It was late and Thompson had been nearing the end of his shift when he saw a four leaf clover just to the side of the sidewalk. How he had seen the clover, out of so many others in the dead of night, he couldn’t explain. It had seemed to stand out from the rest, almost as if it glowed.
Trish loved four leaf clovers, loved the idea of them. She could spend hours looking for them at the park. “Daddy, I know if I find one it will bring us good luck”, she would say, scampering off on her shortly chubby legs, her laughter tinkling like fairy wings on the wind. Every yard, field and patch of green with in a mile of their house had been searched and found lacking. Despite this, his little girl never gave up hoping she would find one.
Slowly he stooped down and plucked the clover from the grass. The thud of metal hitting wood resounded from behind him. Splinters showered down around his head and shoulders, exploding from the space his head had been moments before. Dropping to his belly he rolled next to the car, listening. A crack of gun fire and another shower of splinters followed. He keyed the mic on his shoulder and yelled, “Shots fired, corner of Holly and Aspen. I need back up.”
Gun drawn he looked up the street towards the house the gunfire had come from. It was the O’Rielly house. He had arrested their son over a year ago for rape. Each night as he walked his beat, he could feel their eyes on him. He keyed up the mic again, “O’Rielly house, the gunfire is coming from 246 Aspen Street.”
He heard Ethel in dispatch say, “Help is on the way, Code 3. O’Rielly’s boy was sentenced today. Third strike, he got life.”
“Crap Ethel, think you might of told me that when I went on duty?” He asked. He could hear the sirens in the distance.
“Was in the papers, thought you knew.” She replied. As his back up screeched to a halt outside the O’Rielly house, Old Man O’Rielly walked out, gun held over his head. “Just don’t let that bastard Thompson arrest me. He took my boy.” He threw the gun down and proned out on the ground.
Williams walked around the car and offered Thompson a hand up, “You okay?” He looked over at the bullet hole in the tree whistled, “Lucky he didn’t take your head off man.”
Thompson looked down at the clover pressed between his fingers and his gun, “Ya….Lucky.”