I can almost hear her sharp teeth break through my skin. My immediate reaction is to reach my other hand between the bars and knock her silly, but by that time she’s already let go. She struggles harder now, hitting the arm she bit me on.
She squirms her way out of her jacket. Shoots north on the sidewalk toward the back of the school, the same direction the hooptie was headed.
I drop her jacket on the other side of the gate, look up the fence to make the climb. Miriam’s feet are smaller so she was able to get them through the bars. I grasp high, let my breath go and manage to squeeze my toes in, just enough for purchase, and then take hold of the top of the gate.
I crawl over and slide myself down to the other side. The sleeves of my shirt and jacket have fallen back over my wrists.
I visually search the area where I saw her run.
Can’t see her.
It’s a long block and I’d see her running along Mozart if that’s where she was. She more than likely cut left and through the rear parking lot of the school that faces 17th.
I rush toward the driveway that leads to the back of the school and look across the parking lot. I’m not going to find her this way, it’s ridiculous. I need to get in the car. Get the police to hit the area with me. But first, I pull up the sleeve of my jacket to check out my throbbing arm. My shirt sleeve is soaked with blood, but the bite’s not so bad I need to give it immediate attention.
I shake my head, feel like I wanna scream. Instead I hightail it back to the gate and grab her jacket. I search the pockets and find a pack of Newports and three clean syringe needles with plastic covers.
I look at the needles and realize this shit alone’ll keep her from wanting to go home.
Sixty-one
Sirens in the distance, like angels sounding horns. I remember before the shooting the officer said it was a shift change. That’s why it took them longer than normal.
Best thing I can do now is get back to the scene and the fallen officer. Miriam’s got to be wandering around somewhere. It’s cold and she doesn’t have her jacket. If she’s on the street, the cops will find her. Hopefully before Cordell’s boys do.
No blood that I can see along Miriam’s running trail or her hiding spot at the curb. That’s a good sign.
Sirens are closer.
There’s a cab on Euclid and 17th. I notice the driver on his cell phone. When he sees me over the cop, he makes a quick turn onto 17th and speeds north.
No one else is around. They know enough.
The officer doesn’t look so good now. His eyes are glazed over, and with every short breath a deep-throated gurgling sound.
“Miriam got away from me,” I say.
“Miriam?” he asks with effort, like what the fuck am I talking about?
“The young girl I was holding on to. The reason you were here. Is there another place she might stay?”
The cruisers are very close. The sound of the sirens seems to fold around us.
“Where would she go, Tommy? Let me get her. Take her home. You know they’re gonna kill her.”
“University,” is all he says.
“What do you mean? What university?”
He mumbles something unintelligible again.
“I don’t know what you’re saying.”
He takes in another short breath then, “Don’t tell…please,” almost like a little kid pleading with a friend.
“Where can I find the girl, Tommy? A safe house?”
“Please,” he says one more time.
“I got you, brother. I’m not gonna say shit. What university?”
Cruisers are speeding up Euclid from 16th against the one-way sign.
Loud sirens, the sweetest sound in the world right now for him, but not for me, ’cause he didn’t give me shit.
Officers roll onto the scene from all directions, blocking off the whole area around us.
“Your boys are here now. You’re gonna be okay.”
Sixty-two
I’m sitting on a chair with roller wheels at an empty cubicle in the 3D detectives’ office. The only thing I got with me is my backpack. My Volvo’s still on the scene. Knowing what I got on me and inside my backpack makes me more than a little paranoid, but I wasn’t about to leave it in my car ’cause that’d give them an excuse to search it. I’m not a suspect so unless I do or say something stupid they won’t even think about it. A crime-scene tech had to take my weapon, though, see if I shot it.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in here. Last time was when we worked a case with a couple of district detectives and we used the office to stage for a search warrant we were about to execute.
This office still stinks.