The Cold Light of Day Read Online Free Page A

toward the door, then stopped and looked back. “And stay clear of the other Judges. Don’t do to them what you just did to Carney. They’re pissed enough with you as it is without you showing them up and making it worse.”
    Dredd stiffened at that. “Sir?”
    Mendillo ran his hands through his greying hair. “Ruiz will explain... Look, I’m not blaming you. I’ve been a Judge long enough to know how things sometimes go down. But we lost two of our own today. That generates its own special kind of anger, and angry Judges make mistakes.”
    From the doorway of the diner’s kitchen, Dredd watched as the forensic team and med-Judges went about their work. Occasionally, dark glances were thrown in his direction, but he refused to let that bother him. Instead, he concentrated on their work and resisted the urge to point out errors.
    One of his classmates at the Academy, Judge Hunt, had for a year or so enjoyed a lame running joke: “Joe’s the only cadet who’d report himself for infractions.” That came to an abrupt end when Dredd reported another cadet for fooling around with a Lawgiver: the cadet had pulled his gun on Hunt, pretending to arrest him for “being a total dweebo.” Their tutor had reprimanded the cadet, taken the Lawgiver from him, and subsequently found that the cadet had forgotten to remove the live ammunition from the gun after target practice. One accidental squeeze on the trigger, and Hunt would have been on his way to Resyk. That had been in year three at the Academy, when the cadets were eight years old.
    Now, Dredd counted three minor errors by the Judges investigating the crime scene. They were mistakes that, in all likelihood, wouldn’t make any difference to the case, but it was all Dredd could do not to point them out. One tech-Judge was so focussed on his work that he didn’t notice he was standing on a fragment of shell-casing. In the doorway, a street Judge was looking into the diner, watching the proceedings, instead of keeping an eye on the street, and just outside, Judge Perry—the older man who’d confronted Dredd on his way in—was unconsciously opening and closing one of his belt-pouches as he talked to his colleagues, an indication of agitation and nerves. Judges were trained not to display such signs: perps could pick up on them.
    As he watched, another Lawmaster pulled up, stopping the required distance from the doors. Judge Ruiz dismounted and greeted Perry and the others with a nod. She removed her helmet as she strode through the doorway.
    Dredd was pleased to see Ruiz take a moment to examine the scene before she entered fully—even looking up, as Dredd had done, to check the ceiling—then she carefully stepped around the gore as she made her way toward him. Ruiz was thirty-four, average height with a strong build. She kept her head shaved and her face clear—some other female Judges looked like fashion models from the neck up: trendy hair-styles, make-up, even ear- or nose-rings
    “Joe Dredd. It’s been a few years. I heard you got the full eagle. Never doubted it. How have you been?”
    Dredd wasn’t quite sure how he was supposed to answer that. “I’ve been a Judge” didn’t feel like the right response, but nothing else came to mind. He resorted to, “A little confused as to why I’ve been called here, and why some of the Judges seem to think I’ve done something wrong.”
    “Mendillo didn’t tell you?” Ruiz asked. “No, of course he didn’t. Never was comfortable with confronting other Judges with bad news.” She smiled at that. “You mightn’t think it to look at him, but when he was on the streets, he was one of the toughest Judges in the city.”
    “What is this about?”
    “Down to business. Of course. You haven’t changed much, have you?” She stepped past him into the diner’s kitchen. “Close the door behind you... All right. Joe, the perp has been identified as Percival Chalk. That name mean anything to you?”
    “I remember