Playing the Game Page 8

  The two other cops finally made their way to her location, rushing down the stairs to meet them.

  “Mr. Larson, please walk up the stairs to the breezeway with these two officers. I’ll escort the children,” Berkeley said.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” the guy huffed as he began walking back up. Sanchez stayed on his left, with Lowe on his right.

  Berkeley waited for them to get all the way up before she walked with the boys. “Both of you stay right here with me,” she said, walking between them.

  When they reached the breezeway, Leo’s mother saw him and rushed over, tears streaming down her cheeks as she threw her arms around him. A security guard stood with Jacob, who looked visibly shaken, while the security manager stood with Leo and his mother.

  “Mr. Larson, start at the beginning,” Berkeley said.

  “My son Jacob and that boy are in the same school class. We were walking by the snack stand down there and he ran up to my son to say hi. He said his mother was getting a drink. Jacob told him we were going to get snow cones. I asked if he wanted one. He said sure. I thought he told his mother. We literally walked around the corner and came right back. The snow cone line had about ten people in it in front of us. I didn’t take that boy. I was just trying to get my son and his friend a snow cone.”

  Leo’s mother walked over, holding his hand. “Are you Jacob’s dad?”

  “Yes. John Larson,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew we were getting snow cones.”

  She shook her head. “Leo said he saw Jacob and said he was getting a snow cone. I thought he meant Jacob was getting one. The next thing I know, the line I was in moved and I realized he was gone. I never put two and two together.”

  “I’m so sorry. I can imagine what you must’ve went through. I thought he told you. We came right back here, and you were gone. We tried to find your seats, but the anthem started, and everyone stood up. I really am sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It just scared me to death. Thank you, Officer. Even though it was a misunderstanding, you still found my son.”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad we were able to find him and straighten this out. Enjoy the game,” Berkeley said, leaving the two families to sort things out. “What a mess,” she said to the other officers as they walked away.

  “You’d be surprised at how often that happens,” the security manager said, shaking his head.

  “Thanks for all of your help. The rapid response helped us comb through this crowd to find him.”

  “No problem,” he said before walking away.

  “Everyone back to your posts,” she said. “Hopefully, this is the end of our excitement.” As the other two officers walked away, she mumbled, “This is becoming a weekly thing.”

  *

  The first half of the game was nearly over by the time Berkeley walked out onto the field to stand by the tunnel entrance. Richey was up one to zero. She had no idea who had scored, but that didn’t matter. She scanned the grass, looking through the sea of players; the Washington half in red and white, and the Richey half in their signature blue. Her eyes landed on the one she was looking for just as Randi dribbled between two players and took a shot a few yards outside of the box. The ball sailed wide, narrowly missing the goal. Everyone ran back the other direction as the goalkeeper punted the ball to midfield.

  Washington tried to make a play by kicking a long ball forward, but Olivia ran out of the box, easily catching it. The ref blew the whistle, ending the first half as she put the ball back into play. All the players trotted towards the sideline, then slowed to a walk as they made their way into the tunnel.

  “Hey you!” Randi said, stopping in front of Berkeley. “I didn’t think you were here.”

  “Yep. Been here, actually.”

  “Let me guess, you were off saving lives?” Randi teased.

  “Something like that.” Berkeley grinned.

  Randi laughed and shook her head.

  “Looks like you’re winning.”

  “For now. I’ll see you after,” she replied, rushing off to catch up to her teammates before the coaches came looking for her.

  *

  Berkeley watched the fans jump to their feet each time Richey brought the ball down the field, and then sit down in disappointment when they didn’t score. They came close, getting three great shots at goal, but Washington’s keeper flew through the air like Superwoman to catch them all.

  By the time the ref blew the whistle, ending the game, Berkeley’s attention was fully on the crowd. There were only a dozen or so fans wearing red, Washington jerseys, making the rest of the stadium look like a sea of blue.

  “Not our best performance,” Randi said, breaking her concentration.

  “You won, right?”

  “Of course.” Randi smiled.

  “Introduce us to your friend,” Sasha called, grabbing Carrie and ushering her over.

  Randi shook her head. “Sasha and Carrie, this is Berkeley—”

  “Wait, don’t forget Olivia!” Sasha pulled her over as she walked by.

  Berkeley smiled. “It’s nice to meet all of you. Great game tonight.”

  “Be honest, it was a shitty game. At least we won,” Sasha said as Olivia walked away to sign autographs.

  “True,” Carrie stated with a nod. “It was nice meeting you,” she added, pulling Sasha with her to go sign with Olivia.

  “Hey, I’m going four-wheeling tomorrow. My friends and I usually go on one of our days off every couple of weeks. We own a piece of property not far from here. We ride four-wheelers and ATVs and swim in the creek. Do you want to go and bring some friends?”

  Randi thought about it for a second, then smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like fun. I’ll see who wants to go.”

  Berkeley reached into the front breast pocket of her shirt and pulled out a Richey Police Department card with her name and the station phone number on it. Then, she pulled a pen out of the holder next to the pocket and wrote her cell number on the back. “We usually go around eight or nine and stay until noon or one. Text me how many want to go, and I’ll text you my address. It’s easier if you come to my house and follow me.”

  “Sounds good. Tomorrow is our recovery day, so basically our day off.”

  “Great.” Berkeley grinned and watched her walk away. She waved when Carrie and Sasha looked back at her before going into the tunnel.

  With the stadium seats cleared out, Berkeley walked into the tunnel and turned to come out in the corridor where fans were still exiting, instead of continuing towards the locker room at the end. She was looking forward to a day of four-wheeling. She hadn’t been in close to a month, and it was always fun showing new friends around what she and Garrett referred to as their play area.

  *

  “Well…what did she say about me?” Sasha gushed when Randi sat down to remove her cleats.

  “Nothing,” Randi laughed. “She did invite me to bring a few people to go four-wheeling tomorrow. Apparently, she and some friends own property and go ride four-wheelers and stuff on their days off.”

  “Oh, I’m totally down to go,” Sasha said.

  “I figured,” Randi shook her head and chuckled. “What about you, Carrie?”

  “I can’t. I have plans with Anna.”

  “I’ll go,” Jorja said.

  “Sweet!” Sasha cheered, giving her a high five.

  “I’d go, that sounds like a lot of fun, but I have head to Vancouver,” Olivia said.

  “I know,” Randi sighed. “I hate that Canada is pulling you guys in a day early for national team duties.”

  Olivia was on the Canadian National Team, and Randi and Carrie were on the U.S. National Team. Whenever something came up involving the national teams, players had to go fulfill those duties. Most of the time, they were called away from their NWSL teams to go into pregame camps before games or tournaments, then came back once they’d finished. It al
ways threw a wrench in the NWSL team when they had national team players away, but it also gave them a chance to use their full bench. Olivia and Randi were used to shuffling their schedules around for national team duties. They’d both been doing it for the last five years.

  16

  “414—clear channel. This car isn’t pulling over,” Garrett said over the radio.

  “Copy—414.”

  Randi had just finished her lunch and returned to her cruiser from using the restroom at the cleanest gas station she could find, when the call came in. She started the car and quickly keyed the mic next to her computer as she pulled out of the parking lot. “327—414. What’s your 10-20?”

  “Uh…passing Fairview, heading south on Comanche Trail. Speed varying over 50.”

  Berkeley slammed the gas pedal down and flipped the switch for her lights and sirens. “Copy, I’m four blocks away on Riviera,” she radioed.

  “10-4,” he replied.

  Berkeley raced through a red light, looking in both directions, but at twelve-thirty in the morning there was no traffic on the road.

  “414—he’s stopping. Put me out at Comanche Trail and Delta Point,” Garrett radioed.

  Berkeley saw the lights up ahead and pressed the pedal down even further. She skidded to a stop behind Garrett’s car and threw it in park. Then, she swung her door open and got out with her gun drawn.

  “Driver, turn off the car and put both of your hands outside of the window!” Garrett said on the PA system.

  “I’m going for the passenger,” Berkeley said, closing her door and moving between the two patrol cars to the passenger side of Garrett’s car. She kept her gun drawn and pointed towards the late model, red Chevy Malibu. “I see movement.”

  “Come on, asshole,” Garrett mumbled. “Driver, turn off the car and put your hands outside of the window!” he repeated from his position standing behind his open patrol car door.

  Berkeley moved away from Garrett’s car to get a better view inside the vehicle when all of a sudden, the driver floored the gas pedal and sped away.

  “Son of a bitch!” Berkeley yelled, running back to her car.

  Garrett slid into the driver’s seat of his car and easily sped away. Berkeley peeled out in the dirt and gravel as she stomped the gas pedal to the floor and raced down the road behind Garrett.

  “414—clear channel. Suspect fled in his vehicle,” Garrett radioed.

  “327—heading south on Comanche Trail, passing Havilland. Speeds over 70. Requesting spike strips across Comanche before Fowler,” Berkeley radioed.

  “359—copy. En route to Comanche from east Fowler. ETA one minute.”

  “GT, you copy?” she asked.

  “10-4. Scrubbing speed. Passing Gardener.”

  Berkeley slowed, putting at least four car lengths between herself and Garrett as he began backing off from the car they were pursuing.

  “359—spikes in position.”

  Garrett slowed way down as the red car blasted past the patrol car parked on the side of the road, and over the metal spikes. All four tires blew out causing the car to skid around recklessly. The driver overcorrected, making the car completely lose control and spin around in circles. It finally came to a stop when it crashed into a fence.

  The other officer quickly pulled the spikes away before Garrett and Berkeley raced past, positioning their cars so that the crashed vehicle would not be able to flee again.

  “414—11-83. The suspect vehicle has stopped.”

  “Copy—11-40,” dispatch radioed, asking if they needed an ambulance.

  “327—on scene. Standby,” Berkeley radioed as she got out of her car. She and Garrett both had their guns drawn and pointed at the red car.

  The passenger door swung open first.

  “Get out with your hands on your head!” Berkeley yelled.

  “A young, skinny white male practically fell out of the car. Blood trickled down his right cheek from a cut on his forehead.

  “Drop to your knees!” she yelled, moving to put him in handcuffs.

  The similar-looking driver stumbled out as well.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Garrett snapped as he rushed up, putting the man in handcuffs.

  Both Berkeley and Garrett got the men to their feet and began searching their pockets. The smell of marijuana coming off them was strong.

  “Are you kidding me?” Garrett growled. “You caused all of this because of weed!” He pulled the bag of marijuana out of his pocket and tossed it onto the hood of his patrol car.

  “I want my lawyer,” the guy said.

  Berkeley shook her head as she searched the passenger. He also had a small bag of weed on him.

  “Sit down,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “Right here.”

  “Bitch, you sit on the ground,” he mumbled.

  “Sit your ass down, or I’ll sit you down!” she growled.

  “What are you, some kind of wrestler or something? You’re all like WWE and shit,” he joked as he plopped down in the grass.

  “You’re lucky you sat, or you would’ve seen WWE and shit,” she muttered. “Do you need EMS?”

  “What’s that?”

  Garrett shook his head.

  “Do either of you need an ambulance? Are you hurt or dying?”

  “I’m fine,” the driver said.

  “Shit, man. You’re bleeding everywhere,” the passenger said.

  “So are you.”

  “327—request EMS.”

  “Copy—327.”

  A fourth officer arrived on scene to help out as Garrett and Berkeley searched the vehicle. It wreaked of marijuana, and they found a pipe in the console with marijuana residue. Bud crumbs and seeds were all around, but no other drugs or paraphernalia were found.

  “They really ran because they were smoking pot,” Garrett muttered, shaking his head. “That’s a first.”

  “Yep. Idiots,” she agreed. “Go call the tow service. I’m going to check on Cheech and Chong.”

  Garrett walked away laughing.

  “So, what’s the verdict? Can they head to central?” Berkeley asked, stepping up to where the two men were sitting on the bumper of the ambulance.

  “They’ll be fine. I put some skin glue and a couple of bandages on their cuts. They don’t require stitches,” Dena said.

  “Great,” Berkeley replied, waving for the two assisting officers to come over. “Each of you haul one of them to central booking. I don’t want them in the same car. Oh, and roll the windows down or you’ll be smelling pot for days.”

  “10-4,” they both replied before walking away with the two men.

  “Advanced Towing will be here in fifteen,” Garrett said, walking up to the ambulance.

  Berkeley nodded. “Hey, so I invited a few people to come with me to the woods.”

  Garrett stared at her.

  “Oh, really? Do any of these people happen to play soccer?” Dena questioned with a grin.

  “Yes. They all do, as a matter of fact. It’s no big deal. I told you, she has a girlfriend, which she will probably bring with her anyway. It’s not like that.”

  “Fine with me,” Garrett said. “I’ll bring my extra helmets. Any idea how many of them?”

  Berkeley thought back to the text she’d seen while eating lunch. “Just three of them. I’m bringing my ATV and my quad, just in case.”

  “Sounds good,” Dena said as a call came in for a sobriety test a couple miles away.

  “327—responding, code 98. Two minutes out,” Berkeley radioed. “Gotta go. Watch your six,” she said to Garrett, fist-bumping with him.

  “I’ll bring coffee and donuts!” Dena called.

  “I love you!” Berkeley called back, laughing.

  *

  Randi plopped down on the couch next to Olivia, who was flipping through TV channels. “Are you all packed?”

  “Yep. My flight leave
s at eight a.m.,” Olivia said with a smile.

  “Do you want me to cancel hanging out with Berkeley? Maybe we can do it another time when you can go, too.”

  “No, go on. Have a good time. Just don’t get hurt.”

  “Right,” Randi laughed.

  “Is it just you, Sasha, and Jorja?”

  “Yeah. Carrie is spending time with Anna before we leave on Monday.”

  Olivia nodded.

  Randi thought about snuggling closer, but Olivia got up.

  “I’m going to bed. Are you staying up?”

  Randi looked at the clock on the wall. It was ten-thirty. “Do you want me to come to bed?”

  Olivia bent down, kissing her softly. “Of course, but I’m exhausted from the game. What time are you leaving in the morning?”

  “I’m picking Sasha and Jorja up at seven.”

  Olivia nodded and turned towards their bedroom.

  Randi watched her walk away. Then, she grabbed her phone and sent a quick text message. We’re on for 7:30 a.m. There are 3 of us. Can’t wait!

  17

  Berkeley was outside, strapping the tie-downs to the quad and ATV on the trailer hitched to her truck when a white BMW pulled up in front of her house. She smiled and waved as three women got out.

  “I called to see if we needed to bring anything, but you didn’t answer,” Randi said, walking up the drive between the police cruiser and truck.

  “My phone’s in the house. It’s fine. I have a cooler with water, and my friends are bringing donuts and coffee,” Berkeley said, hopping out of the trailer. “We’re about ready to go.”

  “Have you met Jorja?” Randi asked.

  Berkeley wiped her hand on her jeans and held it out. “Not officially. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too. Thanks for inviting us. I haven’t done this in years!” Jorja said.

  “No problem. We’re a bunch of adrenaline junkies, so this is what we do in our downtime.” Berkeley grinned. “Let me lock up the house, and we’ll be on our way. You probably want to ride with me, unless that beamer has four-wheel-drive,” she teased.