“We need to set up a perimeter on the east side of Fifteenth Ave.”
Fuck that. Goddamn perimeter guys always miss out on the good stuff. He ignored the call and doused his flashing light bar and gunned the car up Eighth toward the park. The guy’ll go into the park. They always go into the fucking park, figuring the patrol cars won’t follow them into the trees.
“Suspect is…uh…in the alley moving north…in the six hundred block…uh…toward the park.”
Nice, Roger, he thought, and cut the wheel and jumped a sidewalk onto the sod of the park’s soccer field and felt the fishtail of the Ford’s ass end sliding on grass.
“Description of the suspect, four-eighteen?” dispatch asked.
Roger was doing a hell of a job but it didn’t sound like he was gonna keep up much longer and this fuck is bound to go for the thick pines at the north side. If he makes that fence behind the library and across Federal, we’re screwed.
He accelerated, throwing up a rooster-tail of grass and black dirt over the field, and killed his headlights. He used the spillover of light from the baseball diamond to aim for the tree line. The radio crackled again and he heard the rustle of metal clacking again but this time no one spoke.
“Four-eighteen? Four-eighteen, what’s your location?” the dispatcher said, worry now sneaking into her voice.
He reached the trees and slurred the car to a stop and kept his eyes at head level, scanning the field for movement. The high baseball lights glowed up and out, leaving the grass in shadow. He opened the driver’s door, congratulated himself on remembering to kill the dome light when the shift started, and stepped out. The air was heavy with the drizzle and the smell of fresh-cut grass. He unsnapped the hammer strap from the 9mm in his holster and squinted, tracking to the west and listening. His eye stopped on something on the black background, a dull flash of white that was there, then gone, then there again. He took a few steps in that direction when the radio came back to life.
“Four-eighteen. Suspect in custody,” Roger said.
He could hear the crackle in both the radio on his shirt and in the air out in front of him and he started jogging.
“Ten-four, four-eighteen. Location?” said the dispatcher.
“On the soccer field, north end of the park.”
As he got closer, he could see Roger, one knee in the back of a big man who was facedown in the grass, bobbing his head from side to side and spitting out fresh clippings that were pasted onto his sweaty face.
“Yo, Rog,” he said as he reached the two. “Olympic fucking speed, man. I didn’t know you were a cross-country star, man.”
Roger’s face was glistening in the spare light. His breathing was heavy and he kept his left hand on the man’s shoulder blades and wiped at the sweat with the short sleeve of his uniform. He already had handcuffs on the man and he let a grin start on the lighted side of his face.
“Figured he’d head this way and I knew once we got in the clear I’d get him in a sprint,” Roger said.
“Olympic fucking speed,” he repeated, standing over Roger and the suspect, watching across the park and picking up the blue and red flashes of other units rolling up on the perimeter.
“Hear that, shit-head? Snared your fat ass with Olympic speed,” he said and kicked the soles of the man’s thick leather boots.
“Where’d you come in, anyway?” Roger said, finally standing up. “I didn’t see your car.”
“I figured the park, too,” he said. “But not on that speed of yours, Rog. Thought I’d cut him off at the tree line.”
The two cops talked as if there were no third party, both of them watching the other marked cars swing their headlights into the parking area to the west of the field. They both leaned over and grabbed an arm and brought him to his knees.
“On your feet, shit-head. Time to march the perp march, brother,” he said.
“I ain’t your fuckin’ brother,” the man said, slurring his words, talking through clenched teeth like his mouth didn’t work right. “An’ I didn’ do no felony. I was jus’ walkin’ downa street an’ this fuck…”
The man snorted when the first spray of Mace hit him in the face. The second shot of chemical started him coughing and squirming between them.