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yond a television and a solitary bed. She could sit here for the rest of the night, though the coolness of a mid-October evening in Wisconsin had started to seep through her uniform, especially in the area of her anatomy possessing intimate knowledge of the damp cement. |
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Shifting her rear end in discomfort, D.J. glanced to her right, her gaze coming to rest on the driver's side door of the squad car. It wouldn't hurt to try and call this in. If she kept her head low, the kid would have trouble blowing her brains out through the car door. Once she got her hands on the little creep she'd make him tell her where he'd gotten the gunanother semiautomatic from the sound of the thingand the drugs. Only a kid who'd altered his reality would bother to start a shoot-out with a cop over nothing. Usually troublemakers kept a low profile. |
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For weeks she'd been trying to track down the sudden influx of guns and drugs into the hands of teenagers in Lakeview, Wisconsin. Someone was trying to start up a system of gangs in her happy little town, and D.J. planned to put a stop to it before things got any more out of hand than they already were. Perhaps tonight, with this kid, she'd found a break in the case. |
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Once she made a decision D.J. never hesitated. Crawling on her hands and knees, she reached the car door in seconds. She jerked on the handle and dove for the radio with her left hand, her gun still clasped in her right. |
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A shape shifted beyond the passenger window. D.J.'s neck gave a creak of protest as she jerked her |
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