When It All Comes Down to Dust (Phoenix Noir Book 3) Read Online Free

outside, and was glad, because he thought it meant Destiny was getting back from the store, and he could get her to do it for him.
    It wasn’t Destiny who walked out of the sunshine and into the gloom of the apartment. It was a young cop, and he walked in as though it was his goddamn office or something, and he could walk right in the door without even thinking about it or even looking around.
    “What’s up,” the cop said, a little bit of a Mexican accent to his voice. As he spoke, he sat down on a chair across from the couch.
    “Who said you could come in here?”
    “Nobody.”
    “You got a warrant?”
    “Nope. You can call and complain if you want to.”
    “I will. What’s your name?”
    “Ain’t got one of those either.”
    “What do you want?”
    “Just doing some community policing.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means I came over to see how you’re doing, make sure you’re okay, after what happened.”
    Boone wanted to tell this fucking beaner to get out of his apartment, and he wanted to start yelling for help if he didn’t obey, but something told him that wasn’t a good idea.
    “I’m fine,” he said. “What do you want?”
    “Good. I’m glad you’re fine. I’m fine too.” The cop smiled. “You know why I’m fine? I got a great job. I can do anything I want.” He looked at Boone and waited to see if he was going to say something, but he didn’t. “Like, if I want to pull out this gun and shoot you right now, you know what the law says has to happen first? All that has to happen is that I’m fearful that my life might be in danger. It doesn’t say what has to be happening for me to be feeling like that, just that if I happen to be feeling like that, I can pull out my gun and blow you the fuck away. That’s not exactly what the book calls it. It’s called ‘ use of deadly force.’ Pretty cool, huh?”
    Boone prided himself on being mouthy, but he really didn’t feel like saying anything at all.
    “Being a person of color, what I like the best about this city is that it ain’t as racist as it could be. I’m Mexican-American, if you didn’t know, and people always ask me if it bothers me that we shoot and kill so many unarmed vatos . Truthfully, it doesn’t, because we kill our fair share of unarmed niggers and white boys too, so it evens out. Like, you hear about the nigger in a wheelchair we choked to death? A lot of people said the reason the officers involved were cleared was because of the victim’s race, but I can tell you that it’s just not true. They were cleared because we get to do whatever we feel like. You ain’t black and you ain’t brown, but when I kill you right here in your shitty-ass apartment, nothing’s gonna happen to me. I might even get a commendation for bravery. Do you think for one minute that I’m joking?”
    Boone shook his head. It was hard for him to talk, but he forced himself to. “Why are you gonna kill me?”
    “Because I don’t like cocksuckers who talk to lawyers. And you’ve been talking to lawyers about suing Laura Ponto, haven’t you?”
    “No, I won’t...”
    “Bob Headman ain’t a lawyer? He was the last I heard. You gonna tell me you ain’t been talking to him? I don’t like lying sacks of shit either. Being lied to makes me fear that my life might be in danger.”
    “I did talk to him, but I won’t any more. Somebody told me I should see about a civil lawsuit, and he said he’d work for me for a cut of whatever money he got me. She smashed my fucking knee.”
    “Does it hurt?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Did they give you something for it?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Let me see what they gave you.”
    “Why?”
    “Let me see what they gave you.”
    “They gave me Demerol.”
    “I didn’t ask what they gave you, I told you to let me see it.”
    The bottle of pills was on the dirty carpet by the couch, lying there next to Boone’s nearly-empty Budweiser. He picked it up and tossed it to the cop, who caught it and looked