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Ivy’s Twisted Vine
Latrivia S. Nelson
Ivy’s Twisted Vine
Author‟s Note
This is a work of fiction. All events and characters in this story are solely the
product of the author‟s imagination; any similarities between any characters and
situations presented in this book to any individuals living or dead or actual places
and situations are purely coincidental.
2
Latrivia S. Nelson
Prologue
South Memphis
Late September
9:15 p.m.
The midnight air rushed fiercely in Lt. Nicola Agosto‟s face as he opened
the unmarked squad car and hit the ground running half-stunned by the extreme
intensity of the weather. Sprinting through the snowy slush, he tried to ignore his
aching knees and brain-wrenching migraine.
Under no circumstances could he let this perp get away. He was the only
lead they had in the Caesar Dominguez case.
Pushing past the pressure on his lungs, he gasped for a second wind.
Plunging through large puddles of water and trying to avoid shards of broken
glass that lined his path down the dark alleyway, he felt for his gun as he
watched for any possible threat of an ambush.
Even at nearly thirty, Nicola was still quite agile. There was no cop on
Truitt Street faster and no perp anywhere in Memphis smarter than he was, or at
least he liked to think s o.
Stretching his legs out a little longer to close the gap between he and his
prey, Nicola‟s stride became more powerful as he went searing through the gusty
wind. He smiled inwardly feeling invincible as he caught a glimpse of his shadow
under the streetlights. He hoped that he would walk away victorious from the
chase and go safely home to a cold empty bed and a strong lonely drink.
Hearing his partner Brooks somewhere behind him, Nicola jumped an old
wooden fence and felt a sharp splinter rip into his skin. Ahh! Almost invincible.
Landing in a puddle of muddy half-frozen water, Nicola saw the young
drug dealer run into a vacant house. Wiping the grit from his eyes and posting
up, he ran to the side of the door and looked in quickly. Nothing. Damn it.
Seeing Brooks follow over the fence, Nicola signaled into the house.
Taking a deep breath, he burst through the door with his gun pointed, ready to
fire. His adrenaline was pumping and his gear irritated him. Tugging at the top
of his bulletproof vest with his index finger, he prepared to clear all of the
downstairs rooms.
The perp catching process , as he had termed it, was executed with total
precision and extreme prejudice. After all, he had been chasing offenders for
nearly a decade. It was simple enough to him. Don‟t move too fast, because the
runner would always lead you to where he was headed. Don‟t move to slow,
because you might lose him. And don‟t move without your partner, because there
was nothing like being caught in the jungle alone. It used to make him livid, but
he didn‟t even get angry anymore. He understood the game now.
The old house reeked of odors left by homeless crack heads that had
used it for shelter. Cockroaches climbed the walls and hoards of rats hid in the
corners peeping out past the shadows. Cold winds ripped through the dark,
empty hallways and rattled the old hanging portraits.
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Ivy’s Twisted Vine
Slowly, Nicola peered in every entry under nasty discolored dusty furniture
and listened past the creaking sounds of wind and rain for a clue of where the
young man was hiding. Finally as he focused in, he could hear movement
upstairs.
Junkies and dealers alike were so stupid. Why would you go upstairs in a
rickety old house? Anyone downstairs would be able to track you, he thought to
himself as he put his infrared on the ceiling.
He could end it all right now. All he had to do was shoot above him. He
was almost certain that he wouldn‟t miss. But the point was to extract useful
Intel, not to use the boy as target practice.
“Why don‟t you just come out, and let me take you downtown? At least
you‟ll get out of this h alive. If I don‟t kill you, the rats will,” Nicola said, as he and
Brooks took their positions at the base of the staircase leading up to the second
level of the house.
“I ain‟t goin‟ back to juvy,” the young man screamed in a cracking
adolescent voice.
“You know, there are a lot worse things than juvy?” Nicola said, slipping
on his night vision goggles.
“Like what?” the teenager asked sardonically.
“Great, a kid,” Brooks said, shaking his head. They hated chasing teens.
“The night just keeps getting better and better.” Nicola tugged at his vest
again.
Nicola instantly thought back to his last teenage chase. It went from a car
chase to a foot pursuit. They ended up cornering the base heads in an alleyway.
The teens were trapped, too scared to jump the fence, where three bulldogs
salivated and barked wildly at the prospect of fresh meat. When he snatched up
what he thought was two boys, he discovered that he had two fifteen-year-old
parochial school girls that had been in the hood scrounging for crack cocaine.
“Stall him,” Brooks said, bringing Nicola back to the task at hand.
“Look, if you don‟t come down, then we‟ll have to come up after you,”
Nicola taunted as he watched his partner pull the tear gas from his vest.
“Come on then!” the scared young man screamed again, this time sending
several shots down the stairs to greet the cold and frustrated pair. “I ain‟t never
scared,” the boy screamed, holding his gun closely to him.
“Obviously,” Nicola retorted under his breath.
“Don‟t worry, we‟ll snatch a knot in his ass…after we catch our breath.”
Brooks said, as he leaned against the wall. “Man, I‟m tired.”
“You‟re tired? I left you with the squad car. I‟m the one out here running
like a guard dog after this kid. I swear I don‟t feel like doing this tonight.”
“You know what…I ran last night. So I don‟t feel sorry for you.” Brooks
snapped.
“You ran, but did we catch him?”
“That was your fault,” Brooks said, remembering the task at hand. “Are
we going to do this, or are we going to sit down here while the little prick shoots
rounds at us?”
“Alright, Alright.” Nicola got in position. “On the count of three.”
4
Latrivia S. Nelson
“We‟ve wasted enough time already…three,” Brooks said, launching the
tear gas up the stairs.
“Where did you get tear gas?” He took off his goggles. It was obvious he
needed a gas mask instead, which he didn’t have .
“I got it from a friend.”
“What are you doing just walking around with tear gas, man? Sometimes
you don‟t make any sense.” Nicola never would understand his best friend.
“Well, neither does going upstairs after him not knowing what type of fire
power he has,” Brooks said, looking up the stairs. “He‟s already tried to shoot
your ass off once tonight. Isn‟t that good enough?” He looked over at Nicola,
who rolled his eyes.
Anxiously, they waited downstairs in position for the perp to come
barreling down choking and blinded. Finally, Nicola leaned against the stairwell
completely out of tactical position.
“I don‟t think that he‟s coming down,” Nicola said condescendingly.
“ Just …wait a minute,” Brooks scoffed.
Soon after, they heard glass break and foot steps out front on the ledge of
the house. Running to the front door, Nicola saw a tall, slender figure land on the
ground feet first.
“Go, go, go,” Brooks yelled.
“Meet me with the car,” Nicola said, making his way out of the house.
“Three minutes,” Brooks shouted, tapping the face of his watch.
Busting through the door, Nicola screamed half-dazed, “Freeze!” He had
a good shot, but he decided against taking it. There was no visible threat, and he
had a thing against killing kids, regardless of how stupid they were.
Ignoring Nicola‟s plea, the young man decided against trying to retrieve
the gun that had fallen out of his pocket in his desperate jump and ran through a
bush in the yard next door into the street. Stopping to pick up the discarded
weapon, Nicola again ran after him, ready for the chase to end.
Running down another garbage-filled alley, through a small apartment
complex, and back out on to Wellington, Nicola could finally feel the fatigue of the
weary hunt overcoming him.
Refusing to give up, Nicola ran full speed several blocks into the busy
Crump and Danny Thomas intersection past the MAPCO gas station, where
several fellow officers were too busy flirting with the cashiers to notice him.
Fighting fatigue, the young man looked over his own shoulder to see Nicola
closing in with every step.
One pace, two paces, three paces and then a launch.
In mid-air, Nicola opened his arms, dove and landed on the perp in the
middle of the street causing both of them to barely miss collision with oncoming
cars.
Hitting the ground, Nicola felt his arm make contact with the cold concrete
and his skin rip off in the friction. Another gash that would leave another scar
from another chase , he thought immediately as he grunted in frustration. Pulling
the boy up, he kicked him in the stomach. Hard. That was for shooting at him.
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