Which a normal bombvictim might well need. That tied in with the witch thing again. She hadn’tsuffered any burns. That close to a bomb placed on her car’s gas tank, and noburns? Give me a break.
Yeah, like a broken leg. Forget the slang.
Sandy headed straight back to our apartment building. Ithought of asking her to swing by Cash’s place, pick up some stuff for her,toothbrush and all, and take a look at the crime scene, but decided against it.The state and city forensics crews would still be crawling all over the place,picking bits out of the pavement and brickwork. And why bother to lie to Sandyand then tell her flat out that I was going back to Cash’s room in thehospital? I needed to line up some securetransport if we were going to swing this hiding bit. And even if I still had acar, I couldn’t drive myself around.
Awkward.
We pulled up in front of our building, crime-scene tapeblocking the driveway and the parking lot out back. Going by that, we couldn’thave stopped off at Cash’s place even if I hadasked. Anyway, I flopped and flailed around for about five minutes until Ifigured out a way to climb out ofthat too-damned-low car, much harder than climbing in. I was starting to get ahint of why Bycheck had been so grumpy by the time he’d fought his way up to myoffice. Handicap access is a bitch.
That still didn’t excuse the tricks he tried to pull, though.Saying you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead doesn’t bar you from thinking it. And yeah, I thought of himas dead by that point. No corpse, but Kratz didn’t need to leave corpses lyingaround if he didn’t want to. Only did it for effect.
Anyway, Sandy drove off in quest of a parking space withinwalking distance, faint hope. I crutched around back, finding a gap in theyellow barrier tape rather than trying to duck under it, and waved my badge andID at a uniform that tried to stop me. He was a state cop I didn’t know, patchsaid Professional Regulation. My colleague.
I stood at the corner of our parking lot, shaking my head,sweating from the effort of climbing out of that soft lovely Mercedes seat. Mycruiser, the state’s cruiser, sat on a transporter in charred and twistedwreckage. I figured it was headed for the crime lab, probably to sit next toCash’s wreck and my poor old Lincoln. This case had been rough on cars.
I’d been confused before, scared, that old bit about a fleeingsoldier counting every foeman twice. The scene reminded me that eyewitnesstestimony didn’t always tell the truth. In thisworld, I found only one other car burned out, that pickup damaged, a fewwindows broken in the lower floors of our apartment building, carpentersalready repairing them. That was much less damage than I remembered. A cratersat where my car had been, maybe three feet across, six inches or a foot deep.Scorched pavement and soot surrounded the hole. Sparkly bits of chrome andglass scattered outward from there, on the asphalt.
Mac was poking around the crater. He looked up, saw me, andhurried over. Waddled over, more like it, he didn’t exercise as much as I did.
“How’s Cash?”
“She’ll live. Can’t tell you more, the rest is classifiedinformation.” I nodded across the lot to a TV crew set up and filming thecarnage for the six-o’clock news. Odds were, they had a directional mike intheir van. Not that the Media would listen in on private conversations oranything.
Mac grimaced. “Vultures. You should have seen them over at theother site. Five crews, damn near punched each other out for turf on the bestcamera angles. No dead babies here, so your bomb only rates the one.” He’dturned his back to the camera and screened me, so nobody could read lips offthe tape.
“How about you?”
I shrugged. “Broken leg. Switch to a walking cast in a fewweeks, get the whole thing off in a month or maybe two. Depends on how young mybones want to act.”
Right now, they felt about 80. With osteoporosis, to boot.Reaction was taking me, and I had things to do before I went back and spent thenight in Cash’s room. Romantic as hell. I was supposed to defend her, when Ihad doubts about defending myself. Cripple.
Which sparked some inspiration, at least, telling me how tohandle the transport question — handicap van service, with a driver. Two orthree agencies ran them in the city. And Sandy couldn’t argue, not after seeingmy contortions and frustration in trying to climb out of her car. I hated lyingto her, hiding things from her, and this was legit.
I just hoped I wouldn’t get another innocent killed. People like Kratz made me want to dump thewhole primate experiment and start evolution over again, aiming for squid asthe dominant species. If God had created Man in His own image, He had a lot toanswer for.
XVIII
Well, I sniffed around the crater a bit, finding traces ofKratz-stink lurking under the physical reek of burned metal and rubber and thedusty ammonia aftertaste of explosives. And then I got out of the way of Macand his forensics team — they’d already put one crime scene behind them andcould polish this one off without my alleged help. Besides, if this particular bit ever went totrial, I’d be testifying as intended victim rather than as cop.
It wouldn’t be the first time, probably wouldn’t be the last.Until the final case where I testify as corpse.
Yeah, I can get morbid. My leg was throbbing again, my headditto, and working the crutches did painful things to my wrists and arms. I couldfeel blisters forming on my palms. Let’s see how chipper you get in a similar situation.
Gloves. I needed gloves, those would help my outlook on life.Gloves to cut down on the blisters, and food. I knew where to find both. Icrutched
