Just as we’re about to get out, three gunshots ring out above us. Instantly, we each reach for our guns and crouch down, but the shock lasts for a millisecond before we leap out of the car, guns at the ready. With his free hand, Mirabelle pulls off his walkie from his belt.
“Dispatch, shots fired in the vicinity of 4763 McFarlane Street. Plainclothes officers in need of assistance.”
I see nothing. No people, no weapons, nothing. I hate flying blind. For all I know there’s a fleet of crack-heads with Uzis charging around the corner. As I’m assessing, there’s a large thump on the hood of the car. Metal hitting metal. We swing our guns at the source. A Glock lies on the hood of our car in the middle of a crater. But before we can even register this fact, a man’s screams from the roof grab my attention.
My legs start pumping of their own accord before I’m aware that I’m running toward the building, then through the unlocked front door. I glide upstairs, checking every corner for danger. Mirabelle is behind me, managing to keep up all five flights.
The access door to the roof lies on its side against the wall, along with a piece of plywood in three pieces. The barricade obviously didn’t work. A piece of lead wouldn’t either. The man hollers again, but I can’t make out the words. Adrenaline pumps through my system as I make my way up the final flight of steps, and goddamn I do love that feeling. Anything could be out there. These could be my final moments on the planet for all I know. What a fucking rush.
Mirabelle is a few inches behind me and I look at him. He nods. I run out the door onto the gravel roof with my gun pointed. “Police! Freeze!” I shout before I realize who I’m drawing on. Fuck.
Justice stands by the edge of the roof, holding a crying man over the side one handed by the belt. The man, who I recognize from his mug shot as Munoz, is near hysterical and praying in Spanish.
“Good evening, detectives,” Justice says as if greeting us at a party.
“Put him down,” I say.
“I haven’t finished questioning him,” Justice says with his gravelly voice.
“Put him the fuck down!”
Justice complies. The moment Munoz’s feet hit the roof, he falls onto his knees and kisses the gravel, murmuring in Spanish. Justice holds his hands up in surrender. “If you wouldn’t mind pointing those guns somewhere else, please. I’ve already been shot three times today. We are on the same side, you know.”
“Debatable,” I say, but put my gun back in the holster, as does Mirabelle. “Det. Mirabelle, can you please escort Mr. Munoz to the squad car?”
Mirabelle pulls out his cuffs, putting them on Munoz, who doesn’t even seem to mind. Mirabelle yanks the almost relieved felon up and escorts him off the roof. Justice nods respectfully at Mirabelle, who I’m fairly sure blushes and nods back. “Sir.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask when they’re gone.
“Following up on a lead, the same as you detective.”
“And how did you hear about Mr. Munoz?”
“I have my sources.” Meaning he’s tapped into our phone lines or computers. Sneaky bastard. He starts walking toward me. “He was contacted two days ago by an unknown person via e-mail asking him to make a passport, birth certificate, and driver’s license. He received a wire transfer the same day, but didn’t know who he was making it for until today when the same person e-mailed a photo of Alkaline to put on the documents. I was just about to find out about the delivery details when you arrived. He’ll probably lawyer up now.”
“Geez, sorry for doing my job, asshole,” I say as snidely as humanly possible.
“The man shot me the moment he saw me.”
“We’ll make sure to charge him for it.”
“It could have been you, detective. You’re not even wearing your vest. I noticed you weren’t wearing it last night either. He could have killed you if I hadn’t gotten here first.”
My Irish flares up. “Excuse me?” I almost yell. “Are you criticizing me after I find you dangling a perp off a fucking rooftop? His lawyer’s going to have a field day. Anything he told you is inadmissible.”
“Good thing I don’t work for the police. Though, I’m told starting tomorrow I’m your Federal Marshall liaison. We should be seeing more of each other in the future.”
“Oh, goody.”
The sound of sirens, our late back-up, draws his attention. “Time for me to depart. And wear your vest, Joanna. Please.” He vanishes, leaving nothing but a gust of wind as he super-speeds past me down the stairs.
The. Fucking. Nerve. I’m literally vibrating with anger, though it could be the adrenaline wearing off. Wear my vest. Not a bad idea, but if he tells me I have to eat all my vegetables I just might shoot him myself. Prick.