Down Goes the Puppy

“Good morning, sir, I am Detective DeGrasso and this here is Detective Novak. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if we may…”

Braggs pivoted instantly and started running down the alley.

“Cut him off on Southern Blvd,” DeGrasso barked into the radio. Novak, five years younger and 20 pounds lighter, was already gone, gaining fast on the fugitive.

DeGrasso knew the ’hood like the back of his hand. He rounded the corner at a less than determined jog as the black-and-whites, sirens wailing, bunched up down Southern Blvd creating a serious barrier.

DeGrasso appeared on the terrace of the fridge factory out of nowhere. His position was now astride Braggs’s path. DeGrasso spotted the fugitive, gasping down the incline, Novak only a few paces behind.

The shooter coolly tracked Braggs and squeezed the shot as the rapist hesitated momentarily before the fence. The .308 Win round tore through Braggs’s left shoulder, sending him down like a sack of potatoes.

“Jesus!” DeGrasso breathed. “Down goes the puppy!”

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