She wanted to yell “stop” again but saved her breath for running. The suspect’s strides shortened, and he cut right and disappeared. Stella slowed, her hand hovering near her sidearm as she emerged from the alley into the next street.

Where is he?

She waited, listening, as her pulse thundered in her ears. A movement to her left startled her. Crouching, she flattened herself against the bricks.

The suspect bolted from a dark patch next to a Dumpster, and adrenaline sent Stella’s heart rate into hyperdrive as she went after him. He skidded around another corner with Stella right on his heels. She was close enough to hear his labored breathing over her own.

Stella made the turn into the rear yard of an auto body shop. A six-feet-tall chain-link fence blocked the rear exit. The suspect ran between rows of cars and leaped for the fence.

“Oh, no you don’t.” She closed in, grabbing him by the leg of his jeans. The baggy pants slid down until the waistband encircled his thighs.

Afraid his pants would slide right off and he’d slip away, Stella shifted her grip to his ankles and pulled hard. He fell off the fence onto his back, taking her to the ground with him, right into a pile of garbage. The fall knocked the wind from her lungs. Stella gasped for air.

He tried to scramble to his feet, but the jeans around his knees tripped him. He fell face-first onto the pavement.

Stella flipped onto her belly, got a leg under her body, and launched herself forward. “Get back here.”

He rolled and swung a wild haymaker at Stella’s head. She ducked, but the blow glanced off her jaw. Bright spots flashed in her vision.

She shook her head to clear it as a backhand flew at her face. She blocked the strike with two open palms and grabbed his wrist. Pressing the bone of her forearm into the hollow of his elbow, she arm-barred him to the ground.

He wriggled. “You bitch.”

Placing a knee on his spine to pin him to the ground, she wrestled his hands behind his back and cuffed him. A pat down for weapons yielded a wallet, a pack of cigarettes, matches, a small knife, and an oval medallion on a chain.

She collapsed onto the ground next to him and sucked in oxygen.

Lance limped into the alley. “Are you all right?”

Huffing, Stella nodded, rubbing her jaw. “You?”

“Fine.” But his face was lined with pain. “Just took a wrong step back there.”

She hoped he hadn’t hurt his bad leg on his first week back on duty.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep up.”

Stella sat up and forced three deep breaths in and out of her lungs. “I got him.”

“You did.” But the frown on Lance’s face told her he was unhappy with his own performance. He held out a hand.