Sleep, however, did eventually come and though Skeeter didn’t remember exactly when he fell off, he knew it wasn’t nearly long enough rest as the alarm clock went off with its irritating tones the sounded like high-pitched birds chirping into a bullhorn. Skeeter wiped the sleep from his eyes and made his way to the kitchen where he intended to drink a pot of black coffee in hopes that he could be awake for the day. As he passed the living room he heard his wife snoring annoyingly as she lay uncovered on the floor in front of the couch. Skeeter was glad that he had cleaned up his son’s mess while waiting for his wife the night before. “Serves her right,” Skeeter thought. “Should do real wonders for her back, I bet.” He didn’t want to be mean towards his wife, but he also didn’t want to start the day off with an argument. Instead of waking her, he went into the kitchen and prepared some bacon and eggs, which Shawn claimed were his favorite breakfast, but that came right after his dad made the same comment.

After the meal was prepared, Skeeter woke up his son who eagerly ran into the kitchen and sat in his chair. Though they ate in silence, Skeeter smiled at his son several time while Shawn mimicked the way his father ate. If Skeeter too a bite of bacon, so did Shawn, if he took a sip of coffee, Shawn took a sip of milk. Skeeter thought the behavior both cute and funny.

It was finally time to go. With his eyes, Shawn whined and cried that his father wouldn’t leave but said nothing out loud. Skeeter knew that when he got home he would have to lay down the law to his wife and force her into counseling or he would have to take more drastic measures, that is, if she were home when he returned. “Hon, wake up,” Skeeter vigorously shook Diane’s shoulder.

Diane sat up and almost immediately her hand went to her head as the hang over was evident.

“I’ll be home at six, make sure you’re hear because we really need to talk about something important,” Skeeter told his wife.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Diane waved him off as she struggled to stand.

“Be a good boy for mommy,” Skeeter told his son. “Go play quietly in your room until it’s time to get ready for school.”

“Yes dad,” Shawn said with reluctance in his voice. Before going to his room he gave his father a tight hug and then scampered off.

Skeeter felt sorry to leave the boy, but he couldn’t put his job on hold; especially not today. He took a deep breath and walked out the front door. He stayed their and listened for a moment, but not a word was spoken behind it. He then left.

J.D. kissed Christine while she still slept, clutching an undressed doll that she brought into bed with her the night before.

“Nervous?” Karen stood behind her husband and messaged his shoulders.

“You know how it is.” J.D. rolled his shoulders. “There’s so much to think about, so many things that can go wrong. Sarge says it’s good to be wary, keeps us on our toes.”

“I’m nervous too. I hate this part of you job, but it’s what you do. You know the drill though and I hold you to it,” Karen said as she walked with her husband to the front door in an uneasy ritual they followed when something big was going on.

“I know, call you as soon as it’s all over and be save,” J.D. sighed heavily.

Karen managed a meager smile and stared into her husband’s eyes to wait on the words that he always spoke when he knew he was going into a dangerous situation.

“Karen,” J.D. stared back into his wife’s eyes and though he said the same words many times before, the sincerity never waned. “In case I don’t get the chance to say it later, I love you more than life itself and I cherished everyday we’ve been together.” He softly kissed her lips. “You’ve filled my life with joy.” J.D. tenderly touched Karen’s cheek. “I love you, goodbye” he said softly and then turned to leave.

Karen hated hearing those last two words, they sounded foreboding and final. A tear fell from her eye as she momentarily imagined life without her husband. This goodbye was tougher than usual, with what happened to Chase added on top of her normal worries. She watched as J.D. got behind the wheel of his police cruiser. “I love you,” she mouthed.

J.D. gave a final wave to his wife, put his vehicle in reverse and left. He didn’t like the routine they went through either, but he never wanted his final words to his fife to be something trivial like “we need milk.” It was a necessary evil to give his parting words as if he weren’t going to come back that night and it solidified the danger that he may face later in the day.

J.D. drove to the convenience store where the mess that led to this day had started. Skeeter and Officer Bob McGruder were already waiting for him. Their plan was laid out the day before, but they would go over it one last time just to be on the safe side.

“We should’ve arrested the kid first,” Skeeter said, restating something he’s mentioned a half dozen times already.

“And warn the rest of his family of what’s going on and give them time to flee,” J.D. countered, standing firm on his reasoning.

“I just don’t like the fact that we’re putting a potential hostage in there and what if he warns his brother in advance, then we’re in for a dicey situation.”

“Look,” Bob said sharply. “It’s too late to cry now. We made a plan and it’s do or die time. Bickering ain’t going to change a thing.”

With that the group fell silent for a moment, wondering if “do or die” was the best phrase to use this day. They looked at the blue print of the house and road one last time and checked that their weapons were loaded and ready. They adjusted their bullet-proof vest and silently prayed that today wasn’t the day to test their effectiveness.

“Let’s do this,” J.D. said and then retreated to his car.

Billy lounged in an overstuffed chair watching Sports Center as his brother was sprawled out on the couch smoking an early morning joint, wearing nothing but a ratty pair of boxers. Early morning for Junior was ten A.M. Billy looked at the clock on the VCR and knew it was about that time. “Come on Junior, get ready, we got to get up to Smyrna and we’re already running late,” he said impatiently, trying to hide his nervousness.

“Yeah, sure,” Junior said as he scratched his backside. “Are you sure dad said this car would actually drive? You know the shit he sells on his lot.”

“He said it’s a Lincoln Towncar that he got for himself, so it’s probably decent,” Billy said as he glanced at the clock again. “He probably don’t want you to stink it up either, so take a shower and let’s go.”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s your rush anyway, it’s just a car.” Junior stood up.

“I’d like to get back and meet up with Amy if you must know,” Billy covered his true reason conveniently.

“I feel you; never keep a piece of ass waiting.” Junior winked. “Give me ten minutes and we’ll be gone.”

As soon as Junior went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, Billy went out on the concrete front porch. The teen looked up and down the street casually, but he didn’t see and of the squad cars he was looking for and hoped that things weren’t being delayed. He pulled a red baseball cap from his back pocket and while pretending to fold the bill, in case Junior happened to be watching him somehow, as was his brothers current habit, he waved the cap in front of the top step. After giving the pre-arranged signal, Billy walked back to the living room and waited nervously for events to unfold, hopefully.

Two cop cars raced down the street from the east and one drove up from the west. The lights and sirens were silent as they came to a halt in front of the suspect’s house. J.D. and Bob walked up the front path to the door, each standing off to the side of the doorframe. Skeeter, in the meantime, ran around back. J.D. took his pistol out of the holster and pushed the safety off while Bob pumped the shotgun, hearing the shell click into the chamber.

J.D. pounded on the door. “Open up, it’s the police,” he shouted.

Billy expected this, but it still scared him as he jumped up and ran towards the bathroom to inform his brother. He didn’t need to knock on the door, his brother swung it open and was standing, soaking wet, with a large towel around his waist. “It’s the cops,” Billy exclaimed as he looked fearfully at his brother.

“I know that, moron, I got ears. Get out of my way.” Junior shoved his younger sibling aside, knocking Billy to the floor. “I got a piece in my room by the bed. What are a few more notches on the handle in the scheme of life?” He grinned sinisterly.

Junior ran the short distance to his room and swung the door open. He didn’t take another step, finding himself face to face with an officer who must’ve climbed through his bedroom window. The barrel of the gun pointing at him was being held by a shaky handed officer whose glare told Junior he was over matched. The found of the front door breaking in informed Junior that more cops were on their way and that it was a winless situation.

“Down! Down!” Skeeter yelled. “Get down on the ground now!”

Junior dropped to his knees, defeated. Though he had long pictured this moment, he always imagined it different. In his dreams, he would always charge the cops or go out firing guns, one in each hand, like a cowboy villain from an old western movie. He always thought he would’ve taken a few officers down with him until the one bullet with his name on it brought his life to some noble end. Now that time was upon him and death was a false move away, Junior found out that he loved life a little too much than he originally anticipated. He did all that he was instructed to do as the police cuffed him and dragged him to a waiting patrol car.

Billy was also placed in cuffs, but was brought to a squad car separate from his brother’s. This was mostly for appearances sake. He was still afraid of retaliation if his brother ever figured out that he was the one who informed the police about everything.

Skeeter stood on the front porch and watched as the two cars rolled away. His hand still trembled slightly. There was a brief moment, it only lasted a fraction of a second, when he read the suspects eyes and could discern the young man’s thoughts. As Junior was deciding whether or not to charge the officer in a vain attempt to wrestle the gun away, Skeeter was deciding if he should pull the trigger when and if the move was made. Skeeter remembered how his finger tensed as he pulled the trigger back barely a centimeter during the moment of doubt before the suspect dropped to the ground. He felt relieved that it didn’t come to that, he never shot anyone before and hoped he would never have to.

Their was still one more lose end to tie up in this whole affair and as Skeeter let his adrenaline die down a little bit he got back behind the wheel of his cruiser and drove off.

“That’s a real fine vehicle you’re getting,” Jerry Johnson said to the man who found himself desperately in need of a work truck for the new job he’d just gotten. “I’m sure it’ll run as the day is long,” he added in his sappy sweet voice with the air of faux southern charm.

The man followed Jerry Johnson into the small building that housed a makeshift office that was cramped and uncomfortable. Seeing that he had no credit and needed the car so he could make money to support his wife and child, the man saw no other alternative.

“That’ll be the eight hundred dollars down and fifty dollars a week until the balance of $5995 is paid off,” Jerry informed.

At that moment, Skeeter barged into the office.

“If you don’t mind officer, I’m in the middle of closing a deal,” Jerry strained to sound as polite as he could.

“Listen buddy, it’s a lemon, he’s charging you ten times its value and he’ll bleed you dry if you let this leech get at you,” Skeeter said quickly before any objections could be raised.

The customer looked at the officer, then at Jerry, and decided there was much more going on and left hastily.

“Jerry Johnson, you sir are under arrest,” Skeeter said as Jerry stood up to give him a piece of his mind.

Skeeter roughly pushed Jerry against the wall and cuffed him.

“Arrest? Arrest?” Jerry said aghast. “On what charge?”

“Aiding, abetting and harboring,” Skeeter informed and then read the apprehended used car salesman his rights.

After bringing his charge to the holding facility, Skeeter returned to his desk. J.D. was already filling out some paperwork.

“I don’t think it’s going to be much of a trial,” J.D. said.

“Oh?” Skeeter sat down. “And why not?”

“Junior already lawyered up and I think he’s going to take a plea.”

“As long as he’s off the streets for a good long time, I’ll sleep much better knowing he’s behind bars.”

“You know what?” J.D. smiled. “I think I’ll be sleeping much better too.”