There Are No Innocents: A Turner and Frank Thriller by B. R. Stateham

Author:B. R. Stateham [Stateham, B. R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2018-04-02T22:00:00+00:00

Twenty-two

The moon slid over the city’s dark silhouette as we drove the streets north toward 115th Street. A big yellow moon. With a tinge of dark red around the edges. It hung in a velvet blue sky just above the rooftops like some gigantic unblinking eye. Hard not to stare at it as I drove.

And it was hot. Still.

The heat radiating off the pavement and sidewalks could fry eggs. Even at this time of the night. All day a cloudless sky allowed the sun free rein on scorching the city into a bleached, dried-out rag. At night the air temp hardly dipped and the heat came out of the cement and stone like a blast furnace. As we drove in silence cars passed us filled with suburbia heading home from a night out at a restaurant. Or kids, teenagers, in their hot little Hondas or Toyotas rolled up besides us at the traffic lights. In the moonlit night I could see heads turning to eye Frank and me as we sat in the ’66 SS Chevelle, windows down, elbows hanging out.

The hood we were going to see was named Charlie Cooke. We didn’t know him personally. But we had heard of him. It was common knowledge in the department he was a hood with connections. He owned a bar up on 115th North that was a step or two above a biker’s bar. It was a popular place for the crooks of this city. A tough crowd. The kind that might take umbrage if two homicide detectives came waltzing in without backup.

“Want to call a couple of patrol units to meet us up there?” I asked, half turning to glance at Frank as I drove. “Or are you thinking about roughing it tonight?”

“I’m thinking about Yasmine Hollander. About why she came back. About why she had to die. About her kids. Wonder where her kids are, Turner. Wonder if they’re alive or dead. If they’re lying in bed tonight wondering where their mother and father are.”

I frowned and shifted eyes back to the road in front of me. Frank’s mood was going south on me. Getting sour. Getting gloomy. God knows you really didn’t want to be on Frank’s bad side when his mood shifted in that direction.

I’ve known Frank for a long time. About as many years as we’ve both been working as cops. Know him better than I know myself. Know his moods. Know the signs. Almost can read his mind. Partners working together as long as we have get like that. Comes with the territory. Frank, the gorilla wannabe he was with the muscles and the chin that looked like it was carved out of a slab of armor plate, was for all his gruff exterior and sarcastic wit, deep down a gentle man. A loving father. Loved his wife and children. Coached his kids in little league. Coached the kids on his kids’ teams and treated them as he would treat his own. Yeah. He was a big, tough, sometimes mean, but always brilliant sonofabitch.

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