Lt. Sean Walsh rubbed the grittiness from his tired eyes and tried to focus on the front door of the dark building where they believed their suspect was hiding out. The nearest light in the area was a distant streetlamp, which puddled its mustard yellow glow directly beneath it. Otherwise, a sliver of moon was the only other source.

“Yo, Walsh. Say something. I’m so tired, I’m hallucinating. I’m thinking every shadow I spot in the windows or hovering around this back door is our UNSUB.”

He smiled and keyed his walkie talkie. “Do any of them wear a skirt?”

“Skirts, bikinis, jock straps, you name it. I wouldn’t put it past this guy to put on any kind of disguise in order to slip past us. Hell, he could be anyone. It’ll be a miracle if we manage to catch him. How much longer are we gonna have to remain here, do ya think?”

He checked his watch. 1:54 AM “Two more hours, Dunlevy. I promise. Just hold tight.”

“Copy that. I’m out.”

He tossed the walkie onto the passenger side seat and stretched his legs to relieve the charley horse developing in his right calf. Dunlevy was right. It would be a miracle if they managed to snag this chameleon. The self-proclaimed vigilante was a master of disguise, able to move in and out of situations like a phantom. Enacting revenge on those he felt deserved punishment because he believed the law hadn’t been dealt harshly enough.