Mokoto rode past the Grand Prix a third time. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Bob’s car. The car did her little good, as she saw a policeman searching it this time. The warrant must have been called in she thought to herself, as she decided to take another pass all around downtown. They had a good twenty minute head start on her on foot, unless they called a taxi. The needle of her gas gage was starting to touch the large E as she took a hard left.
***
Officer Travis Bucholz didn’t like it. He saw the other squad car parked, but there was no sign of Officer Stevens anywhere. Stevens was known as the most forgetful officer on the force, so he was holding out hope that Stevens just lost track of time. The spot right in front of the apartment was available. That already seemed out of place. Why didn’t Stevens park here? Officer Bucholz had a bad feeling. He parked the car, then made sure his radio was on and his gun was ready. He slowly approached the door. He knocked loudly. He was about to knock loudly again, but he noticed some damage to the door, which looked like it had been kicked in at some point. He tried the doorknob, and the place was unlocked. He swung the door open, and he then quickly backed away towards his car, recoiling from the sight of Stevens face down in a large pool of blood. Quickly, he reached for his handset. “This is Bucholz. I’ve got a ten-double zero. Repeat, ten-double zero.”
***
Mabel Gravley saw her life flash before her eyes. She remembered her childhood in Minnesota. She vividly remembered her first kiss with Chris Tobin on the playground. She saw her prom date and remembered the fun they had that night. She saw herself marching in a protest against Vietnam. She recalled her sadness when her first cat Ginger had died. She remembered meeting Richard at her alcoholics anonymous meeting in the early eighties. There was the elope to Vegas, followed by a divorce than ended her marriage at the same time as Ronald Regan left office. She relived moving back to Minnesota, then winding up in South Dakota for reasons she barely remembers, other than his name was Rafael. She recalled her sadness at Richard’s funeral, and his brother Michael getting her the job as apartment manager, which led to her taking a job at the humane society. Then, her brain saw the can of orange juice rolling on the floor towards the men who would take her life. She heard a metallic noise, and felt the impact on her chest. It didn’t hurt at first. Then, it didn’t hurt at all.
“Here’s your keys. Lock up and get out.”
It was the voice of the man who spoke very little. She opened her eyes and looked down. Her keyring was on the floor in front of her, and she was once again alone.
***
The door of the bookstore swung open, and Old Man B slowly walked to his car. He swung open the passenger door and tossed a brown paper sack onto the seat, then slammed it. He then walked around the back of the car. Something seemed off, but he couldn’t tell what it was. B shrugged it off and opened the driver door. He plopped down and turned the keys. The Pacer turned over, and he checked his mirror. A black motorcycle with a female rider roared by. “Not bad, not bad” he grumbled.
Suddenly, a cell phone started ringing.
