Read Rescue for Free Online Page A

photographer was focusing cm the van, you could just see a faded plastic daisy sticking up from an antenna. The story didn’t say anything about a little boy with a birthmark
    When my sandwich came, I ate every bite, but there didn’t seem to be much taste to it.

    Not stopping at my office, I drove directly to South Boston . The Homicide Unit is located in the old Broadway police substation. Our then-mayor reopened some substations a few years back, despite the budget problems, to give the citizens in underserved neighborhoods a greater sense of security. Since all the officers in the Southie one are plainclothes detectives who don’t ride the streets, however, it’s kind of hard to see where the greater security comes into play.
    I walked down the hallway with lockers on either side of me and up to the medium blue door with the dark blue sign that says in white letters HOMICIDE UNIT. I rapped on the door before going in, although I didn’t hear anybody tell W to enter, and I’m ever more convinced I’m the only one who bothers to knock.
    Usually the place is crawling with men in sports jackets and the occasional suit and one woman in a blazer and skirt» typing and yelling and sometimes even laughing in front & the pale blue walls and cork bulletin board. That day the# was only one man sitting in an old, black-padded armchair talking into the receiver of an older black phone. He was * little younger than I am, with a ruddy complexion and thoS 8 puffy, unformed features all newborns and some jaded cops seem to share. His name was Guinness, and I’d run into him on a case a while back. There are twenty-one detectives in Homicide, seven three-officer teams. Of all the cops I’d met in the unit, the only two I couldn’t stand were Guinness and his lieutenant, a guy named Holt.
    Guinness hung up and stared at me. “Your fucking rabbi’s not around.“
    I figured he meant Robert Murphy, a black lieutenant. “How about Bonnie Cross?“
    “She’s out, too. Maybe you didn’t hear, half the unit’s over in Rox’, account of the Zulus and the Ubangis went at it pretty good last night.“
    Roxbury was a predominantly black neighborhood. “Love to hear you say that when Murphy’s here.“
    “Well, he isn’t. What do you want?“
    “Can you tell me who drew the woman in the Fort Point Channel?“
    “The floater by the bridge? I did, as a matter of fact. Thank Christ she was pretty fresh. Nothing worse than a ripe floater.“
    “Can you give me any details?“
    Guinness creaked back in the chair. He was wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches, but didn’t quite pull off that professorial air. “Yeah, but why should I?“
    “The story in the paper said she was unidentified.“
    “They got that right.“
    “I maybe can identify her.“
    Guinness looked at me. You could almost see the smoke coming out his ears as he tried to decide whether talking with me would make his job easier or harder. He fixed on easier. “How might that be?“
    I told him about the breakdown alongside Route 93, the plastic daisy, and the guy in the GMC pickup.
    Guinness said, “Maybe it’s not your girl. This one looks like a jumper—or maybe an accident—but nothing to show she had help.“
    Look, the guy pulled away before she did. That gave him time enough to scout an overpass and hide on the south side of it like a speed trap. He just has to wait till she goes by, then follow her into town.“
    “Yeah, but we didn’t find any sign of this kid Eddie, birth-mark or not.“
    “So?“
    “So why wouldn’t your pickup guy drown the two of them while he was at it?“
    “I don’t know.“
    “And they’re from New Hampshire , why ice even just the girl in Boston ?“
    “Because it’s a big city. Because he figured with all the deaths down here, this one might not be noticed.“
    “Yeah, well, he got that right. A little more tide last night and this floater’d been on her way to Portugal and out of my hair.“
    “Guinness,