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“What’s wrong?” No longer joking, Felix’s tone turns sharp. “What’s happening?”
“Just trying not to get shot over here.” I squint in the dark and attempt to see his face. But he stands in the darkness, flawlessly able to angle his body to remain unseen. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be in contact over the next few days to ensure you’ve upheld your promise.”
“Archer!”
“Talk later.” I pull the phone from my ear and slip it into my pocket, then I bring my head up and scan the street around us. Not only to the shadow ahead, but to those around us. Hidden in alleyways. Skulking on street corners. “Are you carrying?”
Tim scoffs. “Only an idiot would admit such a thing to a cop.”
Which means he is, in fact, armed.
“We’re looking for someone approximately six feet, two inches tall,” I murmur. “Not sure of his weight yet, but initial scene assessment has our perp standing taller than Mercer, and similar in height to Wright. This is according to the angle their bullets hit.”
“Six-two.” Nodding, he files that tidbit of information away for later, his eyes burning holes in the side of the shadow’s face. “He looks kinda smaller, no?”
“It’s hard to tell until we’re closer. But see that doorway about ten feet from where he stands?”
He allows his gaze to slide across.
“Standard door height is six feet eight inches. That means our perp is five to six inches shorter than that.”
“Thanks, Detective.” He drawls his words and walks a step ahead of me. “I had no clue how to deduct two from eight.”
“You’re lashing out because you’re stressed.”
“I’m stressed because some fucker is out here shooting cops. The fact that my brother bucked family tradition and became one is enough to turn my hair gray. Hey!” He pulls out his weapon and startles a dozen pedestrians who squeak and bolt. Then he points it at the dude in a coat and quickens his steps. “Eyes up, collar down. Hands where we can see them!”
“Tim!” I sprint after my brother, my heart in my throat and the end of my career, amongst so much more, at risk. Then I catch up just as he presses the barrel of his gun to the guy’s jugular.
“What’s your name?”
“D-D-Dane.” Dane shakes. Full body, visible tremors that have his coat catching on the brick at his back and his jaw bouncing in fear. “M-my name is Dane Tucket. I don’t have very much money.” He reaches around, presumably for his wallet. “I’m sorry, I don’t?—”
“Hands where I can see them!” Tim snatches his hand and forces it back into the open air in front of his body. Then he nods toward me. “Search him.”
“You can’t just?—”
“I said search him!” He looks into Dane’s eyes, tilting his head that way the Timothy before him used to do. “What are you doing here, Dane?”
“Waiting for my girlfriend. I-I-I…” He points awkwardly, keeping his hand where instructed, but gesturing to the corner store a dozen steps from where we stand. “She went in to buy coffee. She does shift work, and she’ll be starting in a couple of hours, so she wanted?—”
I reach around and snag his wallet, but I already know my answer. “We’re Detectives Malone and Timson,” I tell the poor soul…partial lie. Flipping the wallet open, I confirm my suspicions. “We’ve had a string of murders along this street recently, and you kinda matched our perp’s description.” I show Tim the license, my finger resting right beneath the section that states height. Five-nine.Not our guy. “We apologize for interrupting your night.”
“I-I-I can go?”
“Yep.” I offer the wallet back with one hand and use the other to force Tim’s piece down before we both go to prison. “We had a witness further back who said they’d seen someone with your description loitering around here. We’re sorry for coming in a little hot.”
“I m-mean…” he stammers, and if I were to look down, I swear I might find a stream of piss sliding down his legs. “People have really been murdered?”
“Every single day of the calendar year.” I snag my brother’s gun and take it apart in just two moves, sliding the magazine into my back pocket and popping the chambered round out the top before handing the rest back to its owner. “Be careful, Mr. Tucket. Get your girl and head back inside. I reckon the snow is gonna drop soon.”
“Um… s-sure. Yes, Sir.”
“Detective.” I grab Tim’s sleeve and drag him around so we can keep moving. “What the fuck?”
“I was saving us time.” He opens his hand and holds it between us until I give his bullet and magazine back. “Dude looked suss. If he was your shooter, you approaching the way we were would have been a death sentence for you. Instead, I shook things up and took him by surprise.”
“Because he was innocent! Scare our perp like that, and he’s likely to squeeze a few rounds into your belly before he’s had time to consider his next move.”
