"Can I join you?" Jack quickly caught up to the two.
Since John was patrolling alone today, and the attacker was reported to have an automatic weapon, Jack thought it was better to go along, just in case, even though the command center hadn't reported any officers down.
"Sure, but you'll have to sit in the backseat," Tim replied without objection. After all, they were old friends, and Jack was also in law enforcement.
There wasn't much small talk on the way. Tim drove, and they reached the scene in just seven minutes.
Along the way, they heard John's live updates over the radio: "The two shooters fled in a gold sedan, license plate 2-San-Adam-Mary-564, heading west on Fuller Street."
"The missing woman was last seen walking south."
Sitting in the backseat of the police car, Jack felt a wave of nostalgia. When he was still with the LAPD, he had always found this method of reporting license plates very efficient. Individual letters could easily be confused, so they were usually replaced with words.
Combining the initial letters of the words with the numbers gave you the correct license plate: "2SAM564."
By the time Tim's team arrived, Neela Harper, the African-American female officer who had once earned a "Gold Shield" for her years of undercover work but chose to become a patrol officer for her daughter's sake, was already on the scene.
John seemed unharmed, but his "office" (the police car) was in terrible shape. Not a single window was intact, and the entire right side was riddled with bullet holes, as if it had just returned from the battlefields of Syria.
"Are you okay?" Lucy got out of the car and anxiously looked John up and down, checking for any injuries.
"Code Four, no further assistance needed at the scene. All units focus on locating the suspects."
"Be advised, the suspects are armed with automatic weapons and may open fire at any moment," Tim ordered as he got out of the car, speaking into his radio.
"Weren't you looking for a missing woman? How did it turn into this mess?" Harper asked, puzzled.
John, still shaken and a bit dazed, replied, "I have no idea. At first, I thought it was a domestic violence case. Someone called in saying they saw a woman escape from a house."
"When I arrived, there were two men. The homeowner introduced himself as Daniel Charles, and the other was supposedly their caretaker, Carlson."
"Daniel Charles insisted the missing woman was his wife, Linda, who he said had a mental disorder. But I felt he wasn't being truthful."
"Later, I found the woman here. She seemed disoriented, probably drugged, and was speaking what sounded like Russian."
"And then, all of a sudden, it turned into this. I was about to take the woman to the hospital when those two men appeared and started shooting at us. I emptied two magazines in return fire. The sound of Harper's police car alarm must have scared them off, and the woman took off in the chaos."
"Oh, hey, Jack, what are you doing here?" John seemed to only just notice Jack.
"Came by to drop off some afternoon snacks, then heard you were in trouble. Thought I'd see if I could help. Glad you're okay."
Jack shrugged. The Wilshire Police Station had been too quiet lately. Seeing this kind of intense street shootout again brought an odd sense of nostalgia.
"Do you think this could be human trafficking?" Lucy asked, puzzled.
"Maybe. We'll know more when we check out that house," Tim said as he opened the car door.
"Uh, my car..." John hesitated, looking over at Harper.
Harper sighed. "Use my 'office' then. I'll handle things here."
John got into the police car Harper had driven, and this time, Jack didn't have to squeeze into the backseat. He sat next to John in the passenger seat.
For some reason, the backseat of police cars seemed intentionally designed to be uncomfortable. Despite being an SUV model from Chevrolet, it was particularly unfriendly to tall people, making it impossible to sit comfortably.
With John leading the way, the two cars arrived at the house he had responded to earlier. Although they knew it was unlikely anyone was inside, the three LAPD officers cautiously entered in a search formation, checking every room.
"Police, show yourself immediately!"
After a thorough search confirmed the house was empty, Jack, with his hands in his pockets, leisurely circled the house before finally strolling into the living room.
"Doesn't this place feel off to you?" Jack had a sense of déjà vu, as if he had seen a similar scene not long ago.
"All the photos in the frames are the ones that come with the frame when you buy it," John said, showing everyone a frame from the mantel.
"There aren't even any dishes in the kitchen, and the fridge is empty," Lucy added with a frown.
Tim looked around. "It's like someone tried to make this place look lived-in."
"A safe house?" Jack wasn't entirely sure. Could it be another witness protection situation? That would be too cliché, and the readers wouldn't be pleased.
At that moment, Tim's radio crackled with a call. "Report: the suspect's vehicle was found abandoned and set on fire. No sign of the suspects or the missing woman at the scene."
"Copy that," Tim replied, hanging the radio back on his belt.
As John paced around the living room, his instincts as a seasoned building contractor, with plenty of remodeling experience, kicked in. He sensed something was wrong.
"This place feels cramped, completely different from how it looks from the outside."
As he spoke, he opened a wooden cabinet in the corner of the living room.
"Whoa." He stared wide-eyed at the electrical panel inside the cabinet.
"Jack, you should come take a look at this."
Jack leaned in for a closer look and couldn't help but whistle. "500 MCM cable? That's 400 amps of service power. Something's up. Were they growing American herbs down here?"
Lucy, puzzled by their conversation, looked at Tim, who was equally clueless but trying to maintain his cool demeanor, which only made her more irritated.
"Okay, I 'understood,' but maybe you two could explain this to Tim."
Tim glared at his girlfriend, clearly unhappy that she was undermining him in front of others.
"Let me give you an analogy. John's luxury villa, after all the renovations, including every appliance upstairs and downstairs, the water heater, fridge, air conditioning, plus that amazing infinity heated pool, would run smoothly on 200 amps."
Jack kindly explained.
"So, either they were secretly growing American herbs down in the basement, or there's another purpose," John added as he quickly opened a small metal box on the side of the cabinet, revealing a tiny screen inside.
___________________
Read Ahead
P@treon.com/Mutter