Parker 02 - The Guilty by Jason Pinter Read Free Book Online Page B

voice of the people. You
    make 'em believe it, they'll let you hold their newborn."
    "Got it."
    At that moment, Mayor Perez said, "And now I'd like to
    turn the podium over to Police Commissioner Alan Bradley,
    who will answer further questions."
    "Might be worth leaving now," I said. "Get a head start."
    "Not yet," Jack said. "Leaving early is how you miss the
    big stuff."
    Commissioner Bradley, a stocky bald man in his early
    fifties, shook hands with the mayor and Costas Paradis. He
    stepped to the podium with a look of gravity and sincerity.
    Then I noticed something strange.
    Joe Mauser was flinching. He brought his hand up to his
    eyes, as if shielding the sun. I took the binoculars, followed
    58
    Jason Pinter
    his line of sight. He was looking at a building across the way.
    Then I saw what he saw--a faint glimmer of light off
    of... something-- and then all hell broke loose.
    Mauser dove to his left a millisecond before the air was
    shattered by a deafening crack. I saw a fountain of red explode
    by the podium, and suddenly hundreds of people were
    screaming and running and cursing and fleeing.
    I heard someone yell, "He's been shot!" EMS workers
    sprinted up the stairs. I watched in slow motion detachment,
    arms and legs pummeling me as they flew past. A man and a
    woman in white knelt down beside a fallen person atop the
    stairs. Police had their guns drawn and were yelling into
    walkie-talkies. Their eyes were all looking up, guns drawn.
    At the rooftops. Where the gunshot had come from.
    I looked through the binoculars to get a better view of
    the carnage.
    I could see a group of cops ushering the mayor and Costas
    Paradis inside city hall. An ambulance was trying to get
    through the pandemonium but was having no luck. The cops
    were shaking, ready to fire at an instant's notice.
    I saw the EMS crews working as fast as they could on the
    downed officer, but through the binoculars I could see one of
    them shake her head. Watching fingers of blood drip down
    the steps, I knew what she was thinking. This one can't be
    saved.
    As they placed the cop on the stretcher, I increased the
    magnification. I could just make out the face.
    My breath left me. I dropped to my knees. Panting. Felt
    Jack's hand on my shoulder. Felt the world swimming away.
    Saw the face again. Saw his brother in-law's face. Both men
    lying in a pool of their own blood.
    The downed cop was Detective Lieutenant Joe Mauser.
    8
    She was lying on her back. Propped up against three pillows.
    One more across her chest. One more by her right arm. She felt
    warm, safe, comfortable. Henry made fun of her for this. Said
    she was building a fort every night.Yet when the lights went out,
    after Amanda had burrowed into her pillow castle, she would
    push the pillows aside and gently lay her head on his chest.
    She would listen to Henry breathe. Listen to his heart beat.
    She knew when he was thinking about a story--his heart
    beat a little faster. She knew if the day had been long and challenging, or fast and invigorating. All this from his heartbeat.
    She would glide her finger down his chest, tickling his side.
    She knew he was sensitive, but he never told her to stop.
    Sometimes she would run her finger along the scar where the
    bullet had come so close to ending his life. She knew that in
    some way she was responsible for that scar. For some reason,
    despite the pain it had caused Henry, she was glad it was there.
    She knew he was awake. His breathing was shallow.
    Henry's eyes had sunk. His body looked as though it had been
    sapped of all energy, like one of those video game characters
    after some evil shaman sucks their soul right out of their
    body then yells something cheesy like "Fatality!"
    60
    Jason Pinter
    Another death. Reporters weren't supposed to see lives end
    in front of them. Henry wasn't off in a tank in Iraq. How much
    more could he take?
    Henry's breathing had grown steadier. Maybe he had fallen
    asleep. She hoped so.
    And then the shrill