Saved By The Cops.

Chapter Six. Sergeant Craig Smith ( Smithy).

Chapter Six. Sergeant Craig Smith ( Smithy).

I head into my office, my head still pounding from the events of the night before.

Hell, I must be in bad shape if Jason Tanner noticed. He had called me out on playing Joanne’s drinking game, pitting police officer against firefighter. However, the normal banter and need to prove ourselves against the guys from the brigade was not the whole reason I partook in the game.

No. That was because I wanted to drink away my unrequited love for Josie Maxwell. The girl who I really wanted to have a relationship with. The firefighter with a heart of gold from next door, who was now a fire investigator. She was there, at Twinkles ‘do, of course. I knew she would be. But still the fact that she looks so blissfully happy with f*****g Anders Maxwell her husband, and father of her kid, and is still as gorgeous in that ‘girl next door’ kind of way, irked at me.

Okay, I wasn’t really in love with her, but I had fancied the pants off her, and her rejection still stung because I really thought I had a shot with her.

Hell, it had been years since she ignored my advances and ran off into the sunset with Anders Maxwell. But yet, I still haven’t fully gotten over it. Hell, to be fair, she is just one in a long line of women I have fancied throughout the years, only to be not good enough for them. f**k, if I was a woman, I would be the one who was always the bridesmaid and never the bride.

I mean, I know I don’t have a face that only a mother would love. Not to sound conceited, but I am a decent-looking fella. I have those light grey eyes the girls all seem to love, just not on me, apparently. My short hair is dark. Although I am clean-shaven, due to the job, but I can guarantee I tick the boxes. I know that because I get more ‘offers’ than the rest when we are on the night shift, on a weekend, and patrolling around the pubs and clubs. But none of the offers I get are from they type of woman I go for. Down to earth, sweat personality, but with fire in her blood. Oh, and not someone with a criminal conviction, like the last one I attempted to match with on the internet dating site I had recently joined.

Yeah, I broke the rules and looked her up on the system. She had a string of convictions as long as my arm. Needless to say, I didn’t bother turning up for that date, and no I didn’t tell her, I was no longer interested, and yes, I did do the s**t thing and ghost her. But you didn’t see the crimes she was involved with, trust me, she didn’t deserve any pleasantries.

I blow out a long breath. Yeah, the local scrote’s had been shopping around in peoples houses through the night. The social media groups for the estate are up in arms, I will not spoil with your intelligence their thoughts on the police doing anything, or the advice from blokes who think they are hard give, which if anyone is stupid enough to take, would end up with them in cuffs and visiting my cells. However, they had been to so many houses, and from what we know, never managed to steal a thing. We also have a lot of evidence already, one of them being captured full face on a Ring CCTV camera.

The scrote was not the brightest spark in the box.

To be honest, I could do with getting out of the station myself. Pounding the beat for a bit. However, Old Burnsy is off shift today, so in his absence I am the main person in charge, so I must stay behind my desk, and coordinate people from here. It is weird as I never thought I would miss walking the beat when I was doing it every day. But, trust me, I do.

A knock at the door disturbs my train of thought, and a I shout for them to come in.

Nora Small walks in. f**k. Here we go. The woman is a PC with twenty years’ service under her belt but is a proverbial pain in the arse. She is also the federation rep, for this nick, and walks around quoting the rule book, chapter and verse every given opportunity she gets.

“Sergeant Smith. I wanted a word about officers being required to go on the beat alone. I know you are allowed to do it in special circumstances, but it is not advisable. It is my understanding you have three of our officers working alone today,” she tells me, taking a seat without been asked.

“We have special circumstances Nora, the spate of break ins, which has left most of our officers busy for the day,” I tell her, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Or were you not paying attention in the briefing room this morning. Plus, you have your Fed Rep meeting, which means you are out of commission till this afternoon.

“Well, something needs to be done about it. It is happening more and more,” she complains.

She isn’t wrong in her analogy, however, what the hell does she expect me to do about it. I don’t make the budget, nor am I responsible for the recruitment freeze we had for three years running. Meaning, there is no probationers ready to pound the beat with us. We are God damned lucky the lass from the Met is coming up here to slum it on the streets of Sunderland.

“I suggest you write to the Chief Superintendent again and note your concerns there. But for now, if you are not busy, you can go out and back up one of those officers that are alone, rather than do your damned Federation meeting,” I tell her, giving her my best pointed stare.

“Oh Sergeant Smith. The Federation Representative Meetings are very important! You KNOW I cannot miss them,” Nora all but shouts in my face. She will be on Twitter, or X or whatever the hell it is called now, tweeting her moans about how we are at risk due to lack of support. But she will not miss a single fed rep meeting, which she doesn’t need to attend every single one, to offer the support to her fellow officers, who she wants to complain don’t have said support.

Don’t get me wrong, when you are in a bind, you want your fed rep by your side, if facing disciplinary actions. There is nobody who knows the rules like Nora. But good grief, this woman is a pain in my arse, screams and shouts about stuff, but does nothing practical to help the situation.

My radio on my chest crackles.

“1436, this is 607,” I hear my number been shouted out by Jason.

“Go ahead 607,” I tell him.

“Request a S.O.C.O, the suspect smashed a window and has left a trail of blood behind, over,” Jason tells me.

“Secure the area I will get one on route, ” I tell him.

Seriously, this scrote from last night really is a muppet. Not only do we have his mug shot, but also potential DNA.

“Can you stay until they get to your position?” I ask Jason. He is a good officer, one who I know I can trust to do the right thing.

“Also, we need to check the traffic cams for a red ford fiesta, I have a partial registration.

November Yankee, six niner, Foxtrot. That is all I can see of it, Over.” Jason tells me.

“On it, over,” I tell him, noting down the partial plate, and quickly emailing the city council, to ask for the camera footage.

“Sarge, Jessie said are you okay with just me waiting for SOCO? He said he would like to head to the hospital, see if the guy is waiting in A&E, there is quite a bit of blood,” Jason asks.

“Yeah, secure the area Tanner, I will get you some back up as soon as possible so you can go for refs,” I tell him. Although I doubt, he will get a break for at least another five hours.

“No problem. Miss Black is a little shaken up. I don’t mind staying here with her at all,” Jason tells me.

I furrow my brow, because that sounds a little like he is a bit to eager to remain with the witness.

“1436, Sarge, this is 224. I need some back up. Car on Durham Road has been rear ended, and wrapped around a lamppost. Paramedics are on scene, but they need to lift the top off the car. Fire brigade on its way, but I am out here alone, and we have a host of rubber necker’s,” PC Mary Dolittle, or Doc as we all call her, for obvious reasons tells me.

I have nobody free. Literally nobody! I have no other option; I have to go myself.

“On my way,” I tell her, and head out of my office, into the yard, getting into the panda car, then switching on my blues and two’s I pull out just as the red fire engine pulls out of its garage. Their own siren’s blasting. I allow them to go first, then follow behind, making the short distance down Durham Road, where I see a silver Corsa, front end wrapped around a streetlight, the back end with a black Audi, wedged into it, and the boy racer giving Doc, all kinds of trouble, as she attempts to detain him.

Here we go, just another day at the office!