Let It Burn by Steve Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page A

dollars from every car. When I questioned him, he stood his ground and lied to my face and kept lying even after we got the official confirmation from the lot owner. Yet another man telling me the sky was green. Something that would never stop amazing me.
    We would have run him off with a warning, but there was real money involved and apparently this wasn’t the first time for him, so we ended up driving him back to the station and processing him. That meant more paperwork, another solid hour and a half in the station, hoping Detective Bateman didn’t find me.
    Then finally back on the street. That was the afternoon. That’s every afternoon when you’re on the day shift. A whole lot of whatever happens next, and you never really know. I honestly don’t remember one other thing that happened, until it got close to four o’clock and we could see the end of the shift coming. Home for dinner, maybe a few words with my wife, making an effort. A night of sleep and maybe we’d all feel better the next day.
    “Swing by Roosevelt Park one more time,” I said to Franklin. “Just for the hell of it.”
    We were already halfway down Woodward Avenue again. Over the freeway and into the heart of the city, one more time before we called it a day. He made that same turn down that same road. The train station loomed above us. Here’s where time slows down for me. It stretches out like a long rubber band, and every single event is stretched out with it.
    The whole place was quiet and deserted. Even more so than the first time we had come by. Not unusual, I guess. They see the cops taking someone away in a patrol car, that tends to put a damper on their business. For the rest of that afternoon, at least.
    “Swing through the lot,” I said.
    “This place is dead.”
    “Just humor me.”
    With a sigh he pulled hard on the wheel and circled the car back toward the lot. There were maybe thirty or forty cars there. Far from the salad days, but at least there was somebody still taking the trains. There was so much room in the lot, the cars were scattered all over the place. I didn’t see anybody in any of the cars. Franklin made one loop through the lot, taking us closer to the tracks.
    That’s when I saw him.
    A young man, black, jeans and a gray T-shirt. Black baseball cap. He was walking down the tracks, right at us.
    I was out of the car before it even came to a complete stop. He saw me. He turned and ran in the opposite direction.
    “Hey, hold up!” I yelled at him. “Stop right there.”
    I took off after him. He spun his wheels for a moment in the gravel of the railroad bed, giving me the chance to close the distance. But he found purchase and started moving fast. His stride was ugly, but he stayed ahead of me.
    “Stop!” I yelled. “Stop right there! Police!”
    He glanced back at me for one quick instant. Then his right arm came out from his body. He threw something away from him. I couldn’t quite see what it was. Something not that big. A slight flash in the sunlight, maybe a clear plastic bag filled with crack. Big surprise, yet another dealer. At least that’s what I was thinking as I chased after him.
    I knew that Franklin would be calling it in behind me. Another car would go down Bagley Street to intercept our runner. But then I realized that as we got farther from the station, there’d be fences on both sides of the tracks. Tall fences with razor wire curled along the tops. Meaning there’d be nowhere else for him to run except straight ahead.
    “Don’t be an idiot!” I said. “It’s not worth it!”
    Possession with intent, not the biggest rap in the world, and yet here he was adding an evading charge on top of it. Meaning I have to keep chasing you, no matter how much it’s killing me.
    He was running along the railroad tracks now, somehow managing to hit the ties with each stride. One wrong step and he’d plant his face right on the hard iron of the tracks. I stayed behind him, concentrating on my