Code 4 Crucial

Code 4 Crucial

Wayne Meyer

Published by Wayne Meyer at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Wayne Meyer

Acknowledgments

It would be an honor to thank all those whom assisted me in this book. I do fear though that some might not want to be associated with this, if it turns out to be a lame project. I usually do what I think is right, even when told not to by intelligent and reasonable people. The people I am thanking, in reality could probably care less; they did it out of friendship. I still wanted to spare them any embarrassment; sometimes just knowing me can be enough of a burden by itself.

So thank you, to those who read it and gave me a critique, considering how painful it must have been, especially in the first few versions. I have appreciated the constructive criticisms and suggestions, which directed this story. My greatest thanks though are to those decent and dedicated officers who gave me the foundation for the positive connotations. I would also like to thank those few who are not; they gave me the fodder for such a controversial story. The good know who they are and really need no acknowledgement: their lives are usually reward enough. The others usually do not realize they are the way they are; if they did they probably wouldn’t be that kind of individual. Well… maybe not.

Introduction

This book was a trying endeavor that was 17 years in the making. It is loosely based on 30 years of police incidents, conversations, thoughts and attitudes.

Though this book is a work of fiction most should be able to relate to it, others may just criticize.

Law enforcement is one of the noblest professions. It is also one of the most frustrating and stressful. The lines between good and evil can be very fine and unclear at times. It is probably the most controversial and scrutinized entity of our society. Because of the nature of the job, individuals who have devoted their lives to it, can be changed and affected in extreme and unusual ways. I do not condone any of the disturbing and questionable acts portrayed in this story. It is a fictional premise denoting some basic and complex human qualities and frailties.

As a tribute, two of my characters are named after actual officers that I respected and admired. Sadly one recently died of a heart attack at 55 in 2011.

I tried to create my own unique writing style. Please read and enjoy. If you do not find it exciting, humorous or insightful, I have let you down and for that I will apologize now.

If you are concerned that I may have given out information on how to better commit crimes don’t worry. Most criminals aren’t smart enough to apply the information correctly and probably don’t read much anyway. If they were and they did, they probably wouldn’t be crooks. Also I have not divulged any information that hasn’t already been dispensed through our numerous media forums or is not currently being taught in our prison systems.

CHAPTER ONE

RED (white & blue) HERRING:

There they were future events were now set in motion. The motorist never thought he would welcome the flashing red and blue patrol car lights. Like most drivers, he dreaded any contact with the cops, but tonight was different. He encouraged it, having spent hours planning for this moment. As he listened to the traffic stop on a portable police radio, he was not concerned about the wire leading to his ear. He had done a very good job of making the set-up look like one of those older style hearing aids. It complemented his disguise; in fact, it added credibility.

Baker-two to dispatch, stopping.

Dispatch to Baker-two, go ahead.

King Charles Edward, one two one at Magellan and Navaho. It’s a light-blue sedan, occupied one time, older white male.

Copy Baker-two. Unit to cover?

Baker-three, from Division and Franklin.

A backup unit being dispatched; was anticipated. Their ETA was roughly two minutes. More than likely, the unit; would be waved off before getting halfway there. If not… another day, it had waited this long. The violator knew that Baker units were usually one-man cars, so the target was probably alone. The plan was following its course so far, but he continued to monitor the radio for any contingencies. It was a graveyard shift and though a Sunday night first watch officers were more protective of their own, they had to be.

He was scanning all channels, the WSP, the local Sheriff's office and even some private security companies that had emergency access to the frequency. Most the other Baker units were busy with a three-car fatality accident involving a drunk driver. The State units usually packed it in around 2300 hours on Sundays and the County units were usually spread-out so thin; that they probably would not drive by unless dispatched.

The time and chosen place was perfect. The area was under current development. Only a few houses had started to spring up. It was hilly terrain and still relatively deserted. The few homes that were there were well into the two hundred thousand ranges and up. The people who built them expected to be undisturbed for a few years. At least until the mass migration of the ever-popular apartment complexes overflowed the area, like low-budget lemmings.

Since it was just past midnight, the upwardly mobile, business and administrative work forces were sound asleep. The social parties of Friday and Saturday night had taken their toll. If anyone had heard anything, they would probably be too tired, to investigate. Yet, this area was not so remote as to cause alarm to officers.

The offending driver knew the dispatcher would probably run a stolen and wants check on his license plate. He lauded himself on his transportation choice. It had taken only a couple hours of checking dealerships to find one that had left the keys in several vehicles. Auto lots are notorious for their cavalier attitude towards their cars and theft prevention, much to the dismay of police agencies and insurance companies. This auto broker just aided and abetted another crime.

After finding the right car for the job, he took the keys to an all-night locksmith. He made a duplicate key and replaced the original. It was a flawless plan for obtaining a clean getaway car. If the car had not been in good working order, it would not be on display. He took the car earlier this same night. No one would miss it.

The driver watched the side mirror as the officer approached. He was impressed with his tactics. The officer had parked with the wheels turned slightly toward traffic, reinforcing that it was a single officer. A two-man car usually pulls in straight to afford both officers limited, but equal protection from the car doors. After cranking the wheel, the officer had focused the spotlight on the back of his head. The driver knew this was to disorient him and impair his night vision. It did not matter, there was plenty of time to readjust and if what he expected to happen later did; this would no longer be a problem. The cop also used his high beams and takedown lights to illuminate the car even further.

This officer was responding as expected. As he approached, he was some-what silhouetted by the curtain of light, which was unavoidable. To add to the distraction, the officer directed his flashlight into the driver side mirror. This was a newer rechargeable Stream-Light, with twenty-five-thousand candlepower when fully charged, and this one was. As he approached, he made sure to stay close to the side of his patrol car. He was pretty much out of sight except when the driver looked in the side mirror. This also helped protect officers from possibly, being struck by passing cars. When the cop reached the rear bumper, the driver felt a slight thud. This cop was good; he just checked the trunk to see if it was ajar. Few cops regularly did this. If they did, it was usually in higher-risk situations.

The officer rounded the crucial point, entering into which is known as the Danger zone and he was well aware of it. He placed his right hand on his firearm and turned sideways, his gun hand was now away from the driver. He did a shuffle step and eased closer, using his flashlight to light up the occupant. He hesitated a moment, until he could see both the drivers hands. Noting that they were on the steering wheel, he made the final step, which placed him slightly behind the door. This location puts the driver at a slight disadvantage and is safer for the officer.

May I see your license and registration please?

Did I do something wrong?

Sir, you ran that stop sign on Magellan.

Back there?

Yes sir, that's a four-way stop.

Well officer, you were off a ways. I thought mine was a yield. I'm sorry, I don't live around here.

Where are you going at this time of night?

My daughter moved to a new apartment, but I can't seem to find it. Her car wouldn't start. She needs a ride to work.

Where’s that?

She's a waitress at the Peach Barrel. She doesn't normally work nights, but a coworker had an emergency.

The officer relaxed, taking a stance directly in front of the window. The sight of this person told him it was just another routine stop on an inattentive driver. The gray wig, black rimmed bifocals and sixties clothes were causing the desired effect. The hearing aid and make-up also did their part in convincing the officer it was a low threat contact.

Officer Hendrickson…is it? Do you still want my license and registration?

Yes, and proof of insurance too please.

Am I going to get a ticket?

No, I think I’ll give you a warning this time, but I still need the info for my log. I still have to show my sarge I'm doing somethin’ out here.

I understand… thank you. I'm sorry, but I don't have my card with me. I’m covered through Empire Life. I think my wife has it in her purse.

Okay, I'll be right back.

The conversation took longer than the driver would like. The back-up unit could be getting close. He became concerned, wondering if he would have to delay the mission. He hoped not, Hendrickson was one of the names on his, could do list.

Baker-three to Baker-two, your status?

His backup was checking since he had not heard from him for almost a minute.

Code-four. Go to tach-two.

Baker-three to two on two…go ahead.

Disregard, it’s just a verbal on a senior citizen.

Received. I got another vehicle I wanna turn on anyway. Get a hold of me later for a ten-seven.

Copy.

Code-four, just what the driver wanted to hear. The backup unit; had been called off. There was not going to be anyone to interfere now. He looked in his mirror and watched as the officer wrote down the information. He felt confident that he would not call in a name check or question the differences on the registration, if he actually even looked at it. In fact, the driver was not even concerned that he wrote it down, another aspect of his well thought out plan.

Baker-two, do you want the R.O. info? asked the female dispatcher.

No, I'll be clearing shortly. Any calls pending?

Negative.

Hendrickson put on his uniform hat and approached. The driver suspected this officer was a good PR man. He appeared to be about twenty-nine years old and maybe a cop for three or four-year’s tops. This centurion was clue-less, a pawn in the over-all big picture. His only mistake tonight was having a bad street reputation and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was nothing to ensure his mortality; his badge number was flashing NEXT on the Now Serving sign in the coroner's office.

Hendrickson casually walked back up to the car. He was not carrying his flashlight anymore. In fact, his hands were busy adjusting his tie. He might have been thinking this contact was someone who might just someday have a business opportunity for him; that is when he decided to get out of police work. He leaned in the open window.

Here you go, drive carefully and please pay more attention to the signs. Also…don't forget to wear your seat belt.

He handed back the paper work and out of reflex looked at the occupant's hands again. He turned and started to walk away.

Excuse me officer, you forgot to . . .

Hendrickson turned and stepped back up. He did not look at the driver. He just gazed down the street with his right ear turned towards the old man to hear him better. What did you . . .? was all he got out.

His head had just turned to face the driver when the blast from a .357 Magnum round tore into his face at a pointblank range. The bullet hit the bridge of his nose almost dead center. This is a popular place for police sharpshooters to aim when taking out a suspect from the front. The well-placed shot caused instantaneous death. It prevented the need for a second or third round, which would have definitely drawn more attention.

A froth of blood and brain-matter sprayed the shooter. The officer fell backwards, after being

shot. It was not like in the movies, when a persons blown off his feet. The blast forced him up right, where he teetered for a moment before collapsing. The impact of the back of his head on the pavement made an ominous thud. It was over instantly, a cold and lonely way to die.

After wiping any fingerprints off the driver’s license, the killer threw it out the window. It landed next to the slain cop’s extended left leg and was only immediately visible from an angle.

The killer drove off slowly. He knew of too many cases where criminals sped from the scene of a successful crime, only to draw attention to themselves with racing engines and squealing tires. Prisons are full of poor planners. This was not going to happen in this case. He continued to scan the police frequencies; the radio could throw off potential pursuers.

He figured it would be approximately five minutes before anyone became alarmed. He was wrong; within thirty seconds, a passing motorist spotted the fallen officer and stopped. He grabbed the patrol cars mike and screamed into it.

Help! An officer’s been shot.

The dispatcher feared the worst. She checked the assignment board to see who was out on a contact and most likely down. She did a good job in maintaining her composure.

What's your location?

We're near Magellan and Navaho. Oh-my-God! He's not breathing.

Is the shooter still in the area? asked the dispatcher with unbelievable composure.

I don't know. I didn't see anything except this cop on the ground.

Please stay with him until our units get there.

I will…hurry!

CHAPTER TWO

ESCAPE, EVADE & ELUDE:

(Fight or flight, flight tonight)

The dispatcher hit the alert-tones to get every ones undivided attention. It is surprising to learn of how many officers actually turn a deaf ear, unless called directly.

Attention all units! An officer’s down at Magellan and Navaho. Respond code-three, ambulance and fire en route, secure scene and standby for a supervisor.

Baker-three, I’m from Magellan and Sioux.

The latest radio traffic surprised the killer. Damn it! He's too close, he muttered. He knew he couldn’t panic, he had prepared for this. If it got too hot, there was an alternate route only a mile away.

Baker-three to dispatch, what was two out on?

A traffic stop with king-charles-edward-four-five-seven, a blue Buick.

Get a reg’ and put out a BOLO ASAP.

Baker-three I'm out…officer down! Have units block off the street and coordinate containment.

RPD to all available units, advise locations to establish a perimeter.

Baker-one, Franklin and Division.

Baker-five, I'll respond to the arterial just north of there.

There's no pulse! I'm doing CPR, have aid step it up.

Copy Baker-three, any additional information?

There was a slight pause. Negative.

He performed rescue breathing on his fallen comrade for several minutes until the ambulance arrived. The EMT crew then took over. Albeit futile, he still prayed hoping they could save him, because that was their job.

When the medics saw the extent of the injury, they too knew it was hopeless. They still went through the rituals so as not to capitulate completely. Realizing if they stopped, they might have to suffer the wrath of the emotionally deteriorating officer.

RPD to units that tag comes back on an eighty five Buick Regal four door, R.O. is a Cindy Carlson, 1243 Simpson Drive. DOL shows a report of sale.

Get someone over there right away and find out who has the car.

Lieutenant Deshane did not have to identify himself by his call sign, or even use standard radio procedures. Everyone knew whom he was and by what authority he would get what he wanted.

David-two I copied. I'm close.

Get the detectives out there, now! I want units at both ends of the street, to close down traffic. We don't want rubber-neckers down there.

The lieutenant's voice was over-modulating, especially in the dispatcher's headset.

The killer was almost to his destination and he had not come across any responding units yet. The police radio he had stolen was an efficient way to keep track of where they were. There was no need to cross their paths. Where he needed to go was well within the dragnet. As he turned onto Thurston-Avenue, he passed an errant patrol car. It passed him as if oblivious to what was going on. When the killer looked in his mirror, he saw brake lights and the cruiser start to fishtail as it locked up its brakes.

Charlie-two, I think I just passed the suspect vehicle, west on Thurston. I didn't catch the plate, but everything else matched. Start units my way. I'm turning on him, but I might not catch up before he turns.

The officer sounded like a rookie who wandered over, trying to get in on the action. He never advised dispatch that he was in the area. He was probably still green and damp behind the ears. It should be easy to throw him off. He had probably left skid marks in other places too.

Charlie-two, he turned off on Stanton or Essex. I didn't see which one. I can't tell if he’s running. I'm checking Essex, someone take Stanton.

The novice got lucky and picked the right street. The killer saw the headlight’s as it rounded the corner. He blacked out his own hoping the block lead would do the trick. A quick right turn at the next intersection should end the chase. The rookie would probably never figure that he would backtrack. As he turned the corner, he saw the rapid approach of a pursuing police car.

Charlie-two, UTL at Essex and Winston. I'm gonna check east on Winston.

All the tied up units were frantically trying to clear to respond to the fledgling cop’s location. It was dangerous for the killer to drive at this speed without lights, so he grabbed the radio.

I got him running west on Winston from Stanton, was the extent of the transmission.

The cop locked up his brakes again, doing a one eighty bootlegger turn. He took off in the opposite direction hoping to re engage the pursuit he started, preferably before one of the other officers nailed the shooter without him.

RPD to unit calling, what's your number and location now? There was no response. It was a limited diversion.

Charlie-two, a unit said the suspect was west on Winston. I'm headed to intercept.

RPD to unit calling? There was still no answer.

Charlie-two, I lost it at Winston and Essex. I know what I heard, play back the tape and confirm.

It had been close, but the radio had served the killer well. Six blocks and the sought-after vehicle, was history. He pulled into the car lot and parked it, in its original location. He wiped off all the surfaces he may have touched. He had worn light leather driving gloves except when dealing with Hendrickson at the stop location. The only things he touched with his bare hands were the steering wheel and license. He even did a cursory wipe-down of the mirror, door and window. Even though he had not touched these areas, he wanted to make sure. These are common places where prints are located on stolen cars. Added precaution would not hurt.

The killer grabbed his accessory bag and left the vehicle. He took out a rag, which was soaked in industrial cleaner. He then washed his hands and the gun with it in an attempt to destroy any trace nitrates, which might have adhered to it or his skin. He threw the rag into a garbage can at the rear of the lot. If found it would not be questioned at this location. He ran a bore brush down the end of the gun and replaced the spent round, so it wouldn’t appear to have been recently fired either. He threw the spent casing far out into a field. He then tucked the gun and radio into the back of his waistband. The gun and cartridges were also now free of prints. There was no registration information on the serial number. He had previously checked that out. He could toss the gun at any time knowing that it could never, be traced to him.

Now he retrieved the prop for his ultimate deception. Next to the garbage can was a box, which contained a small, mixed-breed mutt. He picked her up at the pound a week before and had hid her earlier when he took the car. He grabbed the leash and crumpled up the box. He threw it in the garbage and headed for the street. He was still listening to the hectic radio traffic.

Officers were now trying to set up adjusted containment, in the area where the car had last been seen. Dispatch re played the tape, confirming that the suspicious radio broadcast hadn’t come from any participating units. The dispatcher saved the tape for a possible voice match later.

The killer walked eastbound, at a casual pace. It was two blocks to his safe vehicle, which was in an apartment complex’s visitor parking strip. The car was mechanically sound and current in every respect. He didn’t want to give the police any reason for a traffic stop. Where he parked also would not draw attention by taking a tenants space. It wasn’t easily visible to passing cars either. He had anticipated every possible action by the police, even considering luck.

As he walked his bitch of a bluff, a patrol car slowed and took notice. The officer rolled down his window and engaged him. Excuse me sir. How long have you been walking your dog?

About five minutes.

Have you seen any vehicles go by, especially a blue Buick?

I saw a police car, but no Buick's. At least not that I can remember, I wasn't really paying attention.

What's your name and where do you live?

Jonathan Widby, I live in apartment twenty-seven at the Eagles Nest.

Are you in the book?

Yes sir, what's the problem?

Can't say at this time. We would appreciate a call if you see anything suspicious or the car I described.

Certainly officer. I hope you find what you’re looking for.

Thank you sir.

The officer quickly drove off and called the information into the data channel at dispatch.

Charlie-eight to RPD. Check the directory for a Jonathan Widby at the Eagle Nest apartments.

RPD to Charlie-eight, he’s showing a listing at that location.

For other unit’s info, he’s walking his dog a block down and hasn't seen anything.

The killer did not think anyone would confirm that. He was glad he had looked at the mailboxes and got the name and number. He should have confirmed that it was indeed, listed in the book. Fortunately, it was. It gave credence to his story, preventing further investigation.

When he got to his car, he glanced around to see if anyone was watching. While he did this, his Kelly-Girl or temp-pet, as he knew it to be, urinated on the fence. After feeling comfortable that no one was looking, he leaned down and unhooked the collar.

He whispered, You're free and so am I, at least so far. He had named the loaner pet after one of his favorite rock and roll groups, Bon Jovi.

Bone-Jovial wagged her tail and ran off toward the center of the complex to explore her new surroundings. He dropped the leash over the fence, it landed between it and the shrubs. Even if found no one would make the connection. He went to his unlocked car and removed the keys from under the seat. He slid off the old sweater, slacks and glasses placing them in a sack with other old clothes. He slipped on sweat pants and a sweatshirt. He hid the gun and radio up under the dash in a pre constructed compartment.

He wiped the make up and some faint blood drops off with some handy wipes. He placed them and the wig in a paper bag. Just as he was finishing he saw headlights turn into the lot. He immediately recognized the familiar black and white paint scheme of a police cruiser. He ducked down in the seat as it passed. The officer lit up the parking area with his spotlight and alley lights. The car never stopped and no one looked in the cars. They were obviously looking for the Buick. The officer drove through satisfied that the suspect vehicle was not there. The killer sighed with relief. He pulled out only when he was sure the prowl car was gone. Behind the apartments was a burn barrel that he had noted earlier. He soaked the wig and Wash-ups with lighter fluid. He lit the sack and threw everything into the barrel. He watched his mirror for the bright flame, indicating they were well on their way to total destruction.

The car he was driving was completely different from the one they were looking for. It was a red Datsun 2-door compact, with new style centennial plates. As he pulled out, he wished he could listen to the police radio for details on the search. He could not risk this though, in case stopped at a roadblock. He proceeded to the nearest arterial. He didn’t want it to appear that he was taking side streets to avoid detection.

Turning south on Boulevard, he expected traffic to be consistent for a city its size and it was. There were at least eight other cars on the same stretch as he approached the next intersection. He looked over and saw a patrol car scrutinizing every car and its occupant as they passed. He did not think the officer would give him a second glance. The initial broadcast stated the suspect was an older male, but as luck would have it, this cop had not keyed in on that information.

There were two other cars in the pack, whose occupants might fit the cop killer profile. All three vehicles had lone occupants who were white males between the teenage years and mid thirties.

Surprisingly the cruiser pulled out behind him activating its emergency lights. The killer casually pulled over at the most suitable and well-lit location, in an attempt to put the officer at ease. He looked in his side mirror and saw the officer exit his vehicle in a hurry. He noticed that the officer had not called in on his radio, but assumed he had at least written the plate in his log. The cop probably figured this car didn’t match, so why call it in. He was still very cautious, but should have been even more so, since there was a cop murderer on the loose.

Drivers license and registration? he asked curtly. He wasn’t as polite as the other officer had been.

Yes officer. May I ask what I did? I wasn't speeding.

No you weren't. I'll tell you why I stopped you in a moment.

Okay officer.

You don't have any weapons do you?

No, you can look if you want.

You realize you don't have to let me if you don't want to.

I know, I watch enough TV, the killer replied jokingly.

The officer had him step out of the car. He then did a visual scan for weapons and rubbed his hand against an area he was unsure of. This cop was on his toes. He knew this stop did not fit the description, but through his frustration, he could not just sit there doing nothing. He was in his early twenties and appeared to have about one or two year’s experience. He looked at the license, but never really registered the name.

Where are you going?

I'm headed home.

Where were you coming from? was the next standard question.

I ran up to the Shop and Hop near the theaters to get a six-pack.

Is that the beer? he asked, pointing to a sack on the passenger seat.

Yeah, I think the receipt's with it.

The receipt was not actually still with the beer, since he purchased it an hour earlier. It was only a cover story, if needed. A receipt would have noted the time of purchase. The discrepancy; could easily be explained if the cop had pursued the missing slip. He was not going to follow up on it anyway. After all, he was a young street cop not a seasoned detective, trained to question and eliminate everything possible.

What's in the sack in the back?

Just some old clothes I had around. I've been wanting to drop'em off at the Salvation Army.

This murderer was unusually cool in a tight situation. He thrived on danger. The officer flashed his light throughout the interior of the car, checking the most likely places for a weapon. He looked under the seats and in the glove box. The interior of the car was free of clutter and debris, making a quick check easy. Clean-cut decent people usually keep their cars the same way. The officer rushed through the check, in a hurry to move on to the next stage. It was obvious he was still very gung-ho desiring to check the name for any wants or warrants. Never the less there was no real problem with a name check. The only concern was that some of the older officers might key in on it, remembering years back. Before he could make up his mind, dispatch rebroadcast the vehicle and limited suspect description. When the officer saw his look of impatience, he decided it was time to explain the intrusion and let it go at that.

I stopped you because we had a serious crime and we're checking for the suspect.

This answer was a standard response, sometimes used by cops on fishing trips. The killer knew it, but the average citizen did not. This time it was valid.

I understand no harm no foul.

The officer returned the paper work. As the killer drove away, he felt that his own years of being knee-deep in sewage, had given him the confidence and control to get through each situation without losing his cool. He remembered a saying that supported his calmness. The greatest advantage you can have over anyone else is to remain cool and unruffled under all circumstances. The cops would die if they knew how close they had been. He passed the last obstacle successfully.

At the shooting location, officers were taping off the area with yellow crime scene tape, POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. Lieutenant Deshane arrived and started giving out ambiguous commands. A gristly veteran Sergeant named Duane Vanholt stepped in and gingerly dethroned him. Vanholt had tactfully relieved him of the responsibility while stroking his ego. Vanholt knew how to get things done in spite of certain administrative types. Vanholt years earlier, had earned the nickname, The Lone Duane-ger. He was one of the few cops still considered a Street warrior. Some of the bosses whom didn’t like him; said he was more of a Reckless renegade, which isn’t as bad as the term rogue cop.

Officers started to comb the area for any additional clues. There were no tire impressions, since the vehicle had been on pavement. There were no shell casings and the bullet was probably non-retrievable for ballistic comparisons. It had passed completely through and due to the trajectory, was probably a tenth of a mile or so away. The investigators would never know it, but the lack of casings and bullet fragments, was why the gun and ammunition, were chosen; in the first place.

The body and surrounding area; were photographed. A team of swing shift detectives started a canvas of the area for witnesses. Deshane was finally able to locate the department’s most eccentric, but reliable detective team.

An over-seasoned Sergeant Fray and a slightly undercooked Detective Howard had been tracked down at the local cop bar. They had just called it a night and luckily had been modest in their drinking this evening.

The first thing Fray said was, Don't move anything. Our ETA is fifteen.

At this time, officers had nothing to go on except the vehicle registration.

Dispatch this is Deshane. What have you found out on the plate?

We've been in phone contact with the officer’s. The owner told them she sold the car to a north end lot.

The name?

Economy Auto…located at Thurston and Miller.

Contact the owner and have him respond. Get the next available unit over there.

Copy. Charlie-seven did you copy the lieutenant's traffic?

Charlie-seven, copy, two minutes out.

A few minutes later the officer spotted the suspect vehicle sitting in the second row near the front door, as if it had never left.

Charlie-seven, dispatch, I've located the vehicle. It appears unoccupied.

Dispatch copies.

The lieutenant came on and advised him to back