Hearts of Blue
Page 45
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He smiled right back. “But it’s tradition. You can’t break with tradition.”
“Fine, put it on and shut up. I’m trying to drive here.”
Tony tapped a few buttons on his iPod, and seconds later the opening chords to “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC came blasting through the speakers. Don’t laugh. The very first time we were in a high-speed chase, this song had come on the radio, and it had been so appropriately badass that we’d made a tradition out of putting it on when chasing down a stolen vehicle ever since.
It also had a strange way of helping me concentrate, kind of like how surgeons listened to “Stayin’ Alive” during operations. I pressed harder on the gas pedal.
Whoever was behind the wheel of the BMW had some mad skills, though, and even I had a hard time keeping up when they made a sharp left turn. If the music wasn’t so loud, I was sure I’d hear tires squealing. I almost lost control of the wheel, but Tony launched himself forward in time to grab it. Before long we were on the motorway, and I swore loudly, because it was going to be harder to catch him now. Or her.
The assailant dipped dangerously in and out between vehicles, causing several drivers to swerve, almost leading to an accident. It was moments like these that I wondered if we should continue chasing him, because if he kept up the dangerous driving, people were going to get seriously injured, or worse, killed.
Tony was on the radio, reporting our location and proximity to the stolen car, while I tried my best to get closer. I saw the vehicles up ahead start to slow, traffic building up. The BMW pulled left to drive in the empty bus lane, and I followed suit. Unfortunately for him, about half a mile ahead there were a number of buses using the lane, and what with the traffic on the other side, he had nowhere else to go.
I had to brake suddenly when the BMW screeched to a halt and the driver’s-side door flew open. A man exited, and Tony was already out of the patrol car, running after him as I spoke into my radio.
“The perp is now on foot. Male, about 5 feet, 9 inches, wearing jeans and a black hoodie, white trainers. PC Pollard is in pursuit.”
Slamming the door closed behind me, I went after Tony. Thirty or forty yards ahead of me, he chased down the thief, who had jumped over the metal railings separating the road from the area beyond. I was out of breath as I ran, my legs pumping to catch up with them. Tony closed in on him, kicking his foot out to trip him up, and the guy went flying face first into the grass. As I reached them, I heard him swear and try to get back up, but Tony grabbed his arm to stop him as he ordered, “Hands above your head, now!”
The thief began raising his hands as Tony quickly pulled out his cuffs, locking his wrists together and lowering them behind his back. Next he instructed him to turn around, and that was when I came face to face with Liam Cross.
Ten
Liam was just twenty years old. I found this out when I accessed his file back at the station so I could fill in my incident report. He was looking at a court date within the next few weeks, and most likely prison time. The scary thing was, I didn’t know how to feel about that. Stealing cars was like a job to him, and, growing up in his family, he saw it as a means to an end. Steal so you can put food on the table, or don’t, and go hungry.
Lee and his brothers weren’t little kids anymore; they could get out of this racket and make an honest living for themselves if they really wanted to. The problem was, I had no idea how deep in they were, who they had ties to, and if those people would ever let them get out.
I was still sitting at my desk, filling out the report, when Lee strode confidently into the station, all tousled hair and cocky swagger. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt with oil stains down the front, a work shirt tied around his waist. Clearly, he’d just come from the garage. Probably been working on a ringer, I thought to myself disgruntledly.
After that first glance, I refused to look at him again, staring intently at the papers in front of me and listening just as intently to his voice as he spoke. It quickly became apparent that he was there to post bail for Liam. The constable he spoke to scurried off, and Lee stood by the reception. I allowed myself one more glance at him and found him leaning back against the wall, his eyes scanning the space before they found me. I looked away again.
Jumping when my phone buzzed in my pocket, I dropped my pen and pulled it out.
Lee: You arrested my brother?
Oh, he had some nerve. I shouldn’t have responded, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
Karla: I didn’t arrest him. Tony did.
Lee: But you were there.
A second went by, and my anger flared. He was acting like I should have, what? Convinced Tony to let Liam go with a gypsy’s warning and a slap on the wrist?
Lee: Not gonna come over and say hello?
Okay, that did it. Without thinking, I pushed up from my chair and strode across the room. I’d inherited my temper from my dad, and sometimes I just didn’t have the strength to hold it back. Lee smirked when he saw me coming, but there was a hardness behind it. I cursed myself for giving him a reaction. I should have just continued ignoring him.
Checking to make sure nobody was watching, I grabbed his hand, yanking him around the corner and into an empty corridor.
“You’ve got some cheek,” I hissed.
Lee held his arms out as he asked sardonically, “What? No hug? No kiss?”
I slapped down one of his arms. “Quit being a smart-arse. Your little brother could go to prison. He could do a seven-year stretch, and he’s just a kid.” My throat constricted with worry. I didn’t even know Liam, but he looked so much like a younger version of Lee. Maybe that was why the idea of him doing time stressed me out so much.
“Fine, put it on and shut up. I’m trying to drive here.”
Tony tapped a few buttons on his iPod, and seconds later the opening chords to “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC came blasting through the speakers. Don’t laugh. The very first time we were in a high-speed chase, this song had come on the radio, and it had been so appropriately badass that we’d made a tradition out of putting it on when chasing down a stolen vehicle ever since.
It also had a strange way of helping me concentrate, kind of like how surgeons listened to “Stayin’ Alive” during operations. I pressed harder on the gas pedal.
Whoever was behind the wheel of the BMW had some mad skills, though, and even I had a hard time keeping up when they made a sharp left turn. If the music wasn’t so loud, I was sure I’d hear tires squealing. I almost lost control of the wheel, but Tony launched himself forward in time to grab it. Before long we were on the motorway, and I swore loudly, because it was going to be harder to catch him now. Or her.
The assailant dipped dangerously in and out between vehicles, causing several drivers to swerve, almost leading to an accident. It was moments like these that I wondered if we should continue chasing him, because if he kept up the dangerous driving, people were going to get seriously injured, or worse, killed.
Tony was on the radio, reporting our location and proximity to the stolen car, while I tried my best to get closer. I saw the vehicles up ahead start to slow, traffic building up. The BMW pulled left to drive in the empty bus lane, and I followed suit. Unfortunately for him, about half a mile ahead there were a number of buses using the lane, and what with the traffic on the other side, he had nowhere else to go.
I had to brake suddenly when the BMW screeched to a halt and the driver’s-side door flew open. A man exited, and Tony was already out of the patrol car, running after him as I spoke into my radio.
“The perp is now on foot. Male, about 5 feet, 9 inches, wearing jeans and a black hoodie, white trainers. PC Pollard is in pursuit.”
Slamming the door closed behind me, I went after Tony. Thirty or forty yards ahead of me, he chased down the thief, who had jumped over the metal railings separating the road from the area beyond. I was out of breath as I ran, my legs pumping to catch up with them. Tony closed in on him, kicking his foot out to trip him up, and the guy went flying face first into the grass. As I reached them, I heard him swear and try to get back up, but Tony grabbed his arm to stop him as he ordered, “Hands above your head, now!”
The thief began raising his hands as Tony quickly pulled out his cuffs, locking his wrists together and lowering them behind his back. Next he instructed him to turn around, and that was when I came face to face with Liam Cross.
Ten
Liam was just twenty years old. I found this out when I accessed his file back at the station so I could fill in my incident report. He was looking at a court date within the next few weeks, and most likely prison time. The scary thing was, I didn’t know how to feel about that. Stealing cars was like a job to him, and, growing up in his family, he saw it as a means to an end. Steal so you can put food on the table, or don’t, and go hungry.
Lee and his brothers weren’t little kids anymore; they could get out of this racket and make an honest living for themselves if they really wanted to. The problem was, I had no idea how deep in they were, who they had ties to, and if those people would ever let them get out.
I was still sitting at my desk, filling out the report, when Lee strode confidently into the station, all tousled hair and cocky swagger. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt with oil stains down the front, a work shirt tied around his waist. Clearly, he’d just come from the garage. Probably been working on a ringer, I thought to myself disgruntledly.
After that first glance, I refused to look at him again, staring intently at the papers in front of me and listening just as intently to his voice as he spoke. It quickly became apparent that he was there to post bail for Liam. The constable he spoke to scurried off, and Lee stood by the reception. I allowed myself one more glance at him and found him leaning back against the wall, his eyes scanning the space before they found me. I looked away again.
Jumping when my phone buzzed in my pocket, I dropped my pen and pulled it out.
Lee: You arrested my brother?
Oh, he had some nerve. I shouldn’t have responded, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
Karla: I didn’t arrest him. Tony did.
Lee: But you were there.
A second went by, and my anger flared. He was acting like I should have, what? Convinced Tony to let Liam go with a gypsy’s warning and a slap on the wrist?
Lee: Not gonna come over and say hello?
Okay, that did it. Without thinking, I pushed up from my chair and strode across the room. I’d inherited my temper from my dad, and sometimes I just didn’t have the strength to hold it back. Lee smirked when he saw me coming, but there was a hardness behind it. I cursed myself for giving him a reaction. I should have just continued ignoring him.
Checking to make sure nobody was watching, I grabbed his hand, yanking him around the corner and into an empty corridor.
“You’ve got some cheek,” I hissed.
Lee held his arms out as he asked sardonically, “What? No hug? No kiss?”
I slapped down one of his arms. “Quit being a smart-arse. Your little brother could go to prison. He could do a seven-year stretch, and he’s just a kid.” My throat constricted with worry. I didn’t even know Liam, but he looked so much like a younger version of Lee. Maybe that was why the idea of him doing time stressed me out so much.
