Mike Dixon

„What‟s the matter?‟
„Police! Can‟t you fucking hear them?‟
„Could be an ambulance.‟
„No! I can see the lights.‟
212
The head withdrew and feet clattered down the stairs.
Kirstin saw a figure dash from the house. He was joined by
the other man. They jumped into the van and the engine
roared.
For a while there was confusion. The van took off backwards,
flattening the letterbox and went into a sharp turn.
Tires screeched as it accelerated away with an impressive
display of power.
Kirstin went to the edge of the roof and saw a police car
racing towards her. She expected it to go in pursuit but it
braked and swung into her driveway. Two uniformed offices
sprang out with drawn weapons. One ran to the rear of the
house and the other banged on her front door.
„Mrs. Hansen … police!‟
Kirstin waved down at him.
„I‟m up here on the garage roof.‟
„Where?‟
The young officer flashed his spotlight.
„No … next door. I came up here to get away from them.‟
The spotlight crossed the fence and settled on her.
„Are you Mrs. Kirstin Hansen?‟
„Yes. Please listen!‟ She pointed to the tail lights of the
fleeing van. „You‟ve got to get after them. They‟ve got my
granddaughter.‟
The young man seemed incapable of understanding the
urgency of the situation. He kept his light trained on her and
spoke in an unhurried voice as if they had all the time in the
world.
„Please look where you are standing, Mrs. Hansen.‟