Page 89 of Cash

Hedman radios in alerting dispatch and nearby patrol that we’re in pursuit. We’re given the plate number, a rough description of the driver and passenger and that they’re suspects in an armed robbery and assault.

As I close in on the car, they make a high-speed turn onto a side street and then another one at the next block. I mirror the turns they make and stay as close as possible. Hedman continues to keep dispatch posted as to our location and asks for a supervisor to advise whether we should continue the pursuit. He gives the necessary details like the speeds we’re at, the amount of traffic, pedestrians and so forth. Our supervisor then has to weigh the risks to the public against the seriousness of the crimes as to whether we back off or not. We’re given the command to continue the pursuit.

No cop likes high-speed chases. They’re never fun and always terrifying. There are so many things to consider and worry about that your stress levels go straight to the maximum. Public safety’s our main concern, but our own safety matters too.

I sit up straighter, tighten my grip on the steering wheel and let my instincts take over. I start watching for an opening where I can safely perform a PIT maneuver, but at our current speed, one’s not possible yet. Hedman continues calling out street names and the direction of travel while I hunt our prey.

I hear other units calling back and know that they’re trying to judge where to set up stop strips, if possible. I hear all these street names and locations being called out, but all I’m concentrating on is the vehicle in front of me. After a few more turns, I see several sets of flashing lights come up behind us and know we have backup close by if needed. Knowing the suspects are still most likely armed, it’s a relief to know Hedman and I won’t be alone when this chase concludes.

After another sliding turn, we find ourselves in a less populated area. This alone eases some of my concerns, but we’re still in a chase with people who have no concern for human life.

“Hang in there, Livi. You’re doing great,” Hedman encourages from the passenger seat.

“I need to PIT him before he makes it back to the boulevard. Too many cars there.”

Hedman agrees and advises the others of our decision. Our Captain agrees, gives the official order but urges caution.

As we come to a long, sweeping curve to the left, I see my opening. The suspects’ car slows slightly, but I don’t. Swerving to the left, I move forward until I’m lined up and able to place my right bumper against their rear quarter panel. Turning into their car, it jolts us but causes the rear of their car to go around. I back off and watch as they lose control and slide backward into the grass. Immediately, several patrol cars slide to a stop, half-circling the suspects’ vehicle. Bailing out of our patrol units, guns drawn, they have nowhere to go.

Hedman barks the orders for them to obey, and we hold them at gunpoint while other officers secure them. I re-holster my weapon and take the first deep breath since the chase started. Leaning against the hood of my patrol car, Hedman does the same next to me. We’re both wound up, adrenaline still pumping, but it won’t be mentioned.

When they walk the suspects past our car, I’m saddened to see how young they are. Neither are close to the age of 18 and yet are out assaulting and robbing people instead of hanging out with their friends at a football game.

“Either the suspects are getting younger or I’m getting older,” Hedman mutters.

“Sad, isn’t it?”

“Fuck yeah, it is. Is our unit still drivable?” he questions.

“Yep, just a few wrinkles.”

“You did good, Livi. You can chauffer me anytime,” Hedman jokes as we watch the Sergeant approach.

“Unit looks good, Moore. Classic PIT done right. Head back to the precinct and turn in your dashcam footage. Then get back on patrol. Night’s not over yet,” Sgt. North says before walking away.

My phone starts buzzing as soon as my ass hits the car seat. I ignore it since I’m driving, but I’m curious as to who would text me this late at night. After a couple of minutes, it rings. Still ignoring it, it stops and then starts up again. I pull it from my pocket and hand it to Hedman.

He takes the call and puts it on speaker. Before I can say hello, James is shouting through the phone at me.

“What the fuck, Livi? Why are you on duty? What the fuck’s going on?”

“Hello, James. Nice language, dude. I’m sure your momma would be so proud of you right now,” I answer while Hedman laughs at my sarcasm.

“Am I on speaker?”

“Yes, you are. I’m driving, so Hedman answered and put you on speaker. So please be on your best behavior so he doesn’t think you’ve become a complete lunatic. I’m not sure either of us can pass another psych eval.”

“For fuck’s sake. Are you on your way to the precinct?” James asks in a calmer voice.

“Yes, we are. I’ll call you back when I get a moment.”

James disconnects without another word. Hedman chuckles as he sets my phone down then turns to look at me.

“Scannerland. Got to love that anyone can buy one. If you and Green’s work marriage is about to hit divorce court, keep me in mind as a partner. You’re good, Livi. Good cop, good person.”

“Thank you for that. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that today.”

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