I was still wasn’t able to catch my breath. My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest and hop on down the street only to fall into a gutter and never be seen again. I was laying on top of the suspect and it was my weight that kept the little hellion in place until my partner caught up.
“Jesus Frankie, you got him!” my partner said. He wasn’t winded at all thanks to being smart enough to take the squad while I ran the alleyways. I hadn’t had time to catch my breath so I just nodded, hoping it was true. I didn’t feel alright. Too much adrenalin and dinner. I was afraid I might disgorge myself if either I or the suspect twitched. I urped once but was able to keep it all down.
From beneath me I could sense life, but the suspect had mentally given up and I no longer felt the tense muscles underneath my own. My partner leaned over and I could smell the carry out Mexican dinner on his breath as he recited the Miranda rights – “You have the right to remain silent… yada, yada, yada.”
“Ok Frankie, you can release the suspect now.” Hearing the cue I let go, got to my feet and stepped back. I was still weary, but knew the fight had gone out of the suspect. I felt the satisfaction of a job well done. I saw the flash of chrome plated cuffs out of the corner of my eye. My partner had a practiced way with the cuffs. It was like watching Bruce Lee with numchucks. Economy in motion that you only get after hundreds of arrests. It was my partner’s signature move, like Zorro’s Z, or the Lone Ranger’s mask. No one did it better.
The paddy wagon pulled up as did a couple of other patrol cars. About 6 cops in all were milling around talking to witnesses and other cops. They were making sure that it was a clean bust, that protocol was followed; basically that I didn’t screw anything up with my leaping take down of the suspect. You couldn’t blame if after the chase I had, over fences, dodging garbage can lids and whatever the suspect could throw at me to slow me down. Not that it worked. It never works. It slows them down and spurs me on. The flying takedown from behind is MY signature move. Bruce Lee be damned.
Eventually the suspect was placed in the paddy wagon and everyone drifted away. My partner and I were the last to leave. We climbed into our squad to leave.
“You know Frankie,” my partner said as he smoothed the fur between my ears, “Having a dog as a partner is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You never sass back.”