Homecoming

A couple receive an interesting surprise waiting for them in the house

"I do not think there is going to be anyone answering the door," Pasha said in her thick accent. "I think nobody is home."

Jocko nodded his head. "Good. It's easier when they're not home." His accent was one hundred percent American. He was an all-American boy, after all, right down to the entrepreneurial spirit.

Jocko opened his business in 2015 after several run-in's with the law. He had gotten tired of the chase— chases. He was amazed at how fit some cops were. He was fast and lean, and these cats, wearing thirty pounds of equipment, had caught him four times out of five.

"Get the bumper out," he murmured to Pasha, smiling and looking around casually. He held a plate of "brownies" carefully. Pasha slid the bump key into the door lock and tapped on it. There was a click, and it began to turn. Jocko tensed up; this was the most hazardous part, even though he never carried a gun and insisted his partners didn't either. "A gun in your hand is ten years in the can." Nobody had time for that.

The door opened, and Jocko got ready. Pasha took a step across the threshold and bright floodlights bashed out of the dark interior, blinding her. She turned to run, but slammed into Jocko, who grabbed her arm and held her fast.

As the police led her away in cuffs, the chief stepped up to Jocko and took the plate of brownies—which was really a recording device.

"Looks like you brought us another one before she could become a problem, Jocko. The Commissioner will send your check in the mail, as usual."

Jocko smiled and strode back to his car, putting his magnetic business sticker back on the door:

"The Net: Fishers of Men Conmen!"

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NOTES: ▶︎

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "Nobody is home"

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