Edge of the Heat 5 Read Online Free PDF

the world was going to hell in a hand basket and you couldn’t even trust the cops these days. They were the worst criminals out there. Gagne stopped Chester’s rambling here and asked what the man had looked like.
    “Like you,” Chester had said and Jerry’s eyes bugged out of his head. “What do you mean, like me?” Gagne asked tightly.
    “You know man, like a cop. He had the crew cut and the beefy neck and he was wearing dark khaki pants with all the pockets in them and a tight shirt like the cops wear when they are on drug busts.”
    Gagne touched his definitely not-beefy neck, wrote a few things down in his notebook, and asked a few more questions about what the guy looked like. Chester had only seen the back of his head, and that was unfortunate. The guy did have a tattoo on his right forearm though. It looked like an American flag, but it was in black and white. Gagne wrote all this down in his notebook and Jerry fixed it in his brain.
    The next thing he had seen was Jerry. He’d heard Jerry first calling for Sara and then had looked out the peephole, and seen “a tall, bald man wearing a tuxedo.”
    A wan smile skimmed across Jerry's face. This guy wasn’t just blowing smoke or making stuff up. He was describing what had actually happened. And that first guy had to be who they were looking for. Then his face fell. If only Gagne had talked to this guy last night ! The cops could have already been out looking for this guy .
    Chester said the next thing he saw out his peephole was the two uniformed cops coming and taking Jerry’s report. He’d gone to bed shortly after that.
    “And then you woke me up at the crack of dawn,” Chester told Gagne reproachfully.
    Gagne thanked him and said that was all he needed. Then he walked to the next door. Chester watched him go and then slipped back into his door, opening it as little as possible again.
    I hope he wasn’t making that up about the first guy and he doesn’t have Sara tied up in his apartment right now , Jerry thought. He shook his head. He sounded as paranoid as Chester did.
    Detective Gagne knocked on the two other doors on the floor, but got no answer. He headed down the stairs on the far end of the building and Jerry ran down the hallway to catch up with him.
    On the first floor, the detective knocked on every door and asked anyone who answered if they had seen the man Chester had described. Jerry stood next to the stairwell and thought to himself that at least Gagne was thorough.
    When Gagne had hit every door on the ground level, he walked swiftly back to his black Suburban. Jerry caught him a few feet from it.
    “Detective!”
    Gagne kept walking.
    Jerry ran in front of him. “Wait Detective, please, just tell me what you are going to do now.”
    “My job, Mr. Mansko, my job.”
    “But what does that mean? Are you going to put out an APB on this cop-looking guy?”
    Gagne looked momentarily offended at this, but he quickly dropped his face back into a perfect mask of contempt. “No, no APB. I don’t have enough of a description to put an APB out on him.”
    “A flag tattoo on his right forearm, beefy neck, and crew cut isn’t enough of a description for the cops on the street to at least be aware that you are looking for someone who fits that description?”
    “No, it’s not.” Gagne spoke slowly, like he was talking to someone with a brain defect.
    “Well what will you do then?”
    Gagne glared at Jerry silently. “Look Mr. Mansko. I don’t follow you around in the ambulance and ask you what your next drug is that you are going to give your patient, do I? So what makes you think that I should have to tell you what my next move is? Police work is not up for public scrutiny. I will do what I am supposed to do.”
    Jerry gritted his teeth and felt a muscle in his neck start to throb. So Gagne knew who he was, huh?
    “I guess you don’t have to tell me anything. But why wouldn’t you? I am extremely worried about my friend and it