One Who Knows - Chapter 5

      I wiped the blood from my shoes so that I wouldn't track any prints onto other areas of the crime scene. Tracking prints through a scene can mess up the



process making progress a lot more difficult. Reality is truth whereas the detective dramas on TV make the process look so easy. Real life police work



doesn't get solved in one hour. I know standing here talking to myself won't get the process done any quicker. 



      A lot of blood coated everything in sight spilling out of the victims that died where they stood.  I had seen some of these thugs alive last week, but you



never know when your last breath will be.  The gang life is risky, and this is the message I instill in Rena.  I instill this message in the youth that I counsel at



the youth center in my neighborhood.  A lot of the youth have nowhere to turn when life deals them a curveball.



      I’ve seen the youth lose friends to all kinds of violence, drugs, and gang influences.  Each one of the youth that shows up at the center is a product of



single parent households.  Most of the time the single parent is non-committed to their responsibility.  The scene in front of me is a perfect example of the



status of the youth in the community.  I was lost in thought happy that my childhood had a different experience. 



      “Sadie, the scene is very overwhelming.”  said Jordan, shaking his head in disbelief. 



         “I’m lost in thought at the tragedy that stares back at me.”  said Sadie, watching officers picking up spent rounds. 



         “Do you think Crimson was really here?”  asked Jordan pointing at the lettering on the wall. 



         “I’m not sure, but I do believe that she was.”  replied Sadie sidestepping brain matter lying at her feet. 



         “I think she was someplace else which is the vibe I’m getting.”  said Jordan rolling up his sleeves.



         “These letters supposedly left by Crimson I think were left by someone else.”  Said Sadie  looking intently at the letters.



         Jordan walked over to the window stepping around turned over tables, and chairs.  He held the drapes open as a light breeze brushed his face.  He



looked through the window staring down the fire escape which reached to the fifth floor where they were. 



         “Hey Sadie, come take a look at this.”  Said Jordan pointing at red drops on the windowsill.



         “Oh, ok, I wonder how badly shot this person is?”  asked Sadie also looking out the window.



“There’s blood on the wall leading down the fire escape.”



Police officer Murtaugh pointed his Nikon Digital single lens reflex at blood splatter on a turned over



desk.



  Markerson walked over to the window and held the drapes over to get a view of the fire escape. 



Bromley and Murtaugh ventured at being careful of where they stepped.  Murtaugh snapped photos of



every drop while Bromley swabbed drops with a Q tip.  They continued on down to the last rung pushing



the extension so that it slid to the ground.   



            “Markerson, do you need to be carried down like a princess?”  asked Bromley nudging Murtaugh.



          “You’re not funny.”  Said Markerson.  “I’ve been down plenty of fire escapes.” 



Murtaugh pretended to snap a picture of Markerson proceeding down the extension. 



          “Put that in the Greenville Law  Enforcement Beat site.”  Said Bromley putting a swab into a



container. 



            “That better not go on any social sites.”  Responded Markerson, her dark eyes boring into



Bromley.



            “My kids are on those social sites as much as they can.”  Said Murtaugh not understanding the



fascination.         



            “This is the way the world communicates.”  Said Markerson pointing to a bulletin board. 



The bulletin board stated “what would Alexander Graham Bell tweet today? “  There was a picture of



Bell dressed in period clothing texting on a non-descript cell phone.



            “Everyone has lost touch with personal socialization.”  Said Bromley hugging Markerson. 



            “Get off me.”  Said Markerson pushing Bromley away.



            “This is a hostile work environment.”  Stated Bromley steadying himself.  “I’m not going to take



this anymore.”



          “Bromley, that shouldn’t surprise you since our chosen careers receive hostility every day.”  Said



Markerson wringing out an imaginary tissue.



Murtaugh continued snapping photos of the blood droplets.  He was looking through the viewfinder



when the Nikon flew out of his hands.  The force of the camera being blown out of his hand blew his



head back causing him to fall flat on his back.  Bullets were pinging off cars parked near by.  Sidewalk



dust was spitting up as bullets ripped into the concrete.  Markerson and Bromley drew their Glock 40s



ducking behind cars for cover. 



            “Murtaugh, are you alright?”  yelled Bromley peeking over a Chevrolet Malibu.



            “Where is the shooter?”  asked Markerson adjusting her gaze.  “I don’t see the shooter.”



Murtaugh gathered himself, the Nikon, and crawled behind a teal colored Ford Focus.  He looked over



the camera noticing the two hundred and fifty millimeter vibration reduction lens glass was shattered. 



Lodged in the glass was a hollow point round. 



              “I’m doing fine.”  Yelled Murtaugh taking a deep breath.  “My camera lens is a paper weight.”



            “Dispatch, we have officers being shot at.”  Said Markerson yelling into her radio.  “We can’t see



the shooter.”



Murtaugh looked up after checking out his camera and saw a muzzle flash.  He zoned in on the sixth



floor of a commercial building that housed Ziffler, Harkin, and Robles, the prestigious law firm. 



            “We are on the corner of North Main and Stone street.”  replied Markerson glancing through the Malibu’s drivers side window. 



She caught a glimpse of light popping off of metal.  She raised her weapon taking careful aim at the glint of light.  She slid her finger off the trigger guard



placing her finger on the trigger.  Markerson took a deep breath slowly squeezing the trigger.  The trigger was almost depressed when the glint softened in the



window.  The figure in the window turned holding a phone up to their ear.  Markerson lowered her weapon, and slid down along the car door. 

           

            “Do they not see the commotion on the street?”  Asked Markerson disgusted with the person in the window. 

           

            “Sometimes people are oblivious to what’s around them.”  Said Bromley repositioning himself to ease the knee strain. 

         

            "We have backup on it’s way.”  Said the dispatch. 



Sirens were heard in the background.  Tires were heard screeching around corners as the cars



approached.  A multitude of cars raced around the corner screeching to a halt.  The streets had been



cleared of any pedestrians.  Police officers jumped out of their cruisers leaving the doors open to use



them as protection.  Bullets pinged off the doors. 



            “I see the shooter.”  Said Murtaugh.  “The shooter is on the sixth floor in that far window.” 



            “I see them to.” Said Markerson, looking at the office window. 



An armored unit called an E.R.U. also known as an Emergency Response Unit rolled in.  The rear doors



were opened as body armored officers with high tech weaponry jumped out advancing towards the



front entrance of the building.  Their advancement was tighter than an old grandmother’s stitch.  They



fanned out with six officers on each side of the entrance.  The lead officer opened up the door, and they



all took strategic positions behind columns in the lobby.  Bullets pinged off the cars smashing cruiser



windows.  Tires hissed settling cruisers on flat tires. 



        “Captain Kipley, we are advancing up to the second floor.”  Said E.R.U lead officer Scott Gooding.  “The first floor is clear.”



Each officer had their weapons trained on the surrounding area in front of them.  They were poised at a



moments notice to tap their triggers for any hostiles.  They advanced to every door sliding a telescopic



mirror into each office.  All seemed to be clear.  They advanced up to the third floor following every



protocol.  They searched every office finding nothing but emptiness.   



            “Scott, the suspect is on the sixth floor in the corner office.”  Said Captain Kipley adjusting his ear



piece.  “We are unable to get a clear shot because we see his shadow bouncing around the room.



            “We have cleared the fourth and fifth floors.”  Said Gooding as they advanced up to the sixth



floor.



The E.R.U. team took special notice of the corner office since that is where the shooter is located.  A



clock was ticking in an office adjacent to the E.R.U. officers.  The silence was unnerving.  Gunfire hadn’t



been heard for at least fifteen minutes.  The team advanced down the corridor panning their weaponry



back and forth.  Scott held up a fist to pause the advancement.



            “I hear some movement up ahead.”  Scott whispered into his ear piece.



The team started to advance when a white fluffy cat came racing out of the room ahead.  Scott



motioned for officer Gramling, one of the highest decorated team members to come forward. 



Gramling got into a position ready to throw the flash grenade.  He raised his arm tossing the grenade



into the room.  The room exploded into a deafening mass of twisted metal.  The wall blew out blowing



team members into a writhing, confused pile of tactical gear.