Jay Halstead Chicago Pd Ram Truck Novels & Stories

I’ve already dealt the first blow and the next of the events wasn’t as pleasant as I desired. Jayler ran out of the house and got hit by a truck along the highway. We only found out about this the very next day and it was very bad. We all rushed to the hospital where we found Jayler in a very bad shape. He suffered a concussion in the head which resulted in him being comatose for over a year.

He was running an algorithm based on the description of the truck and tag numbers. One of his many computers beeped, then zoomed in on a grainy image. The computer beeped twice more. “Watch commander, I think you should see this.” An older officer sporting a perfectly pressed uniform and a buzz cut walked over to the young man. The officer held a mug of untouched black coffee. The stencil on the outside of the mug read, “Shut Da Fuh Cup.” “What is it, deputy?” growled the older man. The young man swallowed. “Uh, we got a hit on that truck Major Dufresne of the St. Dismas Sheriff’s Office is lookin’ for.”

The truck first hit the Porsche, then it rammed into her car a second time, but I was safely away with Hillary before it could get to us. I left her in a safe place, then I came back and face the guy who was about to come out of the Truck. I noticed the gas leakage from Hillary’s car, so I aimed at it and caused an explosion that shook the whole surrounding, setting him ablaze in his stupid Truck. I knew some more guys would be coming to confirm the kill for Ariel, I have no time to be nice, so I pointed my gun at the guy standing by his car door observing everything that is happening. I high jacked his car, helping Hillary into the back seat, then I got into the driver's side and drove off

The county jail holding area was eerily quiet at 3:17 AM. Only cell number 4 was occupied. Officer Ryan Hale, 37 years old, sat at the small desk outside the cells, finishing the last of his night shift paperwork. He was a tall, imposing man, 6’3”, broad-shouldered, and the kind of calm, authoritative presence that made people nervous.

“She'd never kill anyone, Mandy is a naive woman. I am not a murderer! I'm an employed driver and bodyguard. ” Ramirez’s eyes narrowed, clearly not convinced. “So you expect us to believe that you were just an innocent bystander? That Mandy too is a saint?” Cain nodded desperately. “Yes! It is what it is.” Ramirez leaned forward, his expression cold. "I've been in this business for years. I know criminals like you, an I know just well how to handle you.” With that, Ramirez stood up and signaled to the officers waiting outside. “Lock him up. We’ll deal with him later.”

The lock disengaged with a loud thunk, and I was pushed inside. The intake office was colder than the hallway. Sterile white walls, a steel desk bolted to the floor, security cameras blinking red from the corners. Another guard waited inside, seated behind the desk, flipping through a file. He was older, salt-and-pepper hair, stocky build. His badge read Sgt. Heller. “Keaton Rhoades,” he read aloud, without looking up. “Age twenty-seven. Convicted of aggravated fraud, obstruction of justice, and manslaughter.” He lifted his eyes then, pale and bored. “Ten years. Maximum security. Lucky you.”

“We all are.” “Remember, they might not allow us to see her. Also, we will most likely be charged for harboring a criminal. We’re talking fines here.” “I’ll pay any amount. Money is not an issue. I just need to see Elena and make sure she’s okay.” “Alright then.” Jay tucked his gun into the back of his trouser before wearing his jacket over it. “Let’s go.” <<<<>>> It didn’t take too long to get to the police station, considering who was driving. Yours truly, Kai. I parked the car in and we all hopped out and went inside. We stopped in front of the information desk. A woman sat there with a cup of espresso in her hand.

Jeremy shook his head, knitting his brows. How will he ever doubt his sister? "No one else was found even in the perimeter?" Jeremy asked and Bobby shook his head. "Check all the outdoor cameras once more..." Jeremy rubbed his head. "And the 18- wheeler? Did they catch the driver yet?" "Dead," Bobby looked at Jeremy and he slammed the steering wheel in frustration. If he didn't notice the 18-wheeler on the road that day, he wouldn't have rammed her car to stop.