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While absorbed, self-satisfaction working its influence, the skinny driver saw his chance. He slammed his door open hard, smashing it into Blake. Caught off guard, Blake flew back and barely managed to retain possession of his gun. Once he got his bearings, he saw the driver running, hell bent for freedom, hightailing it up the street to disappear inside a local bar and restaurant.
Shit!
He spoke to the injured person, who’d left her car to stumble over and sit on the curb, blood running in a thin line from her forehead. “Are you okay Ma’am? Can you call an ambulance?”
“I’m fine, officer. Just go and get that son of a bitch before he kills someone.”
He heard the sirens just then and within a few seconds, two cop cars pulled up to the scene. Leaving her in good hands, Blake took off after the assailant.
At full speed, he headed inside to see a table upturned and one of the waiters on his ass in a mess. Another employee, shocked and scared looked on.
“Which way did the guy go?” Blake’s tone cut through their distress and the one on the floor pointed to a hallway leading to the kitchen. “Out the back.”
Blake ran there in time to see the culprit cut through to the next street and dodge the first lane of traffic. Running to catch up, Blake cleared the parked car in front of him, his ass sliding across the hood like a stunt man in a movie.
A thud, sounding the same as the earlier commotion, told him what had happened. Sure enough, the Karma God’s were smiling. The idiot on the pavement, cussing, howling, clutching his leg, was the perpetrator of the first hit and run.
Satisfaction settled in as Blake approached the accident and calmed the female driver who’d correctly exited her vehicle and was approaching the victim. “I swear officer, I didn’t see him. He came out of nowhere.”
Blake smiled and patted her arm, “I’m your witness, ma’am. You didn’t have a chance. He ran right in front of your car, didn’t he?”
“Fuck you, man. I only did that because you were chasing me.” The whiner spit out his vitriol, madder ’n hell at being caught. He tried to stand and fell backwards, then swore again.
Blake smiled and held out his badge. “Sir, I showed this to you at your window. I gave you instructions, and you not only ignored them, you left the scene of yet another accident. So guess what? It’s my pleasure to inform you, you’re under arrest. And when I get through writing my report, you’ll be sporting white hair and a walker by the time the judge consents to give you back your license.”
The gathering crowd began to clap, and it brought Blake’s attention to the many cellphones pointed in his direction.
His famous grin at the photo-takers appeared at dinnertime on the nightly news.
