Title: Bad Day At Sun Hill
Author: hexicode aka illman
Fandom/pairing (if appropriate): The Bill, no pairing
Summary: It's a bad day for the Sun Hill officers
Rating: if you're old enough to watch the show, you should be okay with this
Warnings: none
Disclaimers: The characters and settings aren't mine. No profit is being made, this is for entertainment only.
A/N: This story is a heavily edited version of my 2008 NaNoWriMo story. Most of you may not be familiar with the majority of the characters as this tale is set in 1989. I tried to stick to the technology available back then, but if I did overlook something, I apologize.
OOo
It seemed like the whole of Sun Hill was still asleep. Fog was lingering between the streets and the sun was just starting to climb over the houses in the distance. Brind knew of course that the impression was all too misleading. Otherwise, if there were no villains about this early, they wouldn't be out already trying to catch bail jumpers. But the chief inspector who had ordered the initiative had reasoned that the early bird catches the worm and hence they were out on the streets well before her shift would normally have started. But Brind saw another reason behind their early start - the earlier they would bring in the bail jumpers, the sooner they could go on to their regular duties, preferably without accumulating overtime in the process.
"Too early for you?" Sergeant Cryer who was with her that morning asked with a hint of reproach in his voice. Clearly she hadn't been entirely successful in hiding the urge to yawn.
"No, no," she reassured him, "it's just been a late night yesterday. And I didn't sleep all too well either."
"You were on that car accident, the nasty pile up on Claybourne Street yesterday?"
Brind nodded, but said nothing.
"Those can be tough to deal with."
"I'm okay, sarge."
"If you say so. Might be worth heading to bed early tonight though," Cryer suggested, before turning back to the sheet the chief inspector had handed out to each team that morning. On it were the names and addresses of the people they were assigned to bring in on outstanding warrants.
"This should be it," Cryer said as they turned a corner into Monfort Street. "Michael Jones, Monfort Street 23."
"What are we bringing him in for?" Brind asked. The briefing had consisted of a veritable litany of names and most of them hadn't stuck. Again, she blamed the early hour and the lack of sleep the previous night.
"He was due in court on a charge of drunk driving last month. He didn't show up."
"Last month and we are only getting around to this now?" Brind hadn't really meant to say that out loud.
"Well, at least you understand why Inspector Conway wants this done so urgently. Some of these people had outstanding warrants for months."
They continued walking down the street until they stopped in front of house number 23. A series of three steps led up to the red painted front door. There was light in the window beside it, indicating that they at least hadn't made the trip for nothing. An advantage of the early hour, Brind guessed. People were more likely to be at home and not at work or otherwise out and about. Cryer climbed the steps and rung the doorbell. Only a few second later, the door was opened and a middle-aged man peered at them.
"Michael Jones?" Cryer asked.
The man nodded. "What do you want?"
"You actually, sir. You were due to appear in court on a charge of drunk driving on the 15th of last month. Our records show that you didn't attend. We are therefore forced to place you under arrest," Cryer explained. The man appeared to want to say something, but then suddenly, he reached out and took a swing at the sergeant with his right fist. Brind moved in to stop him, but he simply pushed her out of the way, being more then almost two feet taller and at least sixty pounds heavier than her. She scrambled back to her feet, torn between chasing after the man and making sure that the sergeant was all right. Cryer was still on the ground, blood dripping from his nose. Brind started to help him up, but he waved her off.
"Go, go after him!"
Brind didn't need to be told twice. She could see the man in the distance and started running. He was turning left, into what she knew to be a blind alley. Running as fast as she could, she reached the end of Monfort street and turned left as well. The man was making his way along the row of parked cars lining the alley. He was trying out the doors of the parking cars, probably looking for one that careless owners had left unlocked. The activity was slowing his progress, allowing her to catch up with him.
"Stop right there! I'm a police officer," she yelled again.
The man turned to look at her and took off again. It would only be a matter of moments until he reached the end of the alley, effectively trapping himself. Wanting to avoid a direct confrontation and hoping to have the element of surprise on her side, seeing as to how easily he had knocked her down earlier, she lunged at him from behind, tackling him to the ground. They both went down hard, but even with the momentum, her weight was not enough to pin him to the ground. She saw early morning sunlight glinting off the blade a second before he thrust it at her, but by then it was already too late and although it all seemed to happen in slow motion, she was powerless to stop the knife from burying itself in her right side. The sight of the knife sticking out of her body was so surreal, she would have laughed hadn't it been for the searing pain that was spreading out from her side. It was so intense, that she hardly felt the knife being yanked free again. She managed to press a hand against the injury in a feeble attempt to staunch the heavy flow of blood before her legs gave under her. The world tilted and suddenly she was looking at the sky, without even having felt her body impact the pavement.
oOo
The punch had been hard enough to send his ears ringing and nearly made him black out. By the time Cryer had been able to gather his bearings and get back to his feet, neither Brind nor Michael Jones were anywhere to be seen. Cryer glanced down Monfort Street into both directions, but nothing. Right would take him deeper into the residential neighborhood while the busy city laid to his left. Jones was a local, familiar with the area, even when panicked, he would probably have chosen the direction that offered a greater chance of escape. Cryer wiped the blood from his split lip and broke into a run. He had just reached the end of Monfort Street, still without catching sight of his colleague or their suspect, when he spotted the figure lying on the ground in an alley. Even from the distance, he could make out the uniform.
A few instants later he was by Brind's side. She was curled on her side, one bloodied hand pressed against her right side, underneath the ribcage. The blood was hard to see on the dark uniform, but it had already spread out onto the pavement in a fast growing crimson stain. The fact that she was still bleeding reassured him that she was still alive, but still, he reached out to check for a pulse to make sure.
Her eyes drifted open at his touch, staring up at him with confusion and pain.
"Listen to me, it's going to be all right," he reassured her, even though he knew it was probably a lie. An ambulance was unlikely to arrive on time, given how fast she was bleeding out. He was about to reach for his radio, when Brind snagged sleeve with her hand.
"Knife..." she whispered, obviously trying to warn him that the suspect was armed. "Go..." Cryer ignored her and radioed the station. The suspect could wait, getting help for Brind couldn't.
He was midway through giving CAD his location when he sensed something behind him. Ready to defend himself and Brind, he whirled around. The knife slashed into his arm, cutting clean through the sleeve of his uniform. Cryer fully expected his opponent to move in for the kill, but for some reason, Jones hesitated, knife raised. For a moment, their eyes locked, and all Cryer could see was fear and desperation. Then, Michael Jones simply dropped the knife. As if all the fight had suddenly gone out of him, he meekly allowed himself to be handcuffed.
oOo
"You really should get that seen to." Bob Cryer looked up. He'd been so lost in thought he'd been completely unaware of Inspector Frasier's arrival.
"Pardon, what did you say, ma'am?"
"I was just saying that you should get that cut seen it. It looks pretty nasty."
"It can wait." He meant it, the cut had almost stopped bleeding by the time the ambulance had arrived and then the paramedics had been busy trying to save Brind's life.
"Any news?"
"None yet."
"All right, I'll see if I can find her doctor. Will you look after these two for a moment?" For the first time Cryer noticed that a middle-aged woman and a girl were standing a few feet away, watching their exchange.
"Mrs Brind, this is Sergeant Bob Cryer." Christine introduced him. "He was with your daughter this morning," Christine explained, before she left them alone.
"I'm really sorry about what happened, Mrs Brind. I wish I could have done something to prevent this from happening," Cryer said sincerely.
"It's not your fault. The inspector told us that she was attacked by a man she was trying to arrest."
"Yes, that's right," Cryer said. He couldn't even begin to articulate how much he blamed himself for what had happened. He should have been better prepared for resistance. He had been on the job long enough to know that anything could happen, even on a seemingly routine call as this had been. But Jones had taken him completely by surprise, and he had told Brind to go after him, never considering that the man could easily overpower her as well. Of course, he hadn't known the man had had a knife, he certainly hadn't been holding one when he had opened the door, but even without a knife, he would have been more than a match for Brind.
"Do you know...can you tell us how she is doing?"
"I honestly don't know. She was holding on when they brought her in..." Cryer trailed off. He hated delivering the bad news, and would never get used to it, especially when a colleague was concerned. They spent a moment in uncomfortable silence, until Inspector Frasier returned with a young man in a white coat in tow.
"Mrs Brind?. This is Dr. Richards."
"I've been treating your daughter since her admission."
"How is she? Will she be all right?" Mrs Brind asked anxiously.
"Let's talk in my office," Dr. Richard told them. Mrs Brind and the teenage girl followed him, leaving the two officers behind in the waiting area.
"How is she?" Cryer asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Not good. Apparently, the knife hit an artery and she nearly bled out. She went into shock and they are still trying to stabilize her. What exactly happened out there?"
Cryer quickly related the events that had led up to the fateful encounter. "So you didn't see that he had a knife?"
Cryer shook his head. "No, ma'am. I'm certain he wasn't holding it when he opened the door. He must have had it stashed somewhere on his body."
"Must be," Frasier agreed, but Cryer could tell that she was having doubts. As did he.
"Has he said anything so far?"
"DCs Lines and Carver are interviewing him now."
"There was something odd," Cryer began.
"What was that?"
"I've only remembered it now when you asked about the knife, but I'm sure I saw a stain that looked like blood on the carpet when he opened the door. I was going to ask him about it, but I never got the chance. Has someone been around his apartment?"
"Not as far as I know, but I'll send someone over to check it out. It could be that you walked in on him in the middle of something and that was why he attacked you." Frasier thought out loud.
"Maybe. Aside from drugs, I can't really figure any reason why someone would react like this."
"The FME said he was clean. No sign of him being a user. But we will get to the bottom of this. Not you though," she added. "You are going to get yourself seen to. I don't want to see you at the station before someone has had a look at the cut and at your face." She motioned to what had to be pretty impressive bruises from the feel of it.
"Yes, ma'am." Cryer knew that protest was pointless. He sat back down in the plastic chair.
"I should get back to the station. If there is any news about Brind, I want you to call me as soon as possible, all right?"
"I will."
TBC