Capítulo 5: Under Arrest
At an intersection, Ethan slowed his car as the light turned red.
A roaring Dodge Challenger, painted in vibrant red, pulled up beside him, its low music slightly shaking the windows.
Ethan frowned and rolled down his window, letting the sound flood in.
The white man with dreadlocks driving the Challenger noticed Ethan's gaze. Smiling, he revved the engine provocatively.
—Hey, man, nice piece of junk you're driving! —the driver called out loudly.
The blonde girl in the passenger seat shot Ethan a cheeky wink.
Ethan took a deep breath, staying calm. He wasn't about to engage in this nonsense. Instead, he reached into his pocket and casually pulled out his badge. With a calm smile, he held it up to the window and began twirling it nonchalantly between his fingers.
The music in the Dodge abruptly stopped. A gust of evening wind swept through, cooling the once-confident pair. The tension dissolved in an instant.
As the light turned green, Ethan glanced at the now-silent teens and pressed his accelerator. His car roared to life, tires screeching as he left the Challenger far behind.
A few minutes later, Ethan knew he had arrived when he saw several police vehicles parked outside a house. Pulling up nearby, he grabbed the bottle of red wine from the passenger seat and walked toward the house.
He rang the doorbell, and after a moment, Siobhan opened the door, holding a pair of barbecue tongs.
—Ethan! Right on time, I hope you're hungry —she greeted him with a warm smile.
—Of course —Ethan replied with a smile, as he placed the bottle of wine in her hands.
—Come in. Emmett and the others are already here.
The sky hadn't fully darkened yet, but the backyard was bathed in the glow of warm string lights. A white woman sat at the outdoor dining table, sipping a drink.
Brock stood by the grill, frantically flipping steaks and sausages, their juices sizzling over the hot coals. The irresistible aroma of grilled meat filled the air.
—How's that meat coming along, Brock? —Ethan asked as he approached the grill.
—Looking good, my man —Brock replied, clearly proud of his work.
Ethan greeted Brock before finding a seat at the table.
—Ethan, this is my wife, Meg —Emmett introduced, smiling happily.
—A pleasure, Ethan —Meg said warmly.
—The pleasure's mine, Meg. Emmett's a lucky man —Ethan replied, nodding politely.
After some light conversation, Brock brought over a tray piled high with perfectly grilled meats.
—Alright, everyone, dig in! Hope you're hungry —Brock announced proudly, placing the tray on the table.
Ethan loaded his plate with ribs and sausages, savoring every bite of the tender, smoky meat. The camaraderie around the table made him feel unexpectedly at home, a brief respite from the challenges of his new life.
A few days later, Ethan's training period ended, and the department issued him a patrol car—a sturdy Ford Crown Victoria. Its body bore the standard police colors and the Banshee Police Department emblem.
After Siobhan's reminder, he learned that only the front doors of the police car were equipped with bulletproof steel plates.
If a shooting occurs, it is best to use the front door as cover for protection. The vehicle itself, in addition to the engine and wheels, can be easily penetrated by firearms of slightly larger calibers.
To back up the firepower, he chose a shotgun, the police version Remington M870. With its dark body, simple lines, and enormous power, he fell in love with it at first sight, an extremely practical weapon and also the first choice among many police support firearms.
He loaded the Remington M870 into the trunk's gun box, drove away from the precinct, and began patrolling. On his first day of patrolling alone, he was in a good mood and even let some fines go, giving only warnings to the drivers.
At noon, he took a break for lunch and smoked a cigarette while waiting to catch an unsuspecting driver in a remote corner, when the radio he carried on his shoulder rang.
-Ethan, we received a 10-16. A woman called, claiming she was threatened by her ex-husband. Siobhan is on her way... - he said, indicating the address and the situation so she could come to provide support.
After putting out the cigarette, Ethan pressed the radio.
-10-4, on my way Alma, I'll be there right now.-Turning on the police lights.
Ethan quickly arrived at the caller's address.
Siobhan had arrived at the scene and was banging on the door with her shoulder.
Ethan got out of the car and heard the screams coming from the house, but no one was responding to the officer's shouts. He opened the trunk of the car without hesitation, took out the shotgun, and approached the door.
"Siobhan, get out of the way." After gesturing with his hand for Siobhan to move aside, Ethan aimed the gun at the door lock and pulled the trigger.
With a loud "bang," the door lock broke straight off.
When he cocked the gun, Siobhan drew her weapon, kicked the door open, and rushed inside.
Ethan also pulled the shotgun's stock, removed the shell, and reloaded the weapon, then entered the house with the Remington, senses heightened and adrenaline coursing through his veins. The atmosphere inside the house was tense, almost suffocating. The living room was in complete disarray, furniture overturned, a broken vase on the floor, and papers scattered everywhere.
The man lifted his head slightly, trying to assess the situation, but before he could react, Ethan lunged at him. With a quick and efficient movement, he grabbed the intruder by the collar of his shirt and dragged him into a submissive position, twisting his arm behind his back. The intruder tried to resist, but Ethan, with relentless strength, pushed him to the ground, keeping his knee firmly on the man's back.
"I said not to move!" Ethan repeated, pressing harder to ensure the intruder couldn't make any sudden movements.
"Siobhan, how about you go check on that lady?" Siobhan didn't look back.
She used her free hand to pull the handcuffs from her belt. Siobhan stayed close, taking the shotgun, covering them with her weapon held high.
A surprised woman dressed in white collapsed next to the sofa, blood slowly dripping from her forehead.
"Ma'am, how do you feel?"
-I'm fine. Can you help me inform my family? - The woman in white was choked with sobs.
-No problem, wait a moment. First, I'll call an ambulance to take care of her.
Feeling that there were no major emotional issues, Ethan pressed the radio.
"Alma, call an ambulance to report that there is someone injured at the scene."
Ethan finished subduing the intruder, checking one last time that the handcuffs were tightly secured, and then he pushed him towards the door, while Siobhan closely followed.
"We'll take him to the station." I want to find out what he was looking for—, said Ethan with determination.
Capítulo 6: New Sheriff
After dealing with the scene, the two took the suspect back to the station.
As they entered the station, the suspect kept resisting.
— I didn't do anything! Get your hands off me, bitch!
— Yeah, sure, you're a model citizen. Want a prize? —Ethan replied, shoving him through the precinct lobby.
Siobhan grabbed the white man by the arm, pushed him forward, and slammed him firmly against the desk.
— Listen, you're accused of domestic violence. If you dare resist again, I swear to God I'll crush your balls with my bare hands —Siobhan warned, giving him a defiant look.
At that moment, a cough interrupted the tension. Ethan noticed several people watching them. Brock and Emmett were among the crowd, looking on with interest.
— You're the new police officer, Ethan Morgan, right? I'm Mayor Danny Kendall —said the man who introduced himself with a smile.
— Nice to meet you, Mr. Mayor —Ethan responded, feeling slightly embarrassed, pretending nothing had happened.
They shook hands. Mayor Kendall looked extremely young, and Ethan guessed he was about the same age as him.
After meeting the young mayor, Ethan turned his head to look at the man standing next to Kendall. He was wearing jeans, a blue shirt, and had a beard with short-cropped hair. His piercing eyes reflected a hint of caution.
— This is your new Sheriff, Lucas Hood. He will officially take office tomorrow. I brought him here so everyone could meet him before his first day —explained Kendall.
— Welcome to Banshee Town, Sheriff —Ethan greeted the new sheriff with a smile, though he knew this man wasn't Lucas Hood.
For now, there was no conflict of interest between them, and there was no need to reveal his true identity. Ethan knew exactly why this man was here: the real Sheriff Lucas Hood had been killed by a gang of criminals after a fight at Sugar's bar. The person in front of him had taken his identity to protect himself while seeking his own vengeance. But no one in this world is free of secrets. Knowing about the new Sheriff might bring advantages in the future.
After the introductions, Hood suggested that Brock show him around the precinct.
— Let's go, Brock —said Hood—I need to get familiar with the place.
Brock, with a serious expression, took Hood out. Since the death of the old Morgan, Brock had hoped to become Sergeant of the Banshee Town Police Department. Unexpectedly, the mayor had hired a police sergeant from Oregon. Although he had accepted the situation, he still felt somewhat disappointed at the missed opportunity.
Siobhan stayed at the station to handle the domestic abuse case. Ethan greeted Emmett and went out to continue his patrol.
After a long drive, they arrived at a remote corner. Ethan pulled out a cigarette and was about to light it when the radio buzzed again.
— Ethan, there's been a conflict at the sawmill. Are you nearby?
— Yeah, I'll be there soon —he replied, putting the cigarette back in his pocket with frustration. It seemed there would be no rest.
When he arrived at the lumber mill, he saw a familiar figure in a yellow coat. Cole Moody and a few others were facing off against Hood and Brock. Wooden planks were scattered across the ground near the carriage, and several Amish men in traditional hats and clothing stood uneasily nearby.
Ethan didn't stop the police car. He hit the accelerator, entered the scene forcefully, skidding to a halt right at the edge of the crowd.
— Cole, out on bail again? What tricks are you up to now? —Ethan asked, seeing Cole retreat in fear.
Before Cole could answer, the man in a plaid shirt next to him spat on the ground and glared at Ethan fiercely.
— Cole, is this the guy who put you in jail? —the man asked.
Ethan shut the car door and stepped forward, baton in hand.
— That's me. Got something to say? —Ethan challenged with a defiant grin.
Although his fighting skills were still developing, Ethan felt confident enough to handle a few thugs.
— Marcus, calm down. Take it one at a time and deal with this guy first —Cole said, holding Marcus back.
Hood raised his hand to stop Ethan.
— It's fine, Ethan. Let me handle this.
— All right, you're the Sheriff. Your call —Ethan responded, putting his baton away without further comment.
— What's going on? —Ethan asked, stepping closer to Brock.
Relieved to see Ethan, Brock explained quietly.
— You know, the Moody brothers are all in the furniture business. The Amish have had some trade disputes with them lately. The Sheriff and I were passing through when they started causing trouble.
As Brock explained, Cole glared at Hood arrogantly.
— Just started, huh? You sure it's okay if we have a little fun with you today?
Hood spread his hands.
— Don't worry. Nobody's going to give you trouble. Come on, didn't you just say you wanted to show me some hospitality?
— This isn't your business. Back off, cop —Cole repeated.
Before Cole could finish, Hood, growing impatient, kicked him to the ground. Marcus tried to attack from behind, but Hood dodged, and meanwhile, a man in a black shirt managed to hit Hood's thigh, making him stagger.
— Nice one, Dex! —Marcus shouted.
Surprised by the blow, Hood turned and struck Marcus in the neck with his knife. Marcus groaned and collapsed. Despite taking some hits, Hood quickly took control, taking down several attackers.
Cole, lying on the ground, grabbed a wooden stick and got up desperately, charging at Hood.
At that moment, a blonde man appeared and grabbed the stick from Cole's hand.
— Stop it, Cole. Three against one isn't enough? Now you need weapons too? —the man said firmly.
— Mr. Proctor, why are you here? —Cole asked, surprised.
Proctor snatched the stick and tried to hit him, but Cole ducked quickly. Proctor, seeing Cole's reaction, threw the stick to the ground.
— Mr. Proctor, we don't want any trouble. We'll leave —Cole said, asking for permission to go.
The other Moody brothers, seeing Proctor's dissatisfaction, decided to surrender as well and prepared to leave.
— Hold on. These people wasted their time with you and have a schedule to keep. Why don't you help them load their goods? —Proctor ordered, pointing at the wooden planks scattered near the carriage.
— Yes, sir, no problem —Cole replied, calling his brothers to pick up the planks.
Hood stood there, still stunned, as the fight fizzled out.
— This isn't over yet, you damn German hick —Cole muttered as he loaded the fallen goods into the old cart.
Proctor frowned at Cole but said nothing more. He turned to Hood.
— You must be the new Sheriff, Lucas Hood. Nice to meet you.
— I'm Lucas Hood. Who are you? —Hood asked.
— My name is Kai Proctor. I run a meat business in this town. If you get the chance, come by my place. I've got some good steaks —Proctor said, handing Hood a business card before walking away.
After the confrontation ended, Ethan and Brock said goodbye to Hood and left to continue their patrol.
When the day finally ended, Ethan felt the weight of it on his shoulders. The sun was setting as he drove back home, leaving Banshee Town behind. The road was quiet.
Upon arriving at his house, a small wooden cabin by the edge of a forest, Ethan turned off the car engine and walked to the wooden dock by the lake. He lit a cigarette, calmly watching the sunset. He told himself that no matter where life took him in the future, this place would always be his sanctuary as he breathed in the cool evening air.
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