LITMIR.BIZ

      The Mercedes was barely visible in the steamy mist rising off Ceylon Lagoon and the nearby wetlands. It was only the car’s hazard lights blinking on and off that had attracted the Lake Geneva police officers who were sitting in their cruiser twenty feet behind the Mercedes.

      For five minutes, the two police officers simply waited and watched. Everything in the lagoon area remained dark and still, except for the flashing of the red and blue lights on the cruiser’s light rack, and the blinking of the Mercedes’ hazard lights.

      Then, looking at his watch, the younger police officer, a dark-haired blue-eyed twenty-five-year-old named Brad Turner, turned the cruiser’s searchlight on, and slowly swept its bright beam back and forth across the Mercedes and the surrounding area once, twice, three times.

      “I don’t see anybody. Do you, Tom?” Turner asked.

      “No, I don’t,” Thomas Blake, the older police officer, a sixty-six-year-old part-time Reserve Officer resembling Kevin Costner, answered. “You want to call it in, while I take a closer look?”

      “Right. I make the plate as Illinois Tango, Echo, Foxtrot seven two four.”

      “Check,” Blake replied.

      As he spoke, Blake pulled a large flashlight from its bracket and opened the cruiser passenger door. Then, using the car door as a shield, Blake got out of the cruiser in a crouched position and drew his service weapon. Next, holding the flashlight in his left hand and his service weapon in his right, Blake quickly stepped out from behind the cruiser door, turned the flashlight on, and swung his arms straight out in front of him, aiming both his flashlight and his gun at the trunk of the Mercedes. After quickly looking all around the lagoon area, and swinging his flashlight and his service weapon quickly to each side and to his rear, Blake crept to a position just behind the Mercedes’ trunk and paused – but to avoid being a target, Blake also shut his flashlight off, and shifted two feet to the left. Just then he heard something unexpected. What the hell, Blake thought, this car’s engine is still running! Somebody must be around here somewhere…

      For the next several minutes, Blake methodically searched the area around the Mercedes, moving quickly from one position to the next, occasionally shutting his flashlight off, then turning it back on again after he’d shifted a few feet to one side or the other. And as he moved, Blake kept his service weapon and his flashlight moving in front of him or swinging quickly side to side.

      He ended his search at the edge of the lagoon waters. No one is here…or if they are here, they’re staying out of sight, Blake thought. Why did they leave the car running? Were they planning to come back? From where? Doing what? Did we interrupt them before they were finished?

      Blake shook his head, and turned back towards the Mercedes. He did not holster his weapon – he kept it at-the-ready near his right side – and he kept the flashlight swinging back and forth in front of him – just in case somebody decides to come out of the woodwork…

      When Blake came to the Mercedes again, he got into the car, and checked the gas gauge. Hmmm…half-full... How long as this car been running? How long has it been sitting here?

      Then using his handkerchief, he turned the engine off and removed the keys. Very interesting. Only car keys…no house keys, no ID, no gadgets, only car keys… Next, Blake checked the glove box for the car’s registration. Ah…here we go…registered to an Adam Barker, Lake Forest…O.K., Adam Barker, What the hell is going on?

      He put the registration papers back into the glove box, and closed it. Then he got out of the car, walked around to the car’s trunk, and – with his service weapon pointed at the trunk – opened it.

      Only a briefcase and a spare tire kit were visible. …Well, that’s good… we won’t have to report a homicide…at least not tonight…

      He closed the Mercedes trunk, looked around the lagoon area one more time, then walked back to the cruiser, where Turner was still waiting.

      “Textbook, Tom,” Turner said. “A little extreme, but textbook.”

      “What?”

      “The way you moved out there.”

      Blake smiled at the young officer. “Old habits. And by the way, it’s only extreme until somebody starts shooting at you.”

      “Oh, that’s right…You were a homicide detective…in Chicago…right?

      Blake nodded. “For thirty-plus years.”

      “That’s a long time…”

      Blake laughed. “Tell me about it.”

      He holstered his service weapon and turned off the flashlight. Then he asked, “How deep is that lagoon, Brad?”

      “Twelve feet at this end,” Turner answered.

      “We may have to search for the driver in the lagoon.”

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