Josie and Bender spent most of the morning driving around their designated patrol area. She tried not to be overwhelmed trying to decipher the dispatcher on the radio, watching what was going on outside the car, and listening to her partner drone on about his career in the NFL.
He’d suffered a broken femur that kept him from returning to the Salt Lake Saints, but amazingly hadn’t disqualified him from joining LAPD.
“The academy was a joke compared to training camp—”
“17A67, 415 group yelling and shouting behind the Stop and Shop at Nordhoff and Lindley. Two males, no further. Handle the call Code 2.”
“We’re not too far away,” Bender said. “Acknowledge the call and advise them we have a three-minute ETA.”
With her heart pounding, Josie reached for the mic. “17A67, roger. Be advised we have a three-minute ETA.”
“17A67, roger,” the dispatcher replied.
“There’s a lot of transients drinking or drugging behind the store. They get amped up and then want to fight each other.” He gave her a quick glance. “We’ll separate them, get some FIs, run them for warrants, and go from there. If they’re fighting, be careful. Street people always have something on them they can utilize as a weapon—usually a knife or screwdriver.”
“17A45, show us backing A67,” a voice on the radio said.
“That’s Ling and Shaffer,” he said, steering the car in the median lane whose intended use was for left turns. Few cars were in that space, and he accelerated past most of the traffic.
Josie bit her lip while trying to remember what her training officer had just said. You wanted to make a difference. Here’s your first real chance.
It surprised her that he was driving in a turning lane like it was a normal route for cars. But didn’t they need their lights and siren activated when not following the rules of the road? Come on, you’re the police. She was trying to remember what she learned in the academy.
Forget that! Think about what you’re going to do when you get there.
Bender propelled their patrol car into the parking lot and swerved around to the back, skidding to a stop. “Put us Code 6.”
“17A67, we’re Code 6 Nordhoff and Lindley,” Josie broadcast. Code 6 let other units know they were on the scene of their call and out for investigation.
Two shirtless and disheveled guys in their twenties were squared off, yelling at each other.
“Let’s get ‘em separated. Be careful,” Bender said. He jumped from their black and white and approached but kept distance from the guy closest to him. “Hey, you, in the black pants, go over by that dumpster and take a seat.”
Josie used a sharp tone. “You on the right, sit by that wall.”
The suspect she was engaging turned his attention to her. “Who you talking to, bitch?”