Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(76)

I raised my right leg to strike Bobby in the thigh with my knee. It was a solid blow. I felt his grip loosen slightly. I slammed his arm with a forearm strike. That broke the stranglehold.

I sucked in my first sweet lungful of air. Then another. I eased away from Bobby as I regained my senses.

Then Bobby tried to skirt past me. I shuffled to the side to block him. Every second I could breathe, I felt better. Stronger. Now I had the blueprint. I feinted with a right cross. When Bobby shifted his weight to block the punch, I kicked him hard. I aimed a kick at his groin but struck his hip. It was enough to knock him backward. I gulped more air and raised my fists. I realized I would enjoy smashing his nose into his face. I was ready for whatever came.

Bobby had other ideas. Apparently, I had already won the fight. I just didn’t realize it. Bobby turned and sprinted north toward Constitution Avenue. He should’ve been a track star the way he could blast out of the blocks.

I grabbed another lungful of air and started to follow him. After two hard flips onto the ground, my body just didn’t have much left. He had to be heading for his car. That’s what I would do.

I crossed the wide, busy street at a full sprint. At least a full sprint for me. I dodged a delivery van, just catching the driver’s raised middle finger out of the corner of my eye.

Bobby turned onto a side street. Once I fell in behind him, I could see his brown Taurus parked at the end of the block. There was no way I could let him drive away. Only God knew what he would do. There was even a chance he could disappear and never be found.

I felt panic rise in me. I didn’t want to pull my pistol. But that’s what it had come to. Even if I broke the law and shot out his tires. I’d rather explain that to a judge than let Bobby get away. Because when I looked up the street, Bobby was running faster and getting farther ahead of me. He still had to cross the street to get to his car.

I sighed as he started to change his angle and run into the street. He was only thirty yards from his car now.

Then a white Chevy Tahoe turned the corner. Fast. It caught Bobby solidly and sent him flying to bounce off a parked Toyota Corolla.

I kept running, then skidded to a stop near Bobby. He lay on the asphalt, moaning. The first thing I did was secure his pistol. I yanked it from his waistband and slid the Glock into my own belt.

The driver of the Tahoe approached us. I looked up at the grinning Detective Dave Swinson from the DC Metro Police Special Investigations unit. Perfect.

Swinson said, “I didn’t mean to hit him quite so hard.”

Bobby slowly moved to a sitting position. He shook his head. His eyes didn’t look like they could focus as he tried to take in the scene in front of him. A couple of white pebbles from the road were stuck to his face and blood leaked out of his nose. There was a patch of road rash on his left cheek.

I kneeled down to get a better look at him.

Swinson said, “Is he okay?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Just shaken up a bit.” I brushed the pebbles off Bobby’s face. Then I patted him down quickly to make sure he didn’t have any other weapons.

Swinson said, “Great job. Glad you told me to find his car and wait there.”

I looked up at the detective. “I appreciate that. I’m impressed you found out where he bought the pen. The text you sent gave me some ammo to confuse him.”

“Homicide investigation is a team sport. Glad we could help.”

I could hear sirens in the distance. My body took that as a signal to collapse. I sat down hard on the street, my back resting on the front tire of the Toyota.

This wasn’t a good day for anyone.





Chapter 102



Bobby Patel now sat on the curb between his car and Dave Swinson’s city-issued Tahoe. We decided not to handcuff him. We let him gather his wits for a minute. We still thought he might make a meaningful statement. Swinson had already called off the patrol cars coming to the National Mall. We were alone.

Swinson leaned against the bumper of his Tahoe while I sat on the curb next to Bobby. Without meaning to, we had ended up in the perfect homicide interview formation. One person to ask questions. One to watch and act if the suspect got frisky. Swinson had already proven that he was prepared to take action.

For his part, Bobby looked like a broken man. His head hung down. His nose still dripped a little blood. The road rash on his face looked like it’d spread. I knew it was just the traumatized skin turning red.

Swinson got a call and looked at me. I wasn’t sure what he was about to say. Then he spoke loud enough for Bobby to hear. He was giving someone information for an affidavit for a search warrant on Bobby’s car and his apartment in Alexandria. It was the perfect setup to show Bobby he was done.

Bobby’s panicked escape attempt had sealed it in my mind. Now Bobby knew it as well. There was nothing he could do. He sniffled and used a napkin I had given him to wipe the blood from his nose.

I didn’t speak. I just sat there next to Bobby. Almost like I was a friend comforting him. But that’s not how I felt. I was more distracted. My thoughts went back to Emily Parker. I couldn’t help but wonder about everything she was going to miss in life. That didn’t even take into account everyone who would miss her in their lives. This asshole sitting next to me had done more damage than he could ever imagine.

After a minute, Bobby murmured, “I screwed up. Big-time.”