Southern Cross by Patricia Cornwell Read Free Book Online Page A

money,” said Bean. “Maybe forming a task force.”
    “Do it,” Hammer said, glancing at her watch and conscious of the time. “Lieutenant Noble is commander for a day in second precinct. What do you have to report?”
    “This week we arrested a domestic violence recidivist,” said Noble, who spoke the proper police language and was resented by all.
    “Very good,” Hammer said.
    “We’re also doing warrant sweeps but so far haven’t surfaced the suspect in the stairwell rapes,” Noble added.“And if it’s all right, Chief Hammer, I have a comment to make.”
    “Please,” Hammer said.
    “I’m not so sure it was a good idea to piss off all the citizens with this gang crap Brazil wrote about for the Sunday paper.”
    “It wasn’t crap,” Brazil said.
    “Name one gang,” Noble challenged him.
    “It’s all a matter of semantics,” Brazil answered. “It depends on how you label gangs.”
    Hammer agreed. “Juveniles are committing the worst crimes. They mentor each other, influence each other, form packs, gangs. We have them here and need to identify them.”
    “Most of the kids that go in schools and blow everybody away aren’t in gangs. They’re loners,” Noble argued.
    “Let’s look at Jonesboro,” West countered. “A fourteen-year-old recruits an eleven-year-old to pull the fire alarm, right? So what would happen if you had four, five, six kids involved? Maybe twenty kids and teachers would have died.”
    “She’s got a point.”
    “Got to admit, it makes you think.”
    “You’d have to call in the damn National Guard.”
    “Kids are scary. They don’t have any boundaries. They think killing’s a game,” West added.
    “It’s true. There’s no concept of consequences.”
    “What happens if you get some charismatic gang leader and he really organizes? Imagine,” Brazil said.
    Insights and arguments were volleyed back and forth as Hammer deliberated over how to broach the next subject.
    “Recent intelligence,” she began, “indicates that two white males may be planning a hate crime, the robbery and murder of a black woman possibly named Loraine. The males may go by the names or aliases of Bubba and Smudge.”
    No one spoke for a moment, faces perplexed.
    Then, “You don’t mind my asking, Chief, where’d this come from?”
    Hammer looked to West for help.
    “We’re really not at liberty to reveal the source at this time,” West said. “You just need to be aware, keep your eyes and ears open.”
    “If there’s nothing further?” Hammer said.
    There wasn’t.
    “Then I do have two commendations to present and I believe both people are here.” Hammer smiled. “Communications Officer Patty Passman and Officer Rhoad?”
    They came forward. Hammer handed each a certificate and shook hands. Applause was weak.
    “Communications Officer Passman, as you know, handled a nine-one-one last month that saved a man from choking on a hot dog,” Hammer said. “And Officer Otis Rhoad issued three hundred and eighty-eight parking tickets last month. A department record.”
    “Booooo!”
    “Yeah, a lot of ’em on our cars!”
    Passman glared at Rhoad.
    “He wins the prize for talking on the radio!”
    “Rhoad Hog!”
    Passman bit her lip, her face an angry red.
    “Rod eo!” Fling had to toss in, although the aspersion made no sense.
    “That’s enough,” Hammer said. “I’ll see all of you back here on Friday.”
     
    The Ford Explorer’s turn signal was beating like a panicking heart as its driver, who had already missed his exit, tried once again to ease in front of Bubba. Bubba accelerated and the Explorer swerved back into its lane, where it belonged. The cop was still on Bubba’s bumper and Bubba slowed to send the message that he wouldn’t tolerate tailgaters no matter who they were. Bubba was a cowboy herding cattle on the open prairie of motoring life.
    “Unit 2 to Unit 1.” Honey was sounding increasingly concerned over the two-way.
    Bubba was too busy to