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I puff out a breath as we walk forward, assessing the scene. There’s one body covered with a dark sheet and paramedics treating the other two that have been injured.

“The shooter?”

“Unknown, he’s new. Probably initiation.”

I shake my head and grit my teeth as I look over to the squad car and meet the shooter’s eyes. The kid can’t be more than fourteen and the sad thing is that I see nothing in his gaze, he’s blank, no remorse at all.

This shit isn’t right.

“Any witnesses?”

“Yeah, but none are talking,” Kurt answers, running his hands through his dark blond hair.

Of course, they’re not. People know better than to talk to the cops. They’d be signing their own death warrant if they did. It just means that we need to build a solid case with evidence other than eye witnesses. We aim to do that anyway because witnesses tend to change their stories when it comes to getting on the stand, but having an account from someone who will actually stick to their story always makes your case that much tighter.

I turn to face Kurt, assessing his green eyes. There’s something behind them, a tiredness that I can’t help but think is about the job and I don’t like the look of it. With this job, you need to be alert and on the ball, I don’t need one of my best men slacking off.

I wave my hand at a couple of uniformed officers, calling them over to me and waiting until they approach.

“Go door to door. I want to know what the hell happened here.” I point to the squad car that the shooter is sitting in and growl, “And somebody get him down to the goddamn precinct.” They nod and scuttle off without another word said.

“Who’s the victim?” I ask, standing against the wall to the opening of the complex.

“We don’t know yet,” Kurt answers, his hands resting on his hips. “We know it’s a woman though.”

I don’t reply as I watch the paramedics lift her off the floor, the sheet falling off her arm.

My mind goes blank as I stare at her. I deal with murders all the time, it’s a sad fact of my job, but whenever it’s a woman, something just switches inside my brain.

Every life is worth something. It doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, fat or skinny, black or white. We all have a mother and a father. We all have someone who loves us, who will miss us.

There’s evil in this world, so evil that it’s hard to comprehend how people can be like that. It’s my job to get them off the streets and I’ll do anything and everything that I can to get them behind the concrete walls and barbed wire fencing of a prison. To make sure they can’t hurt anyone else.

“You help with door to door, I’ll help with the crowd,” I tell Kurt.

We both separate and he joins the uniformed officers as I head into the crowd. My eyes scan the people who are watching and automatically go to the one I know to be the head of the gang at Wayward.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s not looking my way. He’s looking down and talking to somebody. I walk closer, bearing to the left, trying to see who he’s talking to. He throws his head back and laughs, garnering the attention of the crowd.

This is one piece of scum that needs to be off the streets. Everything he’s around goes to shit. I’ve had him down at the precinct several times, and each time I can never get anything to stick. He always lawyers up and they’re not just your average lawyers, they’re good on

es, really good ones.

I get to the edge of the crowd and see he’s talking to a woman, her back to me and his front facing me. I stare at him, waiting for him to look up.

Shoving my hands on my hips, I keep my fingers close to my gun. If anything goes down, I need to make sure that I’m quick. My reflexes are out of this world, but things can happen in the blink of an eye and although we have at least twenty officers on the scene, this is still his turf.

My eyes narrow as he grins down at the woman but I don’t take notice of her. I wait.

Finally, he looks up and a slow, steady smirk lifts up the corner of his mouth. I grit my teeth and step forward. He knows that I’ll be questioning him about what went on here today. He’s not stupid. In fact, I think he’s smart, really smart.

“Joel.”

“Well hey there, Sergeant.” He winks and it takes all of my willpower not to throw my fist at his face. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a word.”

He doesn’t move and he doesn’t show any indication that he knows what I’m talking about. He’s good like that, he can wear a mask like nobody’s business.