Hark! Read Online Free PDF

grinned over her shoulder, and then disappeared behind the closed door. He did not hear the lock clicking shut. Neither did he hear water running in the sink.
    He wondered if he should call in sick. If the squad hadn’t caught a homicide yesterday, he might have given it serious thought. Was there time, anyway? He looked at his watch. Six forty-five. Figure half an hour to get uptown to the precinct. No way he could manage it.
    Honey came out of the bathroom.
    Reading his mind, she asked, “Do we have time?”
    â€œI have to be in at a quarter to eight,” he said.
    She looked at the bedside clock.
    â€œNuts,” she said, and went to him and kissed him anyway.
    It was almost a goodbye kiss.
    Â 
    T HE FIRST SHOT CRACKED on the early morning air the moment Hawes stepped out of the building. He was about to say “Good morning” to Honey’s doorman when he heard the shot and instinctively ducked. He had been a cop for a good long time now, and he knew the difference between a backfire and a rifle shot, and this was a rifle shot, and he knew that even before he heard the bullet whistling past his right ear, even before he saw brick dust exploding from the wall of the building where the first slug hit it.
    Because he was an officer of the law, and because he was sworn to protect the citizenry of this fair city, the first thing he did was shove the doorman back into the building and out of harm’s way, and the second thing he did was drop to the sidewalk, which was when the second shot came, ripping air where Hawes’ head had been not ten seconds earlier. On his hands and knees, he scrabbled for cover behind a car parked at the curb to the left of the building’s canopy, reaching it too late to drag his right foot from the sniper’s line of fire.
    He felt only searing pain at first, and then a wave of fleeting nausea, and then anger, and then immediate self-recrimination—how could he have let this happen to himself? His gun was already in his hand, too late. He was already scanning the rooftops across the way, too late. The doorman was starting out of the building…
    â€œStay back !” Hawes shouted, just as another shot splintered the suddenly surreal stillness. There were two more shots, and then a genuine stillness. He signaled to the doorman with his outstretched left hand, patting the air, wait, wait, his hand was saying. There were no further shots.
    The doorman came rushing out of the building.
    â€œCall an ambulance,” Hawes said.
    A small puddle of blood was forming on the sidewalk.

    S HARYN C OOKE WAS ASLEEP in Bert Kling’s bed when the phone rang in his apartment near the Calm’s Point Bridge. He was not due in until seven forty-five, and this was now a quarter past seven and he was just heading out the door. He picked up the phone, said, “Kling,” listened, said, “Just a moment, please,” and then went to the bed and gently shook Sharyn awake. “For you,” he said.
    Sharyn scowled at him, but she took the phone.
    â€œDeputy Chief Cooke,” she said.
    And listened.
    â€œWhat?” she said.
    And listened again.
    â€œWhere is he?”
    She looked at Kling, shook her head. Her face was grim.
    â€œI’ll get there right away,” she said. “Thanks, Jamie,” she said, and hung up.
    â€œWhat?” Kling asked.
    â€œCotton Hawes got shot,” Sharyn said. And then immediately, seeing his face, “It’s not serious. Just his foot. But he’s at Satan’s Fluke, and I want him moved out of there fast.”
    â€œI’ll come with you,” Kling said.
    She was already in the bathroom.
    â€œWho’s Jamie?” he asked.
    But she’d just turned on the shower.
    Â 
    T HE SECOND NOTE that day arrived at twenty minutes to eight. Sergeant Murchison handed Carella the envelope the moment he walked into the muster room.
    â€œArrived five minutes ago,” he