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Ossie heard the sirens well before he saw the cop cars on the street.
Why? He hadn’t done anything. His roommate had a drug problem, but that wouldn’t cause a commotion like this. All the other kids in this home were completely non-dangerous. He couldn’t imagine them trespassing across an old man’s lawn—and he doubted those sirens were about trespassing.
His cell phone buzzed. He pulled it out.
It was that lawyer. He felt an icy chill in his chest. “Yeah?”
“Ossie? Dan. I don’t have time to explain, but the police are coming to arrest you.”
“Why?”
“I’m on my way, but they’ll get to you before I do, so listen up. Do not resist. And do not say a word. No matter what. They will try to provoke you. They will try to get you to say ill-advised things. You ignore them and keep your lips shut tight. I’ll do the talking when I get there.”
“What’s the charge?”
Short pause. “Murder.”
“What the hell?”
“It’s Harrison, your uncle.”
His voice flatlined. “Harrison? Damn.”
“That’s an example of exactly why you should keep your mouth shut.”
“They’ll let me hang before they’ll let me have a piece of their money.” Ossie pulled back the curtain. One cop car was parked outside, blocking the driveway. Another was parked across the street. Two uniformed officers were crossing the lawn.
They had guns.
“Gotta go.”
“Ossie!”
He shoved the phone into his pocket. Downstairs, he heard the doorbell ring. He knew Marjorie would let them in.
He listened carefully. Sounded like she was asking for a warrant, but of course they had one. They would be up here in seconds. He had to time this just right.
As soon as he heard the police enter the house, he shoved open his bedroom window and crawled out onto the roof. The angle was sharp. He had to be careful—and be quiet. He didn’t want anyone to know he’d skipped out until he was far far away.
Fortunately, it was just a two-story house. The eave of the roof was maybe fourteen feet off the ground. If he swung wide he could avoid the hedges. He got down on his knees and slowly lowered himself off the edge.
A cop appeared in his bedroom window. “Hey, kid! Stop right there!”
He swung his feet out and let go.
He fell hard and didn’t quite miss the hedge. His ankle twisted on the rock wall separating the hedge from the lawn. It hurt. He fell on his butt, rolling a bit to avoid the pain. He rolled too far—his head smashed against the trunk of the front-yard elm.
“Ow!” He shouted before he thought about it, before he could stop himself. Damn it all, this escape was not going well. He scrambled to his feet, ignored the soreness, and hobbled away as quickly as he could manage.
“Kid, I’m ordering you to stop!”
He kept running.
“You are under arrest. Any attempt to flee will constitute resisting arrest!”
Keep moving, he told himself. You’ve got a big lead. You can make it.
Across the street, he knew the mismatched fences between two yards left a narrow alley. He could cut through that to get to Glenwood. Once there he could hop a fence—if he could hop a fence—and cross into the Wilcox strip mall. Then he had his choice of shops to disappear into. If kept a low profile, he could wait them out. As soon as the heat was off, he’d figure out what to do next.
What could he possibly do next?
He didn’t know, but this was not the time to dwell on it.
Keep moving!
He made it to Glenwood, but he could hear footsteps close behind him. Given the circumstances, he had to assume his pursuers moved faster than he did. He knew better than to look back to check. He couldn’t afford to lose time.
He saw the fence and launched himself toward it. He pushed himself upward and grabbed the top of the fence—
He felt a strong pair of hands clutch him around the waist. He tightened his grip but wasn’t strong enough to resist. The cop pulled him downward. They both fell onto the grass in a tumble.
Ossie tried to scramble to his feet, but the cop grabbed his foot, holding him back. He twisted and shook but he couldn’t get free.
“You’re only making this hard on yourself,” the cop grunted through clenched teeth.
“I won’t let you put me in another cage.” He tried to yank his foot loose, but he couldn’t do it. Worse, he heard another cop approaching in the distance.
If he was going to do anything, it had to be now.
He pretended to lose balance and fall. Once he was close enough, he grabbed the cop’s hand—and bit it.
The cop screamed. His grip loosened just long enough for Ossie to escape. He turned back to the fence—
And the second officer threw him to the ground.
The second cop stood over him, sweating, pinning one arm behind his back. He held a taser pointed downward like a gun.
“You ever been tased, boy? You wanna see what it feels like?”
“Let go of me!”
“You got a hell of a nerve, boy. That nice lady back there trusted you.”
“I didn’t do anything to her.”
His partner snapped a cuff over Ossie’s right wrist. Then he pulled the other arm back and cuffed both hands together.
“Lying murdering black trash.” He looked at his partner. “Call it in. Suspect apprehended while fleeing arrest.”
“You got it.” His partner pulled his radio off his shoulder. “We have the suspect. Ossie Cole—”
“Stop.”
He looked at his partner. “Problem?”
“Did you read the warrant?”
“Well...no.”
“Don’t call him by that name.”
“Then—what?”
The cop grabbed Ossie by the back of the neck and hauled him to his feet. “Call him John Doe. We don’t know who the hell this little thug is.”