1. Taking Flight to Catch a Thief
The first time Finn Carter laid eyes on Marcus Shaw was also the day he committed the first crime of his life.
It happened fast. The grilled noodle vendor was peeling the skin off a sausage when someone in a hoodie darted out from the side, grabbed the wooden money box, and ran.
The schoolgirl waiting for her order panicked. The noodle vendor panicked too—she quickly set down her spatula, shut off the gas, and took off after him.
But she was short and stout, still wearing a pink plaid apron, and nearly tripped after just a few steps.
Only then did she remember to scream: "Robber! Someone stop him!"
The shout dissolved into the nearly melting asphalt, evaporating instantly.
First-time thief Finn Carter was panicking too. He bolted down Main Street with single-minded determination. Pedestrians came and went, and he lacked the presence to shout them out of his way—instead he had to dodge them, which made his escape route stuttering and clumsy.
About three or four hundred meters in, he heard someone shouting behind him. Panic surged, and he swerved left onto West Central Avenue—right into Viktor Dunn's line of sight.
Viktor Dunn reacted fast. He lunged across the road, and Finn Carter nearly bit his own tongue off in terror, tucking his arms and sprinting like a scrawny chicken.
They say human potential is unlocked under pressure. With a uniformed officer chasing him, Finn Carter's feet seemed oiled—he ran even faster. The officer kept ordering him to stop, but he had no intention of complying. The sound waves rippled through the street and seemed to push him from behind.
Viktor Dunn was getting frustrated. He refused to believe this short kid could outrun his long legs. Clenching his jaw, he sprinted with everything he had, the slick of hair gel on his head slicing through the wind as he rapidly closed the distance.
Finn Carter twisted his head and saw the cop gaining on him. His soul nearly fled his body, but his legs still pumped frantically. One arm clutched the wooden box while the other stuffed wads of cash into his hoodie pocket. Some bills missed and drifted to the ground like feathers. He ran and the money fell—a colorful trail, like a molting pheasant had just dashed through.
Just as Viktor Dunn was about to grab him, Finn Carter's body lurched, and he flung the money box backward. Viktor Dunn split-second jumped, and the box struck his arm, bouncing off his muscle onto the ground with a clang. He swore.
Ahead was an intersection. Two women stood waiting at a red light. Viktor Dunn pointed and shouted, "Stop him!"
But the two exchanged glances and stood rooted to the spot, too intimidated to move.
Their hesitation emboldened Finn Carter. Just as Viktor Dunn was about to grab him again, he yanked one of the women—long-haired—by the arm and shoved her toward the officer.
The woman was about to hit the ground when Viktor Dunn dropped his center of gravity, one leg bowing, the other pushing off, and caught her around the waist. But when he looked back up, the thief had vanished.
Viktor Dunn crossed the road, searched south for a few paces, then doubled back north, soon standing at the mouth of an alley, glaring into its depths.
The alley wasn't large. At its dead end stood a pink two-story building. On the left was a fruit and vegetable shop with two rows of colorful Dragon Boat Festival gift boxes stacked at the entrance. The elderly shopkeeper sat dozing against the doorframe.
If anyone had slipped into the shop, the old man's outstretched legs would have woken him.
Viktor Dunn crept slowly into the alley, his gaze inching along the top edge of the gift box wall with every step.
Finn Carter held his breath, heart squeezed tight. He listened for sounds on the ground, praying the officer wouldn't turn into the alley—but the footsteps came nonetheless.
The steps were slow and gentle, yet each one seemed to land right on his heart.
Just as the officer approached, about to discover his hiding spot, Finn Carter lunged forward. The chest-high wall of gift boxes collapsed onto the officer.
Finn Carter rolled free, scrambled to his feet, and ran. Viktor Dunn hadn't expected the thief's countermove, but his reflexes were excellent—he grabbed at the hoodie.
The motion pulled the hood clean off the thief's head, revealing his face.
A young man with a buzz cut and sunburned neck.
The old shopkeeper finally startled awake, squeezing some garbled curses from his long-unused throat. Before Viktor Dunn could explain, the hoodie tore with a rip, and the thief sprinted away like an ostrich. Viktor Dunn tried to chase but the old man had grabbed his arm and wouldn't let go.
Finn Carter bolted south, ducked down a side street, and turned twice more before finally slowing down and glancing back.
Relief flooded through him. Ahead was a bus stop. A tall kid in a basketball jersey, wearing a backpack, was blowing a bubble and glancing his way.
Finn Carter looked back too—a bus sat waiting at a red light. He decided to hop on and get far away.
He stepped under the shelter just as the bus arrived.
As Finn Carter was about to board, someone tapped his shoulder. He turned to see the tall kid blow an enormous bubble, which popped with a burst, and something sprayed into his face. His eyes clamped shut, his entire face burning as if a lion were gnawing it. He doubled over on the curb, cradling his head.
Just then, Viktor Dunn arrived on the scene. He spotted a can of police-issue pepper spray on the ground, and Marcus Shaw was already cuffing the thief. Viktor Dunn broke into a smile: "Marcus, what shortcut did you take?"
---
Finn Carter had barely been escorted to the station entrance when the grilled noodle vendor came over, clutching her apron. She looked at the two men—one tall, one short—then at the squinting, grimacing young thief. Instead of thanking them, she pointed at him and asked, "Is he going to be okay?"
"He'll be fine. It'll wear off shortly." Viktor Dunn replied, then handed her the refilled money box. "Count it—probably not much missing."
The vendor held the box but didn't count. She smiled broadly at Viktor Dunn: "Thank you for your hard work, officer! With my huffing and puffing, I never could've caught up!"
Viktor Dunn laughed. "You're thanking the wrong person. Thank this man—my Marcus. He's the one who caught the thief."
The vendor turned to Marcus Shaw, mouth agape: "He's an officer too? He looks so young. I wouldn't have guessed."
Marcus Shaw waved his hand. "I'm not that young anymore."
---
The criminal investigation unit handled major crimes. A petty theft like this, with a small amount involved, normally fell under the public security squad or the local police station. But since they'd stumbled upon it, they had to process it—procedure was procedure.
Marcus Shaw had Viktor Dunn take a simple statement from the noodle vendor, then brought the kid into the interrogation area.
The interrogation room was stifling.
Seeing Finn Carter hunched up like a frightened chicken on the edge of the chair, Marcus Shaw decided not to keep him cuffed. Instead, he grabbed a damp towel and handed it to him for his face.
Finn Carter hesitated before taking it. After wiping, his eyes finally opened fully, but he stared at the corner of the wall, refusing to meet their gaze.
"Talk. Name, age, address, phone number," Marcus Shaw asked.
Finn Carter didn't respond. Motionless.
"I'm asking you a question." Viktor Dunn interjected. When there was still no response, he slammed the table. "Are you deaf?"
Finn Carter slowly raised his head, still avoiding their eyes. "Ricky Cobb."
"What? Can't hear you."
"Ricky Cobb. My name is Ricky Cobb."
Viktor Dunn opened a document and started typing.
"Age?"
"Nineteen—seventeen."
"Which is it?"
"Seventeen."
"Where do you live?"
"Meadow Bridge."
"Which school?"
Silence.
Viktor Dunn stopped, noticed Finn Carter had turned his face away again.
Marcus Shaw asked: "Not in school anymore?"
No response.
Viktor Dunn raised his hand to slam the table again, but Marcus Shaw pressed his arm and said, "Give me your home phone number."
Still no response. No amount of asking would pry loose another word.
Marcus Shaw had Viktor Dunn search him. Earlier, they'd only checked his hoodie pockets to recover the money—now they found an ID card in his pants pocket.
No phone.
"Finn Carter. Ha. Quite the liar."
Marcus Shaw glanced at the ID, then sent Viktor Dunn to look up contact information for Finn Carter's family.
As soon as Viktor Dunn left, Marcus Shaw said gently, "Honestly, if you just cooperate, it's not a big deal. Just over a hundred and thirty yuan, no violence involved. A fine, maybe a day or two of detention. I don't want to make this complicated."
Finn Carter picked at his hands. After a long while, he asked, "If I cooperate... can you not call my family?"
"Why?"
Finn Carter lowered his head again, still picking at his hands. Marcus Shaw studied him.
Just then, Viktor Dunn returned with a printed sheet, saying he'd only found one mobile number—his father's. He'd called but no one answered and would try again later.