Ambush

Chapter 56

I was still looking for the men whose names the regulator had given me. I had an address on 129th Street for one of them, Julio Laza, on the second floor of a run-down apartment building.

As I circled the block to get a feel for the area, I noticed a green Chevy Cruze parked by the side of the building. When I got out and looked the car over, I found a bullet hole just in front of the driver’s-side door. Jackpot.

Normally I would call in assistance and arrest someone who tried to shoot me. In this instance, I thought it was more important to find out who had hired Julio.

Not only would finding out who hired him be a bigger coup, I might also find some way to tie the information in with what Brian had told me earlier. Maybe that way, with a better lawyer, we could have his sentence reduced. I saw it happen all the time. That’s why I was willing to take a risk today.

A few minutes later, as I headed up the raw concrete front steps, I saw someone coming out the sturdy metal door. Immediately I realized it was my man, Julio Laza. He looked up and recognized me, too. Why couldn’t all cases be this easy?

He wasted no time. Julio leaped off the entryway, jumping down four feet to the spotty grass surrounding the building. He landed on his feet and started to run. And he ran fast.

I yelled out to him, “I just want to talk.” But he didn’t believe me. Why should he? If I ran into someone I’d tried to shoot, I’d probably flee as well.

When I was a rookie, I used to chase fleeing suspects on foot all the time. Then a veteran, not much older than I was but with four years on the job, showed me the wonders of patience. He said it was always better to let rookies chase on foot, while he preferred a patrol car.

I knew how jerks like Julio thought. He was going to run away and come back for his car. Guys like this never wanted to leave their rides.

I acted like I was chasing him. I even let him look over his shoulder and see me fading in the distance as he turned a corner. Then I casually walked back toward his building and sat down behind a tree not far from his car. The rough bark of the trunk was covered in dozens of carvings. Mostly hearts with names inside.

I was not disappointed. About five minutes later, I saw Julio Laza jogging casually toward the Chevy.

I waited until he was in an awkward position. He hadn’t stuck the key into the lock of the door yet. Then I stood up. He didn’t notice me.

I stepped around the tree. He still didn’t notice me.

I was starting to get a complex. Finally I cleared my throat and said, “I wondered how long it would take you to get back here.”

It startled Julio so much that he dropped his keys under the car. He stood up, shaky from his run, hair plastered to his forehead.

He said, “Whatchoo want, man?”

“Exactly what I told you before you went on this marathon. I just want to talk.”

He looked around nervously. No one wanted to be seen talking to a cop in this neighborhood.

I said, “Come take a walk with me. We’ll get out of public view and have a little chat.”

As he took a few steps with me, I put my arm around his shoulders as if I were comforting a child after he lost a football game.

Julio said, “What do you want to talk about?”

I stopped and looked at him. “You’re joking, right?”

Julio just shrugged and walked along with me.