'Boy who rents this place don't reside here. You want to know what I think?'
Lorenzo began to knock on the door.
'He keeps drugs and money up in here,' said Barnett, tired of waiting for Lorenzo to reply.
'Go ahead and open it,' said Lorenzo.
Barnett used his key to unlock the door, then stepped behind Lorenzo. Lorenzo pushed on the door and opened it enough to look inside.
A cream pit bull with a brown eye patch stood in the corner of the living room, baring its teeth, barking maniacally at Lorenzo. The room was bare, the floor nearly covered in feces. The dog's coat carried several deep lesions, some of which appeared to be infected. The dog's ribs were highly defined in its coat, and its eyes bulged in their sunken sockets. Flies nested in one prominent lesion and were bunched in clumps on the dog's ears. Flies buzzed about the room. There were blood streaks on the wall where the animal had tried to rub at the cuts. There was an empty aluminum bowl, pocked with teeth marks, on the floor.
Lorenzo backed onto the landing and closed the door.
'Go back to your place,' he said to Barnett. 'Write down the name of the man who rents this apartment and any other information you have on him from his lease.'
'What are you going to do?'
Lorenzo took the stairs without answering and went directly to the Tahoe. He got Cindy on the radio and told her of the situation, and when she asked if he would like MPD assistance, he told her that he could handle it himself. He got the choke pole out of the truck and headed back into the building. As he went through the door, he heard comments and laughter from the young men gathered outside.
In the apartment, Lorenzo breathed through his mouth to avoid the stench. He looked carefully at the barking dog. He whistled to it softly.
'You all right,' he said, like he was talking to a baby in a crib. He walked toward it.
The dog showed its teeth, growled, and backed up until its hindquarters touched the wall. Lorenzo kept walking through the feces, step by careful step, flies buzzing around him, one hand out, the other holding the wooden pole with the wire noose on its end. He looked at the dog's eyes, desperate and afraid. He reached out and put the noose near the dog's head, and the dog lunged at him and backed up again.
'You all right.
Lorenzo dropped the noose over the dog's head. The dog moved in his direction. Lorenzo put slight pressure on the pole to let the dog know that he could control it now at will. But the dog was not coming toward him with aggression. It had stopped barking. Its nub of a tail wiggled weakly on its rump.
Lorenzo felt his heart rate slow. He realized how very hot it was in the room, and that his shirt was damp with sweat.
'Come on,' he said. 'Let's get you some cool water.'
Using the pole and noose as a leash and collar, he walked the dog down the stairs. The dog went calmly with him.
'Everything all right?' said Barnett, standing behind the door, open just a crack.
'Fine. You write down that information I asked for?'
'Right here,' said Barnett, handing Lorenzo a slip of paper. Lorenzo read the name written on the paper, put it in his breast pocket, and walked out of the building into the bright sunlight.
A small crowd had gathered outside the building, mostly kids and some adults. He heard some positive things said by the adults. Some of the kids looked away at the sight of the sick, injured, dehydrated dog. Others laughed. The boy with the cell phone said, 'Man who own that dog on his way,' and 'He gonna fuck someone up too.' Lorenzo did not look at any of them. He went directly to the truck.
He got the dog up into the back of the Tahoe and released it from the choke pole. He poured a small amount of bottled water into a bowl and let the animal lap it up. He poured a little bit more and placed the bowl in a large cage. The dog went into the cage without being prodded. Lorenzo closed the cage door and then the rear hatch on the Tahoe. He heard a car come into the lot, bass thumping from its windows, and he heard some boys talking and laughing with excitement and a car door slam, but he did not look at the source of the sounds. He locked the hatch and went to the driver's side of his vehicle.
'Fuck you think you doin'?' said a voice. Lorenzo turned around and faced the man standing behind him.
The man was as tall as Lorenzo, and younger. He had good size. He wore a four-finger ring that spelled LEON. His shirt was a genuine football jersey that went for one hundred and seventy dollars. He had stepped out of a fifty-thousand-dollar car.
'I'm impounding this dog,' said Lorenzo, rubbing his finger on the spare key in his right hand.
'You mean you takin' her.'
'That's right,' said Lorenzo, keeping his gaze steady on the swinish eyes of the man. 'Are you the owner?'
'Yeah, I'm the owner. What the fuck you think?'
Lorenzo removed the piece of paper from his shirt, looked at it, and replaced it. 'Leon Skiles?'
'Why you need to know?'
'Just want to make sure I got it straight. It'll help me identify you when we prosecute.'
'Oh,' said Skiles, 'so now you gonna
Some people in the crowd laughed.
'Look here,' said Skiles, stepping forward, getting close to Lorenzo's face. 'You ain't takin' a
