“This is Charlie 204. I’m in the area of that disturbance. Do you have the location of the reporting party or description of the suspects?”
“Negative, Charlie 204,” the dispatcher said. “The reporting party called from Cue Two saying there was a fight of some kind in the parking lot. Nothing further.”
“10–4.”
Diego wished he could say that wasn’t the norm, but in reality, he rarely knew what the hell was going on when he showed up at a scene. More often than not, that was the way it worked. He showed up, asked questions, trusted his instincts, and figured things out as best he could.
He pulled up into the parking lot of Cue Two and parked alongside the curb near the entrance, watching as a few people ran for their cars through the pouring rain. The lot was nearly full, even on a night like this. That said a ton about the place, part pool hall and part dance club. People obviously liked coming here. But with good food and half-price drink specials, who could blame them, right?
Diego cut the engine, then stepped out of his patrol car into a puddle that could have been mistaken for a small pond. He cursed under his breath as cold water found its way into his patrol shoes, making his feet wetter than they already were. More than a few people eyed him warily when he walked into the club, no doubt assuming he was there to put a crimp on their fun. Ignoring them, he stood there, rain dripping off his uniform to splash on the floor as he swept the crowded room, trying to figure out why he was there. Between the deafening music, clacking of billiard balls, and people shouting to be heard as they tried to have conversations with one another, it was frigging loud as hell, but nothing seemed out of place.
That was when he saw the bartender waving him over. Despite the uniform and badge, it still took him nearly a minute to shove his way through the crowd to reach her. Tall and reed thin, she had wild, curly red hair and tons of freckles.
“You the one who called Dallas PD?” he asked, shouting to be heard over the noise. “Some kind of fight?”
She nodded, continuing to mix some concoction involving five different kinds of alcohol that didn’t look like they’d taste great combined together. But to each their own, he guessed.
“It wasn’t really a fight. It was something I saw that made me uncomfortable,” the bartender yelled back. “Three women were at the bar drinking for a while and got a little tipsy, so I helped them order an Uber. When they went over to the door to wait, two rough-looking dudes started hitting on them.” She paused mid-story to deliver her collection of drinks to the waitress standing impatiently at the bar. “It was obvious they were trying to convince the girls to leave with them, and just as obvious the girls wanted nothing to do with them.”
“So, what happened?” he nudged.
She sighed. “I’m not sure, and that’s the part that worried me. I turned my head for a minute, and when I looked back again, the women were leaving. A few seconds later, the two men walked out.”
Diego could think of half a dozen different ways the scenario the bartender had described might have played out. And most of them didn’t end well.
“I’m telling you, a shiver ran down my spine as those men walked out.” The bartender shook her head. “Anyway, I finished up what I was doing and ran outside to make sure the girls were okay. I didn’t see them, but I saw those two guys running down Harry Hines away from the club area. I couldn’t tell for sure if they were chasing anyone, but it felt like they were up to no good, you know?”
Diego frowned. Of all the scenarios he’d envisioned, the guys chasing the three women down the street wasn’t one of them. If something like that happened on any other night, there would have been twenty calls into 911. But tonight? It was extremely possible no one saw anything because they were too busy trying to get out of the rain.
“Can you describe the two men?” he asked.
Normally, he would have written down what the bartender told him, but his notebook was probably as drenched as the rest of him, so he didn’t bother. He could remember two guys with dark hair between five-ten and six feet wearing jeans and T-shirts.
Giving the bartender a nod, he headed outside to his patrol car, glancing in the direction she said the men ran. The only thing that way were strip malls and industrial buildings. If the women had gotten so spooked they’d decided to abandon the club before their Uber got there, why head someplace where there wouldn’t be anyone to help if they needed it? Going to another club—or staying here—would have been much safer. Then again, people did strange things when they were scared.
Diego climbed in his vehicle and radioed dispatch, telling them what he had and that he was going to drive around and check out the area north of the club.
“Roger, Charlie 204. Sending additional units to your location.”
“Copy that,” he said.
The strip mall was filled with stores that had been empty of tenants for months. Everything looked fine from the front, but when he drove around to the back, he caught sight of an open door in the beam of his spotlight. Diego’s gut tightened and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He was out of his car the moment it rolled to a stop, updating dispatch even as he grabbed his flashlight and Glock.
He’d barely stepped foot outside when a woman’s scream came from the building, piercing the night.
Shit.
He couldn’t wait for backup. Not when someone’s life was in danger.
Grip tight on his weapon, Diego slipped through the doorway, immediately taking cover behind a concrete support column. He moved the beam of his flashlight back and forth around the space ahead of him, but other than a lot of bare shelves and crushed cardboard boxes, there wasn’t much to see. Then he caught sight of a doorway on the far side of the wide-open area and realized this store was connected to the one next to it. He cursed his luck. He’d hoped this strip mall was composed of individual units.
He cautiously made his way across the room, trying to see behind every support column, shelf, box, and dark corner all at the same time. That was damn near impossible to do on his own. Dammit, he should have waited for backup. Other units called out their location over the radio, but they were all a good distance away. He prayed one of them was a K9 team. What he wouldn’t give to be able to see in the dark like one of his four-legged coworkers. And being able to smell like a K9? Crap, that would be awesome.
He couldn’t see in the dark—or sniff out bad guys—and he never would. But he was going to risk his life to find those girls anyway…if they were in here.
Diego stepped through the second doorway into the next store to find it even darker and more cluttered than the first. He was slowly weaving his way through the mess when he heard a gunshot immediately followed by a woman’s scream.
Shit.
He thumbed the mic on his radio. “Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired.”