"WHAT TIME do you have?"
Officer Dukes turned his wrist to the black dial on his Seiko. "10:30, Rube."
"Pick it up, people,” Reuben said. “I want a light in every crevice in this basement. If we find Fare, we find Reg. Where are the homeowners?”
"Upstairs. Kowalski's got them under a microscope," Dukes said.
“Bitch on a stick,” Reuben muttered. He had hoped to get a shot at the homeowners, before Kowalski got his paws on them. Captain Freeman had put him in charge of the basement team, only because he pissed a cop fit about staying involved.
“No way am I going to the hospital,” he’d told Freeman. “You gave this lead to me and Reg, and I’ll be damned if I let you take it away now.”
Kowalski had been in earshot of the conversation. The Polish Prick glared at him, as if to say, ‘I won’t forget this.’ But Reuben had meaner dragons to slay. Like finding out where in satan’s hell his partner had gotten to, and whether he was still alive. The last thing he remembered was Reg climbing a fire escape. At least, that’s what he thought he saw. His head was in a vice grip of fog at the time.
The vibrating buzz of his cell phone interrupted the beginnings of a plan to gain access to the homeowners.
"Rivers, tell me you have something, anything.”
"Just talked to a witness who says she puts two men jumping across rooftops. Time frame fits."
"Come again?"
"She figured they were high on PCP or something. Saw them go into the old industrial parts warehouse. If we were still partners, and you had gone missing in pursuit of a suspect, I know what I would do right now. Five minutes, Reuben, before I call Kowalski."
“I owe you,” Reuben said, and ran to find Freeman.
It took less than a minute of the five, to tell his boss he changed his mind about going to the emergency room. Then, as if headed home for a plate of Gloria’s steamy Arroz Con Pollo, Reuben whisked his hefty bulk to the nearest patrol car.
He had skimmed the Fare file they found in Reg’s car. He understood why his partner wanted to kill him. It’s likely no amount of therapy will cure someone as sick as Johnathan Fare. It wasn’t a matter of if he killed again, but when. The miracle was that it took so long for him to start.
Whatever the case, sob story and all, Reuben understood one other thing. If Fare hurt his partner, he would do some killing of his own.
As he swerved the patrol car in the direction of where Reg was last seen, apparitions of the late B.J. Ortiz flooded his thoughts.