Waist Deep

57

I reached my hands out to my left, stretching them out the open door as far as possible.

“Now step out of the vehicle with your left foot only,” came the next command.

There was a loud crash, cries of “Police! Search Warrant!” and the S.W.A.T. team knifed through the front door and disappeared into RogerJackson’s house.

Shit.

Lieutenant Crawford must have worked late and read Adam’s report. My grace period just went up in a puff of smoke.

“Put your left foot out. Now!” the voice commanded again.

I put my left foot out the door.

“Officer-” I started to say.

“Don’t talk!Put your right foot-”

“I have a gun.”

There was a short silence.Then, “Where?”

“On my right hip.In a holster.”

“Okay.Do not reach for it.”

Duh, I thought, like Kris would say.But I only nodded.

The voice talked me the rest of the way out of the driver’s seat and then ordered me to face the car.I did, and braced myself.Even so, I was surprised by the raw force that took me into the side of the vehicle.Hands trapped my arms and pressed on my shoulders, pinning me to the hard metal.Another set of hands started searching me.It was an awkward pat-down motion that either belonged to a rookie or someone amped up on adrenaline.Had I searched like that when I was on the job? Before I could consider that thought, someonejammed a boot against the inside of my right foot, forcing it outward.My left knee quivered under the strain. After a second, it gave way. I started to fall in that direction.

“Don’t resist!” came two voices at once.The pair of hands at my back pushed harder.

“I’m not,” I shouted.“My knee’s bad.”

“Gun!” someone shouted.

Then everyone tensed up and a moment later I was eating asphalt.