his arm and the bleeding stanched.
“Can you stop the bleeding?” she asked Abilene. Her plan was to extract information from the man in exchange for taking him to the hospital—but she wanted the information first, because she knew if it was the other way around, the drug dealer would renege and give them nothing.
“You mean like putting my finger in the hole?” Abilene asked innocently. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Even as he said it, Abilene placed his thumb over where the bullet had entered the dealer’s shoulder. The man let loose with a blood-curdling scream.
“I need to get to a hospital,” he cried. “You gotta get me to a hospital.” The man was practically begging now.
“As soon as you tell me why you killed Summer Miller,” Abilene told him.
The man stared at him, bewildered. “Who?” he cried, shaking his head at the same time to actively deny any wrongdoing.
“Summer Miller.” Kendra dug into her back pocket and pulled out the photograph of the dead woman that the M.E. had given her. Summer was lying on the autopsy table, waiting to be taken apart bit by bit. “You supplied her with drugs.”
Squinting, the man finally nodded, obviously recognizing the dead woman. “Yeah, I supplied her, but I didn’t kill her.” His head jerked up as he demanded wildly, “Why would I kill her? That’s bad for business.” Hysteria punctuated his words. “I’m bleeding to death here. You don’t get me to that hospital, I’m gonna die!”
“If you didn’t kill her, then maybe you can tell us where you were three days ago, say all day?” Abilene asked him.
The dealer shook his head, the ends of his dirty hair swinging about like stretched-out commas. “I don’t know,” he wailed.
It wasn’t easy, since at bottom she was a caregiver, but Kendra remained firm. “Not good enough,” she told him with a shake of her head. She looked at her partner and asked, “You have a Band-Aid on you, Abilene? I’m fresh out.”
“Sorry, never carry any,” he told her, playing along for the dealer’s benefit.
The latter was becoming genuinely panicked. “Wait, wait, I do know. I remember. I was in San Francisco,” the man cried. Relief flooded his expression because he remembered. “At this big party.”
“San Francisco,” Kendra echoed somewhat skeptically. “And you can prove this?”
He looked at her wild-eyed, sweating profusely and seemingly light-headed.
Kendra knew they only had a couple of minutes left, if that much, before they lost their advantage and had to take the man to the nearest E.R. He was losing blood and at this rate, he would pass out on them.
“I got money from the ATM down the block from the party. I had to make change for this big ape who only had hundred-dollar bills on him. He was showing off for this skanky-looking girl he was with.” The man was babbling now. “They’ve got cameras, right? The ATMs, they’ve got cameras? You can see it’s me on the camera. I wasn’t anywhere near that dead girl.”
Abilene was as calm as the other man was agitated. “They’re supposed to. You’d better hope that yours was working.”
The next moment, he was forced to catch the dealer as the man’s eyes rolled up in his head and, passing out, he pitched forward.
Holding him upright, Abilene looked at Kendra. “Get enough?” he asked.
“Provided he was telling the truth and the camera was working, yes, we’ve got enough to either clear him or put him closer to the scene,” she answered. And then her eyes narrowed as she saw a bright streak of red across the back of Abilene’s shirt. It was dripping down his sleeve. “What’s that?” she asked, even though, as far as she was concerned, it was a rhetorical question. When Abilene turned his head and looked at her quizzically, she pointed to the back of his arm.
Craning his neck, Abilene glanced at it and then shrugged off her question and the streak. “The guy’s blood.”
The hell it was. “I don’t think
“Can you stop the bleeding?” she asked Abilene. Her plan was to extract information from the man in exchange for taking him to the hospital—but she wanted the information first, because she knew if it was the other way around, the drug dealer would renege and give them nothing.
“You mean like putting my finger in the hole?” Abilene asked innocently. “Yeah, I can do that.”
Even as he said it, Abilene placed his thumb over where the bullet had entered the dealer’s shoulder. The man let loose with a blood-curdling scream.
“I need to get to a hospital,” he cried. “You gotta get me to a hospital.” The man was practically begging now.
“As soon as you tell me why you killed Summer Miller,” Abilene told him.
The man stared at him, bewildered. “Who?” he cried, shaking his head at the same time to actively deny any wrongdoing.
“Summer Miller.” Kendra dug into her back pocket and pulled out the photograph of the dead woman that the M.E. had given her. Summer was lying on the autopsy table, waiting to be taken apart bit by bit. “You supplied her with drugs.”
Squinting, the man finally nodded, obviously recognizing the dead woman. “Yeah, I supplied her, but I didn’t kill her.” His head jerked up as he demanded wildly, “Why would I kill her? That’s bad for business.” Hysteria punctuated his words. “I’m bleeding to death here. You don’t get me to that hospital, I’m gonna die!”
“If you didn’t kill her, then maybe you can tell us where you were three days ago, say all day?” Abilene asked him.
The dealer shook his head, the ends of his dirty hair swinging about like stretched-out commas. “I don’t know,” he wailed.
It wasn’t easy, since at bottom she was a caregiver, but Kendra remained firm. “Not good enough,” she told him with a shake of her head. She looked at her partner and asked, “You have a Band-Aid on you, Abilene? I’m fresh out.”
“Sorry, never carry any,” he told her, playing along for the dealer’s benefit.
The latter was becoming genuinely panicked. “Wait, wait, I do know. I remember. I was in San Francisco,” the man cried. Relief flooded his expression because he remembered. “At this big party.”
“San Francisco,” Kendra echoed somewhat skeptically. “And you can prove this?”
He looked at her wild-eyed, sweating profusely and seemingly light-headed.
Kendra knew they only had a couple of minutes left, if that much, before they lost their advantage and had to take the man to the nearest E.R. He was losing blood and at this rate, he would pass out on them.
“I got money from the ATM down the block from the party. I had to make change for this big ape who only had hundred-dollar bills on him. He was showing off for this skanky-looking girl he was with.” The man was babbling now. “They’ve got cameras, right? The ATMs, they’ve got cameras? You can see it’s me on the camera. I wasn’t anywhere near that dead girl.”
Abilene was as calm as the other man was agitated. “They’re supposed to. You’d better hope that yours was working.”
The next moment, he was forced to catch the dealer as the man’s eyes rolled up in his head and, passing out, he pitched forward.
Holding him upright, Abilene looked at Kendra. “Get enough?” he asked.
“Provided he was telling the truth and the camera was working, yes, we’ve got enough to either clear him or put him closer to the scene,” she answered. And then her eyes narrowed as she saw a bright streak of red across the back of Abilene’s shirt. It was dripping down his sleeve. “What’s that?” she asked, even though, as far as she was concerned, it was a rhetorical question. When Abilene turned his head and looked at her quizzically, she pointed to the back of his arm.
Craning his neck, Abilene glanced at it and then shrugged off her question and the streak. “The guy’s blood.”
The hell it was. “I don’t think
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