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herself.
That was then. This is now.
She went to bed an hour later. There were dreams, lots of them, and none were good.

TWO
    THE BEEP OF Lee’s alarm merged with the sound of the doorbell to pull her up out of a troubled sleep. She slapped the clock, knocked it onto the floor, and swore as it continued to bleat. The plan was to be up and dressed by the time Conti arrived, and the bastard was early!
    Lee rolled out of bed, silenced the alarm, and grabbed the Glock on her way out of the room. Then she took up her usual position next to the front door. “Who is it?”
    â€œConti.”
    After dealing with the locks, Lee opened the door. She was about to chew him out when he gave her a familiar-looking box. “It’s a breakfast burrito,” he said. “From Maria’s.”
    It was a plan. An evil Conti plan to arrive at roll call on time, avoid McGinty’s wrath, and become chief of police. Lee wanted to say something cutting but came up empty. So she put the box on the kitchen counter and walked away.
    â€œNo need to thank me,” Conti said as he took his breakfast over to the table. “That’s what partners are for.”
    Conti’s plan worked. Not only did they arrive for roll call on time—they were five minutes early. And that caught McGinty by surprise. “Well, well,” the deputy chief said as he entered the room. “This is a first—1-William-3 is on time. Make a note, Sean . . . Miracles
can
happen.”
    Lee scowled, and Conti kept his face professionally blank. Once the departmental bullshit was out of the way, Jenkins turned to Lee. “I have some good news for you . . . Cherko’s mother applied for welfare. That triggered an alert that came straight to me. We know where she lives.”
    Lee felt a sudden surge of optimism. She knew that Mrs. Cherko had gone to see her son in prison. So it stood to reason that he would visit her. All they had to do was watch and wait. “Now we’re talking,” Lee said. “Where is she?”
    â€œRight off the corner of Fairfax and Colgate,” Jenkins answered. “Here’s the address.” He pushed a scrap of paper across the table, and Conti accepted it. Lee knew the area. It had been home to lots of Russians, Armenians, and Mexicans prior to the plague. Many years had passed, but the neighborhood still retained some of its original flavor, and the Cherkos might have connections there.
    â€œWe’ll go twelve on and twelve off,” McGinty said. “I would prefer eight-hour shifts, but we’re shorthanded.”
    That was always the case and came as no surprise to either detective. Lee stood. “We should hit the street . . . If that’s okay.”
    McGinty nodded. “Go for it. And watch your six.”
    West 3rd took them most of the way. The apartment house was situated on one corner of a busy intersection. And there was a bank, convenience store, and a parking lot. Lee turned into it and chose a slot that would provide an unobstructed view of Mrs. Cherko’s front door. Once the stakeout was in place, all they had to do was wait for Popeye to show, call for backup, and arrest the piece of shit when he came out.
    Time seemed to creep by. People came and people went, but there was no sign of Popeye. The only break in the monotony came when Conti made the midday chow run to the convenience store. He came back with a bag full of crusty taquitos—plus two ice-cold soft drinks, both of which were loaded with caffeine. “That’s
it
?” Lee demanded. “You spent my money on two thousand calories’ worth of taquitos? There weren’t any salads?”
    â€œI didn’t look for salads,” Conti confessed. “Besides, why eat a salad when you have taquitos?” So Lee ate a taquito and left the rest for Conti, who polished them off in five minutes.
    Then the boredom set in once again. And it was