Unexpected Accomplices

The sun is slowly setting in the horizon coloring the sky a beautiful array of orange. It's been another scorcher of a day, Tommy thinks, wiping the sweat from his brow.

He's a few blocks from home when he decides to see if he can find a few places to rob on his own to make up for their huge loss. Making a quick U-turn, he heads towards the ritzy part of town.

He notices a few fancy houses camouflaged behind a large row of trees a little way down the road. I didn't realize a housing development was back here. Pulling off the highway, he weaves his way through the cul-de-sac. His excitement builds the further he goes. This will be a great place to hit, he thinks as he continues to look around.

The homes are beautiful two-story Victorians. The historical landmarks have bright vibrant colors and fancy gingerbread trim. Each of the exquisite dwellings has a wrap-around porch with porcelain white spindle borders and a plethora of windows extending around the structure. Some of the homes have large circular towers in the front while others have wings extending off the main dwelling.

Which one should I choose? Tommy eyes each one closely, trying to decide. I might even be able to hit a couple of them tonight.

His car jolts when it reaches the end of the pavement. Guess I better decide. He starts to turn around when he notices a house further down the road. Getting closer he sees it's a beautiful Victorian like the others, but unlike them, it looks like it hasn't been occupied for months. The grass has grown to half the height of the chain-link fence and the mailbox is full. Some of the letters have made their way to the ground. Its seclusion makes it the perfect place to rob.

Tommy gets an eerie feeling when he pulls into the drive. "It's just an old house, nothing to get spooked about," he says, trying to convince himself it's safe. A scene from a horror film suddenly comes to mind. He pushes the thought aside. Movies are all made-up. A figment of the writer's imagination; things that don't happen in real life. He glances at the house again. Besides, Jen is counting on me. to come up with the dough.

He climbs out of his car still leary about the task at hand. The wind picks up causing the screen door to slam too. He jumps then laughs when he realizes what it is. Get a grip, man. Gulping, he trudges on. A coyote howls in the distance; he jumps again. I've got to do this for Jen and the boys. He takes a deep breath for courage then continues toward the house.

Tommi is halfway across the yard when he hears a deep growling noise beside him. He turns to see a large, scraggly mutt snarling a few feet away. Tommy glances towards the fence and then the house trying to decide what to do. Discovering that the screened-in porch is closer, he takes a small step towards it. "Easy there, boy. I'm not going to hurt you," he says as he continues to move away. "You're a very handsome boy. I bet you're a good dog too."He takes another step and stumbles over a rock. The dog lunges for him. Tommy throws his arms up to block the attack. The canine's sharp fangs scape the victim's arm. I'm going to be the dog's dinner if I don't do something quick.

Realizing the porch is just a few steps away, he makes a mad dash towards it. The dog pounces again causing Tommy to tumble to the ground. He tries to shake the mutt off, but the beast has such a firm hold that Tommy can't break free.

"Help me. Please somebody help me," he screams.

***

Hearing a commotion at the door, Rachel glances to find Kirk and Jerry dragging a man into the station, a fresh bandage on his leg. Marshal was relieved when he was told that he'd only maimed and not killed. That the man was knocked unconscious when his head hit the floor.

"I hate to tell you this, detectives, but he and his brothers aren't our burglars. All three were in prison when the robberies began."

"I told you it wasn't us," Andy says.

"Shut your pie hole, wise guy," Jerry growls.

"You're just mad because you have to release me." He smirks.

"Release you my ass. You're being charged with two counts of attempted murder and receiving stolen property."

"Jeremey got the shit not me."

"You're the one who tried to pawn it."

"I didn't know it was stolen."

"I suppose you didn't shoot up the pawn either."

"That was my brother's not me."

"Your brothers didn't hold a gun to my head," Kirk adds.

"Come on, let's go."

"Hold up, guys." Rachel turns towards the prisoners. "If you tell us where you got the merchandise, I'll talk the DA see if he'll give you a reduced sentence." Rachel lies. If anything, she'll try to convince the District Attorney to add additional charges.

"I don't know where Jeremy got the shit. He came home with it one day claiming he was going to make bank."

"He didn't tell you anything?"

"No."

"Put him in holding for now."

"Yes, sergeant."

Rachel is finishing some notes when the detectives return a few minutes later.

"What are you working on, sergeant?"

"A profile of our burglar. I believe whoever is robbing these people must be watching them closely, probably for months trying to get a good feel for their routine. Since the houses are all over the city, I'd say our robber knows the area well. Probably grew up here or close by. I believe our burglar is a single, white, average-looking male. I'm guessing he easily fits in a crowd and wouldn't be someone you'd suspect. He's somewhere between 25 and 30. He has average intelligence. He's either unemployed or has a part-time job which allows him to watch his victims closely. He probably finds his victims in a public place. A grocery store, doctor's office, church. He follows them home and if he likes what he sees he starts monitoring their house. Following this logic, the first thing we need to do is to dig into our victim's routine, find out where they frequently visit. Jerry, you take the Petersons, I'll take the Smiths and Kirk you talk to the Jansson."

"Yes, sergeant."

The detectives are headed towards the door when they see Joe walking towards them. "There's been another robbery on Freeman."

He hands the sergeant a piece of paper.

She glances at the address turn and says, "We're on our way."