Page 113 of Carter

Another box holds dated electronics, like cell phones and even a pager. Haven’t seen one of these in a long damn time. These get bagged as well, because we can see what’s on them, even if it’s all been deleted. Just because you delete stuff doesn’t mean it’s gone.

I pat down the clothes. There are a lot here. All types. Multiple styles that don’t quite go together, like he doesn’t know who he is… or who he wants to be for that day. Maybe he’s using multiple names at once rather than abandoning them after a few years of use. The only thing I find in the pockets are old receipts which may put him somewhere at a time we need, so they get bagged. There’s loose change and a crunched-up parking ticket. That’s it.

Against the wall, in the darkest part of the closet, is a duffel bag. I pull it out to go through, but before I do that, I check all the walls of the closet to make sure there isn’t a false one or a hiding spot. Nothing.

I move to the duffel which has more clothes and shoes, each set wrapped in an individual grocery bag, which is weird as hell. I carefully open one of them. White sneakers covered in mud.

Weird, but okay. I set it aside and open another pair. These are black with yellow and blue paint splattered all over them.

The next are dark brown hiking boots that look like they’ve never been worn before.

They all get bagged.

“You think any of this will pan out?” Merrick asks.

“It fucking better.”

I stand up and look around the room again, this time moving to the corner where there are tote bins stacked. Tax stuff, work pay stubs, bank statements. I set it all aside because we will need this too.

The one on the bottom contains a lock box—that’s locked. That’s the only thing in it.

“I need cutters!” I call out.

“You think you got something?” Gendreau says as she enters the room and hands me the bolt cutters.

“We’re about to find out. Keep looking.”

She nods and leaves the room. I cut open the box and move to lift the top when movement from the corner of my eye catches my attention. It was quick, but too big to be a bird or another animal. I get up quickly, putting the box on the floor.

“You see something?” Merrick asks, pausing his photographing and watching me carefully.

Heavy clanking sounds from outside, and I immediately put two and two together. I rush over to the window, yank it open, and look down to see Jason Mercer scrambling down the fire escape.

“He’s running!” I shout. “Going down the fire escape! Get officers on the back alley immediately!”

I squeeze my large self out the window and hurry down the escape. By the time I reach the second floor, he’s jumping to the ground. I move faster.

“Jason Mercer, NYPD! You’re under arrest! You need to stop!” I call out as I rush down.

My feet land on the cement hard, and I run down the alley, turning right to follow after him.

He’s one block ahead of me, shoving people aside as he hurries by, trying to escape. His mistake is looking over his shoulder. We lock eyes. Fear fills his, but determination fills my entire body. I’m not letting this man get away. I pump my arms faster andgo.

“NYPD!” I call out. “Stop!”

I faintly hear people following after me, running and calling for back up. I just move faster, needing to get this motherfucker. If he’s running, it’s for a reason.

“He’s turning right on Tremont!” I call into the walkie. “Get guys down therenow!”

I turn the corner and he’s still ahead of me, no further than he was before. No closer either, though. He takes a left and I call that into the walkie, still running after him. The voices behind me fade, and I don’t know if they got called off, if they’re going somewhere else, or if they just ran out of breath. The further I chase him, the less civilians there are. But it’s better this way. Less people to get in the way or get hurt.

He looks back now and then. I shout his name, tell him to stop, and alerted him to who I am.

Nothing makes him stop, though, so we just keep running.

My legs and lungs burn, but there’s no way in hell that I am stopping until my body gives up and drops to the ground. I will not let him get away.

He takes a sharp right, and I follow him, laughing internally when I see he’s hit a dead end. He jumps up the fence, trying to climb over, but that’s when I catch him. I grip the back ofhis jacket and tear him off the fence with all the strength I have left. Adrenaline courses through my veins, my heart pounding. Mercer lands on the ground with a thud. I turn, ready for a fight because I know it’s coming. He won’t let me arrest him easily. Not after running so hard.