Let It Burn Read Online Free Page B

do.”
    “Don’t even get me started,” he said. “The number of times I had to actively go out of my way just to get something done before those clowns came in to mess everything up.”
    I smiled and shook my head. It was a topic every local cop could speak to, all over the country. It would probably never change.
    “But you say she’s one of the good ones,” he said. “So okay, I guess that means you’re not breaking a code or anything. She’s good-looking, too?”
    “Matter of fact, she is.”
    “Okay, then. You may proceed.”
    He took a hit off his beer. Then he reached behind him and pulled out a little notebook from his back pocket. A real cop move, no matter how long he’d been off the force.
    “So, speaking of murder,” he said. “I gotta say, I feel really bad about the way I handled this.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “I called you up, out of the blue, and I had everything right there in front of me. Darryl King, getting out on parole, in about a week. I’ve got his address, too. Or his mother’s address, I guess. Over on Ash Street.”
    “The same house where we made the arrest?”
    “I believe so, yes.”
    “So what’s the problem?” I said. “Looks like you’ve got it all covered.”
    “No, I sure as hell don’t, Alex. When I got off the phone with you, it occurred to me that I didn’t say one word about the woman he murdered.”
    “You didn’t have to, Sergeant. I know what he went away for.”
    “I told you, I’m Tony now. You see a badge on me?”
    “No, but—”
    “But nothing. If I was still a good sergeant, I would have remembered the most important thing. Even if you know it and I know it and everybody in the world knows it, the most important thing about Darryl King is the woman he murdered in cold blood.”
    “Elana Paige,” I said. “That was her name.”
    “Yes,” he said. “Elana Paige. You remembered.”
    “Of course. I was the one who…”
    “That’s right. Not something you’re ever going to forget.”
    We both sat there for a while, thinking about it, while the baseball and soccer games went on over our heads.
    “Here’s to Elana Paige,” the sergeant said, raising his glass. We toasted her, and then we both went silent again.
    “The kid who did this,” I finally said. “I know you’ve already told me, but I want to hear it one more time. Maybe it’ll make sense.”
    “He’s getting out. Doesn’t make any more sense, does it?”
    “No, it doesn’t.”
    “I used to know a parole officer,” he said. “Going way back. I remember he once told me, when murderers get out of prison, they’re statistically the least likely to ever get in trouble again.”
    “Is that right?”
    “Sex criminals, child molesters, those guys are almost guaranteed to end up arrested again, but plain old murderers? They usually stay straight.”
    “Does that make you feel any better now?” I said.
    “No, actually not. How ’bout you?”
    I shook my head and took another long drink.
    “It’s funny,” he said. “I called you because theoretically somebody you helped put away for a long time might come after you. But while I’m sitting here thinking about him, walking free like that…”
    “It’s more likely we’d go after him,” I said. “I hear what you’re saying.”
    “Okay, good, so it’s not just me thinking that.”
    “Something you think about. Not something you actually do.”
    “No, I guess not. But if I were her husband? Even after all these years?”
    “He’s probably remarried now. Maybe with a family. You don’t destroy that just to kill the man who killed your first wife.”
    “I know, I know,” he said. “It wouldn’t bring her back. I’m just saying…”
    He waved the whole thing away with one hand. Then he looked up at the screens.
    “I never did get the whole soccer thing,” he said. “Did you?”
    “I’ve got a friend from Scotland,” I said. “He’ll talk about it like it’s life or death