Sendoff for a Snitch Read Online Free PDF Page B

looked at him. “You at roll call this morning?”
    “Of course.”
    They had turned away and were ignoring me, like I wasn’t there. I looked at the ground, but I was listening closely.
    “Then you remember what they told us about detention center?”
    Cunningham took his handcuffs and snapped them back on his belt. “Yeah. It’s overcrowded as it is, and they’re worried about it if this storm gets as bad as they say it might.”
    “Right. They’re trying to get the population down where they can.”
    “So we’re not going to bring in somebody we don’t have a very good reason to hold.”
    The sergeant turned to me. “You still here?”
    “My wallet and keychain.”
    Someone handed me my wallet and keychain. And a wad of tissues.
    I held the tissues up to my mouth and nose.
    “You can go now,” the sergeant said, “if you’re sure you don’t need medical attention.”
    I didn’t need to be told twice. I glanced back at the car where Benji sat. He had the teddy bear pressed up against the side of his face, but he lifted a hand and waved to me. I waved back and turned to leave.
    The shortest way home was back the way I’d come, but a patrol car and cops blocked the sidewalk. I didn’t really feel like winding my way through them. Instead, I turned down the road beside the tracks, which ran down through the underpass. There was no sidewalk there, and I’d have to go a few extra blocks before I could cross back and head for home, but I’d much rather do that.
    Not quite believing that they weren’t holding me, I walked away as quickly as I dared, careful to keep my hands in full sight. I had to fight the urge to break into a run. I kept expecting any second for someone to shout an order for me to stop, or worse, to grab me. The rain was beginning to pelt down.
    The underpass was dark and dingy, lit only by the red and blue flashers on the patrol cars. There were lights set in the concrete supports, but they were broken out. Probably knocked out by the cheap hookers who took an occasional john down there for a five dollar quickie. I shivered and kept going. Water ran down the pavement and rushed toward the storm drains at the bottom of the underpass, puddling around the grates.
    The cascade was too heavy for the storm drains to handle. That wasn’t a good sign. It had rained most of the night, and it was picking up again, but if everybody was right, the storm was just starting. This was a low-lying area, possibly the lowest in the city, aside from the actual river banks. If the drains were overwhelmed already, we might be in for some serious flooding.
    As the road rose on the other side, I glanced back and could no longer see the cops, although the eerie flashing lights still shone in the shiny wet dimness of the underpass. I pulled the tissues away from my face and looked at them. They were a soggy, bloody lump. I debated about tossing them into the street, but in the end, I put them in my pocket, flipped up the hood of my jacket, and shoved my hands deep in my pockets.
    They’d make sure Benji made out all right. Probably call Social Services. I doubted anyone would concern themselves with Aaron’s whereabouts. He had only been gone for a few hours, and he was a junkie, known to be unreliable. Somebody—maybe his mother—would have to report him as missing before they’d even consider looking for him. If an emergency was declared because of the rain and the flooding, and it looked like we were headed in that direction, police priorities would change to ensuring public safety. A missing druggie would be way down on the priority list.
    Benji was probably headed for an emergency foster home until his mother showed up. I’d been in a number of them when I was a kid. Usually, they weren’t too bad. The social workers would go for the cheapest solution, but even if Aaron surfaced, no caseworker in his right mind would hand Benji over to him. Not after he’d abandoned the kid in a truck at night.