We Were Hoping for More Porky's than Shoot to Kill. Sorry!
The last valiant streetlamp went out with a flicker. There was only the weak neon glow from the shops lining the street to aid the lone figure now advancing in the dark. No one would be out at this hour if they could help it. It wasn't until the traveller entered a brightly lit deli shop that she was visible.
Detective Juliet O'Hara looked around the empty sandwich store with her keen eye. The florescent lighting cast a bleached pallor over everything. The black rimmed wall clock ticked a lovely 1:32. The various impulse items lined along the shelves were the only suspicious things in the room.
"Howdy, ma'am, and what can I do for my friends in blue?" Howie welcomed in his low Texan drawl. Juliet smiled kindly at the store manager in return as she stepped over to the counter. So many cops frequented the deli Howie had become a fixture in their lives in his short 4 months. By now he pretty much single handedly fed the entire department.
"Late night," Juliet answered, "Double Homicide, the whole station's working round the clock. They all sent me out with their dinner/breakfast orders." She concluded with a small sigh. The man grinned, revealing his yellowed nicotine-stained teeth.
"Murder's a shame, but definitely good for business." He said with a short throaty laugh. "What d'ya need?" She took a deep breath before rattling off the massive list.
"Four chicken noodle soups, seven ham subs, four veggie wraps, two clam chowders, five hamburgers, and twelve Red Bulls." Juliet gave him an apologetic shrug. Howie nodded and moved to his preparation table. He wrung his hands a bit, Juliet noted absently, and started on the subs. He was silent through it all, but then Juliet didn't mind much.
The young Detective wandered from the counter to gaze aimlessly out the window. The dreary scene did nothing to lift her spirits. A decomposing John and Jane Doe were found inside a fridge near a dumpster with several gunshots each. Naturally the station was furiously trying to find their killer or killers. The case was so cold, and because they were halfway frozen it was impossible to find a time of death. They knew nothing about the couple and were stuck chasing dead ends.
She laid her forehead on the window and let out a puff of air that clouded the glass. Nights like this were the worst. Juliet watched the occasional pedestrian as they rushed to whatever drew them out of bed. Noise was drifting from a bar across the street. She let her eyes shift over the shops opposite her...
Wait! Juliet stood up straighter. The shades were drawn over the windows of the antiques' store, but there was a sliver underneath them where she could look inside. There was something moving in the dark.
"Someone's in the antiques' store across the street." Juliet alerted Howie. He dismissed it without looking up.
"Marco probably just forgot something. I'm sure it's nothing."
"Hopefully you're right, but I'm going to check it out," She replied as she stepped carefully to the door. Jules drew her handgun slowly, one hand on the door handle. "One, two," She murmured to herself. "THREE!"
Detective O'Hara pulled the door open and sprinted across the deserted street as fast as she could in heels. When she was almost there, Juliet twisted so her shoulder took the brunt of the impact. The force was so great, the locked door split open easily. Juliet grit her teeth against the pain pulsing in her arm and raised her pistol higher. Her trained eyes swept over the dead man on the floor to settle on the man with a gun and utter shock on his face. He snapped out of it at the next second and ran down to the back of the store.
"SBPD, FREEZE!" Juliet shouted, and she followed him. The man opened a door and rushed out into the alley behind the building. Jules joined him just in time to watch him shut the door of a waiting van. "STOP OR I'LL SHOOT!" She yelled. When the van started moving, Juliet reluctantly fired her weapon. The bullets that zoomed through the back did nothing to stop it speeding away, leaving one heavy-hearted junior detective behind.
~*~
Shawn and Gus descended on the scene at 2:12 to find it practically buzzing with officers. Gus was mad at him. Very very mad. May I reiterate the 2:12. AM. Wait... 2:13 AM.
Anyway, Shawn was worried. When Chief Vick called to tell him Juliet had busted in on an armed robber, he'd quickly demanded the address and jumped out of bed. Abigail had mumbled sleepily where he was going, and Shawn'd told her there was a crime scene he had to go to right away.
Well it was technically true. He was at a crime scene. But that wasn't what made his stomach clench in anxiety. That wasn't what made his eyes dart furiously over every figure. That wasn't what made his heartbeat stutter when he found her.
Juliet sat on a folding chair next to a sketch artist. Shawn grinned in relief that she was OK. Completely ignoring Gus, he ducked the crime tape and rushed to her side.
"Longer, and more greasy." Juliet was instructing the man working on the sketch as Shawn approached.
"How am I supposed to draw 'greasier'." The artist grumbled.
"Easy, just rub a french fry on it, they work wonders." Shawn informed them cockily. A groan from behind meant Gus had caught up. Juliet looked up and gave the pair a small smile. Shawn felt even more euphoric now if that was possible.
"His stubble was darker too," She continued. The artist colored it in as Shawn looked over his shoulder. The man looked around 30, with small squinty eyes and thick eyebrows. His hair hung limply to his chin which was just short of a beard. His nose looked squished, as if he'd been punched more than once. All in all, he looked like hell.
Carlton Lassiter, Head Detective of the SBPD, strode over to the group. "You finished yet?" Lassie barked (Shawn loved using that phrase, and it was so often true).
"Yes Carlton." Juliet responded in a monotone. Shawn noticed the tension between them, but he didn't really need his super-cop powers for that. Lassiter was positively glowering at her.
"And the van?" He asked in his dangerous 'you know you're in trouble when I sound nice' voice.
"Dark, could have been black or blue, no windows on the two rear doors, and I didn't get the plate." The last part sounded as if she was ashamed or guilty, Shawn noted in concern.
"So it was dark..." Lassiter repeated scathingly. "We've got no plates and no make or model, what the hell kind of detective are you O'Hara! A murderer is on the loose and all we have to go on is 'it was DARK'!" His shouting had attracted the attention of several by standers who were all cautiously pretending to be small. Juliet was taking it all silently, the only signs of weakness the way she bit her bottom lip and the gulps of air she was discreetly taking.
"Now, now," Shawn said, stepping a little closer to her, "I'm sure this is nothing we can't sort out over tea and muffins. Pineapple nut for me please," He said with his hand in the air. "Lassie, I'm thinking maybe something in a bran?" As expected, the Head Detective walked away, muttering venomously about where he'd love to stuff his pineapple nut muffin. Satisfied, Shawn directed his attention to Juliet once more. She was quietly recollecting herself; the reprimanding must have compounded the self-deprecation she was feeling.
"Thank you, Shawn." She said tightly. Shawn crouched down to her level to look her in eye.
"How are you?" He asked quietly. Juliet smiled, still taking deep calming breaths.
"I'm fine really, just a little worn out." She replied. Shawn's perfect eyes ran over her features for confirmation. After a minute, he started speaking again.
"What happened Jules? Chief Vick said it was armed robbery, Lassie said it's murder, what do you say?" Quickly switching from victim to detective, Juliet filled him in.
"So he had a gun but he ran, he didn't shoot?" Shawn asked afterwards. She nodded.
"I think he was so shocked by my entrance he completely forgot he had a weapon. That or he didn't like the idea of a firefight with a cop, the escape worked of course, there's no guarantee in a shootout."
"Your entrance?" Shawn asked. He must've missed that detail once he was overwhelmed with anxiety for Jules from hearing about the assailant.
"Yes. I assumed the door would be locked, so I ran from the deli to the door. My shoulder rammed into it, and the door popped open." Jules told them, a note of pride shinning in her recounting. Shawn however felt very differently about this information. He took her jacket and pulled it off over her arm. Once it was hanging only from one side, Shawn took her hand in his and pushed her long sleeve up all the way to her shoulder. There was a faint reddish-purple bruise running all along one side of her arm. Shawn inspected it, twisting her arm a little this way and that, until a firm throat clearing broke his concentration.
He looked up at Gus in question. With everything Shawn had dragged his friend through, he'd learned to recognize the sound of his fake cough. Gus was darting his eyes back and forth between Shawn and where his hand still held Juliet's. Shawn looked down in surprise, having totally forgotten about it. It had felt natural to hold her hand, so natural Shawn had forgotten there were platonic boundaries never to be crossed. He looked up at Jules, and at the sight of her slight blush Shawn immediately dropped her arm.
Actually clearing his throat, Shawn said lamely "You should have that looked at." Jules nodded quickly.
"Yeah, yeah, I will..." There was a very awkward silence. Finally Shawn broke the tension.
"So where's this dead body I've been promised?" It was probably the worst way to move on from an intimate moment, but it got the job done.