Read Witches of Three: Charlene for Free Online Page B
Authors: Temple Hogan
over on Lambert Street. We need to go check it out.”
“Be right with you,” Charlie said, grabbing her hat and adjusting her holster.
Lambert wasn’t the safest street in Grand Rapids, but it wasn’t the worst. Still, she was glad to have her Glock. She followed her partner out to the cruiser, and they settled into their customary positions with Charlie driving and Geronimo riding shotgun.
They ran their route backwards starting on the east end, taking Wealthy to Madison and turning onto Lambert. In the early morning, the street appeared quiet and deserted. They cruised past boarded up crack houses and rundown dwellings that no human being should be forced to live in. Charlie knew the city prided itself on its cleanup efforts, but some areas were still untouched and untouchable. They rolled onto Leonard and continued the rest of their way, taking their time, looking for anything or anyone out of the way, looking for some clue to new activity, or a new dealer starting his trade. For some, early morning was the best time to procure drugs.
At noon, they stopped on Division at a pizza buffet place then headed out again. Mid-afternoon, they made another pass down Lambert, which was bustling compared to its earlier morning hush. Prostitutes decorated the corners garbed in skimpy, sequined attire that left little to the imagination. Their pimps, dressed to the nines, lounged by showy, late-model cars, drug dealers set up shop on cement steps making it clear they were open for business. Kids, no older than ten, hung around, watching the action, offering their services to run errands and so forth. A few old men with canes and women carrying shopping bags passed through the streets, their heads lowered, their gazes directed at the sidewalk.
“There,” Geronimo said, pointing at a group of young men gathered on a curb, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. “Let’s make a stop and see what they’re smoking.”
“What does it matter anymore? Our government is on the verge of legalizing it soon, anyway.”
“But it ain’t legal yet, and that tall dude there is one of the top dealers. Maybe he’s supplying the heroine that’s out on the streets again.”
“Yeah, that’s bad stuff,” Charlie agreed then pulled over and shut off the motor.
“You stay here,” Geronimo said, opening the car door.
“You may need backup,” Charlie protested.
“Naw, I’m just going to talk to them. No problem.” He slammed the door behind him.
Charlie kept a sharp eye out as he walked up to the group and started talking to them. Some of the men sidled away when they saw Geronimo in his cop’s uniform, some held their ground, their narrowed eyes hostile below their do-rags. Geronimo spoke, and the men listened, then suddenly, one of them pulled a gun out of his jacket and shot the policeman in the stomach. Geronimo hadn’t seen it coming, nor had Charlie. Stunned, she hesitated, thinking it had been an apparition as Geronimo remained standing, his hands clutched to his abdomen, then he fell to the ground.
She got on the phone and called for police assistance, officer down, then drew her gun and leaped out of the car. By this time, the man who had shot Geronimo had sprinted down the street, along with several others. Even the dealer loped down a side street. At the first shot, people had cleared the street so Charlie fired off a couple of shots after the shooter who fired back. She didn’t pursue. The first rule was to tend to her partner. She knelt beside Geronimo and placed her hand on his wound.
“Hang in there, Geronimo,” she said. “Help’s coming.”
Her partner met her gaze and grimaced in pain.
“Why’d he shoot?” he grunted. “I never suspected he’d do that.” He laughed, a gurgling sound in his throat. “I wasn’t hassling him that hard. Why’d he shoot?”
“What did you get?” Charlie asked, as long as he was talking.
“Nothing I can see.” He shrugged his shoulder and took a deep breath
“Be right with you,” Charlie said, grabbing her hat and adjusting her holster.
Lambert wasn’t the safest street in Grand Rapids, but it wasn’t the worst. Still, she was glad to have her Glock. She followed her partner out to the cruiser, and they settled into their customary positions with Charlie driving and Geronimo riding shotgun.
They ran their route backwards starting on the east end, taking Wealthy to Madison and turning onto Lambert. In the early morning, the street appeared quiet and deserted. They cruised past boarded up crack houses and rundown dwellings that no human being should be forced to live in. Charlie knew the city prided itself on its cleanup efforts, but some areas were still untouched and untouchable. They rolled onto Leonard and continued the rest of their way, taking their time, looking for anything or anyone out of the way, looking for some clue to new activity, or a new dealer starting his trade. For some, early morning was the best time to procure drugs.
At noon, they stopped on Division at a pizza buffet place then headed out again. Mid-afternoon, they made another pass down Lambert, which was bustling compared to its earlier morning hush. Prostitutes decorated the corners garbed in skimpy, sequined attire that left little to the imagination. Their pimps, dressed to the nines, lounged by showy, late-model cars, drug dealers set up shop on cement steps making it clear they were open for business. Kids, no older than ten, hung around, watching the action, offering their services to run errands and so forth. A few old men with canes and women carrying shopping bags passed through the streets, their heads lowered, their gazes directed at the sidewalk.
“There,” Geronimo said, pointing at a group of young men gathered on a curb, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. “Let’s make a stop and see what they’re smoking.”
“What does it matter anymore? Our government is on the verge of legalizing it soon, anyway.”
“But it ain’t legal yet, and that tall dude there is one of the top dealers. Maybe he’s supplying the heroine that’s out on the streets again.”
“Yeah, that’s bad stuff,” Charlie agreed then pulled over and shut off the motor.
“You stay here,” Geronimo said, opening the car door.
“You may need backup,” Charlie protested.
“Naw, I’m just going to talk to them. No problem.” He slammed the door behind him.
Charlie kept a sharp eye out as he walked up to the group and started talking to them. Some of the men sidled away when they saw Geronimo in his cop’s uniform, some held their ground, their narrowed eyes hostile below their do-rags. Geronimo spoke, and the men listened, then suddenly, one of them pulled a gun out of his jacket and shot the policeman in the stomach. Geronimo hadn’t seen it coming, nor had Charlie. Stunned, she hesitated, thinking it had been an apparition as Geronimo remained standing, his hands clutched to his abdomen, then he fell to the ground.
She got on the phone and called for police assistance, officer down, then drew her gun and leaped out of the car. By this time, the man who had shot Geronimo had sprinted down the street, along with several others. Even the dealer loped down a side street. At the first shot, people had cleared the street so Charlie fired off a couple of shots after the shooter who fired back. She didn’t pursue. The first rule was to tend to her partner. She knelt beside Geronimo and placed her hand on his wound.
“Hang in there, Geronimo,” she said. “Help’s coming.”
Her partner met her gaze and grimaced in pain.
“Why’d he shoot?” he grunted. “I never suspected he’d do that.” He laughed, a gurgling sound in his throat. “I wasn’t hassling him that hard. Why’d he shoot?”
“What did you get?” Charlie asked, as long as he was talking.
“Nothing I can see.” He shrugged his shoulder and took a deep breath