want to be next.

“One-Palmer-One. Be warned, shots fired. Repeat, shots fired.”

“One-Palmer-One, copy,” I answered.

“Dispatch requesting additional units to the scene, 307 Main. Call in,” Sammy the dispatch operator came back over the air.

“Fuck,” Lorenz barked.

Red and blue flashing lights greeted us as we pulled up to the scene. Two cars—four officers, none of them in sight.

We exited the car, and before pulling my Smith & Wesson .45 acp from my holster I rapped my fist against my bulletproof vest, a habit pressed upon me by my dad and uncles—verify your equipment. I double checked every time, without fail. In a smooth draw I had my weapon in hand. Pulling the radio from my shoulder, I called in our location.

“Two-Delta-Five. Coming in west side—” My transmission was interrupted by two loud bangs.

“Christ,” Lorenz cursed.

“One-Palmer-One, two shots fired. Entering west side.”

I clipped my radio back and waited for Lorenz to open the door. It was an ass pucker factor one-hundred when entering a building with no visual of what’s waiting inside. I nodded, and he pushed it open. I went right, he went left. We had breaching a room down to as much of a science as one could when there were thousands of variables you couldn’t account for.

“Clear,” we both called out and continued through the stockroom.

The door to the hall was open, guns at the ready, we made our move.

“He’s hit,” an officer yelled.

I fumbled with my radio to call dispatch. “Officer down. Need a bus. ASAP.”

“Suspect fled on foot. Jenkins and Tebbetts followed,” Patterson told us, leaning over his downed partner, applying pressure to a leg wound. “Stay with me, Mike. Don’t close your eyes.”

“Fucking burns,” Mike complained. The growing pool around his thigh was not a good sign.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Patterson yelled. “Where’s that ambulance?”

And as if he’d called it up with his outburst, a wailing siren sounded as the ambulance pulled up out front. Lorenz jogged to the front of the store and I stood guard over the two officers.

My head reeled at seeing a fellow officer injured. I knew my job was dangerous; every day when I strapped on my vest and sidearm I was reminded of just how much. But seeing one of the good guys lying on the ground, bleeding, was a sock to the face. A gut check, reminding me that at any time I could be the one injured or killed in the line of duty. And where would that leave Carson? I was the only parent she had.

The EMT pushed his way in and Patterson stood, his partner’s blood dripping from his hands. I looked around and found an open box of cleaning rags beside the stockroom door. I grabbed a few and tossed them at Patterson.

No words were exchanged—none were needed, all his concentration still on his partner. Mike was quickly loaded onto a gurney, Patterson following out the front door, leaving me and Lorenz alone to stare at a puddle of thick, red gore on the floor.

“Let’s get to work.” He slapped my shoulder, pulling my eyes from the horror.