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“This weather is shit. Fucking rain.”
“Agreed,” Henri said, as he looked at the man he’d been “helping out” here and there over the past few months. “So can we hurry this along?”
“I’m sorry,” Dick said, sounding anything but. “Did I drag you away from a hot fuck or something? Ask me if I care.”
Henri was about to lie, but really the only thing the detective had disturbed was another frustrating night. Over the last two weeks, Henri had kept waking up midway through the hottest dream he’d ever had, the same dream he’d been having ever since he’d met the man he only knew as Blue, and his lack of sleep was starting to frustrate the hell out of him.
That was the only excuse he had for poking at the guy beside him. Well, that, and the detective was being a special brand of dick tonight.
“You really should work on your people skills, you know that? What are you, mid-forties? You should be married, dating someone by now.”
“Eat shit, Boudreaux. I’m in my thirties. And I don’t need people skills; everyone I usually deal with is dead.”
“Charming,” Henri said, and rubbed his fingers over his stubble.
“That’s me, charming. Now, as much as I’m enjoying this little chitchat, I need something.”
“You mean you didn’t just call me here because you wanted my company? That hurts, detective. That really hurts.”
“Sure it does. You heard of someone who goes by the name rAz? He’s new on the scene, a brutal motherfucker. Is making quite a name for himself dealing guns, H, and whores.”
The name was familiar; Henri had heard it thrown around when he’d been doing some work over on South Side, but it wasn’t someone he had ever dealt with. “I mean, he’s not on my speed dial, but I can probably track him down. What’s the deal?”
“We think we found one of his girls behind Déjà Vu this morning. Severely beaten. Strangled. Apparently she was talking a little too loudly to the wrong customer.”
“A cop?”
“Doesn’t matter. What matters is this is the third girl in a couple of months, but we got nothing to tie him to it. We need you to sniff around. Look into it.”
Henri drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and shrugged. “Yeah, okay. My dance card’s pretty open this month.”
“Glad to hear it, and try not to get yourself fucking killed in the process, okay? That requires too much paperwork.”
“Careful.” Henri smirked at the unimpressed expression on Dick’s weary face. “You almost sound like you care.”
“About the information? You’re right, I do care. Let me know when you have something.”
As the detective shoved open the door and slid out, Henri said, “A pleasure, as always,” and was met with a middle-finger salute, then Detective Dick slammed the door shut, flipped up the collar of his jacket, and headed off down the street.
Henri grabbed his phone off the dash and checked the time. It was closing in on five, and when his stomach growled, he decided to head into town and find himself a twenty-four-hour breakfast joint as he mulled his new “project.”
He tossed his phone on the seat beside him, turned the key, and, as The Who blasted from the stereo, put his foot to the gas and headed off to hunt down a cup of coffee.
THE SOONER TONIGHT’S shift was over the better, as far as Bailey was concerned. The last twelve hours had felt like twenty, and he had a feeling it was going to be a grind right up to the very end.
He wasn’t sure why, but people were so much more careless with their lives when the weather was shit, and that made for a long-ass night of him trying to make sure they stayed safe.
Bailey looked at the clock on his dashboard and saw it was closing in on five on this lovely Thursday morning, and three more hours seemed like an eternity from now. He was just coming off his four-day workweek, and for the last few days he felt as though he’d been running on empty.
Not that that was anything new. His internal clock was always jacked up whenever he worked nights, but ever since that disastrous weekend up in Oshkosh, sleep had been even more elusive. He couldn’t count how many days he’d spent tossing and turning, unable to forget what had happened that night. But the one thing that stood out with startling clarity was the mysterious face of a stranger—Henri. A face that now seemed determined to haunt Bailey for the rest of his damn life.
Okay, stop thinking about him. You have three more hours and then you’re done. If he could just make it through those then he’d be home free. But maybe it’d help if he stopped somewhere for a quick hit of caffeine for that final push.
