The Third Rail Read Free Page B

me at the corner of Randolph.
    "Let's get a coffee," he said.
    I nodded and we walked back across the street.
    "Why am I not surprised you're here?"
    I shrugged. "What did you expect?"
    "Exactly. What do you think?"
    "About what?" I said.
    "The press."
    "Hysterical, as usual. Maybe even more so."
    "This is going to be a fucking zoo."
    "You got that right."
    We walked into a Starbucks and ordered. Then we sat by the window and looked out at the street.
    "You got one shooter here, Vince."
    Rodriguez stared me down over his cup of coffee. "You sure about that?"
    "Seems logical to me."
    The detective took a sip. "One's a walk-up with a handgun. The other, a sniper with a rifle."
    "You thinking they're not connected?"
    Rodriguez shook his head. "I didn't say that. Just doesn't fit the normal pattern."
    I shrugged. "It's the same guy."
    "Or guys," Rodriguez said. "Let's talk about your alley."
    The detective placed a napkin between us and sketched outthe scene at Cornelia. "You turn the corner here and see a set of footprints tracking all the way down this alley. Right?"
    I nodded.
    "Okay, the snow had been falling ten minutes. Correct?"
    "Tops," I said.
    "And there's just one set of prints?"
    "Just the one."
    "But when you follow the prints, the guy is waiting for you. Halfway down the alley, behind a Dumpster."
    "Maybe he doubled back?" I said.
    "There'd be two sets of footprints."
    "Not if he walked back in his own tracks."
    "What is he, Daniel fucking Boone?"
    "What are you saying, Detective?"
    "What I'm saying is this guy, your shooter, runs down the alley and around the corner." Rodriguez drew a line with an arrow tracing the route. "But a second guy was working with him. Waiting behind the Dumpster."
    "To ambush me?"
    "Exactly."
    I shook my head. "The guy that put the gun on me was the Southport shooter."
    "You can't be sure."
    "He had blood splatter on his coat. Gotta be the shooter."
    Rodriguez studied his drawing for a moment. "Okay, how about this? Second guy is set up in the alley. He sees our shooter take the corner and starts running."
    "And the shooter takes the second guy's place behind the Dumpster," I said. "That's how it went down. Had to be."
    "Maybe," Rodriguez said. "But here's the ballbreaker ..."
    "Why?"
    "Exactly. Why would our shooter have an accomplice waiting in the alley, for you or anyone else, to come by? Unless that was the point of the whole exercise, the reason they shot up the station at Southport in the first place."
    "If I was the target, why not shoot me in the head when you have the chance? Why let me go? Doesn't make sense."
    Rodriguez sighed and threw his coffee cup into a barrel. "Since when do assholes like this make sense?"
    I was about to respond when my cell phone buzzed. I picked up and found some answers at the other end of the line. Not to mention someone I like to think of as a grade-A asshole.

CHAPTER 6

    N elson held the cell phone tight to his ear, looked across the street, and through Starbucks' front window.
    "Michael Kelly, how are you?"
    "Do I know you?" Kelly's voice was gruff and aggressive. Certain, but curious. Pure cop, even if the man himself was no more.
    "Do you know me? I believe I put a gun to your head earlier this morning. A lot of fun that. Then I picked up a Remington 700 with a scope and blew the brains out of one of Chicago's many drones on the CTA. If you want to check my bona fides, that is."
    The silhouette in Starbucks raised his chin and gestured to the cop sitting next to him. Nelson smiled.
    "Tell Detective Rodriguez, the bullet's a Nosler AccuBond, one-eighty grain, loaded into a Black Hills .308 Winchester. Specially designed to fire through glass. By the way, how's the coffee there? Starbucks is a piece of shit in my book. Then again, I heard they're grinding their own beans. Getting back to basics. I like that."
    Kelly had to be surprised he was being watched. Still, the man's head didn't move.
    "You didn't look around. Very good, Kelly. You'd never