I got the impression that the houses were all in a line, and everything was set up. It mostly was, but you'll read that in a bit.
I got up at 0742 hours, and made a cappucino. Took my shower and geared-up with all my raid gear. Tactical vest, black b.d.u. pants, black boots, and the new baseball long sleeved sweatshirt we all recently got: it reads [FUGITIVE TASK FORCE BAIL ENFORCEMENT] over the left breast embroidered, full leather duty-belt, and my badge around my neck on a stainless steel chain.
I got to the Jeep, and got in behind Steve. Adam was in the passenger seat, Steve was behind the wheel, and Ziego was behind me.
"You were about a minute away from us driving away without you." I looked at his dashboard clock it said 9:05.
"You're clock is fast." I snapped.
"The fuck it is!" Steve snapped back.
Adam jumped in and told us both not to argue, and Ziego licked my face. We drove down to the Cottage Grove area, and I could see the Rand-McNally printed map Steve had on top of his closed laptop in his custom holder. We were gonna be right near Jamaica and Highway 10.
We arrived off the highway, within about twenty minutes. As we neared the river, we knew that the house we were gonna hit was right by the river. It was kind of a dead-end, and we liked it that way. As we approached the road Steve notices a white Chrysler pass us going the other direction.
"That was her. That white Chrysler, with the three other guys in it!" Steve mumbles, as Adam, Ziego, and I are plastered against the passenger sides of the inside of the windows as Steve does the tightest U-turn a Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo with a prisoner barrier, three fully outfitted bounty hunters, a custom K-9 cage with dog can make.
We catch up to the vehicle doing almost 100 miles an hour. Pull up alongside of it, as the three men and female who is our fugitive look over to see Adam leaning out the window holding his badge up screaming.
They do, and we all jump out, with Ziego left in his cage. I grab our suspect as Steve and Adam keep everyone in the vehicle.
"Are you Heather?" Steve asks her, as I place her hands on the trunk, and spread her feet apart.
"N-No." She stammers.
Adam arrives with the file and whips out the mug shot we got of her. I look at it, and her and am immediately convinced beyond a doubt that she is our fugitive. Steve looks over my shoulder, and calmly says in my ear.
"Hook her up."
I strip her winter type jacket off, and get the cuffs on smoother than any seasoned cop can hope to ever begin to maybe even come close to being as good as me in that split-second.
"Let my friends go." She pleads.
"Tell me you are Heather, and we'll let your buddies go." Steve demands. We sit there waiting for an answer, while she is silent.
"Put her in the truck, Adam call the police." I started walking her toward the truck, as Adam whips out his cell phone.
"Okay, I'm her." She said, as she half-sat on the seat.
"Too late." I said. "Get your knee over, and sit back."
The Detective arrived after four marked squads had been there. He walked up to her, and asked her a few questions. The fact that her Father just got out of prison for check fraud, and he suspected him for the whole shooting match was enough for him to take an interest in what these bounty hunters had found. The other three males in the car were in custody for methamphetamine possesion, and one had some warrants also. But the checks that one of them had on him, was enough evidence for the Detective to get a search warrant of the house that they had just been at, the one we never got to.
There he found enough eveidence to clear up a check printing ring that included forty victims. He already had a list of the victims, and it matched up prefectly to the eveidence found there.
Sweet. . .
The boss took us out for lunch. . .