Drama City

'But the neighbor didn't call the police,' said Peterson. 'Rachel did. She had a cell on her. I guess she regained consciousness, at some point, long enough to do that.' Peterson stared through the glass like he was watching her struggling to hold the cell in her trembling hand, struggling to make the call. 'I saw her arrive here myself nearly two hours ago. She lost a lot of blood.'

Lorenzo had already told Sergeant Peterson, in thumbnail, about his past and his relationship to Rachel Lopez. Peterson had asked him if he was aware that Lee worked for Deacon Taylor, the counterpart to Nigel Johnson in the Park View game. Lorenzo explained that he had been in prison for a while and no longer kept track of the local players or cared to know their names.

The interview questions softened, as did the eyes of Sergeant Peterson, as it became clear that Lorenzo had nothing to do with the attack and, in fact, considered Rachel Lopez to be a friend. Lorenzo had the feeling that Sergeant Peterson was a friend to her too.

Peterson said that Rachel's file, found in the apartment, contained Lee's employment information. An MPD unit had already gone to the car wash where Lee worked, but Lee had disappeared. His car, an old Camry, was still on the premises.

He wouldn't be in that car, thought Lorenzo.

'What you need to tell me now,' said Peterson, 'is that you don't know anything about this.'

'Nothing,' said Lorenzo.

'And you've had no dealings with Melvin Lee. You don't know where we could find him.'

'I don't know anything,' said Lorenzo, telling the lie as naturally as he took breath. 'I don't know Lee and I don't know where to find him.'

And if I knew, I wouldn't tell you.

Through the windshield of the patrol car, they both watched the ambulance pull away.

'You can go,' said Peterson.

'Is she gonna make it?'

'I don't know,' said Peterson. 'You want to help her, say a prayer.'

'I will,' said Lorenzo.

And someone, thought Lorenzo, needs to pray for me too. While they're at it, pray for the motherfucker who did this to my friend.

CHAPTER 22

Lorenzo Brown drove north. He parked the Tahoe in the court behind the Humane Society alley and went through the screened back door, past the cat kennel, and through the lobby without speaking to Cindy or anyone else. He took the stairs up to the second floor, keeping his footsteps as quiet as possible so as not to alert Irena Tovar to his presence. Her door, as always, was open. He did not look in that direction and went directly to his own office at the opposite end of the hall. Jerry, out on calls most likely, was not at his desk. Neither was Mark Christianson.

Lorenzo phoned Nigel Johnson, got his message box, and left his direct number at the office. He then found his report file from the previous day and the notepad on which he had written down the license plate numbers of the cars parked on the edge of Fort Dupont. The phone on Lorenzo's desk rang, and he lifted the receiver.

'Officer Brown.'

'Officer Brown. I like that.'

'Nigel. Need your help on something.'

'Go ahead, boy.'

'Black Holmes still in the cut, right?'

'Long as he breathin'.'

'And his mother works for Motor Vehicles, doesn't she?'

'Uh-huh.'

'You been good to Black?'

'You know I have. His mother gets an envelope every month.'

'I need her to run a plate for me.'

'Look, you're damn near police yourself. Don't you have a way you can get that done?'

'Not this time.'

'Okay. What do you need?'

'I got the car and the license plate. I need the address of the owner.'

'What car?' said Nigel, as if he already knew the answer and did not like it.

Lorenzo gave Nigel the plate number of the silver BMW and listened to silence on the other end of the line.

'You there?'

'Why?' said Nigel.

'I'm lookin' to find Lee and Miller.'

'So am I. Matter of fact, Deacon and me gonna meet at dark, and we gonna discuss it. But I told you to stay out of this. I'm gonna handle it my own self.'

'That ain't gonna work for me, Nigel.'

Lorenzo told Nigel of the assault on Rachel Lopez. He told him about Lee's Camry being left at the car wash, and how he felt certain that Rico Miller had done the crime.

'Last thing Melvin lookin' to do is go back to prison,' said Lorenzo. 'He had no reason to go at Miss Lopez like that.'

'And you think Miller had a reason.'

'That boy don't need a reason. In his fucked-up mind, maybe he thought he was helping Melvin. I had money to bet, I'd say Miller did Green and Butler too.'

'That woman gonna make it?'

'I don't know. She got cut up bad. She's over at Washington Hospital Center now.'

'You gonna be there at the office?'

'Yeah.'

'I better call Black's mother before she leaves out the building. It's near quitting time for her.'

'I'll wait to hear from you.'

Lorenzo went down to the basement to check on the dog he'd brought in from Congress Heights. Mark Christianson was in the kennel, staring down into the open cage where Lincoln, the aggressive pit, had been. Some of the other dogs were making noise, looking for attention. Their barks and yelps echoed in the cool cinder-blocked room.

'Irena put Lincoln down?' said Lorenzo.

'She had it done while I was out on calls.' Mark looked at his bandaged hand, as if the bite was the reason the dog had been destroyed.

'It ain't on you,' said Lorenzo.

'I know it.'

'You believe in God, right?'

'I believe there's someone higher than us.'

'But do you believe that he's up there moving us around like chess pieces or somethin'?'

'Of course not.'

'Neither do I. Things happened to that dog on this cruel earth to make it the way it was. Wasn't its fault, but still. It's not like God is gonna step in now, point his finger down from heaven, and touch that animal, make it so it can live around people and other animals the right way.'

'What's your point?'

'Irena did her job. 'Cause that dog was too far gone to change its ways. He had to be put down. You see that, don't you?'

'Yes.'

Lorenzo went to the cage where the cream pit bull lay. She had been treated by a vet with dressings and bandages, and was awake on her belly, her snout resting between her paws.

Lorenzo crouched down, whistled softly, and put his knuckles up against the cage. 'How you doin',

girl?'

The dog whined happily and tried to crawl forward, but thought better of it and stayed put.

'That your hold?' said Mark.

'I got her earlier today. Impounded her from an apartment down in Southeast.'

'Have any trouble getting her out?'

'No,' said Lorenzo.

Cindy called out to Lorenzo from the top of the stairs. Someone was on the line for him and did not want to leave a message.

Lorenzo stood and tried to walk past Mark. Mark put his hand around Lorenzo's biceps.

'You all right?' said Mark.

'Why?'

'You look different.'

I look the way I used to, thought Lorenzo. You never knew me when I had this kind of hard on my face.

'I'm fine.'

'You feel like having a beer tonight or something?'

'I got plans tonight,' said Lorenzo.

'I know what happened down there in Congress Heights. I came down to back you up after Cindy radioed in the call, but you had already left. Someone on the scene told me what went down.'

'Uh-huh.'

'I thought you said there wasn't any trouble.'

'There wasn't.'

'You're good at this,' said Mark. 'I don't want to see you blow it.'

'Thanks for gettin' my back,' said Lorenzo, gently pulling his arm free.

'You need to talk or somethin', you phone me. Anytime.'

'I got to get this call.'

Lorenzo went up the stairs. Cindy told him that she was not his personal secretary, and he passed her without comment or breaking stride. Up in his office, he picked up the phone and took it off hold.