Neon Cop's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Neon Cop drove back with the crate on the seat beside him. The shipping papers sat inside, printed with Frank Bander's name. Chief Parker had told him to bring the crate to the station. But Parker had also warned him that some officers in that station worked for Bander. If the wrong badge saw these papers, they would disappear. Neon Cop needed the evidence safe before he trusted anyone with it. He parked outside the police station and stared at the front doors. Two officers stood on the steps, talking low. He did not know which men he could trust. He could not walk in blind. He needed a copy of the papers hidden somewhere no cop would look. Somewhere he could reach if the crate vanished. He knew one place. He turned the car around and drove home. His mother, Mrs. Wilson, opened the door before he knocked. She wore her flowered skirt and her round glasses, and she frowned at the crate under his arm. "You look like your father did when he was in trouble," she said. "Come in before the neighbors talk." Neon Cop set the papers on her kitchen table. "I need you to hide these. Not in the house. Somewhere clever." Mrs. Wilson picked up a page and read the name. Her smile fell. "Frank Bander? He feeds the gulls by the snack stall. He tipped his cap to me last Sunday." She set the paper down slow. "You're sure?" "I'm sure. And some cops protect him. If they get these, the case dies." She studied his face. Then she went to the cupboard and pulled out an old cookie tin. She tucked the papers under the lining, packed cookies on top, and pressed the lid shut. "Nobody searches an old woman's tin," she said. "I'll keep it at the church, in the donation box I mind. You know where to find me." Neon Cop let out a breath he had held for an hour. "Thank you." She caught his sleeve. "You bring the box to Parker. Keep the tin as your backup. If the box walks out that station, you still have proof." She squeezed his arm. "Be careful which men you smile at." He drove to the station with the crate and only the crate. He carried it inside and set it on Chief Parker's desk. Parker locked his office door and lifted the lid. The shipping papers were gone from the top. "Where's the manifest?" Parker asked. "Safe," Neon Cop said. "Off site. If it stays here, it disappears. You told me that yourself." Parker held his stare a long moment. Then he nodded once. "Smart. Now we watch who asks about this crate." By morning, the whole station knew a Bander crate sat in evidence. And a note waited on Neon Cop's windshield. It read: We know your mother keeps a tin.