shouted.
The back door to the Chinese restaurant suddenly flew open. A busboy stepped between her and her target. He brought a pair of huge plastic garbage bags out of the restaurant, obscuring her line of sight.
“Police! Get out of the way!”
The kid froze, confused. He looked both ways up the alley. Beyond him, Trey Tarver spun and fired again. The second shot smashed into the wall over Jessica’s head— closer this time. The Chinese kid dove to the ground. He was pinned down. Jessica could no longer wait for backup.
Trey Tarver disappeared behind the Dumpster. Jessica hugged the wall, heart pounding, Glock out front. Her back was soaking wet. Well trained for this moment, she ran through the checklist in her mind. Then she threw the checklist out. There was no training for this moment. She edged toward the man with the gun.
“It’s over, Trey,” she yelled. “SWAT’s on the roof. Give it up.”
No reply. He was calling her bluff. He would go out with a blaze, becoming a street legend.
Glass broke. Were there basement windows into these buildings? She looked to her left. Yes. Steel casement windows; some barred, some not.
Shit.
He was getting away. She had to move. She reached the Dumpster, put her back to it, lowered herself to the asphalt. She peered beneath. There was enough light to see a silhouette of Tarver’s feet if he was still on the other side. He wasn’t. Jessica edged around, saw a mound of plastic garbage bags and loose refuse— piled drywall, paint cans, discarded planks of lumber. Tarver was gone. She scanned the end of the alley, saw the broken window.
Had he gone through?
She was just about to return to the street and bring in the troops to search the building when she saw a pair of dress shoes emerging from beneath the pile of stacked plastic garbage bags.
She drew a deep breath, tried to calm herself. It didn’t work. It might be weeks before she actually calmed down.
“Get up, Trey.”
No movement.
Jessica found her wind, continued: “Your Honor, because the suspect had taken two shots at me already, I couldn’t take a chance. When the plastic moved, I fired. It all happened so fast. Before I knew it, I had emptied my entire mag into the suspect.”
A rustling of plastic. “Wait.”
“Thought so,” Jessica said. “Now, very slowly— and I mean very slowly— place the gun on the ground.”
After a few seconds, a hand slid out, a .32 semi-auto ringed on a finger. Tarver put the gun on the ground. Jessica picked it up.
“Now get up. Nice and easy. Hands where I can see them.”
Trey Tarver slowly emerged from the pile of garbage bags. He stood, facing her, hands out to his sides, eyes darting from left to right. He was going to challenge her. After eight years on the force, she knew the look. Trey Tarver had seen her shoot a man not two minutes ago, and he was going to challenge her.
Jessica shook her head. “You don’t want to fuck with me tonight, Trey,” she said. “Your boy hit my partner and I had to shoot him. Plus, you shot at me. What’s worse, you made me snap a heel on my best shoes. Be a man and take your medicine. It’s over.”
Tarver stared at her, trying to melt her cool with his jailhouse burn. After a few seconds, he saw the South Philly in her eyes and realized it wouldn’t work. He put his hands behind his head and interlaced his fingers.
“Now turn around,” Jessica said.
Trey Tarver looked at her legs, her short dress. He smiled. His diamond tooth glimmered in the streetlight. “You first, bitch.”
Bitch?
Bitch?
Jessica glanced back up the alley. The Chinese kid was back in the restaurant. The door was closed. They were alone.
She looked at the ground. Trey was standing on a discarded two-by-six. One end of the board was perched
The back door to the Chinese restaurant suddenly flew open. A busboy stepped between her and her target. He brought a pair of huge plastic garbage bags out of the restaurant, obscuring her line of sight.
“Police! Get out of the way!”
The kid froze, confused. He looked both ways up the alley. Beyond him, Trey Tarver spun and fired again. The second shot smashed into the wall over Jessica’s head— closer this time. The Chinese kid dove to the ground. He was pinned down. Jessica could no longer wait for backup.
Trey Tarver disappeared behind the Dumpster. Jessica hugged the wall, heart pounding, Glock out front. Her back was soaking wet. Well trained for this moment, she ran through the checklist in her mind. Then she threw the checklist out. There was no training for this moment. She edged toward the man with the gun.
“It’s over, Trey,” she yelled. “SWAT’s on the roof. Give it up.”
No reply. He was calling her bluff. He would go out with a blaze, becoming a street legend.
Glass broke. Were there basement windows into these buildings? She looked to her left. Yes. Steel casement windows; some barred, some not.
Shit.
He was getting away. She had to move. She reached the Dumpster, put her back to it, lowered herself to the asphalt. She peered beneath. There was enough light to see a silhouette of Tarver’s feet if he was still on the other side. He wasn’t. Jessica edged around, saw a mound of plastic garbage bags and loose refuse— piled drywall, paint cans, discarded planks of lumber. Tarver was gone. She scanned the end of the alley, saw the broken window.
Had he gone through?
She was just about to return to the street and bring in the troops to search the building when she saw a pair of dress shoes emerging from beneath the pile of stacked plastic garbage bags.
She drew a deep breath, tried to calm herself. It didn’t work. It might be weeks before she actually calmed down.
“Get up, Trey.”
No movement.
Jessica found her wind, continued: “Your Honor, because the suspect had taken two shots at me already, I couldn’t take a chance. When the plastic moved, I fired. It all happened so fast. Before I knew it, I had emptied my entire mag into the suspect.”
A rustling of plastic. “Wait.”
“Thought so,” Jessica said. “Now, very slowly— and I mean very slowly— place the gun on the ground.”
After a few seconds, a hand slid out, a .32 semi-auto ringed on a finger. Tarver put the gun on the ground. Jessica picked it up.
“Now get up. Nice and easy. Hands where I can see them.”
Trey Tarver slowly emerged from the pile of garbage bags. He stood, facing her, hands out to his sides, eyes darting from left to right. He was going to challenge her. After eight years on the force, she knew the look. Trey Tarver had seen her shoot a man not two minutes ago, and he was going to challenge her.
Jessica shook her head. “You don’t want to fuck with me tonight, Trey,” she said. “Your boy hit my partner and I had to shoot him. Plus, you shot at me. What’s worse, you made me snap a heel on my best shoes. Be a man and take your medicine. It’s over.”
Tarver stared at her, trying to melt her cool with his jailhouse burn. After a few seconds, he saw the South Philly in her eyes and realized it wouldn’t work. He put his hands behind his head and interlaced his fingers.
“Now turn around,” Jessica said.
Trey Tarver looked at her legs, her short dress. He smiled. His diamond tooth glimmered in the streetlight. “You first, bitch.”
Bitch?
Bitch?
Jessica glanced back up the alley. The Chinese kid was back in the restaurant. The door was closed. They were alone.
She looked at the ground. Trey was standing on a discarded two-by-six. One end of the board was perched
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