Fighting for Your Life

Tommy is on his way home when he decides to cruise through a few ritzy neighborhoods, hoping to find a house he can rob on his own. I need to make up for what we lost today, he thinks, recalling the items his friends grabbed. Damn idiots, anyone with half a brain can see the shit isn't real.

He notices a few fancy houses behind a large row of pine trees. I didn't realize they put a housing development back here. Pulling off the highway, he works his way through the fancy community. This area will be a great place to hit, he thinks, scoping the place out. 

The homes are beautiful two-story Victorians, each with bright, vibrant colors and fancy gingerbread trim. Glancing from house to house, Tommy realizes the exquisite dwellings have a wrap-around porch with porcelain white spindle borders. A few homes have large circular towers, while others have wings extending off the main structure. 

Which one should I choose? Tommy eyes each one closely, trying to decide where to hit when he feels his car jolt as it rolls from pavement to dirt. I need to turn around. He's making a U-turn when he notices the house on his right.

It, too, is a beautiful Victorian like all the others, but unlike them, it looks like it's been unoccupied for months. The grass has grown nearly as tall as the fence, and the mailbox is full. A few of the neglected letters have made their way to the ground.

Tommy glances around again. Its seclusion makes it the perfect place to rob, he thinks, heading its way.

Tommy gets an unnerving feeling when he pulls into the drive. "It's just an old house, nothing to get spooked about," he says, hoping to convince himself that it's safe. A scene from a horror film suddenly comes to mind. Tommy freezes mid-step. Movies are imaginary crap, things that don't happen in real life. Gulping, he glances at the house again. Jen is counting on me to get the money she needs, he thinks, nervously opening the gate. 

The porch door slams in the wind; Tommy jumps. I've got to do this for Jen and the boys. Taking a deep breath of courage as he continues across the yard. 

A coyote howls in the distance. Tommy jumps again. I need to get a grip. Gulping, he continues toward the eerie home.

He's halfway across the yard when he hears growling beside him. He turns to find a large, angry mutt snarling a few feet away. Tommy anxiously glances toward the fence and then the house again. Realizing the screened-in porch is the closest, he slowly eases its way. "Nice dog, easy boy, I won't hurt you," he says as he takes another step back. The dog follows. "You're a very handsome boy. I bet you're a good dog, too." Tommy continues back; the dog inches closer. 

Tommy starts to retreat again when he stumbles over a log. Losing his footing, he tumbles to the ground. The dog lunges towards him, sinking his sharp teeth into Tommy's flesh. I will be the dog's dinner if I don't do something quick. 

Springing to his feet, Tommy makes a mad dash for the porch. The dog lunges for him, knocking him to the ground. He tries to shake the mutt off, but the beast has such a firm hold that Tommy can't escape his grip. "Help me! Somebody, please help me," he screams.

***

Hearing a loud commotion, Rachel glances up from her desk to find Kirk and Jerry dragging two gangly-looking men through the door. Each gentleman was sporting a freshly bandaged leg.

"Are these the two from the pawn shop?"

"They sure are Sergeant," Kirk says, shoving his guy further into the room.

"I hate to tell you this, but they aren't our burglars. They were in prison when the robberies began."

"I told you it wasn't us," Jack mouths.

"Shut your pie hole, wise guy," Kirk says, slapping the back of his guy's head.

"You're just mad because you have to let us go."

"Let you go, my ass. You tried to kill the owner and me, you were in possession of stolen merchandise, and you violated your parole." 

"That was Andy, not us. We were just shopping, you know, seeing what was there. Isn't that right, Jeremy?"

"Yeah, right, just shopping is all."

"Yeah, well, you two were with your brother when he committed these crimes, making you an accessory." 

"We didn't know what he was going to do."

"We didn't," Jeremy agrees.

"And I'm Santa. 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 into giving you a deal."

"I don't know where Andy got the shit. Hell, we didn't even know he stole it."

"Honest, sergeant, we didn't have a clue," Jeromy adds.

Rachel chuckles. "That's the understatement of the year. Take them to booking."

Kirk snickers. "Yes, sergeant."

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

"What are you working on, sergeant?"

"A profile of our burglar. Whoever is robbing these people must watch them closely, probably for months, until they get a good feel for their routine. Since the houses are all over the city, I'd say that our robber knows the area well. He probably grew up here or visited often. I believe our burglar is a single, white, average-looking male. He's somewhere between 25- 35 and has average intelligence. He's either unemployed or has a part-time job, which allows him to watch his victims closely. I'm guessing he easily fits in a crowd and wouldn't be someone you'd suspect. He probably finds his victims in a public place—a grocery store, a doctor's office, or a church. He follows them home, and if he likes what he sees, he starts monitoring their house."

Stepping up to the desk, Joe says, "Assuming that the theory is correct, sergeant, we first need to start digging into our victims' routines and finding out where they frequently visit. Jerry, you take the Petersons; Rachel, you take the Smiths; and Kirk, you talk to the Jansson."

"Yes, Captain."

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

"Let's get out there." The sergeant orders, grabbing her phone off her desk.