Page 3 of Red Snow
Detective Jarrod Granger
“SHE’S GONNA BEpissed.”
“She’s always pissed.”
“True, but she told us to bring backup, and here we are once again, not listening to the sergeant. So she’s gonna be pissed.”
“Marcus, it actually isn’t humanly possible for me to care any less than I do right now,” I reply to my partner as we cross the street. “She can be pissed all she wants. We’re not babies, we don’t need uniforms following us to pick this guy up. We got this. Just you and me. This is what we do. Anyway, I hope you’re limbered up.”
“Limbered up?” Marcus repeats as he slides his hands down his gray suit like he’s ironing out wrinkles that aren’t there.
“Yeah, limbered up. He’s gonna run.”
“What? You don’t know shit. He’s not gonna run.”
“Yes he is gonna run, I’ve got a gut feeling about this,” I counter, walking in step with the six-foot, skinny detective.
“You and your gut feelings.”
“Oh, don’t start talking shit about my gut feelings now. The feelings in my gut have saved our asses on numerous occasions and brought down quite a few bad guys.”
“Whatever, Jarrod. He ain’t gonna run.”
“Okay, let’s bet on it then. I bet you a hundred dollars he runs,” I say to Marcus, holding out my hand for him to shake so we can seal the deal on the wager. Without hesitation, he shakes with all the confidence in the world.
“You’re on. A hundred bucks.”
My partner, Marcus Phillips, and I step onto the curb in front of the house and walk towards the front door. It’s a beat up little place, with shingles that are starting to fall off, and I can only imagine how this place holds up in the winter when we’re getting snowed on like crazy. Anchorage, Alaska isn’t the place to have a shitty roof. The snow will come crashing right into your living room if you let it.
The sun is shining even though the temperature is starting to dip. Winter is just now getting going, and we know it’s going to be a long one because Mount Denali, formerly known as Mount McKinley, is already completely covered in snow. There’s nobody on the street and the sun puts me in a good mood. I think today is going to be a good day, especially since I’m about to win a hundred dollars.
We reach the door and Marcus knocks. The screen door rattles with each of the three knocks and sounds like it’s going to fall off if he hits it just one more time. I lean in a little and listen closely for signs of life inside the dilapidated house, and I feel my nerves perk up when I hear footsteps approaching. Marcus rubs his cleanly shaven face and bald head all in one motion as he prepares himself for the reason we’re here. It’s time to work now.
I hear the deadbolt being turned, followed by the twist of the doorknob, then I see him. He’s six-foot-two, at least two-ten, with a scruffy beard and tattoos of little devils on his chest, which he displays proudly as he stands in the doorway shirtless and scowling.
“Morning, Jerry,” Marcus greets with a faux smile. “We’ve got business to discuss. We need you to let us in.”
“Ugh, what the fuck do y’all want with me now?” Jerry Bales says to us. He’s got a mouthful of chew tucked under his lip and an arrogance that makes me want to force him to swallow it. But I do my best to let Marcus start things off. This is his part of how we do things. My part is coming up. I guarantee it.
“Well, Jerry, here’s the thing,” Marcus continues. “We told you when we let you go that if anything came up that implicated you, we’d be here to haul you in. Well, the day of reckoning is upon us, Jerry. Turns out, your DNA was found at the scene of the . . .”
Out of nowhere, Jerry Bales reaches up and pushes Marcus backwards and tries to slam the door shut, but I stick my foot between the door and the jamb and it closes on me. I let out a scream as Marcus regains his balance and pushes his way inside, weapon drawn, but when he opens the door, Jerry turns and runs into the depths of the house.
“Oh, I told you he was gonna run!” I shout as Marcus scrambles and scurries inside the house to chase Jerry.
“My fucking foot,” I say to myself as I hear furniture being knocked over as the two men chase each other around inside like wild animals. “Motherfucker! Fuck this.”
I leave the door open and walk around to the side of the house, fighting off a slight limp. Now that Jerry hurt my foot and pushed Marcus, I’m officially pissed, and that’s not good for Jerry. He just fucked up.
I stroll down the side of the house, listening as I walk past the windows. The cold ground crunches beneath my feet, but I don’t hear any gunfire, and Marcus isn’t calling for me, so I know Jerry is either hiding or still running, maybe even a little bit of both. So, I follow my gut feeling and walk up to the white fence enclosing Jerry’s backyard. I look over it to make sure there isn’t a dog waiting to bite me in the ass. That would really ruin my good mood. Once I see the coast is clear, I hop the fence and crouch down.
My hiding position is setup just behind the stairs and porch that lead into the back of Jerry’s house. Now, I could make my way into the house and search with Marcus, but something tells me Jerry is going to try his luck. He’s going to hide and wait for Marcus to look in the wrong room, then he’s going to make a break for the backdoor. He thinks he’s smart, but he doesn’t know who he’s fucking with.
After only ten seconds of waiting, sure enough, I hear heavy footsteps pounding towards the back door. Jerry comes crashing through the screen door like a bat out of hell and leaps off the porch. The second his feet touch the ground, I tackle him with everything I’ve got and we both go barreling over each other.
Jerry is a fairly big guy, and he’s got height on me for sure. But I’m five-nine, two hundred-fifteen pounds of muscle, and I will not be overpowered, especially after this asshole slammed that door on my foot. We tried to do this Marcus’s way, now we’ve moved on to my part of the way we do things.
Jerry tries to struggle as we roll on the ground like two pigs in the mud, but eventually, I overpower him and wind up on his back. I pull my nine millimeter out of its holster, quickly chamber a round, and shove the barrel into the side of Jerry’s neck so hard I know it’ll leave a deep mark that’ll last a while. He lets out a grunt of pain as I dig my knee into his back.
