The instant Tony heard an officer was down, he leapt from his chair and called out to Amanda, who was in the sergeant’s office.
“Fox! Sit in for me.”
Amanda had also jumped to her feet, and he was sure she was pissed to be stuck at the station, but those were the breaks.
He yelled at a desk officer to take the mobile command post to the scene, which would give him a base of operations where he could work. He sprinted to the Watch Commander’s vehicle and headed to the mall.
By the time he arrived, things were getting organized. The whole west side of the structure, including the parking lot and the street, had crime scene tape in place.
McKenzie had initiated a Valley-wide tactical alert, meaning that, in that part of the city, only emergency calls received police response. They had more than half of the deployed units in the entire bureau at the Promenade.
Upper management discouraged tac-alerts unless absolutely necessary. Shifts were extended, citizen complaints increased because cops didn’t respond to minor issues, but most importantly…tac-alerts cost a lot of money.
As Tony parked his vehicle, the sergeant put out a crime broadcast on the radio.
“17L30, an ADW of a police officer occurred approximately twenty minutes ago at the Porter Ranch Promenade. Weapon used was a vehicle. The suspect vehicle is a red two-door, possibly a sports car. The vehicle was last seen southbound through the parking lot toward Rinaldi. There should be major TC damage to the front passenger side. There is no further suspect description. KMA.”
The three-letter end to the broadcast told the dispatcher that he was finished with his message. She immediately rebroadcast the information he had provided.
Based on the haggard expressions of the officers, Tony could tell the news of Sinclair’s death was spreading. He didn’t know the condition of the other person who was struck.
There was a second set of yellow tape displayed to protect the crime scene where the victims had been hit by cars. Inside that perimeter, there were FI cards on the ground.
Responding officers had placed the thick paper forms as markers next to smaller pieces of potential evidence—broken glass, a lone tennis shoe that looked like it belonged to the civilian victim, and a Coach purse that was flattened and marred by tire tread.
Patrons of the mall, whose vehicles were parked outside the Flair department store, were directed to the south side of the shopping center. They wouldn’t be able to get their cars for hours…maybe a day or maybe more, depending on how far the crime scene extended.
Tony ducked under the tape and walked across the parking lot. McKenzie saw him and headed his way to meet him.
“Great work, Blaze. What do we know that’s new?”
“The vehicle that hit Sinclair is red. Every witness agrees on that. Some wits say a sports car, others say it was a coupe. We have one wit who says the driver was female.”
“What about surveillance images from mall security?”
“Ling and Shaffer are working on that now.”
“The mobile command post is on its way. As soon as it gets here and we have the video, we’ll take a look.
“What about the other guy who was struck?”
“Cruz and Romanelli are at the hospital. The other victim is apparently a suspect in the burglary. He’s got two busted legs, but he’ll live.”
“And we’re sure the same vehicle that hit Sinclair didn’t strike him?”
“Yeah,” Blaze said, nodding. “All the witnesses agree that Dolby was running to aid the burglary suspect hit by one of the get-away cars.”
Tony sighed heavily. “I wish he’d left the department years ago.”
The sergeant nodded. “We all know it can happen to any of us on any given day. He went out doing what he swore to do. To protect and to serve. I’m sorry. I know you guys were partners at one time.” Blaze placed a hand on his shoulder.
He blinked back tears that had formed, then cleared his throat. “I was advised the Organized Retail Theft detail out of Commercial Crimes will be handling the burglary. Homicide Special is taking Sinclair’s death, but the Major Collision Investigation Team is rolling to document the vehicle collisions.”
“Has Dolby’s family been notified?”
“The chief is en route to do that as we speak.”
The sergeant sighed. “If there was ever a reason to not want the chief’s job, that’s it.”
“17L30, you up?” Everyone at the homicide was on a secondary tactical radio frequency, so they wouldn’t tie up the assigned channel for Devonshire Division.
Blaze keyed his mic. “Go for 17L30.”
“Sarge, it’s Shaffer. We’re bringing the video now.”
“17L30, bring it out to the command post.”
“En route.”
McKenzie looked at him. “I sure hope we’ve got good images.”
He gazed out into the parking lot. “Me too, because here comes the Captain, and he’s going to want somebody behind bars fast.”