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six
Castillo always did this little thing, just before they served a warrant. She tested her badass persona on her camera phone, turning the corners of her mouth down just slightly and letting her dark eyes narrow until they looked like a creature peering at you from a dark cave entrance. Sean had seen the face a million times and it still made the hairs rise on his arms. Nobody would guess the woman behind that face was a mother of three who baked cookies on her days off for her daughters’ various sports teams. What made her a good detective also made her a good mother: her ride-or-die vigilance in both endeavors.
Once Castillo had her face right, she smoothed her chest, maybe checking her vest.
“Ready?” Sean rested his hand on the door of their minivan—the perfect undercover police vehicle—waiting for his partner’s approval.
Castillo patted her red lipstick into place with a forefinger. “Ready.”
They pushed open the gate on the tall, junkyard chain-link fence, ignoring the rusty Beware of Dog sign, and wove their way through piles of tires, metal parts, broken bicycles, wood and trash. They approached the residence—a small, single level structure with rotting siding—in the cool early hours of the morning. The house was in about as good a shape as the junk that surrounded it, but it sat on a couple dozen acres of land that Sean was certain held stolen cars and parts. He and Castillo had put in enough work to know there was a chop shop, or various installments of such, buried on this property. “Let’s see if Mr. Richardson is up yet.” Sean brushed aside a set of brass wind chimes shaped like birds that hung over a gimpy rocking chair.
“Rest of the crew’s pulling up.” Castillo looked over her shoulder.
“Damn.” A warrant for this much property was going to take a lot of help to get the search done, but Sean had wanted the stealth approach on this job. Cole Richardson had a long rap sheet of minor infractions that went back to his teenage years. He lived alone, having inherited the holdings from his grandfather, who had raised him, and, according to court records, regularly beat him. There had been many different women in and out of the residence over time, several who had called in domestic disturbances and then refused to press charges. Sean had been working on him for nearly a year, starting with a string of stolen vehicles and vehicle parts in the county and surrounding areas. The first lead on Richardson had been a single photo of a catalytic converter on social media, posted and quickly taken down. From there, it had been a steady game of cat and mouse that Sean played with patience and persistence until finally, with enough undercover digging and stakeouts, it had garnered him his warrant. Based on everything he’d learned, Sean had a gut feeling Richardson wasn’t going to take this warrant lying down.
Right before Castillo went to knock, Sean stopped her. “Remember, this guy is really bad news. That last domestic call? The woman’s face looked like hamburger.”
Castillo’s expression didn’t change. “Yep. Why do you think I was so happy to get this warrant?” She rapped sharply on the door and waited. After some time passed, the faded lace curtains that covered the window shifted. Some rustling sounds came from inside but nobody came to the door.
Castillo rapped again. “Mr. Richardson,” she called. “Dogwood County Police. We have a warrant to search your premises.”
A little more rustling, then nothing.
Sean turned to Castillo, her cold-blooded stare in place, and said, as calmly as he might discuss the weather, “He’s going to run.”
A bang from a slammed door came from out back.
Sean and Castillo regarded each other. She popped her gum, something she called mint berry, even though Sean wanted to know how it could be mintandberry, and lifted one shoulder slightly.What you gonna do?
Sean took off, leaving Castillo with a slightly stunned expression. He wove his way through piles of junk, hopping over some and threading around others. Out back he caught sight of Richardson fleeing through the overgrown grasses toward a barn nestled just inside clumps of ancient pin oaks, harboring maples and hollies and all the creepy crawlies. Richardson wasn’t under arrest yet, but based on what they found after executing the warrant, he most likely would be.
Sean wasn’t going to lose him. Not after all the work he’d put in. He dug deep, and despite the lack of athletic clothing and Richardson’s head start, Sean picked up speed. Richardson—who turned out to be surprisingly spry—also cranked up the heat.
Tall, overgrown grass turned into dirt, with sticks and low-lying shrubs that clawed at and caught Sean’s shins. Thorns snagged his pant legs and tore at his skin. He was wearing knockoff oxfords, but Richardson had sneakers, a fact Sean knew because he could see the waffle treads on the bottom of Richardson’s shoes.
Sean drove hard, but it wasn’t enough. Richardson didn’t slow and Sean’s lungs were burning. Sean was starting to drag. He recalled the race against Delaney, where he’d felt exactly the same way.
Sean’s breath came in heavy gasps, his undershirt soaked beneath his body armor. “Cole!” He called out Richardson’s first name, a tactic he’d learned long ago.
Sure enough, Richardson’s pace faltered. He looked over his shoulder.
Classic mistake.
Richardson stumbled. His body jerked, then went face-first to the ground.
Sean gave a final push and raced up alongside him, just as the man was scrambling to his knees. “Freeze, Cole!”
Richardson fell back to the ground, maybe knowing he wouldn’t make it this time. Sweat dripped from Sean’s nose and landed on Richardson’s dirty white undershirt as he knelt on the ground and pinned one arm, then the next, behind Richardson’s back. “You’re under arrest,” Sean panted, his heart slamming into his chest as his words rushed out. “For...interfering...with a police...investigation. You also...” Sean paused, still gasping for air “...have the right...to remain...silent.”
Which Sean would now do, his voice officially gone.
“What is going on with you?” Castillo narrowed her eyes as she poured a shot of whiskey into Sean’s glass. The day had been long and hard, and by the time they’d finished with the search warrant and were back at the station, Sean noted the end of their shift and pulled out a selection of airplane bottles from last year’s Secret Santa gift exchange, which he kept stashed in his bottom drawer.
“What’re you talking about?” Sean took his first sip. Cheaper stuff than what he kept at home, so it didn’t have the same depth of flavors, but the warmth of the scotch filled his head and soothed his nerves. Like getting a high five for a long, successful day.
“What do you mean, what am I talking about?” Castillo had the opposite of her cave creature face on now. This was her unrestrained, lots of white teeth, eyes twinkling, “I’m going to tease you mercilessly” face. “I haven’t seen you run that fast...” Castillo tilted her head to the side “...ever.”
“Not fast enough, though.”
