Krystal complied, but it was obvious to Kristof she wasn’t happy about being ordered around.
Kristof watched a shadow fall across his porch. He squinted as the shadow cleared the corner. “Shit!” He whispered the ‘i’ as an ‘e’ and drew it out several syllables. “A cat.”
“Yeah, I saw the shadow of a cat and I…” He paused and noticed the smile on her face. “Never mind.”
Kristof and Krystal walked back to their house. Krystal whispered, “I thought you were gonna die.”
Kristof stopped and turned to face her. “I think I did.”
“Yeah.” The pair resumed their walk and Kristof told her everything he and the doctor had discovered.
* * *
“Whatcha got Frank?”
Sergeant Frank Massey looked up from the file he was studying. “Hey, Jones. It’s that kid.”
“Joaquin… Something. The kid who disappeared from the precinct, um… Your carjacker?”
Massey nodded. “Something just doesn’t add up about him.”
“Well, he leaves evidence at each crime scene. Finger prints, fibers, video surveillance.”
“Criminals are dumb.”
“Yeah, well he escaped custody. I’m thinking he had help.”
“Ya’know what I think?”
Massey raised his eyebrows in response.
“I think this is the problem.” Jones tapped two fingers just above his wrist where a watch would reside.
Massey looked at his own arm and saw skin many shades lighter than Joaquin’s. He looked up to see Jones nodding, and retorted, “Race has nothing to do with it.”
Jones spread his hands to indicate he had no control over it. “Hey, I don’t gather the statistics, I just enforce the law.”
“Statistics my ass,” Massey grumbled. “That’s profiling. Plain and simple.”
“Look,” Jones sighed, “there’s evidence that the kid was involved in quite a few crimes.” Massey leaned forward in response. “Don’t let your sympathies cloud your police work.”
Massey crossed his arms defensively and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe.”
Jones’s response was to sit at his desk and drink the cold coffee he had poured into a mug several hours prior.
* * *
“These are needy people.” Lil’ Cee waved his hand, encompassing what Joaquin considered the dregs of society. It didn’t occur to him that he was considered one of those dregs by people who considered themselves ‘better’ than he.
“What do they need?” Asked Joaquin.
“They need purpose. They need to matter. They’s fertile with rage.”
Joaquin stopped and looked at Lil’ Cee who had pronounced ‘fertile’ in two hard syllables, the second sounding like something used on floors. When Joaquin looked away his eyes fell upon an odd painting. It appeared to be the Mona Lisa, but the hands were fused together with webbing and the face was of a large-eyed alien. “The fuck, yo!”
Lil’ Cee smiled. “You like my alien Mona Lisa?”
“You want I should fix you up on a date wit’ her?” Lil’ Cee and his crew erupted in laughter. Joaquin suddenly felt like an unwelcome guest.
“I’ve got a better idea…” Joaquin pulled out his knife and stepped towards Lil’ Cee.
#FFC52 I hadn’t planned on doing #FFC52 this week. I followed Miss Alister who had continued D. Paul Angel’s continuation of the first page of my typewriter stream of consciousness flash, Beginnings. She posted her continuation to Three Word Wednesday, so I wrote to that prompt. In the end, I did add a reference to TiV’s 43rd prompt. I’m gonna post this to #fridayflash and Sunday Scribblings as well. This addition of 503 words to 16Sunsets brings the total to 16,528. I’m running out of steam on 16Sunsets. When B.J. and I worked adjacent shifts at the station, we would spend time discussing the story and I would get excited to write more. I’ll have to track his ass down and force him to psyche me up about writing more. Consider this abomination chapter 13a.