"Police! We need to talk to the homeowner!"

Brad went to look at Jason but it was too late. Jason had already hit the deck and was doing a modified low crawl past the refrigerator like he was some sort of culinary Scout Sniper.

Brad watched in disbelief until a third knock snapped him out of it.

"On my way officer!" Brad shouted towards the door.

Brad crutched his way up to the front door and as he passed the short hallway in front of the kitchen, he saw Jason slowly shutting the closet door, holing himself in. Don't let anyone say that Jason isn't a total coward, Brad thought to himself.

Brad paused for a moment, taking a breath, before opening the door. He turned the handle and backed away as meekly as he couldn't manage.

"May I help you officer? Sorry it took so long to get to the door. Still getting used to these things."

Noticing the crutches, the officer answered apologetically. "Not to worry son, I can see that you're not 100%. Are either of your parents home?"

"No, they're out to dinner with some friends." Brad replied.

"Is anyone else in the house?"

"Nope, just me. Me and my torn meniscus." Brad put on his best half-joking/half-disappointed voice.

"Ouch', the officer grimaced. "You know, my wife torn her meniscus skiing when we were first married. She was in a lot of pain. But not as much pain as I was, since it was my idea to teach her to ski."

The officer laughed the laugh of a married man and Brad realized, coldly, that he should probably be wondering why the officer was here. An innocent person would ask.

"That sounds rough! Anyway, what's the problem officer? Is there something going on in the neighborhood? Is Mr. Wilson next door OK?"

"Mr. Wilson is fine, I just spoke with him. The problem is that we had a stolen car dumped a few streets over and the suspect was last scene heading this way on foot."

"A stolen car?! What's happening to this town?" Brad said putting on his best outraged face. "My car was stolen last month in front of the high school!"

"That's right! Hey, your the Tool Man's kid!" The officer smiled.

"Yup, Brad Taylor. Officer…?"

"Officer Hirsch."

"Officer Hirsch." Brad paused. "This is a crime wave. Did anyone get a good look at the guy? I'd like to know who to keep an eye out for."

"Right now everything's vague. But we know he was approx. 25-30, a little over 6'0", and has a limp."

"A limp?" Brad asked genuinely confused.

"Yes, a woman out walking her schnauzer said she saw our man hurrying down the other side of the street and claimed he was limping like he had one leg shorter than the other."

"Well he shouldn't be hard to miss."

"We hope not." The officer pointed at the locks on the front door. "Be sure to lock those tonight Brad. You never know what a guy like that is capable of."

Officer Hirsch began to walk away — only to turn on his heels, startling Brad who was just beginning to close the door.

"Oh and one more thing…" Officer Hirsch began.

Oh great, Brad thought. He had seen enough "Columbo" reruns to know the danger in that statement.

"Be sure to tell your father that I love "Tool Time." With that Officer Hirsch walked away

"Will do." Brad called after him, with a sense of relief.

Brad quietly shut the door but found himself losing his sense of relief and fixating on something the officer had said. He was right, you did never know what a guy like that was capable of. Whether it was a fictional, limping criminal concocted in some excited housewife's mind or if it was your snaky sometimes friend hiding in your parent's broom closet.

"You can come out now Capone!" Brad yelled to the still hidden Jason.

Suddenly Brad was rethinking the circumstances surrounding his own stolen car.