Redzone Read Free Page A

protect her from the people she had arrested in the past, Lee was placed in a jail cell by herself. That was SOP for such situations, and Lee was glad. Otherwise, she might have been locked up with somebody who was drunk, coming down from a meth-induced high, or just plain stupid.
    But with no TV, and nothing to read, time passed slowly. So much so that Lee had begun to lose faith in Codicil when a jailer arrived. “Good news,” the woman said as she unlocked the cell. “You’re out of here. Come with me.”
    Lee’s spirits rose as the jailer led her through a maze of halls to a heavily secured door. There, she had to show her wrist tag and sign a log before being allowed to enter the room where she’d been processed six hours earlier. Marvin Codicil was waiting for her.
    Codicil was bald on top with white hair that was combed back along both sides of his head. His cheeks were hollow, and that made his face appear gaunt. A pair of glasses, a thin mustache, and a neat goatee completed the look. Codicil was dressed in a blue windbreaker and a polo shirt with khaki pants. “There you are!” he said warmly. “I was able to get you out on your own recognizance. No need to thank me now—the bill will arrive later. Come on . . . Let’s get your belongings, and I’ll take you home.”
    It took ten minutes for Lee to retrieve her belt, a lipstick, and a wallet from the man behind the bulletproof glass. Then she had to sign yet another piece of paper before following Codicil out into the cool night air. His
especiale
was sitting in a clearly marked handicapped parking zone. And as Lee got in, she saw the permit that was dangling from the rearview mirror. “You aren’t handicapped,” she pointed out. “I should give you a ticket.”
    â€œYes, you should,” Codicil agreed, as the car pulled away from the curb. “But you can’t. Not until you get your badge back.”
    Lee couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”
    â€œLook who’s talking,” Codicil replied. “Now here’s the plan. You aren’t just
any
cop . . . You’re the detective who killed nine bank robbers in a single gunfight—and had the ovaries to go after human traffickers in the red zone. And that makes you something of a folk hero. So the mayor and the chief of police will have to hold at least five meetings and consult a PR agency before they can decide what to do. I’ll use that time to work my magic.
You
will use that time to watch TV and paint your toenails. At no point will you communicate with anyone other than me. Is that clear?”
    â€œYes. Can I ask what you plan to do?”
    â€œNo.”
    Lee looked at him. “Is that because you don’t know what you’re going to do?”
    â€œYes.”
    Lee smiled. “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”
    â€œNever fear,” Codicil said, as the car pulled into her driveway. “I promised to get you off, and I will. All you need to do is sit tight.”
    Lee thanked him, got out, and made her way up the drive to the kind of four plex that critics referred to as a “dingbat.” Meaning one of the formulaic 1950s-era apartment buildings that were still common throughout California. Frank Lee had lived there until his death. Lee had moved in a month later, hoping to find a clue among her father’s effects. An overlooked something that would lead her to the Bonebreaker. She was still working on it.
    But, as Lee climbed the stairs to the second floor, she came to a horrible realization. Were she to lose her badge, it would be difficult if not impossible to find her father’s killer. And that prospect frightened her. Lee felt that sheowed it to the man who had raised her all by himself even if she didn’t like him as much as she wanted to.
    But there was another reason as well. Something she was conscious of