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ONE
JED
Beer.Boxing. Bed. In that order.
Idling at a light, I breathed a sigh of relief that my day was done. My dog Freddy would share the couch with me, of course, but he’d have to abstain from the beer, despite the fact that the mutt had developed a taste for it some years ago at a college frat party.
Too bad. I wasn’t about to contribute to the delinquency of a geriatric dog.
A red car blitzed past me, barely waiting until the light turned green, going so fast it was clear the driver never intended to slow down. At a glance, I glimpsed dealer plates, and shit, was that a Porsche?
Up ahead it slammed on its brakes at another light, then screeched forward as soon as the light turned green.
I hit the gas, giving chase as years of training had taught me to do. A car like that in Kensington Square, operating at that rate of speed, couldn’t be a good sign.
It didn’t take me long to catch up with the car, in spite of how fast it was going. Coming up behind the vehicle, I switched lanes until I was right on its tail before flashing my lights several times.
Pull over, jerk.
The car slowed at the flash of my lights then sped up. Clenching my jaw, I stomped on the accelerator out of instinct.
I’d given chase a few times in my career, and the burst of adrenaline that zinged through my veins was like pure kerosene. In fact, it was one of the things I enjoyed most—
Missed most.
I wasn’t a cop, not anymore. And I had no reason to be flagging down a suspicious car. This wasn’t my department issued Crown Vic, and I no longer had a Detective’s badge in my wallet.
I was a Dateline NBC episode waiting to happen.
Man pretends to be cop to corner innocent female victim. News at eleven.
Not that I could be certain she was female. Hell, she could’ve been a six-hundred pound dude in a gorilla suit for all I knew. I’d just seen someone breaking the law and reacted.
Easing off the gas, I switched lanes. I didn’t back off entirely.
I’m a citizen, aren’t I? I can make an arrest anyway.
Yeah, there was some rationalization. As if citizen’s arrests ever held up in court. The cases that got thrown out on a technicality were a sore enough spot in the department without imagining the look on the DA’s face when this file came across his desk.
I sighed, flexing my hand around the steering wheel. Pursuing this speed demon wasn’t going to get me anywhere good. Even if she/he/it was still signaling in and out of lanes like a damn drag racer.
I was no longer a member of law enforcement. If I called this in, dispatch would probably blow me off. It was Friday night. They had more important things to handle than a joyrider.
The driver took a sharp right, then a sharp left, drawing us deeper into a residential area. At least the traffic was much less dense here. Fewer opportunities for the driver to do serious damage to someone else—or himself.
I continued to follow her. Arresting her wasn’t an option but tailing her was. That wasn’t illegal. If they didn’t stop soon, I’d just call it in and be done with it.
I patted my pockets and glanced around the front seat. Where was my damn phone?
A bang up ahead made me jerk the wheel in reflex. The Porsche fishtailed in an intersection and curbed it hard enough to snap an axle. “Fucking asshole.”
I finally located my phone, sending it flying to the floor in the process. “Dammit.” I fumbled around the dark floorboard. I glanced up and saw a small figure jump out of the car and appear to slump over the vehicle’s almost nonexistent back end.
Oh God, was she hurt?
Heart racing, I gave up on the phone and signaled toward the side street closest to the intersection before slamming on the brakes. The lack of traffic at this time of night in this neighborhood was a godsend.
Another car pulled over to help—or boost the rims off the fancy sports car. You just never knew for sure, and after the years I’d spent on the force, unfortunately, I’d lost a lot of faith in the kindness of humans.
