“So tell me,” I ordered. “Tell me about your father. Tell me what he did to you. People need to know that you're not who they think you are. They need to know you were defending yourself.”

“He didn't do any… anything to me.”

“Then why'd you kill him?”

“I didn't do it,” she said between sobs. “I didn't kill him.”

She was good. I almost believed her the way she said it. “I watched you confess.”

“I n-never confessed.”

“I watched you.”

Her crying reached that moaning and bubbling stage. “I'm telling y-you, it n-never happened. I didn't c- confess, and I didn't k-kill my parents. I loved them. Why w-won't you believe m-me?”

Visions of quick cash dissipated. Maybe I could get the guard to let me in her cell. I could grab her by her pretty little throat, make her admit it.

To hell with it. I was outta here. I waved for the guard.

“Wait,” she whined, little-girl charm coming through strong. “Please help me. Please believe me. I didn't do it.”

I was already on the move. I decided that I'd just tell Maggie that Adela divulged her father's molestation. That was why she did it. It was the truth whether Adela would admit it or not. Maggie was wrong on this one. When I watched that interrogation, I knew Adela was abused. I knew those eyes.

The knot in my stomach clenched at the thought of lying to Maggie, but it was for her own good. The last thing she needed was to get into a pissing match with Ian. Whether he was dirty or not, she was better off staying out of his way. I saw the way he was tossing around that cameraman. I saw the way those young cops were following his lead. Ian was dangerous. Even if it meant he beat out Maggie for that promotion, there'd be another one coming up soon. KOP was in flux, and that meant opportunities. Maggie just needed to stay focused on her caseload.

I left the Zoo, unable to shake the feeling that the real reason I was so willing to lie to Maggie was because I wanted her money. I needed that money.

FIVE

My calves ached by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs that led down from the Zoo to the river. I was already sweating. The sun was out for the first time in days. The docks jutted out in front of me. It was time to go to the hospital. On cue, my stomach stepped up its flipping and flopping. Damn hospital. I hated that place. I tilted my flask back and swallowed the last couple drops. I stopped at a newsstand by the dock and bought a minibottle, slugging down the entire contents in a couple swallows.

I walked out onto the warped dock, where moored boats were scraping against the pilings. There was a man coming my way. I moved to the left to let him pass, but he kept walking down the middle of the dock, claiming it as his own. Who did this asshole think he was? I angled closer to the edge, and he aimed in the same direction. Hair bristled on the back of my neck.

I suddenly recognized him. He was one of the hommy boys; Hoshi was his name. He was coming right at me. I ducked and moved back for the middle, but the brandy impaired my agility. Hoshi had a hold of me, and he was pushing me to the edge. I tried to counter by shifting my weight but wound up losing my balance instead. I was tipping off the side. I grasped at his arm, wanting to pull myself back up, or even pull him over with me-either way. I got a hold of his sleeve, but he yanked his arm free, and I went over backward.

I landed hard on the deck of a boat, my shoulder and back screaming in pain. Hoshi hadn't jumped down yet, but there was already another one on me, his foot pinning my throat. I squirmed out from under, but he recovered quickly, this time coming down with his knee in my face. I kicked out, but my legs couldn't find leverage. They were both on me now, holding me down. I reached my hands out, grasping for anything…

I stopped resisting when I felt the barrel of a lase-pistol digging into my temple.

“Good to see you, Juno.”

I strained to make the face out through my tears. “Ian?”

“That's right, boy-o. And you're going to listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. You stay the fuck out of my business, you hear me?”

I nodded my head, totally conscious of the lase-pistol rubbing my skull.

“Good. And you're going to do something else. You're going to get Maggie off my ass. You're going to tell her that whatever she thinks I did, I didn't do it. You're going to tell her that I'm a good cop, a great cop. You're going to be my character witness, you get me?”

Again I nodded.

The two of them got up. I stayed down. Hoshi flashed his badge at a couple onlookers who took the hint and moved off.

Ian turned back to me, his lase-pistol leveled at my chest. “You're not so tough now, are you?”

I kept silent as I tried to rein in my galloping heart.

“Say it, boy-o.”

“Say what?”

“Say you're not so tough.”

He can't be serious.

Ian wagged his piece at me. “Say it.”

I was about to launch into a four-letter frenzy, but then I looked at his piece and then his wild eyes. I took my time answering, making sure my voice didn't quiver. “I'm not so tough.”

“Did you hear that?” Ian said to Hoshi. “He's not so tough. I gotta say, I'm a bit disappointed. My pop used to tell me about you. He respected you, said you were a real badass. Turns out my pop was full of shit.”

A voice sounded from the dock. “You got him?”

“Yeah, we got him.”

I couldn't see the voice's face-he was backlit by the sun-but I could make out the girth of his shadow, which was double-wide. “Okay,” he said. “Unless you need anything, I'll be going back up then.” He sounded like he was out of breath.

“We got it under control, boy-o. Good work.”

“No problem, Ian.” His eclipsing shadow moved on, but not before I ID'ed him as the block super who had chewed me out, the sloppy eater with fish in his beard.

Ian gestured with his piece, “What's wrong with your hand, boy-o?”

“Old injury.”

“Bullshit. I think you're scared. Imagine that. Juno Mozambe shaking like a little girl. You're not used to being on the other end, are you? You're used to being the one that's in control, beating out all those confessions, knocking all those cops around. You were a real force. You even beat my pop down one time. You remember that? Can't say I blame you for that one. You should've done him in and saved me the guilt of cutting ties with the bastard. Yeah, you used to be a real mean bastard. But now, turn the tables, and you're just a little faggot, cryin' for mama.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ooh, a little sensitive now, aren't we?” Ian was hovering over me now, flaunting his weapon. I looked over at his accomplice. I calculated the odds: no way I could snatch Ian's piece and kill both of them without getting cut in half. Still, it might be worth it if I could kill Ian before I died. As if Ian could tell what I was thinking, he tucked his weapon away, out of my reach.

“Stop moving your hand; it bothers me,” he said.

“I can't.”

“I said stop.”

“I told you. I can't.”

Ian dropped on top of me, grabbing my right hand with unbelievable strength. I twisted from under his weight, my left going for his holster. I stopped cold when I felt the muzzle of a lase-pistol jabbing into my back.

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