American Arson

Chapter Thirteen

Lewis kept his hands on the wheel as he listened to the steady buzz of the car engine. His badge, which was hooked onto his belt, pinched at his side. His gun sat firmly in his holster. Daniels sat beside him, looking in the rearview mirror to make sure Robertson's car was still behind them.

They pulled up to a small home which sat in a cluttered neighborhood. They parked their cars on the side of the road. Daniels silently prayed, finishing it off by making a cross over his torso. Lewis looked over at him. "Scared?" He asked.

Daniels sighed. "If there's one thing I know about policing, it's that you never know when the simplest ordeal can go to shit."

He's right, Lewis thought. They were only there to ask questions. The task force didn't actually have solid evidence that would convince their own wives that Victor Bernz was the Molotov, but he was their strongest lead.

Lewis turned the key in the ignition as the steady buzz of the car engine died down. He opened this door and exited his car, almost simultaneous with Daniels. He adjusted his belt, his holster, and his badge as he crossed the street. They walked in a line on a narrow sidewalk leading to the porch. Lewis was upfront, then Daniels, Ford, and Robertson took the back.

Lewis made his way up the steps of the front porch as they screeched with every footstep. Robertson waited below the steps, looking around to spot any suspicious characters. Ford stopped on the steps, while Daniels and Lewis stepped onto the porch.

Lewis approached the door, prepared for anything. He steadily knocked on the door, anticipating an answer.

"Milton's Gap Police Department," He yelled out.

No answer.

"Mr. Bernz, we need to ask you a few questions!" He yelled out again.

No answer.

"Perhaps he isn't home," Daniels suggested.

Just as he finished, there was a crash from behind the house. Everybody quickly looked at each other with frightened looks. Lewis saw Robertson unlatch his holster. Ford did the same, putting his hand on the cold handle of his pistol.

Robertson looked at Ford, mouthing the words "Go around that way" as he pointed to the left side of the home. Robertson took the right and left Daniels and Lewis on the porch. "Stay here in case he tries to come out," Lewis told Daniels.

Lewis ran off the porch, unlatching his holster. He slowly followed Robertson past the right wall. They ducked as they passed the windows. He was a good ten feet away from Robertson when he watched his blue uniform disappear to the back of the house.

Suddenly, he heard a scream from the back of the house. "FUCK!" Robertson yelled. It was followed by a series of crashes and a single discharge of a firearm. Lewis immediately unholstered his gun and broke into a jog. His tie flipped over his shoulder as it caught the wind. He slung himself around the house. Before he could lift his gun, a large man ran into him, knocking him to the ground.

"He's getting away!" Robertson yelled as the passed Lewis. He quickly got up and chased after him. It was impossible to tell what the gunshot was from, but he felt better knowing that Robertson was okay.

Robertson took a left onto the sidewalk as he quickly ran after the muscular man, who was wielding a baseball bat. Then, he heard Ford yell out to Daniels, who was on his way off the porch to help Robertson. "He's coming up to the porch!" He yelled. Daniels and Lewis, both confused, stopped to look.

What the fuck does he mean coming up to the porch, he just took a left on the sidewalk, Lewis thought. Then, he saw another man run across the road with Ford not close behind him. Daniels stopped was he was doing and took off after them.

Lewis turned and started running after Robertson again. His gun moved back and forward with his arms as he broke into a sprint.

He heard Robertson desperately yell into the radio. "Suspect is southbound on Swan Lake Street. Medium build, black hat-" He paused to take a breath. "Wielding a brown baseball bat!"

Lewis shot a glance behind him to see where Ford and Daniels were, but he didn't see them. He kept running anyways as he took another left onto a different road. He heard sirens in the distance.

Robertson was ahead of him, trying to juggle his gun in his left hand while he pressed down on the radio with his right hand. "Eastbound on Coral Street!"

The man took another left, going into an alleyway between two small office spaces. Robertson went around the corner, with Lewis not far behind. Suddenly, he heard Robertson yell out to the man. "Drop the fucking gun!"

Lewis put a little bit more pep in his step. He went lightning fast around the corner. Robertson stood with his gun raised at the man who was cornered. He took a wrong turn and now the only thing between him and freedom was a big, stone wall. Before Lewis could raise his gun, it had already happened.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The man was jerked back by the impact of the bullets. The deafening sound of gunshots echoed throughout the alleyway. Almost simultaneously, Robertson went to the ground himself. By the time Lewis had his sights in front of his eye, it was all over.

"Robertson!" He yelled. Lewis ran over to him.

Robertson quickly got on his knees and leaned himself against the wall. "I'm fine, I'm fine." He said, breathless.

"Kevlar caught the son of a bitch," He said.

Lewis left him where he was and walked over to the body on the ground a few feet away. He was breathing harder than he ever had before. He leaned over the man, who had three gunshot wounds to his chest. He lay in a puddle of blood that was gradually expanding. "Shit," He said.

He heard Robertson call in on the radio. "Shots fired, I repeat shots fired. The suspect is down," He said, out of breath.

Lewis studied the body closely. Then, his heart stopped. He looked over to Robertson, who was slowly getting up. "Robertson," He said. Robertson stopped midway and looked up at him. He leaned awkwardly against the wall.

"This isn't Victor Bernz."