Chaos Theory by M Evonne Dobson Page A

there?”
    Sandy shades her eyes from the bright winter sun. “The wind must be brutal.”
    Up there, a man huddles down in blankets between the bushes. Sunlight glints off glass—binoculars. “Not a homeless guy—Daniel’s handler. Change of plans. You guys wait here. If three ugly goons show up, text me, okay?”
    â€œSure.” Sam basks in Sandy’s approval of seeing the cop and throws the Frisbee again.
    Backtracking along Sixth Street and under the railroad overpass, I reach the unmarked police car. Next to it there are footprints leading up the snowy embankment. Grabbing onto small bushes to haul myself along, I follow them. Given the marks in the snow, Gravel Voice (ninety-nine percent sure that’s him up there) had more problems doing it. Once on the railroad tracks, it’s an easy if blustery walk to the man huddled under his blanket. The wind whips against my face as I come up behind him.
    ***
    The skate park’s concrete dome curves upward like an origami crane’s wings, providing Gravel Voice with an unobstructed view of the action. He’s got an open Thermos that reeks of power-spiced chili, but it’s getting cold. One gloved hand holds his binoculars, while the other has a cell phone cupped to his ear. Because of the wind, he’s yelling into it:
    â€œI know he’s my first CI, but he’s not what he’s supposed to be. He’s out of his element. He’s going to get hurt again.”
    CI is the term Sandy uses for snitch; CI for confidential informant. Up above him, I squat down and listen without a bit of guilt. This creep thought I wanted to buy drugs. This creep intimidated me into backing off. Even Daniel hadn’t managed that. Anger bunches up my muscles. I really hate this guy. From below, Sandy waves. Gravel Voice is too busy to notice. His binocs are trained on the dome itself. From this vantage point, he also has a clear shot of the bike path leading to Joint Row where Daniel had been beaten.
    Gravel Voice listens some more. Then he says, “I know. I know. I heard it all at that conference like everyone else. They drilled it into my head that dime pushers can be pros at hiding their drug involvement, but this is not adding up.”
    Balancing on my two feet, I slide down into his sightline. The binocs drop and his hand reaches for his sidearm, upsetting his chili. All that goody goodness oozes down the incline. Caught off guard, he’s slow—really slow. I stare at him, and yeah, he can tell that I’m PO’d.
    He says into the phone, “I’ll have to call you back.” Slowly his weapon hand relaxes. “And you would be?”
    â€œThe girl you assumed wanted to buy drugs, you creep.”

Twelve
    Yeah, I called a small town cop a creep. That’s not smart. One word from him and every police officer in town will be on my case. They might follow me around looking for every speed and roll-through-stop sign violation that I make. But, he ticked me off.
    â€œKami?”
    â€œThe one and only. It worked, you know, for a while. I backed off, but not anymore.”
    That gets to him. Is he seeing his snitch’s value disappear?
    I pile on. “What happens if I tell everyone that he’s a confidential informant? How’d that go over at the cop shop?”
    Down in the parking lot, the three goons exit a beat-up Chevy and wait for traffic to cross Sixth Street. Time’s up. Grinding my teeth so hard Gravel Voice should hear it, I head straight down the embankment. “For the record, I won’t do that, because Daniel wouldn’t want me to. But he isn’t alone anymore. We’re helping him.”
    He stops me as I pass him, grabbing my arm. “This is dangerous .”
    â€œDah. Who was there when he was beat up? You?”
    â€œOur communication got messed up. Besides, I thought he knew what he was doing.”
    â€œDid you guys even try to confirm if