House of Blues

Stay where you are," she yelled to Tricia,
and took off after the runner, radioing as she ran. When she had
given her location, she shouted, "Halt! Police!" aware that
in shorts and T-shirt she didn't cut a very impressive figure.
    He paid no attention.
    " Halt or I'll shoot." Of course she
couldn't, couldn't even fire a warning shot.
    It occurred to her to yell his name, but she thought
that might make things worse. There was nothing to do but catch him.
He was running away from the river, into ever darker and more
dangerous territory, but right now she was about the most dangerous
thing around.
    Feet, fly, she commanded. Come on, feet, do it.
    She thought he was slowing, and poured on a little
more speed.
    He was slowing. The gap was closing.
    He's been to Maya's, and his drug of choice is
heroin. If he's fucked up, I'm surprised he can run at all.
    She felt confident, drawing on the reservoir of
energy her nap had created. It was almost fun, pounding down
Esplanade at top speed in the middle of the night.
    She could hear him breathing now.
    "Give it up, Dennis," she said, and he
couldn't resist looking around, shocked to hear his name. Her heart
raced as she recognized the face in the picture she'd been carrying.
    He tried to speed up, but the backward glance had
finished him.
    This is going to hurt, she thought, and threw herself
down in a tackle. He managed one more step before he went down, and
she fell full on him, not even scraping her bare legs on the
pavement. He tried to fight, but she pulled her gun from the back of
her shorts: "Don't even think about it."
    She identified herself.
    "Am I under arrest?"
    "I need you to come to headquarters with me.
You're a suspect in the murder of your father-in-law."
    "Forget it."
    She shrugged. "Okay, then. You're under arrest."
    She cuffed him and read him his rights. Now how to
get him to headquarters? She couldn't see frog-marching him back to
her car. However, a figure came into view—Tricia, screaming and
crying, who hadn't heeded her admonition to stay put.
    Just what I need.
    By now people were starting to peek out their
windows, the boldest even venturing outside.
    She heard a siren, and then a district car came into
view. An officer started to open the door, but seeing a wild woman
with a gun, quickly jumped back inside. "It's okay," she
shouted. "Langdon; Homicide. I need help with a suspect."
    Gingerly, the young man—very young, she
noticed—opened the door again.
    "Let's get him in your car."
    Looking as if he might cry, he walked forward,
apparently still not convinced she was a police officer. "For
Christ's sake, my badge is in my pocket. Reach in and get it."
    He relaxed and helped her wrestle Dennis into the
car.
    "I've got to check the building he came out of.
Can you call for another car?"
    "Here comes one."
    Sure enough, another district car was arriving.
    " Okay, take this guy to Homicide, will you? Say
he's Dennis Foucher, and they'll know what to do till I get there."
    "Dennis Foucher! You've got to be kidding."
    Without answering, she went to Tricia, who had thrown
her arms around a tree and appeared to be howling at the moon.
    "Trish? Come on, babe. It's okay; I'll take you
home in a minute."
    Tricia let go of the tree and transferred herself to
Skip, getting her wet with tears and slobber. "Oh, Skippy, I
fucked up again."
    Skip didn't know whether she meant by getting loaded
or by shouting when Dennis came out.
    "Everything'll be okay."
    "Ohhhh, Skippy."
    Skip broke the grip Tricia had on her shoulders. "Can
you walk? That's it; that's good. All you have to do is get to that
car—you can wait there a few minutes."
    "I'rn not getting in any police car."
    "Tricia, could you cooperate, please? I'll get
you home as soon as I can."
    Pouting, Tricia obeyed. She left with one of the
newly arrived officers while Skip went with the other to check the
building. They knocked, got no answer, and entered to find a rented
room with a few personal items, but no Reed, no Sally, and no obvious
clues as to where they were. She needed a warrant to do a real
search. She asked the district officers if one would stay to secure
the room until she could return with it. Then she got Tricia off her
hands.
    "Vl/here do you live?"
    "It's okay; you can just drop me on a corner or
something."
    "Now you know I can't do that. Are you staying
at your parents' house?"
    "No, really, anywhere's all right."
    Skip sighed. "All right. How about Darryl's?"
    "Oh, no. I can't