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    Lenny Stone
    Lenny Stone
    Lenny Stone
    Ebook102 pages1 hour

    Lenny Stone

    By Richard McNail, Jr

    ()

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    About this ebook

    This story is both sides of the story. You will follow Lenny as he tries to capture a killer on the loose. Also, follow the killer as he eludes all of those trying to seize him.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRichard McNail, Jr
    Release dateNov 17, 2013
    ISBN9781304633828
    Lenny Stone
    Author

    Richard McNail, Jr

    OTR driver. Lives in Cuba,MO with his wife and daughter.

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      Book preview

      Lenny Stone - Richard McNail, Jr

      Lenny Stone

      All rights reserved by the author at this time. Rights may be subject for distribution upon authors’ consent and acknowledgment. Otherwise, no part of this book may be used or reproduced by electronic device or in any other manner whatsoever without written permission of the author. The only exception that will be accepted is in the case of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews. They will be interpreted as the thoughts expressed by the critic and not the thoughts or ideas expressed by the author

      LENNY STONE

      Copyright © 2013 by Richard McNail Jr

      A

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      There is no evidence of reality among this story, this story is a work of fiction. None of the characters, organizations, or events in this story are real and should not be considered as such. They are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Anything considered being reality should be considered coincidental and dismissed as such.

      ISBN 978-1-304-63382-8

      Chapter One

      Lenny Stone grew up in the nice suburbs of Chicago. His dad was a local beat cop, so was his grandfather, and two uncles. His family was known for upholding the law. All of them hoped that Lenny would follow their step and do the same. At the dinner table, his dad would quiz him about procedure. If Lenny didn’t have the correct response, the family would laugh at him. Lenny always did his best to get the answers right.

      Living outside of Chicago was nice, but Lenny’s dad would always take him into the city. Just driving up and down the city streets, showing Lenny the disgust of it all. Lenny peered out his window at the horror around him as he saw it differently than his dad described. Lenny’s father would talk about the crime and hatred people had for one another. Lenny’s father told him how any one of them would shoot you in the head and not think twice about it, not to gain anything, but just for the fact of shooting you.

      Lenny did not see that as he looked out the window. Instead, Lenny saw helpless people on the street trying to get thru their day as quietly as they could. He saw the ones that had been beaten down and thrown into the world without anyone thinking of them. Lenny saw the helpless old woman sitting on a stoop begging for change. People passed her not paying any attention to her. They ignored her as if she didn’t exist. Lenny saw her and his heart sank.

      I want to help someday dad, Lenny spoke quietly.

      You will son, his dad replied. Just don’t think with emotion. Emotion is for faggots.

      Emotion is my greatest defense, he replied to himself.

      Lenny’s family was thrilled when they heard that Lenny was interested in joining the academy, even though they had all retired. Being around cops all his life, he was more knowledgeable about everything than the other people applying for the academy. Also, with his family background it was no problem for him to get in. The academy had already taught two generations of Stone’s. They were honored to allow Lenny in. The academy made a bigger deal out of it than Lenny did.

      He studied harder than most of the others because he knew more was expected of him. The other students knew of Lenny and how the academy was pushing the story of the third generation cop. Lenny never felt pressure like this before. He was a great student in high school, always with the highest scores, and he didn’t take the academy any lighter. He worked hard and trained hard until he could honestly say he was the best of his class. After graduating the academy, he followed his family’s footsteps and became a city cop on the streets of Chicago. He loved his job. He was assigned to follow Brian Clewe, a friend of his father. Lenny had known Brian practically all his life, so it made it easy to go along a side him. Lenny had just sat in the patrol car when they had to respond to a call at a local attendant station. This would be Lenny’s first response call. The two of them raced to the scene.

      Be ready to draw your weapon Lenny, Brian told him in the car.

      I will be ready, Lenny said with a slight hesitation in his voice.

      Remember, when you pull out your side arm, shoot to kill. Don’t shoot to be nice, don’t shoot to warn, but shoot to kill!

      Lenny wasn’t sure what Brian was trying to relay to him. He knew he had trained hard to get to this point. Lenny felt confident he knew what to do at the scene. Lenny pictured himself a hero saving the day and making his family proud. Lenny was almost giddy with excitement waiting to arrive.

      When they arrived, two other squad cars were set up in front of the store. The two cars had overlapped each other at the hood with the cops kneeling down behind the car taking aim at the front door. Brian and Lenny pulled up to the side of the far left car and jumped out to the side of their car. They kept an eye on the side door. The place at this point was surrounded.

      Immediately, two suspects came out the side door with guns blazing. Both were black males firing two guns apiece. They stood shoulder to shoulder with each other firing at the cops. The black male on the left had a tattoo of a snowflake on his left shoulder, while the one on the right had one on his right side. As they stood shoulder to shoulder, they looked as if they were a mirror image of each other. Lenny found it to be very out of the ordinary. The cops kept covered behind their patrol cars and waited for the suspects to run out of ammo. They knew the suspects wouldn’t go too far because neither of them was carrying any of the money. As they waited for a third suspect to come running out, the officers shouted, stop, freeze, police!

      Suddenly, the firing stopped. The senior officer reluctantly raised his head above the fender to see what was going on. The suspects had ceased fire and taken better aim. They were waiting for one of them to give them a target to hit. As the officer raised his head, one suspect fired. The bullet sank deep into the forehead as brain fragments soared out the back part of his skull. The bullet struck the senior officer with a great force. It made him fly backwards onto the ground. Blood slowly ran from the hole in the middle of his head. Brian ran to his side and checked for a pulse. The officer was dead.

      Officer down, repeat officer down! Brian yelled into his shoulder mic.

      The other officers kept cover. The only sound they could hear was what little static that was coming across their cbs inside the cars and the dull roar of cars running up and down the interstate nearby. They could hear a light murmur of the whispering suspects, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Another shot fired, hitting the flashing blue and red lights atop one of the squads’ cars.

      Finally, the third suspect strolled out. A white male, that was standing a bit more cocky than the other two. He wasn’t as tall and was a lot younger. He had bleached blonde hair cut short and in a spike hair style. In his right hand he carried an army duffle bag which the officers could only speculate had the money in it. In his left hand, he was carrying a 30.06 wood-grained rifle with sling and scope.

      He didn’t carry it with the sling over his shoulder like a soldier or hunter would do, but at his side holding it from the forearm. He pointed in the direction of the officers as he whispered to them. The officers could not make out what they were saying, but could tell they were talking.

      In the distance, they could hear a dull roar of sirens as more officers were on their way. The white blonde suspect handed the duffle bag to one of the black suspects. The white blonde then got down on one knee and lined his scope toward the squad cars. The officers were wearing kevlar, but knew it was only tested for handguns, not for a high-powered rifle like this. They began to worry, as the young white man fired a shot at the cars. The

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