Terminal Island Read Online Free

whether he was the target of the perp or the Petricich kid.
    The missing boy had been right there in the next bunker, trussed up like a rib roast with silver duct tape and beginning to go panicky at his immobility. All the boy could say about his assailant was that he was a small man but extremely strong. The guy hadn’t said a word, just come down on him out of nowhere in a black jumpsuit. The kid kept insisting it was like some graphic novel, or Japanese anime. What was left of the second pink kitty card, a bit frayed by the flash-bang grenade, revealed it to be the three of spades. It had the same Japanese ink stamp and the words Don’t get in the way. Steelyard didn’t like the way the cards had progressed from a two to a three. It implied there were a lot more in store, and probably a few pretty nasty surprises waiting up around the ace.
    “How you feeling, Ken? ¿Qué tal? ”
    He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Gloria Ramirez, a little pale but looking fine in a navy blue business suit. She was a fairly new detective, a D-1, and he was her training officer.
    “How you doing yourself, kid? You were the one under the knife.”
    “You know how it is these days with the HMOs. If you can walk, you’re outta here.”
    “Don’t fuck around. Tell me.”
    She sat at her desk, which back-to-backed his. “They don’t know for sure, but they think it’s okay. There’s always more tests.”
    “Let’s hope. You shouldn’t be back at work yet.”
    “I’m going to do half days. You had a bit of an ER trip yourself.”
    “It was just one of those stun grenades, like SWAT uses, but I was sitting right on top of it like a moron rookie. I got all my senses back eventually.”
    She pressed her palms in front of her chin, like a Hindu set to pray, and made a face. “Ken, I know you like to be this pinche loner and head off on your own private tangent, but I’d like to learn something on this case. Even at half speed.”
    He tossed her the two cards, out of their Baggies now as the perp had wiped them down so carefully they hadn’t yielded even a partial print.
    “Nutcase,” he said. “He’s leaving them in order.”
    “Could be warnings,” Ramirez said. “Could be somebody trying to set up a treasure hunt, I suppose. Stay down. You were in a tunnel complex, and the boy was tied up down there, too, in the next room. Could have been a clue to finding him.”
    “You have been keeping up. The trey isn’t much of a clue, though. Don’t get in the way. ”
    “How did he get in your house to get that train car?”
    Steelyard sighed. “You don’t think I haven’t been banging my head on that? I’ve got an alarm system. I’ve got a big, bad dog. I’ve got real Mannlicher deadbolts. How did he even know I had a train layout in the basement? How did he know it’d be me scrambled on the kidnap?”
    “How do we know it’s a he?”
    “The boy thought it was. Short and strong as an ox.”
    “That’s something.”
    “Uh-huh, we’ve eliminated half the human race. More if you eliminate tall quadriplegics, infants, Nepalese.”
    “Why Nepalese?”
    “They don’t live around here much.”
    “I think the key is you,” she said. “It didn’t matter whether you were going to show up there or not. The boxcar would trace to you eventually.”
    For some reason he didn’t like her stating that. “How is your boyfriend taking the operation? I remember he was a bit squeamish.”
    Her face darkened. “Let’s just let that go, okay?”
    “Sure. Sorry. If you know any Japs you might ask them to translate that ink stamp.”
    “It’s called a hanko, and the preferred term is Japanese Americans.”
    “Fine, whatever.”
    “Tell me about goths, hon.”
    Maeve was inserting a Pop-Tart into his old toaster. It was not a food item he kept around much, and then he saw the fresh box she must have brought with her.
    “Those things are made out of petrochemicals and steer manure,” he