Out of the Blues Read Online Free Page A

her Handie-Talkie to call for a tech to take the photos. “But while we wait, Salt, here’s some more advice you didn’t ask for. You and I work different shifts, so I can’t help you much. You might hope this gets you off on the right foot here, solving this case on your first day.”
    â€œI don’t—”
    â€œLet me finish. It won’t. These guys are all all right, but they, most of them, have been burned by the Homicide fires too many times to appreciate any gift horse. You get what I’m saying?”
    â€œAll I did—”
    â€œSalt, I don’t care. They don’t care. They’ll be lookin’ all up in your mouth and hoping that the next dog you hear barkin’ will be at a wrong tree. They want you burned and scarred, tattooed and branded to their brotherhood. Do not be talking about how you knew how to find this guy by the burrs in a barking dog’s tail.” Hamm lowered her head. “And, I’m sorry. I didn’t check to find out if you’d had time to get a radio. My bad. And yours. You got to stand up for yourself, even with me. And thanks for being stand-up and not mentioning it.”
    â€”
    S ALT HUNG her father’s coat on a plastic peg beside the desk and sat down in the chair, which dropped suddenly to one side due to a missing wheel. She opened the gray metal bin above the desk and the drawers below, all empty except for some brittle rubber bands and bent paper clips. She picked up the thin file labeled “Michael Richard Anderson—861430587,” her first assigned case. Other than the autopsy report, which listed the cause and manner of death as “Accidental drug overdose,” the initial uniform reporting form, a short investigative report by the responding detective, and an envelope of scene photos, there wasn’t much to the file except for the new information that had prompted the follow-up Huff was assigning to her. The recent documents were first in the file and described the circumstances under which a new statement had been obtained from Curtis Dwayne Stone, who was doing time in federal custody. Salt looked up from the document and said the name out loud, “Stone.” She’dleft The Homes, but it seemed The Homes would not leave her. She had been the one who’d arrested Curtis Stone.
    Under federal sentencing guidelines, those convicted of federal crimes were eligible to have their time reduced if they gave reliable information about other criminals and crimes.
    â€œSo, my man Stone, you’re snitching now,” she said, turning to the next document, Stone’s signed statement.
    She pushed a switch over the cubicle desk and a fluorescent light flickered across the transcribed pages.
    Q: For the record, my name is Lawrence Jones, Special Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I am recording this interview. Please state your name.
    A: Stone.
    Q: Curtis Dwayne Stone?
    Salt lifted her gaze from the page, closing her eyes, her memory reigniting the odor of gunpowder, replaying the bleating of a sheep. Stone had been The Homes gang member who was feared most. In her rookie days she’d witnessed the destitution of his childhood, and then it seemed he had determined it would be better for her to fear rather than pity him. Over the years he’d found opportunities to try to threaten her—finally last year assaulting her in her home. “Stone,” she said, and returned to the page.
    Q: Do you have knowledge of illegal drug sales, prostitution, and child exploitation by the individual who owned Sam’s Chicken Shack and a strip club, Toy Dolls?
    A: I don’t know about no child exploitation, but, yeah, I know about drugs and hoes.
    Q: Mr. Stone, please describe what you know. What is the name of the man who you knew to be running those businesses?
    A: John.
    Q: Last name?
    A: That’s all his name I know. They call him “Tall John.” I can’t