Cops & Robbers by Suzanne D. Williams

Author:Suzanne D. Williams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: police drama, Christian fiction, short stories, 90 minute reads, clean & wholesome, romantic suspense, suspense, contemporary romance, mystery, crime
Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
Published: 2016-05-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 4

Trixie’s fingers flew over the computer keys, and the screen blipped, an image forming of a young man in pressed trousers and a polo shirt. “Steven Long. Minor infraction for running a red light. The other name doesn’t produce anything. But ...” She tapped the keys and the screen changed. “It says he lives at 555 Westbrook Circle.”

Justin tugged his keys from his pocket and headed for the station exit.

“Wait.” Trixie appeared on his heels. “If you go, I go.”

He said nothing, but climbed in the car, hardly waiting for her to enter, and threw it in reverse.

Westbrook Circle was a long street surrounded mostly by aged apartment complexes, one of which held the address, 555. His steps sure, Justin headed for the super’s office and banged loudly on the door. “Police, open up.”

A number of seconds passed before the door cracked and a gnarled older woman’s face peered out. Gray hair in disarray, face reddened, she appeared to have just awakened.

He flashed her his badge. “Detective Justin Cahill. I need to know which apartment belongs to Steven Long.”

The woman stared at him a moment longer, then shut the door, unclasping the latch. She motioned him in then, shuffling her feet across worn beige carpet, walked over to an entertainment cabinet and extracted a binder. The plastic-wrapped pages made a distinct crack.

“Long ... Long ... That’s 42B,” she said. She snapped the book shut, and an emphysemic cough rattled her chest.

He waited until it’d passed. “He lives there alone?”

Her shoulders rose and fell. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve been here only a week.”

“Which way’s 42B?” Trixie asked.

“Fourth building to the west, second floor.”

That seemed to end the conversation. Back in the parking lot, he turned his steps west. It was quite a hike to get to the door. Standing outside, one hand on his holster, he flicked a glance at Trixie and knocked. No response came at first, so he knocked again. Then, as before, the door cracked and a woman’s face looked out. Middle-aged with dark skin, she curved slender fingers around the edge of the door.

He showed his badge. “I’m looking for Steven Long.”

Fear settled in her eyes, and she made to close the door. But he stuck his hand in the opening. “Please, if you know where he is, you need to tell me. He’s in big trouble and likely to get hurt.”

She gripped the door tight, her arm stiff. “He and his brother took off yesterday,” she said. “I don’t know where they’ve gone.”

“His brother?” Trixie asked.

The woman nodded. “Younger. Where Steven goes, Leandre follows.”

“You have a phone number?” he asked. “If you could call ...”

The photo of Steven he’d seen on the computer flashed in his brain, and a suspicion arose. She was young to be their mother, but still, it was possible. It’d explain this address as well, though Steven was pale, almost white, and she was obviously black.

“They’re your sons?”

Her face said he was right, though she didn’t speak. “Please, ma’am,” he began.

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