Triple Digits

Corey Strickland

Someone had stolen his car- in a feat almost too stupid to believe, a criminal had stolen a police officer's car and simply driven it away, and there were no witnesses to be seen or heard from.
Corey looked around the empty parking lot, searching once again to see if he had parked somewhere different in front of the apartments where Claire Miles lived, only to find it desolate, not a soul, or car, in sight. Who the Hell steals a police car?!
Had Corey not been stationed outside Miss Miles' home for the better part of an hour, he might have suspected it was her. But the instant he had arrived, he'd inquired if she was home, received a resolute 'No' from the receptionist, before being told to beat it if he had no further questions. After leaving the building, he had taken a seat in the parking lot, waiting to see if she would enter or exit the apartment building, waited almost an hour, decided to give up, turned around and... Bam! No car to be seen.
Embarrassment turned his cheeks red when he used a payphone to call for a taxi, since his phone was in the glovebox of his car still. When the car had arrived, rolling to a stop in front of him, the gravel crunching beneath the tires, the driver cheekily took stock of the police officer, and remarked, "No car, mate?" He shook his head, either to shut the driver up or to answer the question- Corey himself wasn't much certain which it was- the driver had laughed and asked where he was going, his large gut heaving with the noise.
Which is when Corey hesitated. Where was he going? The better option would be to find his missing car, since he didn't like the idea of reporting that his car had been stolen to Dunfield.
He could always head back to the hospital, and hope that Claire had gone there, or... Claire and Maddy had spoken about a race happening at one in the morning. His research about street racing told him they needed a long street to build up speed.
With how fast Claire could drive, and how expertly she took corners, it didn't much matter if there were bends in the road or not.
If he were to place a stakeout at the location, he might catch Triple Digit and end the three month time period before he knew it, and before Dunfield could rethink his decision and simply fire Strickland. Catching Triple Digit would both boost his career, and save it, literally, from ruin. But how was he meant to find out where the race was? Being a small town, MidCity was surrounded by open fields and long tracks designed for farm equipment.
"Do you know anywhere that would be good to race?" Corey called out to the driver, who was now checking his phone, waiting patiently for Corey to make up his mind on his destination.
"Like a running track?" The driver questioned curiously, Strickland shaking his head, correcting, "In cars. Street racing."
"An officer of the law breaking the law..." The driver whistled, "Why am I not surprised? The Docks is the best place for it. You didn't hear it from me, but they have a pretty big race happening early tomorrow morning."
That had to be it.
Nodding, Corey Strickland said, "Take me there."