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decided to be helpful, she would have to get out of this mess on her own. |
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Had it only been fifteen minutes ago when she'd stopped at the all-night gas station for a cup of coffee? |
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D.J. checked her watch. More like twenty minutes, but who was counting now? |
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Another shot shattered the window of the squad car above her, raining glass onto her head. D.J. sighed. This kid was getting on her nerves. |
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"How about you give me the gun, and we have a talk with juvenile?" she shouted. "If you quit using me for target practice and tell me where you got the gun, I'll even drive you there myself." The pop of her back tire as a bullet rendered it useless was her answer. |
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"Guess not," D.J. mumbled, and allowed her thoughts to return to the gas station. |
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She had filled her cup and, while taking a sip, her gaze had strayed to the front of the store where a kid, no more than fourteen or fifteen, stood speaking with the clerk. As she watched, the boy slammed his fist onto the counter. "Don't tell me I can't come in here, old man," he shouted. "I'll make you sorry you said that to me. Just wait and see." |
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The kid turned and ran out of the store. |
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As threats went, it wasn't much. But the clerk looked upset, so D.J. nodded to say she would take care of it and followed the boy outside. |
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Expecting to find no sign of him, she stopped short when she nearly bumped into the kid on the curb. |
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"I think we'd better have a talk." |
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