Chapter 47: Miscalculation

Jimmy successfully secured a promotion, driven naturally by his track record of cracking major cases and his professional, faultless conduct while on duty.

What Jimmy did not know, however, was that his promotion stemmed mostly from how ruthless he was, which had thoroughly shocked everyone at the police precinct. Among the dozen or so county deputies, only three had records of shooting suspects on duty—two lieutenants, one of whom was Kage, and a single patrol officer, which was Jimmy.

In the United States, not every police officer gets the opportunity to shoot someone, let alone kill. In fact, while over a thousand suspects are killed annually nationwide by police gunfire, America has hundreds of thousands of police officers, making those with a lethal-use-of-force record exceedingly rare. Many officers experience psychological trauma after taking a life, which is why larger departments typically employ professional psychologists to help officers process these issues, while smaller departments partner with hospitals or retain part-time psychological consultants.

An officer like Jimmy, who repeatedly accumulated fatal shooting records while maintaining nerves of steel, already ranked as an exceptionally elite asset among hundreds of thousands of law enforcement personnel. Such individuals are usually fiercely contested by various specialized departments, especially SWAT teams.

However, the Pulaski County Sheriff's Department was a small agency lacking specialized tactical units, so he simply received a promotion and continued his regular patrol duties. In a major metropolitan police department like New York or Los Angeles, he would have undoubtedly been reassigned to a specialized detective squad by now.

Jimmy updated his badge rank, then ordered takeout to treat everyone to coffee and afternoon tea. Afterward, it was back to business as usual. In truth, nothing about his routine changed; he still went out on patrol, still wore the uniform, and the compact personal police light he had purchased himself still went unused.

That night, Jimmy resumed his patrol. He had grown rather nonchalant about it now: arresting a few suspects in the early part of the night and resting during the latter half. As long as dispatch assigned no calls, nobody would bat an eye if a patrol car sat parked by the roadside.

Driving the roads at night is dreadfully boring, especially for patrol officers like Jimmy who have no fixed destination and drive entirely at random, as long as they remain within their patrol sector. In reality, highway traffic at night is sparse, particularly after 10:00 PM, when going ten or fifteen minutes without seeing a single vehicle is entirely normal.

The most frequent night violations were speeding, followed closely by driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs. Over the past few months, Jimmy had grown intimately familiar with the driving habits of these individuals. By simply observing a vehicle's motion on the road, he could largely determine whether the driver was intoxicated or high. People who were wasted simply could not control their hands and feet, often causing their cars to swerve erratically or straddle the lane markers right down the middle of the road.

Jimmy generally refrained from issuing direct citations to drivers who seemed reasonably agreeable, as DUIs were extremely common in the United States; as long as someone else could be called to drive them home, that sufficed. But if the driver gave off a disagreeable vibe—well, tough luck.

His greatest advantage in operating this way was that dashboard cameras and police body cameras had not yet been widely adopted, allowing for plenty of discretion based on human judgment. A few years down the line, dashcams would start becoming commonplace, and within a decade, body cams would become mandatory. Operating with such leeway would then be impossible; turning off or obstructing a body camera during law enforcement procedures would constitute a severe violation subject to internal administrative investigation.

***

Jimmy noticed a vehicle ahead traveling at an exceptionally sluggish pace. In a forty-five miles-per-hour zone, it was probably doing less than thirty. Considering it was nighttime with no other traffic on the road, and the vehicle's headlights appeared normal and illuminated the pavement properly from the rear, this was highly abnormal and completely contradicted standard American driving habits.

Jimmy pulled up behind the car, reduced his speed to match it, and activated his emergency lights and siren. Upon seeing the flashing lights, the vehicle signaled right and prepared to pull over to the shoulder.

Jimmy brought his cruiser to a stop, stepped out, and walked up to the car. The driver kept both hands on the steering wheel, trembling slightly. Jimmy swept his flashlight beam over the driver, who was visibly shaking, even his lips quivering.

"Good evening, sir. Do you need any help?" Jimmy bypassed asking for a driver's license immediately; given the driver's appearance, it was highly likely he was experiencing drug withdrawal or a severe medical issue.

"Yes, I'm sick. I'm shaking all over, and my head is killing me. I'm on my way to the hospital right now."

"Do you need me to call an ambulance? You're in no condition to drive like this." Jimmy frowned, looking at the driver's trembling hands.

"No, no, no ambulance. I can make it myself." The driver shook his head, flatly rejecting Jimmy's offer of assistance.

Jimmy studied the driver—a middle-aged Caucasian man with a receding hairline, driving an older model car. He more or less pieced the situation together.

"Brother, driving like this is extremely dangerous. Do you have a friend who can come drive your car? You can ride in my cruiser, and I'll take you to the hospital."

"No need, I don't know anyone around here. Thank you, Officer, but really, I don't need it. I can get there myself." The driver still refused. With no other options, Jimmy could only issue a warning to drive carefully before letting him go.

Jimmy started his patrol car and trailed far behind without activating his emergency lights or siren. The vehicle ahead picked up speed slightly. After following it for over ten minutes, Jimmy watched it turn into a clinic. Only after the driver parked and got out did Jimmy turn his cruiser around and resume his patrol along the highway.

***

After driving for a while, Jimmy still felt a lingering sense of unease. He turned back toward the clinic he had just visited, only to find that the car parked out front moments earlier was now gone.

Something was wrong. Jimmy immediately stepped out of his cruiser, drew his weapon, walked up to the clinic, and knocked on the door.

"Pulaski County Sheriff's Department! Open the door!"

Jimmy knocked several times, but nobody answered. He turned and walked toward the back of the clinic, glancing through a side window to find the interior in complete disarray. Reaching the rear, Jimmy discovered the previously spotted vehicle parked in the backyard, completely empty. Clearly, a major incident had occurred inside the clinic.

Jimmy returned to his patrol car and used his radio to notify dispatch of the situation, instructing them to contact Lieutenant Kage for backup.

Jimmy waited in his cruiser for over ten minutes before Kage arrived in his own patrol car. Jimmy briefed Kage on the abnormalities he had observed on the road and, based on the chaotic state of the clinic interior witnessed through the window, deduced that a serious crime had likely taken place—at the very least, a hostage situation, with the distinct possibility of murder.

Kage and Jimmy approached the clinic. Reaching the front entrance, Kage knocked while Jimmy circled around to the back door, utilizing his unique capabilities to observe the interior conditions.

One person sat slumped in a corner, their posture indicating their hands and feet were likely bound, while another figure rummaged through items near the wall.

Jimmy whispered an update to Kage via his tactical radio. Up front, Kage delivered two heavy kicks to the door, forcing it open, and stepped inside with his weapon drawn, clearing the rooms as he advanced. Meanwhile, Jimmy crouched by the rear exit, anticipating that if things went south, any suspect inside would attempt to flee out the back.

"Pulaski County Sheriff's Department! Don't move! Let me see your hands!" Kage shouted, immediately followed by the sound of rapid, dense gunfire.