Heidi Tate was frightened to go to bed. Every time she did, the man who was terrorizing her called with his obscene comments. But, exhausted, she finally slid between the sheets and turned off her lights. Unable to sleep, she laid there, waiting for the phone to ring. After a while, when it didn't ring, she finally drifted off to sleep.
The trilling bell of her phone's electronic bell awakened her a little later. Trembling, she reached for the phone and picked it up. "He...hello?" she said.
"Slut!!! Evil woman!!!" the caller screamed. "You have to pay!!! Vengeance is mine!!! You will..."
Heidi slammed the phone down. Then, as soon as she could get her trembling under control, she followed the phone company's instructions. When that was done, she called the police.
Three beeps came over the radio in Tim Jackman's cruiser. He listened carefully. The beeps meant a "hot shot" call was coming. "Adam forty, X-ray twenty-five, and Sam-five," the dispatcher said. "Respond to the pay phone at the Minute Man Quick Store, possible code 51. Responding units, the call is Code 2."
Tim pressed down on the cruiser's accelerator, his heart pounding. All three patrol units in the sector were being sent to the store. A "Code 51" was a person making obscene phone calls. Tim had little hope they'd catch the man, but just the same, he drove as fast as he could and arrived at the store before the other responding units. He saw the pay phone when he wheeled his cruiser into the parking lot. There was no one there.
Sergeant Dawson and the two officers in the other patrol car arrived shortly after Tim did. While the officers Mackey and Jones went into the store to interview the clerk, Tim helped Sergeant Dawson dust the phone for fingerprints.
"This is probably a major waste of time," the sergeant said, "but we better do it. Probably only thirty or forty people a day use the damn phone."
Jones and Mackey came out of the store. "Clerk says he didn't see a thing," Jones said. "You ask me, I think he was asleep."
"We have officers at the location the call was made from, ma'am," the police dispatcher told Heidi.
"Did they catch him?" she asked, her heart pounding.
"No, ma'am," the dispatcher said. "They're going to try to get fingerprints from the phone, though. Maybe that will help."
"I hope so," Heidi said. "I want the animal who's doing this to me caught!"
"I know you do, ma'am," the dispatcher said. "So do we. Look, we'll have a detective stop by tomorrow and let you know what we found out."
"All right," Heidi said. "Thank you." She put down the phone, laid back down, and again tried to get to sleep. She was frightened, but even more, she was angry. Who hated her enough to do this to her? And why?
She'd just gotten to sleep when a loud roar, followed by the sound of breaking glass awakened her. Stunned, she sat up in bed. A second roar sounded and her bedroom window exploded inward. Fortunately, her bed was placed in a position which allowed the shattered glass to fall harmlessly onto the floor next to it. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she reached for the phone and pressed 9-1-1.
Again, three beeps sounded over the police radio. "Any available unit in the East Sector," the dispatcher said, "report of shots fired at a home, 1852 Johnson Street, units responding, your call is Code 3."
Sergeant Dawson was in the middle of dusting the pay phone for fingerprints. "You guys get over there!" he yelled to the three officers with him. "I'll back you up soon as I can."
Tim recognized Heidi's address the minute the dispatcher gave it, and was already opening the door of his cruiser when the sergeant ordered them to leave. Before officers Jones and Mackey could get in their cruiser, he was already headed out of the parking lot, his tires and siren screaming, the blue lights on the roof flashing. "X-ray twenty-five to dispatch," he yelled into the microphone, "I'm handling that shooting call."
