The Missing Witness

The Missing Witness ~ Part One

The grating clang of the cell door closing rang like a death knell; he could only hope it wasn't his death. Or her's, not that he knew who she was, all he had to go on was the purse that had arrived in the mail. And now the cop who locked him in here had that. He forced himself to breathe in the damp, musty air. 'Slow down and think.' Sitting on the rusted bed frame. 'There has to be a way to convince this cop he's not the bad guy here.'

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Emmy Altman's gut told her the guy in the pen wasn't the perp they should be looking at. His story was ridiculous. Who in hell gets purses mailed to them? But there was something about him that seemed, well, honest. She was new to the squad; her partner Ben was sure they had their dirtbag and that it was just a matter of time before he broke. Emmy couldn't shake the feeling Ben was wrong and that they were both missing something.

"Hey, Sarge." Standing in front of her supervisor's desk. "Any way we can get a warrant to search that guy's place?" Emmy asked.

"On what grounds?" Not even looking up from the native cheesesteak that dripped a ribbon of grease down his chin. "Whatta we tell a judge? That you picked a guy up on the street for carrying a purse, searched it illegally, and now you wanna violate his rights a lot more?"

"Yeah, but Sarge, I think we can clear this u—"

"Answer's no." Still chewing. "Now go away, Altman, you're interrupting my lunch."

Emmy walked away dejectedly. The guy downstairs wasn't going to break, and they weren't any closer to finding their missing witness. She looked at Ben; he was reading the paper, "gotta give the dirtbag time to stew" was his excuse for doing nothing.

"Rossman." Ben barely looked up. "I'm going to go gas up the unit." Grabbing the keys off his desk. "I'll be back in a few."

Rossman spared her a wave. "Good Girl, I'll be here. Bring back some pizza."

As much as he infuriated her, she didn't let it show. At least not until she got to the car and the smell of stale cigarettes and whatever Rossman ate last reminded her how much she hated being his partner. A good pound on the steering wheel eased some of her frustrations. On a whim, instead of turning right out of the lot towards the gas, she turned left. She wasn't even sure what she'd do when she got there. But, she was drawn to the dirtbags house. She frowned at that, she had to stop calling him that. She didn't think he was a dirtbag.

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Sitting in the car outside the house of the dirtba—, she stopped herself. She thought he was telling the truth. But why would someone mail him the missing women's purse? Was he really what he claimed to be? A reporter whom none of the local rags knew? How could she prove anything either way? Biting her lip, she thought, 'I have to get in that house. I need that warrant, need to convince the Sarge. Knowing she wasn't going to persuade her Sargent of anything, she decided to break in. Better to apologize later, than seek permission ...

She was getting out of the car when someone walked up to the front of the house--looking around before running up to the door. Emmy turned away, pretending to be heading away. The intruder ran to the front door, and as Emmy watched, jimmied the door open. Emmy drew her Glock as she crossed the street, letting the intruder enter the house. She walked up the path carefully, mounted the steps, and looked around the open front door. The intruder's back was to the door, they were rummaging around a small table with mail and boxes on it. Emmy kicked the door open and yelled. "Police, Freeze."

The intruder started to turn around. Saying, "wait, don't shoo—

"Don't turn around. Shut up and get on your knees," Emmy shouted again.

"Easy, there's no need to ..."

"Knees! Now!

The intruder dropped to their knees. "Listen, let me reach into my left pocket ..."

"I said shut up. You are under arrest for breaking and entering. Now hands behind your back, lie face down on the floor and don't move."

Emmy walked over to the intruder, who grunted when Emmy's knee landed none too gently in the small of their back. Putting the muzzle of her gun against the back of the intruder's head, she said, "move an inch." Emmy snapped the cuffs on both wrists and rolled the intruder over.

"Hi Emms. The intruder smiled up at her. "How tricks?"

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