C1Kat

Pressing his back to the wall, Nash felt Joe's presence right beside him. Plastered to the wall on the opposite side of the door were Evan and Harvey. Nash put his finger to his lips to warn the others to be silent, although he knew they would take every precaution. Old habits died hard. He motioned for Harvey to stand in front of the door, held up a hand and began to count off silently with his fingers. One, two, three!

Swinging his foot up and out, Harvey kicked in the door and immediately ducked in case Trevor had been lying in wait. The door swung open and slammed against the inside wall, but their fugitive was nowhere to be seen. Nash slipped through the door and quickly stepped to the side. Pausing a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, he motioned for the others to follow.

Once inside, they could all see that this building had been abandoned for many years. Debris and plaster from the walls and ceiling littered the floor. They split up to search the first floor, but came up empty. Meeting back near the door, they shared a look of frustration. Nash shook his head in disgust and whispered to the others the plan for catching Trevor.

"Okay, look, I'll search the second floor. Joe, you take the third. Evan, you have the roof and Harvey, you have the basement. Look sharp and be careful. Getting your selves shot would seriously tick me off. There's way too much paperwork involved in that."

Chuckling quietly, the group broke up. Nash and Joe headed for the west stairwell, while the other two took the east. Harvey caught Evan's arm as they headed for the stairs. "Hey, be careful up there, Evan."

"You know I will, Harv. You watch out for spiders down there." Evan chuckled evilly, knowing his partner's aversion to arachnids.

"Ha, ha. Very funny, Ev. Leave it to Nash to give the basement to the guy with claustrophobia." Falling silent once more, Harvey made his way carefully down the stairs. He could hear the creak of the steps as his partner made his way up toward the roof. Pulling a mini flashlight from his pocket, Harvey said a silent prayer for his friends searching the building above him.

At a sudden rustle of noise, Harvey aimed his light and gun toward the sound. He moved as swiftly and silently as possible, his eyes trailing after the light as he skimmed the area. Another rustle had him looking up just in time to see a fruit bat fly out of the rafters directly at the light. Harvey let out a startled yelp, then covered his head as he stepped back hurriedly. The bat made its way deeper into the dank cellar. Harvey was just about to continue his search when a horrified wail ripped through the silence.

Nash ran to the edge of the stairs to get his bearing, then glanced up at Joe and Evan who hadn’t even had time to reach the third floor and roof. Simultaneously, all three raced down the stairs. It was obvious that Harvey had gotten the short straw that time, but none of them could tell exactly what was happening.

“Is that Harvey?” Joe asked as he kept pace.

“I don’t think so,” Evan returned. As they grew closer they could hear Harvey’s voice above the desperate, spine-tingling scream.

“Don’t move! Don’t move!” he ordered, but the body attached to the banshee wouldn’t listen.

Nash looked back at Joe and Evan as they reached the basement door. “What the hell is Harvey doing to the guy?” he asked, all three of them poised outside the door. They didn’t wait for a three count when they heard Harvey yelling again.

“Get off of me!” Harvey ordered, shoving Harry Trevor back when his elbows and hands began flailing about.

Nash, Joe and Evan exchanged startled glances when they saw what the commotion was about. Harry Trevor was frantically trying to get the fruit bat out of his dreadlocks. Harvey was doing his best to help catch the small rodent, but every time he got close, the suspect would dance frantically away. The trio upstairs began to laugh. “Is that a salsa or a tango?” Joe asked as they tucked their weapons back into their holsters.

“It’s definitely not a waltz,” Nash shot back.

“Will you....” Harvey began again, then gave up telling him. He grabbed Trevor by the lapels of his blue jean jacket and dropped him to the floor with one swift movement. Once he had Trevor face down, he put a knee in his back to hold him there while he cuffed him. He looked up at his three companions and gave them a withering look. “A hand would have been nice,” he told them, managing a fake laugh in return with all three started applauding.

Nash gestured over to Evan as he trotted down the stairs. “Ev, see if you can find something that will cut through that hair.”

“I’ve got a knife!” Trevor wailed hoping that he wouldn’t be left alone. He could feel every movement of the tiny body beating and clawing against his head. “There’s a switchblade in my back pocket,” he informed them, tears coming to his eyes in panic. “It’s trying to suck my blood!” he wailed, the empty cellar amplifying the sound.

Nash rubbed at his ear. “Damn bubba. I had no idea you could speak bat,” he teased as he retrieved the knife. Nash leaned over so that he could see Trevor’s face. “Now we can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he said.

“Anything. Anything! Just get this thing off of me!” he begged.

Nash waited for a long moment as the bat struggled frantically to free itself, instigating another high pitched scream from Trevor. “I think it’s burrowing it’s way through to your skull,” Nash tormented him.

“Get it off! Get it off!” Trevor pleaded, trying to shake Harvey off as well.

“There’s only one right answer here bubba,” Nash told him. “Where’s my damn car?”

“5679 Houser Street. In the garage. Charlie Spendler made me steal it because I wrecked his and he needed parts.”

Nash swore under his breath, then reached down to cut the bat loose from the dreadlocks, taking much more of the hair than necessary. Everyone ducked as the bat took flight once more, screeching into retreat with the tangled dreadlocks as its prize, then Nash and Harvey pulled Trevor to his feet. Nash stood nose to nose with their suspect. “If anything has happened to that car...”

“It’s fine! I swear! Just get me the hell out of here.” A shiver ran through his body, his skin crawling.

Nash looked upstairs. “Joe?”

“Already dialing Nashman,” Joe said in return, calling in the warrant.

“What do you say we pay a visit to good old Charlie Spendler?” Nash suggested.

“Anywhere but here,” Trevor agreed wholeheartedly. “But can we stop along the way?” he asked. “I need to get a crew cut.”

* * *