Page 5 of The Fall Guy

My gaze darts between the law enforcement and the window. If they take me in, they’ll likely charge me with drug possession. Maybe they’ll find a few illegal weapons and some extra strong bootleg liquor. If I run, they could shoot me. Is a few drugs, weapons and homemade moonshine really worth it?

“Hands up,” the cop on the left says. My eyes shift from them to the window and back. “Don’t make me ask you again.” He raises his gun with confidence.

I’m going to regret this, but I’ve never been one to take the easy option.

Head first, I launch through the small gap, escaping the confinement of my room. Grappling onto the drainpipe, I slide down the wall. My knees bang against the bricks on my way down, and I hit the floor with a thud.

I struggle to regain balance. When I’m finally back on my feet, I start to sprint like the guys in blue are already on my tail, and I’m running over hot coals.

Any injuries I’ve sustained are irrelevant at this moment. My legs are working, and I’m racing away from the hazard. That’s what matters.

Stones pummel against my bare soles, but nothing’s going to slow me down. Quickly, I make my way to the bottom of the garden, leaving by the back alley. Pushing over a few wheelie bins, I head to the main road.

Sirens ring out all around, making the sound distorted. I’ve no idea which way to go.

A cop car pulls around the corner, putting me in full view of the enemy.

With a tumble, I roll into a hedge, working my way into a garden. A couple are sitting in deckchairs while having a smoke, and I hold my hands up in an apology. Before they can alert anyone to my location, I slip into the next hedge, leaving one garden for another.

I continue to invade people’s space until I can rejoin another alleyway. Dogs bark, but luckily, I didn’t come too close to any of them.

I’m looking over my shoulder to check I’m not being followed when I slam into a car bonnet. My feet leave the ground as I free-fall through the air. The car screeches while it breaks heavily.

Someone swears loudly, but I’m struggling to focus. The world spins around in front of my eyes. My back hits the floorfirst causing a jolt of pain to radiate along my body. Tiny stones stick in my hands as I try to lift myself up. By the time I’m back on my feet, I have a taser aimed at my chest and a slim chance of getting away.

“There’s nowhere to go. Put your arms up, and this won’t get any more painful,” the cop with the weapon says. He’s tall, lean, and has a nervous glare. I don’t think for one second he doesn’t mean what he is saying.

Looking around, I check for a way out. More cops and more tasers are all I see.

“Fuck,” I mutter before doing as he asks. The game is up. Let’s hope they didn’t look too hard while they were in my house.

With force, he pushes me back onto the car bonnet, making me curse under my breath. My arm is bleeding, and my T-shirt is drenched in sweat.

He secures my wrists in cuffs as someone reads me my rights. The charges are a blur of overcompensating words that don’t make much sense. From what I can figure out dangerous weapons and illegal substances don’t seem to come into it. It sounds more like a stitch up than something I’ve done. All I can do is glare as I’m shoved into the vehicle’s rear seat.

Someone closes the door behind me, and when the cops are back in the car, we’re racing away from any chance of freedom.

“Where were you between the hours of ten and twelve yesterday evening?” Sergeant Miller says to me for the sixth time.

I watch him walk back and forth across the interrogation room but keep my lips sealed. I’ve no idea what they think they know, and my alibi isn’t the kind that would keep me out of jail. He pounds his fist down on the tabletop but I don’t flinch.

His interview partner, Officer Perkins, sighs like she’s already had enough of this.Me too.Hopefully, they tell me what this is about so we can all fuck off home.

Another twenty minutes of pointless questions pass while I stay tight-lipped. My head falls off my hand as I almost pass out from boredom or exhaustion.

The door opens for the first time since I was shut in here. Taser cop breaks up this party by waving his sergeant out of the room. I blow the young, petite cop a kiss before she decides to turn off the interview tape and join her team. I’m thankful for the few minutes without pointless questioning.

While they’re out of the room, I adjust my position. My ass has gone numb, and the shirt they lent me is doing nothing to keep me warm. A shiver ripples down my spine. I jump up off the chair and take the opportunity to stretch. Once I have better circulation, I drop back down into my seat.

The door opens once more, and they re-enter the interrogation room. Sergeant Miller has a brown envelope under his arm and a massive grin on his face. Whatever he’s got in there can’t be good.

“Shall we try again?” he says.

I pick the dried skin next to my thumbnail, unimpressed he wants to carry this charade on any longer. It would be so much easier if he just explained what was going on. He repeats a few of his questions, although I don’t engage.

“Show him the pictures, Serg,” the policewoman whose name I’ve forgotten says.

He strokes the envelope like he’s won a fucking prize. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for whatever he thinks he’s got on me. The drugs weren’t in my room, I can deny those charges, and maybe I was peeling an orange with the knives.

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