CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Buddy was reading a Superman comic; daydreaming of saving damsel’s in distress while the whole world cheered and called out his name. The ringing from the telephone snapped him back into reality, “Police department.”
“Get some black-and-white’s over to the Nelson farm; I just saw that Taylor boy not more than fifteen minutes ago lurking around in back of the old barn!” She yelled into the telephone.
Buddy recognized Mable’s voice right off, “Now settle down and tell me again where you saw Bobby Taylor?”
The old Nelson farm was just a stone’s throw outside of town. Mable had been driving back from Millersburg when she spotted the little fiend. The Nelson farm had been abandoned back in the late thirty’s; the Nelson’s lost everything in the ensuing depression and old man Nelson hung himself in the barn’s hayloft as a result; the Dalton Bank later foreclosed, but never could find any new takers as the ‘haunted’ rumors got passed around. The old house, barn, and small stable had fallen into ruins. Most folks said old man Nelson’s ghost was still there; yet seemed a good place to hide out for someone on the lamb.
“Jesus H. Christ, are you deaf, or just plain dimwitted? I said I just saw him over at the old Nelson’s place, back behind the barn…get some men over there before he skedaddles!” She shrieked.
“Okay Mrs. Zeeks, I’ll send some officers right now.” Buddy saw Det. Miller in his office teaching Officer Hendrix how to properly fill out a parking ticket. After interrupting, he relayed Mable’s message and the two headed out quick time.
Sherry pulled away from the curb and floored it as she next flipped on the siren and the big red single-flash light on its rooftop. Miller had just lit a Camel and puffed on it as he braced himself for another of Sherry’s hair raisin rides. Once they got out of the main part of town, Miller turned off the siren and red-light.
“Why’d you do that sir?” Sherry asked as they sped down the gravel dusty road not far from their destination.
“No sense alerting Taylor we’re coming.”
“Oh…good thinking sir,” she replied as she began to slow down; the old cruiser was starting to fishtail in the loose gravel a bit.
Det. Miller had Officer Hendrix pull into the long narrow half-gravel, half-dirt lane that led up to the old decrepit house. As they exited the black-and-white they heard a noise which sounded like an old creaky wooden door. It came from the direction of the barn which was about two hundred and fifty feet behind the house.
They gradually made their way over to the right side of the mid-sized red-faded barn. Miller spoke quietly, “I’m going to enter through the front; you go around back in case he tries to run, you understand?”
“Yes sir, I do.” She whispered and nodded her head in the affirmative.
Miller turned and started to make his way to the front set of double-wooden barn doors. Sherry drew her police issued baton and firmly held it with both hands as she had been trained to do; then slowly made her way to the only door located on the backside of the old structure.
Grasping the corroded latch, he slowly tried to disengage one side of the double barn doors, but it let out a loud squeal as it finally gave way under his strength. Bobby Taylor heard it and leaped to his feet; as he had been sitting on an old tractor tire, resting and contemplating his next move.
Bolting through the rear door, Bobby Taylor ran smackdab into Officer Hendrix. She was standing astride the door ready for action. She struck Bobby just above his knees with her full force; Babe Ruth couldn’t have swung it any harder.
Miller stepped through the front door and waited several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the barn. Totally unaware that Taylor had already fled, he slowly scanned the darkened areas searching for his prey.
Excruciating pain now gripped Bobby’s legs as he was now propelled forward, chest-first into the dirt. Reacting quickly, he tried to thrust himself upward, but was struck with another heavy blow to his upper back. Sherry was relentless with her attack; she released a series of devastating strikes all over his flinching, twisting body. Bobby finally screamed out; begging her to stop her assault as the unbearable pain of her blows registered home.
Miller now spied the partially opened rear door; moving toward it he now heard the commotion that was in progress out behind the barn. Racing to the door, he couldn’t believe what was taking place, “Stop it! Stop it right now! Sherry?!” Miller finally grabbed her and shook her hard.
Dropping her baton, she now realized she was out-of-control; yet, she immediately regained her composure. “I’m so sorry sir, I…don’t know…what happened…I…”
Miller picked up her baton and handed it to her, “Are you okay, did he hurt you,” he said looking her up and down.
“Uh, no sir...I’m good.” Replacing her baton in its holder, she smoothed out her uniform, and tucked in her shirt tail. Now standing at attention she remained silent as Det. Miller attended to Bobby Taylor.
“Please don’t hit me anymore…please.” Bobby pleaded with his arms still covering his head.
“It’s Detective Miller Bobby,” he said squatting down and trying to pull his arms away so he could see him. “You’re okay, just relax. Can you sit up?”
Bobby slowly turned, and tried to sit up as Miller assisted him to a sitting position. As Bobby looked at Officer Hendrix he bellowed, “You didn’t have to hit me like that! I would have given up!”
Miller slapped Bobby across the face, “Settle down right now! You know better than to run from the law!” He shouted to take control of Bobby.
Bobby was taken aback by Miller’s slap. Miller stood up, “Alright, let’s get you on your feet…can you make it to our squad-car?”
With help from Det. Miller, Bobby was assisted to the black-and-white as Sherry followed behind the two men, with one hand on her baton, and the other on her holstered revolver. Miller helped him into the back seat.
Sherry drove as Miller road in the back with the Taylor boy. Their first stop was at Doc Pearlman’s office. Doc said no broken bones, but said a few ribs might be fractured, so he wrapped a strong bandage around Bobby’s chest. Said he needed rest and several days to mend, and that there would be lots of bruising; but nothing life threatening at this point in time.
Their next stop was the jail, where Bobby was booked-in for assaulting Mary Achtenberg at her home. After placing him in his cell, Officer Hendrix went to Det. Millers office; he told her to report to him, when she was done processing the Taylor boy.
Det. Miller’s door was standing wide open as she approached. Knocking as he looked up, he motioned for her to enter and sit.
As Miller sat back in his squeaky office chair, “So, Officer Hendrix, just what the hell were you thinking when you beat-the-hell out of that suspect?!” Roaring as his face flashed red.