Heidi Tate was frightened to go to bed. Every time she did, the man who was terrorizing her called with his obscene comments. But, exhausted, she finally slid between the sheets and turned off her lights. Unable to sleep, she laid there, waiting for the phone to ring. After a while, when it didn’t ring, she finally drifted off to sleep.

The trilling bell of her phone’s electronic bell awakened her a little later. Trembling, she reached for the phone and picked it up. “He…hello?” she said.

“Slut!!! Evil woman!!!” the caller screamed. “You have to pay!!! Vengeance is mine!!! You will…”

Heidi slammed the phone down. Then, as soon as she could get her trembling under control, she followed the phone company’s instructions. When that was done, she called the police.

Three beeps came over the radio in Tim Jackman’s cruiser. He listened carefully. The beeps meant a “hot shot” call was coming. “Adam forty, X-ray twenty-five, and Sam-five,” the dispatcher said. “Respond to the pay phone at the Minute Man Quick Store, possible code 51. Responding units, the call is Code 2.”

Tim pressed down on the cruiser’s accelerator, his heart pounding. All three patrol units in the sector were being sent to the store. A “Code 51” was a person making obscene phone calls. Tim had little hope they’d catch the man, but just the same, he drove as fast as he could and arrived at the store before the other responding units. He saw the pay phone when he wheeled his cruiser into the parking lot. There was no one there.

Sergeant Dawson and the two officers in the other patrol car arrived shortly after Tim did. While the officers Mackey and Jones went into the store to interview the clerk, Tim helped Sergeant Dawson dust the phone for fingerprints.

“This is probably a major waste of time,” the sergeant said, “but we better do it. Probably only thirty or forty people a day use the damn phone.”

Jones and Mackey came out of the store. “Clerk says he didn’t see a thing,” Jones said. “You ask me, I think he was asleep.”

“We have officers at the location the call was made from, ma’am,” the police dispatcher told Heidi.

“Did they catch him?” she asked, her heart pounding.

“No, ma’am,” the dispatcher said. “They’re going to try to get fingerprints from the phone, though. Maybe that will help.”

“I hope so,” Heidi said. “I want the animal Ankara travesti who’s doing this to me caught!”

“I know you do, ma’am,” the dispatcher said. “So do we. Look, we’ll have a detective stop by tomorrow and let you know what we found out.”

“All right,” Heidi said. “Thank you.” She put down the phone, laid back down, and again tried to get to sleep. She was frightened, but even more, she was angry. Who hated her enough to do this to her? And why?

She’d just gotten to sleep when a loud roar, followed by the sound of breaking glass awakened her. Stunned, she sat up in bed. A second roar sounded and her bedroom window exploded inward. Fortunately, her bed was placed in a position which allowed the shattered glass to fall harmlessly onto the floor next to it. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she reached for the phone and pressed 9-1-1.

Again, three beeps sounded over the police radio. “Any available unit in the East Sector,” the dispatcher said, “report of shots fired at a home, 1852 Johnson Street, units responding, your call is Code 3.”

Sergeant Dawson was in the middle of dusting the pay phone for fingerprints. “You guys get over there!” he yelled to the three officers with him. “I’ll back you up soon as I can.”

Tim recognized Heidi’s address the minute the dispatcher gave it, and was already opening the door of his cruiser when the sergeant ordered them to leave. Before officers Jones and Mackey could get in their cruiser, he was already headed out of the parking lot, his tires and siren screaming, the blue lights on the roof flashing. “X-ray twenty-five to dispatch,” he yelled into the microphone, “I’m handling that shooting call.”

“Adam forty responding with X-ray 25,” Mackey yelled into his microphone over the sound of the cruiser’s siren.

“X-ray twenty-five,” the dispatcher said, “Do you want me to respond an ambulance?”

“I hope not!” Tim thought as he squealed around a corner and onto Johnson Street. “God! I hope not!” “Hold Rescue,” he told the dispatcher. “I’m off on the scene.”

“Adam forty to dispatch, we’re off at that location, too,” the radio said.

Tim came out of his cruiser, holding his pistol in his hand. Even though he wanted to run to the house to see if Heidi was all right, he stayed behind the car until Jones and Mackey were out of their cruiser.

“Jackman, Konya travesti go around the house on the right,” Jones, the senior officer in the other car yelled. “Mackey, you go around the left side.” He pressed the “talk” button on the microphone attached to his lapel. “Adam forty to dispatch, can you get me a K-9 unit over here?”

“Copy, Adam forty,” the dispatcher said. “Right away. David twelve, respond to East Sector, 1852 Johnson,” the dispatcher said, “Back up Adam forty and X-ray twenty-five on a shots fired call. David-twelve, your call is code three.”

“David twelve is rolling,” came the reply. “ETA five to ten.”

Heidi lay in her bed, listening to the sounds of sirens approaching her house. Finally, when she heard the police cars stop in front of her house, she got out of her bed on the side away from the broken glass, made her way to her closet, and slipped on a fluffy bathrobe. She heard the policemen talking to each other, and the crackle of their radios. For the time being, anyhow, she was safe. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she went downstairs. The policemen would likely want to talk with her.

Gun in one hand and flashlight in the other, Tim made his way around Heidi’s house. He was more familiar with it than was officer Mackey who, shotgun in hand, was making his way around the other side.

They met at the rear of the house. “You see anything, Tim?” Mackey asked.

“Nothing,” Tim replied.

“Asshole is probably long gone,” Mackey said. He played his flashlight over the house. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he exclaimed. “Look at that.”

“Home of the whore!” was spray-painted on the back wall of the house in bright red letters. Right next to it were the words “Die Bitch!”

“This fucker’s serious!” Mackey exclaimed.

Tim played his light upward, and could see the broken windows and pockmarks in the siding where pellets from a shotgun had hit the building. “Looks like he was using a shotgun,” he said. “I’d guess buckshot.” He pressed the “talk” button on his radio. “X-ray twenty-five to Adam-forty, all clear back here,” he said.

“Copy that, X-ray twenty-five,” came the reply. “I’m going to talk with the complainant.”

“Sam five to dispatch, I’m off at 1852 Johnson,” Sergeant Dawson’s voice said. “Get some detectives out here, now.”

“Copy, Sam five,” dispatch responded. İzmir travesti “Right away.”

Tim went back to his cruiser while Sergeant Dawson and Patrolman Jones went inside to interview Heidi. He found that he didn’t want Heidi to know he was there, and wasn’t sure why.

A few minutes later, the K-9 officer, Pete Loomis, showed up, with his dog, Buddy. Tim joined Loomis and Mackey and did a complete sweep of the yard. As he expected, they didn’t find anything. The shooter was long gone.

The officers gathered at Sergeant Dawson’s car a little later. “OK,” he said. “I guess we got to figure this asshole’s serious about hurting this lady. She doesn’t know why, and hasn’t any idea who, but we’ll let the dicks try and figure that out.”

“We know the shooter had his car parked in the alley,” Loomis said. “Buddy tracked him that far.”

“Yeah, we’re going to have to patrol the damn alley more,” Dawson said. “Damn! The son-of-a bitch suckered us! Made a call from the damn store, then came over here when we were there.”

“Coulda been worse, sarge,” Mackey said. “Nobody got hurt.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” the sergeant said.

“Sarge,” Jones said.

“What?” Dawson glowered at him.

“I was wondering, could you put Mackey and me back in Central Sector?” the officer said. “Working up here’s too damn dangerous. At least the assholes downtown don’t shoot at us. I don’t mind gettin’ punched and kicked, but this shooting shit could get a guy killed.”

“Get bent, Jones,” the sergeant said.

Two detectives arrived, one male, one female. Sergeant Dawson briefed them about what had happened.

“We’ll take it from here,” the female detective said. “You guys can take off if you want.”

“OK, guys,” Sergeant Dawson said, “let’s get going. I’m headed back to the station. You guys hang around the neighborhood. Don’t leave until the next shift’s in place.”

Tim told Mackey and Jones he’d stay on patrol until the day shift unit was in the sector. That meant they could go in at the normal time, so neither man objected. He spent most of the night cruising around the block where Heidi lived, and only left when the day shift car arrived.

Dead tired, he walked up the walk to his apartment and met Carol Ann coming out her unit. “Want some company?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, Carol Ann,” Tim said, surprising himself. “I had a bad night. All I want is to get to bed.”

The pretty apartment manger frowned. “You sure?” she asked.

Tim shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I am sure.”

Ten minutes later he was in bed, but he couldn’t sleep. Who wanted to hurt Heidi? And why?

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