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“Come on, man. Just pick one. It isn’t rocket surgery,” one man said.
“I think you mean rocket science,” the other replied.
“That’s the joke, dude. Seriously?”
During the beat of silence, Cassie kept her eyes trained on Harris to see what the detective would do. She wanted to believe these guys were just concerned citizens, but the first man sounded older and tougher, like he’d been around the block a few times. His voice was ragged, both from his walk to the store and from years of cigarette usage. As soon as Cassie thought it, she could smell the smoke wafting toward them.
The second voice sounded younger. Hesitant and maybe even scared, like he was nervous but trying to prove his mettle. He wanted to make an impression and was weighing his options. Trying to figure out what the right answer was. Cassie could hear the heat of shame creeping into his voice.
“If I had to choose between only eating tacos or only eating pizza for the rest of my life, I would choose pizza.” The shame was quickly replaced with pride. “Because I could also get a taco pizza. You can’t have a pizza taco, can you?”
“A pizza taco is basically a calzone.”
Harris and Cassie exchanged a look. This wasn’t exactly the conversation of a pair of criminal masterminds, but for the life of her, Cassie couldn’t figure out why the two men were here and what they wanted. And what it had to do with pizza or tacos.
“I think pizza is a better medium for taco ingredients. A calzone isn’t exactly—”
“Dude, really?” The first man paused and then breathed out. Cassie imagined him blowing cigarette smoke into the kid’s face in annoyance. “It’s not that deep. Let’s just get the rest of this stuff and get out of here. I got shit to do today.”
“Why do they need this junk, anyway? It’s not worth anything.”
“Boss said—”
As their voices neared, Cassie took an involuntary step backwards. The floor creaked, and the first man cut off. There was a hushed silence. All four of them held their breath. A shiver went down Cassie’s spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. Harris didn’t bother shooting her a look, but Cassie could feel the frustration radiating off her.
“What was that?” the kid asked.
The only indication that the other man had made a move was another creak of the floorboard. But it was enough of a warning for Harris to anticipate him coming around the corner, and as soon as his foot crossed the threshold into the room, she rushed forward.
Cassie watched as Harris brought her knee up into the man’s groin. He was younger than Cassie had imagined, but still around ten years older than them. He was thin and tanned and wore a ratty baseball hat and a scraggly beard. His fingers and neck were tattooed, which she could see peeking out from under his sweatshirt.
The man’s eyes went wide as he grabbed his crotch. Harris wasted no time elbowing him in the side of the head, which sent him sprawling across the floor. He landed like a sack of flour, and Harris was already on top of him, her knee pressed into his back.
A noise made Cassie turn, and she locked eyes with the young kid. Now that she got a good look at him, she couldn’t imagine he was eighteen yet. He still had a layer of baby fat in his face and a wispy mustache stood out against his bronze skin. He was tall—at least six feet—with a hint of muscle under a bulky coat. He probably could’ve shoved Cassie to the side and gotten the upper hand with Harris, but the fear in his eyes told her the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. And before she could say anything, he turned and sprinted out the door.
Cassie looked back to Harris, who was struggling to keep the writhing man beneath her. She was sweating with effort, but as she yanked his arm up farther along his back, he quieted down. She locked eyes with Cassie as the kid bolted.
“Don’t let him get away,” she barked, then turned her attention back to the first man.
Cassie had no choice. Despite her better judgment, she took off running after the boy.
Of course, she had no idea what she’d do if she caught up to the kid. Harris was likely thinking the same thing she was—the younger man would be easier to interrogate than the older one.
But she had to catch him first.
Cassie burst through the back door and skidded across the alleyway. In the last hour, the ice and snow had melted into a thick slurry that provided no traction for her boots. But the cold wind on her fa
ce woke her up, even if the sun’s bright light blinded her temporarily. As she blinked away the spots in her vision, she caught sight of one of the kid’s shoes just as he turned the corner. She sped after him, hot on his heels.
The kid was fast, but he wasted valuable energy checking over his shoulder every couple of seconds. Cassie thanked God for the traction on her boots. She wasn’t exactly an all-star athlete, but she tried to stay in shape. Still, her lungs burned, and her eyes watered from the cold wind whipping her face. She refused to blink away the tears, afraid she’d lose sight of her target.
“Stop!” She was going for commanding, but it came out desperate. “Wait! We just want to talk!”
The kid didn’t listen. He put his head down and whipped around the next corner. They were about a block away from the jewelry store now, heading in the opposite direction from Harris’s rental car, and Cassie started to panic. What if there were others? Harris had taken the larger threat, but there was no guarantee Cassie wasn’t getting herself into a worse situation.
Just as Cassie turned the corner, she realized she’d been led into a trap. The kid was waiting there for her, his elbow out and aimed at her diaphragm. When it connected, all the air whooshed out of her lungs. The pain caused her vision to go white, and she collapsed to her knees. She raised a hand to protect her face, unsure of what he planned to do next. Knock her out? Pull a weapon and threaten her? He was clearly afraid, but he could still go on the offensive. And she was at a severe disadvantage.
Luckily for her, he had no intention of hurting her. As Cassie gathered her senses, still wheezing from the lack of oxygen in her lungs, she watched as the kid sprinted down the block and jumped into a plain white box truck. Cassie had just enough time to pull out her phone and zoom into the license plate to take a picture before he hit the gas.
