her arm. Do anything you ask to get it.”
“Did she have any regulars? Men we should be looking out for?”
“Not sick mothers like what did that,” he used the bat to indicate the top floor of the building where Monroe had been found. “I take care of my girls.” He kept the bat raised in the air, using it to make his point. “If I’d‘a seen this motherfucker, you best be sure he’d be the one going in the ground right now, not my Leesha.”
Trent nodded toward the building. “You live here?”
He softened a bit. “With my granny. She gettin‘ kind of old. I gotta look out for her.”
“Were you with her last night?”
“Me an‘ my boys was out at the Cheetah watching the game.”
“Do you mind if we speak with your grandmother?”
“Hell yes, I do. Don’t go gettin‘ my granny mixed up with this shit. She didn’t see nothing, you hear? She just an old lady.”
“All right,” Trent acquiesced. He looked back at Michael as if to ask if he had any questions. Michael shook his head and Trent told the pimp, “I know you want to go watch your program. Thank you for your time.”
Baby G stood there, unsure of himself. He finally shrugged them off, repeating, “You just one weird motherfucker,” before walking back into the building.
When the door had banged shut, Trent turned to Michael. “What do you think?”
“I think he’s right,” Michael said, pushing away from the car. “You’re pretty fucking strange.”
Trent’s cell phone chirped, and Michael felt his earlier irritation spark again as Trent walked a few feet away to take the call.
“Yes, sir,” Trent said. “Yes, sir.”
Michael looked up at the sky, the dark clouds that were starting to roll in. The way today was going, a storm would break just as they were leaving the scene and he’d end up sloshing through the parking lot, ruining his new shoes.
Trent snapped the phone closed, tucking it into his vest pocket. “You need to go home, Michael.”
Michael felt his heart stop in his chest. “What?”
“You need to go home,” Trent repeated. “There’s been an accident.”
CHAPTER SIX
Michael drove like the devil, his hands gripping the wheel. Trent sat beside him, stone quiet even as Michael blasted through red lights and ran stop signs. The house was less than twenty minutes away from Grady Homes, but Michael felt like it was taking hours to get there. His heart was in his throat, pumping like a freight train. All he could think about was all the horrible things he had done to his family, how he didn’t deserve them, how he would clean up his act, turn his life around, if only Tim was okay.
“Fuck!” Michael twisted the steering wheel hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a Chevy Blazer that had the right of way.
Trent had grabbed the side of the door, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say anything about slowing down.
Michael straightened the wheel, making another hard left onto a back road that would take them out of heavy traffic and hopefully get them home sooner. The clutch slipped but quickly caught again as he accelerated. A light was flashing on the dashboard, the engine temperature gauge pushing well into the red. All he needed was for the piece of shit car to get him to the house. That’s all Michael needed.
He hit the redial on his cell phone again, listening to the phone ringing at his house for the fiftieth time. Barbara’s cell wasn’t picking up and he hadn’t been able to find Gina at the hospital.
“God damn it!” Michael screamed, smashing the phone against the dashboard, breaking it to pieces.
Greer had called Will Trent to tell him there was a problem, like Michael was some pansy civilian instead of a seasoned cop. All the lieutenant had said was that there had been some kind of accident involving a kid at Michael’s house. Standard rucking procedure-don’t tell them on the phone, don’t freak them out so they drive their car over a bridge on the way to the scene. When Michael
“Did she have any regulars? Men we should be looking out for?”
“Not sick mothers like what did that,” he used the bat to indicate the top floor of the building where Monroe had been found. “I take care of my girls.” He kept the bat raised in the air, using it to make his point. “If I’d‘a seen this motherfucker, you best be sure he’d be the one going in the ground right now, not my Leesha.”
Trent nodded toward the building. “You live here?”
He softened a bit. “With my granny. She gettin‘ kind of old. I gotta look out for her.”
“Were you with her last night?”
“Me an‘ my boys was out at the Cheetah watching the game.”
“Do you mind if we speak with your grandmother?”
“Hell yes, I do. Don’t go gettin‘ my granny mixed up with this shit. She didn’t see nothing, you hear? She just an old lady.”
“All right,” Trent acquiesced. He looked back at Michael as if to ask if he had any questions. Michael shook his head and Trent told the pimp, “I know you want to go watch your program. Thank you for your time.”
Baby G stood there, unsure of himself. He finally shrugged them off, repeating, “You just one weird motherfucker,” before walking back into the building.
When the door had banged shut, Trent turned to Michael. “What do you think?”
“I think he’s right,” Michael said, pushing away from the car. “You’re pretty fucking strange.”
Trent’s cell phone chirped, and Michael felt his earlier irritation spark again as Trent walked a few feet away to take the call.
“Yes, sir,” Trent said. “Yes, sir.”
Michael looked up at the sky, the dark clouds that were starting to roll in. The way today was going, a storm would break just as they were leaving the scene and he’d end up sloshing through the parking lot, ruining his new shoes.
Trent snapped the phone closed, tucking it into his vest pocket. “You need to go home, Michael.”
Michael felt his heart stop in his chest. “What?”
“You need to go home,” Trent repeated. “There’s been an accident.”
CHAPTER SIX
Michael drove like the devil, his hands gripping the wheel. Trent sat beside him, stone quiet even as Michael blasted through red lights and ran stop signs. The house was less than twenty minutes away from Grady Homes, but Michael felt like it was taking hours to get there. His heart was in his throat, pumping like a freight train. All he could think about was all the horrible things he had done to his family, how he didn’t deserve them, how he would clean up his act, turn his life around, if only Tim was okay.
“Fuck!” Michael twisted the steering wheel hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a Chevy Blazer that had the right of way.
Trent had grabbed the side of the door, but he wasn’t stupid enough to say anything about slowing down.
Michael straightened the wheel, making another hard left onto a back road that would take them out of heavy traffic and hopefully get them home sooner. The clutch slipped but quickly caught again as he accelerated. A light was flashing on the dashboard, the engine temperature gauge pushing well into the red. All he needed was for the piece of shit car to get him to the house. That’s all Michael needed.
He hit the redial on his cell phone again, listening to the phone ringing at his house for the fiftieth time. Barbara’s cell wasn’t picking up and he hadn’t been able to find Gina at the hospital.
“God damn it!” Michael screamed, smashing the phone against the dashboard, breaking it to pieces.
Greer had called Will Trent to tell him there was a problem, like Michael was some pansy civilian instead of a seasoned cop. All the lieutenant had said was that there had been some kind of accident involving a kid at Michael’s house. Standard rucking procedure-don’t tell them on the phone, don’t freak them out so they drive their car over a bridge on the way to the scene. When Michael
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