Warpath

“Thanks.” I walk back to Clevenger.

“What do you think?” he asks as I walk up.

“Good kid. He’s got some ideas.”

“Yeah. Is he digging in deep about the neighbors?”

“Yes, he is.”

“My grandparents moved out here from Wyoming in the late sixties. They bought this house then. I remember visiting as a kid. It’s also one of the reasons why I wanted to get stationed here. I know this neighborhood. There is no reasonable gang target on these streets.”

“I agree.”

“I don’t want a trial, Richard.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“My grandmother was a midwife for thirty years. My grandfather got the bronze star in World War Two. This is complete bullshit. This should have never happened.”

“So you ask for the PD detective who is good, but whom you know to be narrowly focused?”

“Yes.” Calculated.

“He’ll make the investigation look good on paper. He’ll put forth the honest effort to bring these punks to justice.”

“Yes.” Frank.

“And then you ask me to show up.”

“Yes.” Firm.

“So there won’t be a trial.”

“Yes.” Cold.

I need you to meet me at 3917 Bending Boulevard. North end of the city. Now. Clevenger was very specific about the north end of the city. Bending Boulevard, like several other roadways, run north and south for miles. They cross the river that divides our city in half and continue on their way in both directions.

The city planners used a central point at the river as zero block and extended addresses in both directions. What that means is there are a shit ton of street numbers that have a counterpart on the other side of the river. There’s a 3917 Bending Boulevard south of the river as well. My guess is that the gang doing the hit meant to shoot up that house and just drove in the wrong direction and killed the wrong people. Fucking idiots, but people are stupider than anyone besides me will give them credit for.

Clevenger can’t come near this thing. I’m the closest thing he can get to doing it himself. He also must know Collins’ style enough to thin

k he won’t get in my way. It’s a great sucker punch. The PD sees Clevenger wanting their best assets to do the by-the-book investigation. He looks clean. Collins will turn over mountains of paperwork and thousands of dollars in man-hours for surveillance and canvasing.

Meanwhile, I’ll have all the fun and faster results.

“You think Collins will figure it out?”

“Probably not. His worst trait is when he gets focused like this, he sees what he wants to see. I’ve been watching him. He’s looking at all the elderly neighbors as if they have prison tats and a nine millimeter stuffed in their robes. He’ll occupy himself with this street until it goes cold.”

“Then I guess I’ll leave.”

“Keep out of the spotlight,” Clevenger says as we shake hands. “We’re on thin ice here.”

“I know. And, once these retards figure out how fucking stupid they are, they’ll roll a car out for the real address.”

“We don’t have much time, then,” Graham says, his eyes like great white sharks.

“Be with your grandfather,” I say. Turn to my car.