Behind the Badge Read Online Free PDF

way.”
    Ramon's eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “This, uh... prick got a name?”
    “Fuck if I know,” Paulson said with a shrug, again sucking on his cigarette.
    “No wonder no one trusts cops around here,” Ramon muttered under his breath as he approached the person hunched over on the sidewalk. He was trying his best not to look like a cop; even though he was plain-clothed, Ramon knew cops had a certain body language to them that some people could spot. Considering the distrust that was coming off the locals in waves, something told Ramon they would be able to spot a cop from a mile away, uniform or no. Despite Detective Paulson's attitude, he wanted this witness to feel as comfortable as possible. Someone in the BPD had to give a damn about this.
    Ramon lowered himself onto the sidewalk, taking a moment to study the witness seated to his left. Shoulder-length dreadlocks were blond at the roots, changing to purple midway down. Their septum was pierced, a small silver ring poking out from the sea of hair. Tear streaks were prominent on their cheeks. For several minutes, they sat in silence; the witness didn't pay Ramon any mind, and he took a few moments to gather his bearings. He was out of his element here.
    “My name's Ramon Gutierrez,” he introduced. “I work Homicide downtown.”
    Dark eyes finally turned to take in the detective, and Ramon saw the other person's shoulders relax somewhat. “Name's Mitch.”
    “That bastard over there with the cigarette tells me you won't talk to him,” Ramon added with a sideways grin.
    “Cause he's an asshole.”
    “You're right, he is.” Ramon turned to look Mitch in the eye. “But I try really hard not to be. They tell me you're a witness to a murder?”
    “Kinda,” Mitch said with a shrug, averting her gaze again. “They killed my Grampy.”
    Ramon couldn't help the tug he felt on his heart, shaking his head. That made Paulson's attitude even worse, treating someone who had just lost a loved one like that. He glanced over his shoulder, fighting back the sneer when he saw Paulson pacing back and forth, too busy smoking another cigarette to bother doing anything else. “I'm sorry to hear that, Mitch. Did you see who did it?”
    “Naw.” Mitch swiped at her eye. “I just heard the gunshot and when I got here, he was dead.”
    The cop in Ramon wanted to break out the notepad and pen tucked into his pocket, but he didn't want to risk Mitch clamming up on him. So Ramon risked trusting his memory -- a tricky proposition at times -- and kept his hands in his pockets. “So you were nearby when it happened?”
    “I was on my way to the church to see him.” Mitch shook her head. “Grampy was the preacher here. He's the only family I got.”
    “No parents?”
    “Daddy died in Iraq,” Mitch explained in a heartbreakingly matter-of-fact tone. “Mama's doin' twenty for distribution.”
    “Only child?”
    Mitch nodded.
    “You lucked out,” Ramon teased. “I got an older sister and let me tell you, she hogged everything when we were kids.”
    Mitch huffed a laugh and shook her head before dabbing at her eyes again. “Grampy was the only one who looked out for me,” she explained. “People give me shit a lot. They don't understand me, they don't like me. But Grampy? He did everything he could for me.”
    “You ever feel like you're in danger?”
    “All the time,” Mitch admitted. “It's not easy, bein' female when everyone looks at you like you're not. It's bad enough bein' black around here sometimes, but bein' trans too?” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Let's just say I've learned to handle myself.”
    “I'm sorry you've had to deal with that,” Ramon said. He knew, on some level, what that felt like -- having come out as gay to family and friends when he was still in high school. His friends back then had been supportive, his family far less so. But everyone else at school... Ramon had no idea people that young could be that vicious,