Secrets & Lies Read Online Free Page A

A gun fired from behind the rack of coats to my right. That third guy I’d forgotten about was back there. I swear I felt that hot bullet zip a mere inch or two from my face. My survival instinct kick-started like a motorcycle, and rather than attempt any kind of offensive maneuver, I had to save my life first. I fell to the floor and stretched as low as I could, figuring he’d either come out to see if he’d killed me or he’d run for the van.
    He did the latter—and before I could get up and follow him, the burglar turned and fired another shot into the shop, cutting a parallelline only a few feet above the floor where I’d flattened myself. Then he jumped into the passenger seat of the van. The other one that had run out of the store got in the driver’s seat, and off they went, the tires screeching loud enough to wake the neighborhood. They’d left me with two unconscious gang mates, one inside the fur store and the other guy on the street.
    Sirens pierced the frigid night.
    I absolutely did not want to be caught, since the NYPD has standing orders to arrest me. They’d probably shoot me on sight instead. There
are
some good guys wearing the blue uniform; I know, because I’ve encountered some of them. But a majority of the police force believes I’m a criminal. They call me a
vigilante
in the press, and I guess in the minds of the cops that’s a sin. But if what I’m doing works to some degree, why can’t they accept it? I’m on
their
side, for Pete’s sake.
    Even so, the sirens’ shrieks grew louder. There was nothing to do but get the heck out of there. I got to my feet and prepared to leap out of the broken storefront window, when I saw that a patrol car—lights flashing—shot past me in pursuit of the van. A few lights popped on in the windows of the buildings across the street, but there were no other cars. All clear.
    I stepped outside and stood over the man I’d pulled from the driver’s seat. He was groaning, starting to come to. As the cops’ siren receded from me, I became aware of a different one growing louder. Backup was about to turn the corner at the west end of the street. I started to run—and the guy on the ground grabbed my leg! He was
strong
, too!
    The patrol car rounded the corner, blazing a bright red and blue and white. I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. I was practically in the middle of the street and was held there by a fur burglar. That sounds funny, but it wasn’t at the time.
    I kicked and struggled, but that man held onto my leg for dear life. Wasting too many seconds trying to pull away from him, Ifinally did a little leap with the one leg that was on solid ground—and while I was a foot or two off the ground, I kicked the guy in the head.
    He let go of my leg.
    I darted across the street and ran east on the sidewalk. I sensed the police car slow and finally stop in front of the storefront, its headlights illuminating my leg-grabbing friend. Was I safe? No, for even more sirens blared, this time ahead of me. But 4th Street is one way going in my direction; I was pretty sure I could make the intersection before the new cars arrived.
    To my surprise, a patrol car turned onto 4th from Broadway, heading the wrong way straight toward me. I was trapped between Broadway and Mercer, with policemen at both ends. So I ducked into the nearest dark doorway and pressed myself small into the alcove. The patrol car
stopped
before it went by. My heart nearly stopped, dear diary. I thought they’d seen me. As much as I hated it, I knew I’d have to fight my way out of the situation.
    I expected cops to appear on the street in front of me at any moment. But it didn’t happen.
Nothing
happened. I stood there in the shadows for several minutes. Finally, I dared to inch forward and find out what was going on. The police car to my east was just sitting there, its colorful lights going round