The Third Rail Read Free

"I was waiting for the train. It was crowded, thirty, maybe forty people. I heard the pop, saw the lady fall, and took off after him."
    "Him?"
    "Yeah, it was a him. Black overcoat, black knit hat. Maybe five-ten, medium build. Followed him down Cornelia."
    "And you saw him run down here?"
    "I saw the back of his coat. Came down the alley and tracked the footprints."
    Rodriguez frowned. "How long had it been snowing?"
    I shrugged. "Less than ten minutes."
    "And his were the only prints?"
    I nodded.
    "This all in your statement?"
    "Yeah."
    "Okay, go ahead."
    "So I follow the prints, around the corner to the second alley."
    "And?"
    "And they continue. One set of prints headed straight east. So I take off after them. He jumps me about halfway down. Came out from behind a Dumpster."
    "So the prints continue on." Rodriguez walked two fingers across the space between us. "But this guy somehow doesn't?"
    "That's right. He's got a ski mask on now and we wrestle a little. Fucker is strong, by the way. Then he pulls out a gun. Black, looked like a forty-caliber."
    "Big boy. Did he say anything?"
    "Told me to relax."
    "That's it?"
    "Asked me if I wanted to be a hero."
    Rodriguez chuckled. "He doesn't know you too well, does he? I could have told him you live for that hero shit."
    "Funny motherfucker you are."
    "Then what?"
    "Then he pulls back on the trigger. Slow, like he's thinking about it."
    "Must have been a nice moment."
    "Yeah, well, he stops. Lifts up the gun and just pops me with the butt. I woke up looking up at the snow falling on my face."
    "And that's it?"
    "That's it. How's the woman?"
    "You saw the gun. How do you think?"
    "Dead."
    "Oh, yeah. Quite a mess over there, and I'm not just talking about our victim."
    "The passengers?"
    Rodriguez nodded. "This ain't the West Side, Kelly. These people got jobs, money, families."
    "West Side don't have families, huh?"
    "You know what I mean. These people count. They ain't used to this. Hell, I already got three camera crews set up on Southport. Now let me ask you something about this alley ..."
    Rodriguez's cell beeped. He flipped it open, held up a finger, and walked away. An EMT came over and asked me if I wanted a couple of Advil for my head. I declined.
    "You want, we can take you down to Cook County," she said.
    "No, thanks," I said. "I like breathing air just fine."
    Rodriguez snapped his phone shut and made his way over. "Shit."
    "What is it?"
    The detective rubbed a hand over his face and looked around for an answer.
    "What is it, Rodriguez?"
    "We got another one."
    "Another what?"
    "Another shooting on the L. Goddamnit. Listen, I have to go down there. You gave your statement, right?"
    "Yeah."
    "All right. Stay on your cell and I'll call you. There's something about this alley we need to figure out."
    "Why don't I come with?"
    "Why don't you fuck off, Kelly. I'll give you a call."
    Then Rodriguez was gone. I wandered back to the medic and her aspirin.
    "You know what," I said, "maybe I am getting a little bit of a headache."
    "Let me get you those Advil."
    We both walked over to the ambulance. She climbed into the back, shuffled through her kit, and came up with a handful of pills. I sat in the front, switched on her scanner, and came up with an address for the second shooting.
    "Here you go, Mr. Kelly."
    I downed the pills she gave me and scribbled the address on the envelope they came in.
    "Thanks," I said. "Feeling better already."
    She smiled. I walked a block and a half and hailed a cab. All things considered, the L didn't seem like such a great idea today.

CHAPTER 5

    I slouched against a rusted girder Nelson Algren would have been proud of, about a block from the corner of Lake and Wabash. I could see the train up on the tracks, a forensic team working on the hole where a window used to be. There was a traffic jam of cop cars and firemen below, mingling with an avalanche of media. Already most of the details had hit the radio. The local folks might not be geniuses,