Diary of a Detective

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
Police business can be rough. Things can go wrong. Not everybody is cut out for it, but for some it's their life.

Submitted: May 31, 2014

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Submitted: May 31, 2014



I pulled my sunglasses from the top of my head and put them on as I was walking out of the gas station. It was a very sunny day. I opened the door to my car and took in my surroundings for the second time. Hazard of my job. Old job. I use to be a detective. My team was the top in our district. I loved what I did. Who I did it with. James. I sighed. James was my partner. He is a good looking man. Tall about 6'2, built, Caucasian male, brown shaggy hair, blue eyes. Another hazard from the job. That's how I take in descriptions. I don't know why I didn't just close my car door and drive away and stop thinking of him. I left him and my job behind.

It as a rough night at the station. The kind that makes you loose your faith and hate cops. James and I had just brought in several members from a huge drug bust. We had brought up the man in charge and interrogated him. We were getting no where. Deciding to let him stew a bit we went to the locker room. Leaving a patrol looking for a promotion in charge. Big mistake. Not the last mistake that was made that night. Second mistake; James and I let our personal relationship in at work. We started kissing and things got heated. He started to unbutton my shirt when we heard the first gun shot. James and I pulled our weapons and ran toward the noise. I was on point and he was my cover. Like always. We reached the end of the hallway. Right would take us to the front of the precinct. Left to the interrogation and holding cells. Signaling with my fingers I sent James right and I went left. We split up. Mistake number 3. The minute I rounded the corner I could smell blood. I scanned the room for movement not seeing any I went to the first door. I found the source of the blood. It was the tech who was running the board for the interrogation we were doing. I checked for a pulse. There was none. I think he had a family. A wife and a daughter if I remembered right. A quick search of the rest of the room showed what I feared. The leader of the drug bust was gone. His handcuffs laying on the floor. First thought I had was he needed help with those. An officer. My stomach started to fill sick. I ran down the hall the way James had went. I peeked around the corner. The patrol officer, some one was calling him Harry, had a gun pointed at his head. The perp had him hostage. Relief started to course through my body that there wasn't a dirty cop. But it turned cold when I noticed Harry still had his weapon. They were trying to play a fast one. I back tracked and went into the break room. I jimmied the window open and crawled out on the fire escape. This must have been their exit plan. I peeked in the window they were going to use. Their backs were still to me. I caught James eye. I tried to signal Harry was dirty, but unfortunately they don't teach that in the academy. I quietly snuck in the window and grabbed the perp and pressed the gun to his head. "One move and I'll shoot." I growled. The other officers grabbed there weapons and covered me. I let another officer take over and cuff him. I kept my eye on Harry. He was jumpy. I heard the click of one cuff being secured and that's when he made his move. Harry pulled his gun and shot the officer holding the perp. He aimed his weapon at James as I shot his arm. He screamed and dropped his weapon I tackled him. Back up arrived. Somebody cuffed him. I turned my gun and badge in.

A car pulled up beside me shaking me out of the death grip of the memory. Two men 5'8 and 6'0, buzzed hair, matching tattoos on their arms, got out. The taller one pointed at a car. A black SUV. I couldn't help but take in the license plate number. "That's Fat Franks ride." The taller one said. "Lets do this." The shorter one said bending over to tie his shoe. I saw a gun tucked in to his waist band. I took my sunglasses off. Wishing I had my weapon I checked to see that my knife was still secured at my waist. With a bad gut feeling I decided to follow them in to the gas station. The two of them split up. The taller one went to the back. He signaled to the shorter one to check the restrooms. There was a women with a young child by the register. I pushed her to the door and told her to get in her car, drive away, and call the police. She left and I walked into the men's restroom. The man I assumed was Fat Frank walked out of the stall. The short perp pulled his gun. I grabbed the hand that was holding the gun and pulled it up. It went off. I banged his hand against the bathroom sink until he let go. I picked his weapon up and he dove to the left reaching for his ankle holster. I shot him in the knee and he went down. I put my knee on the middle of his back and hit him with the barrel of his gun. I grabbed the .45 from his ankle holster and checked for other weapons. There were none. I told Fat Frank there was another man coming. The restroom door banged against the wall and Fat Frank ran back in to the stall. I realized two things then. Fat Frank was a coward and I was screwed. I took aim with both weapons as the Tall perp rounded the entry way. He looked down and saw his buddy then looked at me. Cursing he pulled his weapon. I shot both weapons putting two rounds from each gun into him, but not before he got one off in me. The bullet hit my shoulder. We both went down. I kept one gun aimed at him with my good arm and crawled to him. I checked for a pulse. There wasn't one. Fat Frank came out of the stall and looked at me. I told him to call the police. He pulled a weapon from his waistband and pointed it at me. I grabbed my knife and through  it. It his wrist and the gun flew out of his hand. You could hear sirens in the distance. He turned and ran out of the building. The first thing I thought of was how silly it had to of looked to see me shooting with both hands. Like a fake looking scene from and action movie. But the pain in my shoulder told me this was real. I gave the first officer at the scene the make and model of Fat Franks SUV and the license plate. I blacked out.

I came to in a hospital room. The doctor came in and told me all was fine. They haven't been able to get a hold of anybody for an emergency contact. I got out of bed and went to the duffel that they must have gotten out of my car. After arguing with doctor for 10 minutes I convinced him to get me a prescription for antibiotics. I went in to the bathroom and changed. When I got out I signed my release papers and left AMA. When I got to my car I drove to the local police station and gave my statement. 2 hours later I pulled over at a rest stop and called James. "I'm coming back."

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