They'd carefully glanced around the corner, making the owner of the hotdog stand raise his eyebrows in suspicion. From that angle, they could see only a few entrances to basements nearby. Mike knew his hunch was far out, but something told him that this time, he was right on.
Dylan had already proven to be clever. He'd also shown that he'd been in the area long enough to get a good feel of the neighborhoods and their respective hiding places. The more important question was, why hadn't he found Chantal with all that insider knowledge?
Swallowing the pain still radiating from his right knee, Mike followed his partner down a short set of stairs leading to four basement doors.
The one farthest away from them was protected with a padlock; however, the other three were accessible. Steve squeezed himself against the door frame, his long fingers reaching for the lock on the first door.
Meeting his partners blue eyes, the young Inspector slowly tried to turn the door knob, only to find it locked. Mike pointed his chin to the next door, and they assumed the same position. Carefully reaching forward again, Steve tried the door and found it unlocked this time.
With his .38 at the ready, Mike scanned the floor first only to find it wet. Somewhere along the line, rain water must have washed into the basement. It wasn't enough to flood anything, but it did moisten the concrete floor enough to hide any footprints that might have been there.
Mike looked around the perimeter and saw a dozen or so boxes of various merchandise. Some were still closed, others had been opened and clothes or plastic beach toys stuck out of them.
In the scarce light, he didn't see any hiding spots.
Next to him, Steve drew in a deep breath, scanning the small room, before meeting his partner's eyes. Knowing instinctively that there was not enough space to hide behind the boxes, Mike pursed his lips and shook his head, causing Steve to slowly retreat.
They moved to the next door and got into position.
Steve was just about to reach for the handle, when the door opened from the inside.
Temporarily startled, the young Inspector flinched, causing the taller and heavier Dylan to brush past him in a mad dash toward the stairs.
"Steve, move it!", Mike urged, as their suspect climbed up the steps towards the sidewalk, heading for the next street corner at an astonishing pace.
The young Inspector nodded quickly, before sprinting away. Dylan might have the height and weight advantage over his partner, but Mike knew that Steve could outrun most people.
By the time he'd climbed the stairs and reached the sidewalk, both Steve and Dylan were already one street over. Mike settled into a fast jog- as fast as his injured knee allowed.
Moving past a few onlookers, he made good headway and reached the street corner just to see Dylan stumble over a small newsstand.
Using the opportunity to his advantage, Steve sped up and leaped on top of their suspect like a predator attacking its prey.
Dylan never stood a chance against the powerful thrust, and both men tumbled for a few feet, before Steve gained the upper hand and put his knee into their suspect's back.
Quick and efficient as usual, the young Inspector reached for the handcuffs on his belt and secured Dylan long before the young man ever had a chance to attempt another escape.
Mike arrived in time to watch him heave Dylan off the road and back onto his feet.
Smiling broadly, he waited a few seconds to give his partner some time to catch his breath.
"Good hunting, Buddy Boy."