“If there was one thing you could change about your life, what would it be captain?”

“I don’t think this division is big enough for two psychoanalysts Baasch,” Stefanie quipped. “I’ll answer if you answer your own question first. Fair enough?”

Baasch nodded. He thought about the question. “You see, it was a question that my professor asked the other day in class. He’s all about changing people’s lives and stuff. It’s really interesting.”

Stefanie nodded. “Been there, done that and hated every moment of it. You still didn’t answer the question.”

Baasch nodded. “I would have liked to have been better at writing. Never quite got the hang of it.”

“I guess lucky for your supervisor you’re my chauffer,” Stefanie quipped. She took a sip of coffee.

“So, what about you? Is there anything you could change about your life?”

There were a lot of things she would like to change about her life. From becoming a cop to having a family to emancipating herself from her father and siblings to even thinking about answer the question, she didn’t want to overwhelm the kid on his first day. “I’d settle for ordering this horrible meal. And I thought my cooking was bad.”

Baasch laughed. “Come on. I heard you’re good at the psychology stuff.” He admired the captain. Unlike his previous assignment, she was easy going—someone who is more likely to get you out of a jam than to condemn you to all eternity. She was definitely the person that he was told she was and he appreciated, hell, even welcomed the change of pace.

“Right,” she nodded. “Well, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you on your first day. It just wouldn’t be fair.” She pushed her plate away. She saw his look of disappoint. “Okay. Seriously, I would change the fact at the age of ten I pushed my brother down the basement steps and broke his arm.”

The rookie cop looked at her. That wasn’t more than he bargained for. “Jesus, captain…”

She couldn’t hold it in. She cracked a smile and small laugh. “I’m just kidding. I didn’t really break his arm when I pushed him down the steps. But I felt really bad after pushing him. But I think that had more to do with my father skinning my behind than some sort of guilty conscience thing.”

“That would be the one thing you’d change?” he responded with a slight hint of disbelief.

“Like I said, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with my issues on the first day,” Stefanie said. She threw some money the table. “Let’s go back to the station. I have an appointment with a conniving politician that I just can’t wait to engage in some sort of verbal sparring with.”

Outside, Stefanie looked up at the sky. “Weather’s going to change.”

“I’ll get the car,” Baasch told her.

She watched him disappear around the corner. Her phone buzzed to the tune of “Der Kommisar” by After the Fire. “Hello.”

“Good morning sunshine,” the voice said on the other end.

“Morning for you sir, it’s one o’clock in the afternoon here,” she answered. “You’re up early, Ben.”

“We’re going to check out the sites today,” Ben answered. “How are things?”

“Meetings the rest of the afternoon,” she answered. “How’s Katrin?”

“She told me your father is quite the military historian. They went on a tour of some Civil War sites yesterday.”

“And she didn’t complain?”

“Yeah, I know. He said she was very interested in the stuff. Kinda like her mother,” Ben said. “You’re okay with that?”

“I can’t deny my father and stepmother an opportunity to see their grand-daughter. My problems exist with them, not with them seeing their grandkid,” Stefanie said. She looked at her watch. “I’ll call you tonight.”

“I love you,” Ben said.

“Right back at you,” Stefanie said. She closed the phone and dropped it into her pocket.
Everything seemed to change in an instant. The two quick bursts of gunfire echoed from around the corner of the restaurant. Instinct took over and she dropped to the sidewalk, taking out her sidearm. She scanned the people running for the cover.

“Ronny!” she called out. There was no answer.

She approached the corner of the restaurant and silently counted to three and turned the corner. Looking around, there was nothing, just Ronny lying beside his RMP in a pool of blood motionless. Keeping down, Stefanie approached the officer. She ducked down behind the rear of the car, looked further down the street.

Making her way over to Ronny, she knelt down and checked for a pulse. He was still alive.
“You’re going to be okay, kid.” She went for his radio, but it was dead. One of the bullets had gone right through it. Leaning over, she opened the driver’s side door and reached in for the radio in the car. “Officer down. GSW corner of Ruffini and Frundsberg. Request immediate emergency services and back up.”

Three more shots peppered the car. Stefanie climbed through the RMP and came out the passenger side. With her back pressed up against the front wheel, she took a deep breath. “What are you doing,” she asked her herself and ducked out from behind the front of the car. As she came out from around the car, the shooter ran into the alley. She followed. She wasn’t about to let him get away.

She chased him down a series of alleys. He would fire off a few rounds to put distance between them. Stefanie knew the area. She was counting on the shooting not being familiar and would come to a point where it would end.

As Stef approached the corner, she stopped. Heart racing, she closed her eyes and raised her gun as she came around the corner. They can’t teach you this part, she thought to herself. In her fifteen-year career, she never had to fire her weapon. She had never been in the position to have a reason to draw her weapon. It’s every cop’s never-want-to-be-in scenario. Brow beaten into thing they’re to serve and protect; taking a life is never something to be taken lightly.

Concentrating on her training, there was nothing instinctual about the way she was acting. It was pure survival. And that’s probably why she felt it before hearing the sound. The force threw her back up against the wall. She saw the flash of the second. This took her legs out from under her and slid to the ground, gun still in hand. She felt pain, which was good. It meant she was still live.

“Your time has come,” the shooter said. He approached Stefanie, gun raised.

It felt like lifting a fifty-pound weight, but all it took was one single squeeze and the shooter collapsed at the top of the stairs. The last thing she heard was the wailing of the sirens in the distance.

Filed under: News & Updates