Taking the Highway Read Free Page B

files, wondering if that department could possibly work any slower. Yalna’s file was only a preliminary report, some of the notes unreadable stylus scribbles. It had been years since Andre had sifted through any kind of major data dump, but he needed everything he could find on Yalna and couldn’t wait for forensics to tie it up with a neat bow. What if the fourth hadn’t jumped? What if he’d been pushed?
    Danny marched forward and planted himself in front of Andre. He grabbed the datapad out of Andre’s hands and scanned the page he’d been reading, then tapped the screen with an impatient finger. “It’s a big city. There are a lot of fourths. This doesn’t mean anything.”
    “Yeah, but look at this. Hemorrhaging around the chest and armpits, groin and upper thighs. It occurred before Yalna met the front bumper of that semi.”
    Danny scanned through the reports. “Since a Peterbilt can’t grab a man by the back of his well-tailored suit and throw him over a chest-high retaining wall . . .”
    “Yalna had some help with his flying lesson.” Andre glanced back at the overgrown island. From here, all he could see was Shepler’s shoes. “It looks like our caseload went up by one. Two, if you count this Shepler.”
    “I’m not counting anybody.” Danny stripped his gloves and tucked them in a pocket. “The only reason I’m even looking at Shepler is because he had the good sense to be killed somewhere else. Otherwise, I’m filing and forgetting, calling it zone-on-zone violence.”
    “You’d do that? Just to avoid taking on another case?”
    “I could , but I won’t .” Danny glanced over his shoulder, where Delandra stood conferring with the Jeffs. He gripped Andre’s shoulder and moved him out of earshot. “But you gotta promise me something. You treat this like any other case. You didn’t know Yalna. You didn’t know Shepler. Am I right? Please tell me I’m right.”
    “You’re right.” He felt like a chunk of ice had hit his midsection, passing through and leaving nothing but cold, hollow dread.
    “So. Not your brothers.” Danny folded his arms over his stomach. “Two guys, happen to be fourths.”
    “What if there are more?” Andre tried to keep the urgency out of his voice. “All that untraceable cash. If no one puts it together that fourths make good hunting, the fourths stay unaware longer.” He tapped at his pad. “I’m going to run an all-district search. Maybe these aren’t the only two.”

 

     
    A ndre tossed his datapad onto the scratched surface of the conference table. He’d already connected his pad to the network five times, but the waveguide kept bouncing him. He leaned back in the squeaky chair, stared at the flickering fluorescents above him, and remembered why he hated coming to the Downriver suburbs. Few of his cases from the city spilled over this far, for which he was exceedingly grateful. Downriver, with its additional pressure from Toledo and other poorer points south, spent almost its entire budget on manpower, leaving none for facilities.
    He checked the time. Was Sergeant Gao going to keep their appointment or not? He’d give her five more minutes. He reconnected with the network and looked at her profile picture again. Okay, maybe ten. After all, a request-to-acquire was a delicate thing. Andre hoped to bypass a lot of interdepartmental bullshit by making a personal visit, but if he left in a huff, he could forget about Gao ever giving him her cases.
    Sergeant Gao ambled through the door a moment later, neither hurried nor ruffled. She wore a blue blazer and pants, a white blouse and flat shoes. Give her a necktie, Andre thought, and she could pass for a fourth. Her long, dark hair was bundled neatly at her neck and her ID was clipped under an American flag lapel pin.
    Andre stood. “I almost gave up on you.”
    “Busy. You know, Monday?” She held out a hand. “Detective Sergeant Sofia Gao.”
    “Detective Sergeant Andre LaCroix.” He