Ollie Greenaway nodded to Sarah, signed in and ducked under the tape. He strode silently toward the doctor in his rock-solid, old-street-cop way. Jason Peete was right behind him, talking fast to Ollie’s back. He wore a watch cap pulled down to his eyebrows, covering his shaved head, and a fleece-lined jacket with the collar turned up; he hated the cold. And Oscar Cifuentes, pressed and pomaded as always, got out of his Impala and added his stiff macho presence to the scene. When they had all signed in and were talking to Delaney, last of all came Ray Menendez, flashing his handsome smile at Sarah – ‘Just always so cleaned-up looking,’ said the tech staffer who had the biggest crush on him. To no avail – he was scrupulously faithful to the beautiful girl he would soon marry.
Spurlock was still speaking. ‘I turned on my flasher as I drove toward him—’
‘You did?’ Sarah said. ‘So there’ll be a recording in your camera.’
‘Well, yeah,’ Spurlock said. ‘Come to think of it, I never thought to toggle the camera on, but … it starts saving the recording when the overhead flashers come on, doesn’t it?’
‘Sure does. Picks up the last thirty seconds before the lights came on, too. You might have a video of the whole event.’ The camera was rigged to compensate for the understandable tendency of street patrolmen to forget to hit the ‘record’ button during their most stressful times. Always running, it would start to save the video if they activated their warning lights or siren, or when their speed exceeded seventy-five miles an hour. Smart camera; lucky Spurlock.
‘What next?’
‘I turned on my outside speaker too, and I said, as loud as I could, ‘Put down your tools and stand up with your hands over your head.’ Spurlock’s voice grew stronger as he remembered that. Sarah thought it helped him to see the lot filling up with police personnel. His personal nightmare was turning into a civic event, and he could deal with that. Soon it would be in the newspaper and belong to everyone.
‘Did he respond promptly? Or seem to think about flight?’
‘He stood up when I told him to but he never seemed to think about running. I had my eyes on him the whole time and it seemed to me that as soon as he heard my voice he accepted being caught. All his moves for that next minute looked calm and easy, like somebody who’s been arrested before. You know what I mean?’
‘Yes.’ First year on the street, you learn to look for the difference between beginners and the ones who’ve been around a while. Often the first-timers are the dangerous ones; nobody knows what they’ll do. Experienced thugs accept the occasional arrest as the price of doing business.
‘I stopped in front of him and watched him straighten up before I opened my door. When he was all the way up, I said, ‘Step away from your vehicle,’ and he did. When he was standing on the asphalt, away from everything, I drew my weapon, opened my door and got out of the car. I still had the door between me and the suspect but I never took my eyes off him. He’d put his hands up nice and easy, held them just above his head. I opened my mouth to tell him, “A little higher,” but just as I stepped out from behind my door his right hand dropped behind his head, and quick as a snake he pulled it forward holding that gun, the Sig you see on the ground there, and started firing. He’s got a holster pulled up tight behind his neck, you’ll see.’
‘That must have been quite a surprise.’
‘Tell me about it. Tricky bastard.’ She was watching Spurlock curiously now because despite his sweaty upper lip and the jumping nerve in his jaw, this rookie patrolman had apparently put three bullets – three was his own guess, but it might turn out to be more – into the kill zone of the moving man he claimed had shot first. He’d hit his target every time. He might be a little nervous but if everything he was saying was true, Gerald Spurlock was one hell of a shooter.
‘You believe he only got off one round?’
‘That’s all I heard. There could have been a second shot covered by the noise of my firing, but I don’t think he had time for that.’
‘Where did his bullet go, do you know?’
‘No. Not into me was what I noticed.’ They each gave a small, humorous snort. Spurlock had already learned that you didn’t carry on about these things. ‘As soon as I saw that gun in his hand, I returned fire three times. He went rigid for a couple of seconds and then dropped like a stone.’
‘So it was all over very fast?’
‘Yes.’ Dan Spurlock turned his boyish face toward Sarah, raised his eyebrows and said, ‘The whole incident took place in less than a minute.’ He made another small sound, like a hiccup.