The Way Things Are Read Online Free PDF

slowly. “Yes,” he whispered. “But even if I was wrong, he still needed help. They weren’t fucking around. One of them pulled a gun on me before the cops showed up.”
    “The third man? The one who ran away?”
    “That’s right.”
    “Why?” Kowalski took a deep breath and seemed to hesitate. “Why would you care? Did you know the victim? Encountered him before, maybe?”
    The loathing in the redhead’s glare spoke volumes. He leaned back in the plastic chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I care,” he snapped, “because I’m not an asshole. But the fact that you need to ask why someone might help somebody else makes me wonder about you.”
    A soft knock on the door of the monitor room made Ken jump. Malcolm rushed to open the door, and a worried-looking woman in a patrol uniform leaned in. “The Port Authority managed to get the security footage from the scene burned onto a CD for you, Detective.”
    Malcolm took the CD, thanked her quickly, and inserted the disc into one of the three large desktop computers beneath the desk. After a little fiddling, a dark, grainy image filled one of the monitors mounted to the side of the mirrored window. The scene showed a poorly lit, nearly empty parking lot with a few shipping containers stacked to the left. Malcolm impatiently fast-forwarded until a large man in a heavy Carhartt jacket wandered into the parking lot from the right, clutching a cell phone to his ear.
    Malcolm sniggered. “That’s definitely our guy.”
    They watched Patrick Connelly unlock a large white truck and, just as quickly, watched him turn away. His head turned slowly to the side, tracking a small figure bolting through the corner of the parking lot, toward the containers. Three more figures ran after him, and Patrick Connelly followed, tapping on the glowing screen on his cell phone as he broke into a run.
    “Holy shit,” Malcolm whispered as Patrick dropped two of the men attacking the boy in an instant. The third man backed off, and even though Ken couldn’t see a gun on the video, he held both of his arms up and held his feet in a wide, stable stance.
    Malcolm paused the playback. “One kick and one punch.”
    “Looks like he knows how to handle himself,” Ken agreed.
    “The reason we’re questioning him,” said Malcolm, nodding toward the interview room, “is because the other two suspects are in the hospital. The first one has a shattered kneecap. The second one has a cracked jaw and a concussion. He did all that with two hits. I don’t think ‘knows how to handle himself’ quite covers it. And that”—Malcolm tapped the monitor where the third man stood with his back to the security camera—“that’s a Port Authority patch on the third suspect’s jacket. If he’s one of the Port Authority officers, I can find the fucker.”
    Malcolm draped his trench coat over the desk, then hurried into the other room. He smiled at his partner, took the chair beside him, and leaned over the table with an open smile on his face. “Mr. Connelly, we’ve been able to get a copy of the security camera footage from the employee parking lot, so we’ve finally been able to verify your statement. I have a few more questions, then we’ll get you out of here and on your way. Both men you fought with are currently under arrest, even though they’re still hospitalized. I’m absolutely confident I can find and arrest the third man today. Will you be available later today so we can get a positive ID?”
    “You had to verify it from the security cameras? Why not just ask the kid?”
    “We have a translator coming in so we can talk to him, but with rush-hour traffic, she hasn’t made it in yet.”
    “What about the others?”
    “Others?”
    “You really expect me to believe that this guy spent two hours working around to asking about container stowaways because he was actually curious about how the shipping terminal works?”
    “I’m a curious guy,” Kowalski