Street Rules

forward domestic or drive-by made Foubarelle's Jockey's bunch and she didn't want him flying through her crime scene in a high panic. Frank ducked into the bathroom. The shower curtain was open, nothing in there, and though there wasn't even room for a gnat's ass, Frank checked behind the door. She'd learned that one the hard way.

Her captain asked for a motive. Surveying what appeared to be the master bedroom, Frank answered, 'Not sure yet.'

The ROs had left the closet open and the bedspread flipped up, but other than that the room was tidy. Marta Estrella kept a nice house. Resigned to the fact that her captain would never get a handle on the timing of a homicide investigation, Frank placated him with guesstimates as she glanced through the closet. Clothes hung neatly. Men's and women's shoes were arranged in rows, except two pairs in the corner. Crooked and overturned, they were jarringly out of character with the general orderliness. She looked at the clothes hanging above them. They were tightly bunched. Fubar was asking about the media. Frank silently folded the phone shut, trading it for the 9mm under her arm. Adrenaline crackled into her bloodstream, narrowing her vision and sharpening her smell. She noticed the carpet was slightly darker under the gathered clothes just as the tang of urine hit her. She stepped to the side of the closet, reaching in slowly. With a deep, steadying breath, she used her gun barrel to part the clothing.

A little boy — he couldn't have been more than six — gaped up at her, terror-stricken. Frank's adrenaline fled as quickly as it had come and she holstered her weapon before the shakes hit her. She stood in front of the kid, calmly getting her breath back. Poor little bastard was shaking in his underwear. Frank knelt, extending her hand, and the kid pressed himself even flatter into the corner. He was all huge brown eyes and open-mouthed horror.

'Ssssh,' Frank whispered, not knowing if the kid spoke English or Spanish. 'It's okay. Esta bien. Todo esta bien.' She didn't know how to say she wasn't going to hurt him, so she repeated everything was okay. The kid just stood quaking in his own pee. Frank got up slowly and stripped the blanket off the bed. She knelt again, holding the blanket open, urging him to come into it. He sobbed, hyperventilating, but he allowed Frank to gently wrap the blanket around him. She pulled him carefully from his hiding place, securing him even tighter, making sure to cover his head so he wouldn't see what was in the living room.

Nook and Bobby stared when Frank said, 'Call Child Protective Services,' walking past them with the little feet dangling under the blanket.

'Who the fuck is that?' Nook hollered behind her, but Frank just whispered, 'Todo esta bien,' and kept stroking the boy's head. Outside, Frank searched for the nearest Figueroa car. Munoz was walking the chief coroner toward the house but Lawless paused, watching Frank head toward her with the blanket.

'Hey, doc,' she greeted quietly in passing, 'Nice outfit.'

Gail Lawless was obviously dressed for something more glamorous than a coroner's investigation, and she grinned. Hefting a bulging briefcase, she replied, 'Have scrubs will travel.'

'Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I need you here.'

Hunt was resting against his hood and Frank nodded at the rear door.

'Open up.'

'Yes ma'am,' he said, taking his time moving off the car. 'Who's the prisoner?'

Frank ignored him, looking around for his partner as she settled the boy in. She leaned out and called, 'Waddell!' feeling the kid jerk under her hand.

'Sssh,' she whispered, smoothing his hair. 'Esta bien.' She wished she could think of something more reassuring to say but her limited Spanish was eluding her. Hunt's partner jogged over and Frank told him CPS was on the way. Waddell was to accompany the kid and not leave him alone for a second. Nor be alone with him for a second. Frank wanted it to be impossible for a defense attorney to claim the LAPD had fed the kid ideas.

Frank studied the boy for a moment. His head protruded from the blanket and he stared back at her. Frank moved away from the car, guiding Waddell next to her.

'You got kids, right?'

'Three,' he nodded.

'If he falls asleep, stay next to him. He's going to have some nasty nightmares.'

Frank turned toward Lawless, as Hunt sniggered, 'Aww. I never knew you were so maternal, Lieutenant.'

Frank faced him. He was a big son of a bitch, mean and stupid too. Bad combinations in a cop and she wondered what he'd done to get busted from Newton to Figueroa.

'That's not maternal, Hunt, that's business. We need that kid. He's a material witness. You might want to learn how to do that.'

Giving him her back, she said, 'Come on, doc. I've got six bodies for you. Not counting the dog.'

Chapter Two

After Gail released the bodies and when SID was all done, Frank met the rest of the 93 Squad back at the Figueroa station. She gathered them at M&M's for breakfast, and while they ordered and drank coffee, Nook and Bobby filled their colleagues in. Neighbors said Julio's brother, Luis, lived in the garage behind the house. No one had seen him since yesterday, but one of the neighbors ID'd his car at the house after she heard the shots fired. The car was gone by the time Lewis and Munoz arrived.

'Yeah,' Bobby added, 'and we found an empty gun bag in the garage, just lying on his bed.'

Smoothing his silk tie Ike Zabbo said, 'Sweet.'

Next to Nook, he was Frank's oldest, most seasoned detective. Before he'd transferred to Homicide, Ike had worked Narcotics at Hollywood. He told his colleagues he knew Barracas fairly well, but couldn't figure what had gotten him into this mess. While the waitress delivered platters of eggs and pancakes, the detectives speculated on what SID would find. They'd lifted prints from the garage and the detectives were curious to see if they'd match any found on the beer cans or Dorito bag. Frank pulled her crew off their current cases to focus on this one and she delegated assignments.

'Taquito,' she said to Lou Diego, 'You and Ike canvass the neighborhood. I'll try and shake a couple uniforms loose for you, take a look around for the shotgun. Noah, you and Johnnie go back to the office-'

'Aw, come on, Frank,' Johnnie Briggs protested, as Frank knew he would. She checked his condition this morning, pleased to see his eyes clear and hands steady. She turned her attention to Noah Jantzen, who finished her sentence around a mouthful of hash browns.

'And find out whatever we can about Julio and Barracas.'

Frank nodded, 'Run a trace on Luis' car. Nook and Bobby, go over to Claudia Estrella's, see what she knows about her brother's whereabouts.'

'I don't think it's him,' Johnnie announced, chewing on a piece of toast.

Noah mocked his partner, begging, 'Enlighten us, oh please, Wise One.'

'Simple,' Johnnie obliged. 'The dog. Why would somebody who lives there risk the extra hassle of killing the family pet? Julio and Barracas posed the most threat. And maybe the oldest kid. Once they were eliminated, the rest of the family was cake. If Luis lived there, the dog knew him. He wouldn't have had to take him out. But what if the suspect's someone the dog didn't know? Man, if I walked into a house and there was a pit bull staring at me — blam — I'd take him out right away. A stranger'd have to waste the dog. He'd take that extra little risk. Where was the dog laying?'

Hm, Bobby murmured. 'That's interesting. It was right by the back door and it must have been shot right away because I don't remember seeing any dog prints. Do you?' he asked Frank and Nook. They both shook their heads and Johnnie smirked, 'See? Whoever did it took the dog out when he walked into the house. You live there, you're not worried about the dog. You're a stranger — booyah — out he goes, ASAR'

Noah marveled, 'Don't we all sleep better at night knowing Johnnie's out there?'

'You're just jealous you didn't think of it first,' Johnnie gloated. Frank admitted he had a point, but Luis Estrella still looked like their best lead.

As the 93rd filed out chomping on toothpicks, Noah stayed at the register with Frank. He asked, 'Doc Law say when she'd get around to the posts?'

It wasn't unusual to wait two or three days for an autopsy, so when Frank replied, 'Sometime this afternoon,' Noah whistled in admiration.