Stolen Prophet: the Prophet's Mother by Julian M. Coleman

Stolen Prophet: the Prophet's Mother by Julian M. Coleman

Author:Julian M. Coleman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fiction african american, monster fiction, suspense mother children, suspense fiction, suspense stories, best urban fantasy romance books, urban fantasy book one, horror fantasy, psychic romance detective, psychic paranormal mystery, fiction noir, fiction crime, fiction drama
Publisher: Julian M. Coleman
Published: 2016-10-10T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 10 – Popping Perps on a Cracked Day

HARRY CHASTISED HIMSELF as he burst into the safe familiarity of the Homicide division. He was angry at how he’d let a bunch of caged-up perps stomp on his psyche. Maybe his newly found low threshold was due to the citywide inertia caused by the blizzard. He didn’t know, but he couldn’t lose it because of some pangs of agoraphobia.

He wove through dense humanity to park at his desk. The noise and congestion caught him off guard. Mason, whose desk front abutted his, glared at his computer screen.

Harry whistled under his breath as he surveyed the chaos. “What the hell is going on?”

His partner shrugged without taking his eyes off his task. “Damned if I know.”

Harry locked his gun and walkie-talkie in his desk drawer before he first grabbed, then examined, his mug. He blew into it and decided the cup was clean enough. He zigzagged through the maze of people to help himself to the coffee and fixings. Once he was back at his desk, he took a couple of sips, grimaced at the burnt aftertaste, and returned his attention to his partner, who seemed as animated as he had been in the alley.

Harry figured now was as good a time. He asked, “So, what was going on with you and the Bryant mutt?”

“Nothing.”

Mason’s response was short and sweet, and full of bullshit.

Mason had been his partner for a decade. They were close friends. Harry was the godfather to both his girls. He knew when Mason was lying before he lied. And Mason certainly was telling a whopper.

Harry decided to try a clearer tact. “Why were you guys staring at the wall?”

Mason pecked the keyboard with his index fingers. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I just want to get this report started.”

Harry couldn’t let it go. “When I dropped him off just now, Jerome Bryant wanted to know if she was going to let him go or if she was still going to hurt him. Do you know who she is?”

Mason looked up then. His eyes were vacant. He leaned in and whispered, “I told you, I didn’t see anything. He’d been running like he was hopped up on speed, then he just stopped. I mean, the joker was just standing there when I collared him. I tried to see what he was staring at, and you know what I saw? Nothing. I mean, what did you see?”

Harry shrugged. “Seriously? I didn’t see anything.”

Mason lifted one corner of his lips into a lazy smile. “Right, Detective. Mr. One Hundred Percent closure rate. Don’t you get it? That guy was on drugs. There wasn’t nothing to see.”

“You sure about that?” Harry asked.

Mason dropped his smile and returned to his computer. “Why are you so sure there was something? That’s what I want to know.”

Harry decided not to keep pushing. He would wait, but the topic would resurface. So he sipped his coffee as he scanned the room. The folks moping around the division revved up his anxiety.



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