Nathan's Run (1996) Read Online Free PDF Page A

with a crisply starched shirt and a yellow tie with tiny red polka dots. While he would never admit it aloud, there was no question that Hackner's attention to style had impacted the dress code of the entire division.
    Thumbing through his ever-present notebook, Hackner ticked off the failures of the past twelve hours. "The searches and roadblocks didn't turn up a thing last night, and created a nightmare during rush hour this morning. The rain last night obliterated any trail we might have had for the dogs. Dr. Cooper's on vacation, so the medical examiner's office told me this morning that they probably won't get to Ricky Harris's autopsy until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.
    "By the way," Hackner noted parenthetically, looking up from his notebook, "the stab wound count went up this morning to at least six. Apparently I missed one when I was counting last night."
    Having missed the presence of the murder weapon himself, Michaels knew better than to make a smartass comment.
    Hackner continued: "Our esteemed county prosecutor, the Honorable J. Daniel Petrelli, has caused a run on the pancake makeup market this morning, getting himself interviewed on all the local morning talk shows. Word has it that Good Morning America has a call in to him for tomorrow morning."
    "Oh, Christ," Michaels moaned. Having gotten into bed at a little after three, he'd opted to sleep through the morning news. "And what does Mr. Hollywood have to say to the residents of our fine community?"
    "Same old bullshit. He's going to prosecute the Bailey kid as an adult and throw his ass in jail for the rest of his life. When pressed by the reporter, he said he would not rule out the death penalty."
    Michaels laughed. "Oh, right. He's gonna find a judge that'll fry a twelve-year-old:'
    "He didn't say he was going to," Hackner corrected dutifully. "He said that he couldn't rule it out."
    "Well, of course he couldn't. He hasn't had a chance to do a poll yet." Michaels made no attempt to hide his disdain for Petrelli. While ambitious prosecutors normally made some pretense of denying their political ambitions, Petrelli had for the past five years made it known to the electorate that he wanted to be the next U. S. Senator representing the Commonwealth of Virginia.
    The only cases he prosecuted personally were the ones that met the two-part standard of being both highly publicized and sure to win. Only when there were three eyewitnesses and a videotape of the crime would the public see J. Daniel Petrelli in the courtroom. Unless, of course, it was to claim credit for the hard work of one of his assistants in winning a more difficult case. Michaels could only imagine what Petrelli had had to say this morning. A central theme of his campaign rhetoric had been the loss of morality among young people. With elections only four months away, Petrelli could not have asked for a better platform from which to pontificate.
    "I presume that he has been true to his form and set us incompetent flatfoots up to take the fall if something goes wrong?"
    "Of course."
    "Of course. I swear to God, Jed, if one of my kids grows up to be an idiot, I'm gonna make her become a politician:'
    Hackner smiled. "I guess your father had a different strategy."
    Even Michaels's signature glare looked tired. "You're getting pretty quick there, Patrolman-er, excuse me, Sergeant Hackner. Anything else?"
    "Nothing good. Patrols are all looking for the kid; we got a better picture to work with by lifting it out of his fifth-grade yearbook." He handed a copy to Michaels.
    "Doesn't look much like a murderer, does he?" Michaels commented.
    "The good ones never do."
    The boy in the picture could have stepped off the front of a cereal box. This boy smiled easily, flashing blue eyes and sparkling teeth at the camera. Towheaded and athletic, the boy in the picture appeared not to have a care in the world. Such a contrast to the official photo attached to his Juvey file jacket.
    Michaels sighed. "No, I