For Mike Fitzsimmons,
a good friend and a true fan
New York City Police Department
5th Precinct
Officers and Support Staff
A Partial Listing
Deputy Inspector Thomas Jan Maseryk, commanding
Captain Chavvah Mendelberg, second
lieutenants (7)
Lieutenant Harvey Kant ( joker)
sergeants (19)
Sergeant Jessica Penniman (SERGEANT SQUINCH), lockup, ace
Sergeant Homer Taylor (WINGMAN), desk, joker
Sergeant Vivian Choy (TIENYU), patrol, ace
detectives (6)
Leo Storgman (RAMSHEAD), Detective-Investigator, 1st Grade, joker Michael Stevens, Detective-Investigator, 3rd Grade, nat
James McTate (SLIM JIM), Detective-Investigator, 3rd Grade, ace Tenry Fong, Detective-Investigator, 2nd Grade, nat
Joan Lonnegan (RAZOR JOAN), Detective-Investigator, 1st Grade, nat Mitch Moore (SHADES), Detective-Investigator, 2nd Grade, deuce
uniformed patrol officers (123)
William Chen (TINKERBILL), deuce
Francis Xavier Black (FRANNY or ROOK), nat
Lawrence Bronkowski (BUGEYE), nat
Miranda Michaelson (RIKKI), joker
Anna Maria Rodriguez, nat
Van Tranh (DR. DILDO), ace
Benjamin Bester (BEASTIE), joker
Chey Moleka, nat
Sam Napperson (SNAP), nat
Anya Lee Tang, deuce
Lu Long (PUFF), joker
Angel Grady, nat
special details
Thomas Driscoll (TABBY), undercover, ace
Dina Quattore (K-10), K-9 detail, ace
Dr. Otto Gordon (GORDON THE GHOUL), forensic pathologist, joker
support personnel
Apsara Nai Chiangmai, file clerk, deuce
Joe Stevens, janitor, nat
Eddie Carmichael, consultant, sketch artist
Joe Mortiz (JOE TWITCH), sometime snitch
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
New York City Police Department
August
The Rat Race
The Rook
The Rat Race
September
Faith
The Rat Race
Snake Up Above
The Rat Race
… And All the Sinners Saints
Sanctuary
The Rat Race
Hope We Die Before We Get Old
The Rat Race
October
The Rat Race
More!
The Rat Race
… And All the Sinners Saints
Snake in the Hole
The Rat Race
Faith
The Rat Race
The Straight Man
November
The Rat Race
… And All the Sinners Saints
The Rat Race
Hope We Die Before We Get Old
The Rat Race
Faith
The Rat Race
Sanctuary
December
The Rat Race
… And All the Sinners Saints
The Rat Race
Faith
Hope We Die Before We Get Old
The Rat Race
Snake on Fire
Faith
The Rat Race
The Wild Cards Series
Copyright Acknowledgments
Copyright
The Rat Race
by Cherie Priest
Part 1.
LEO BRACED THE PHONE against his ear with his shoulder while he rubbed at his eyes and groaned. He muttered, “Jesus Christ, not another one.”
“Another what?” asked the woman on the other end of the line. When he didn’t reply fast enough, she demanded again, “Another what, Dad?”
“Another streaker. Tinkerbill’s bringing her in.”
The unclothed party in question was pretty, blond, and in her twenties. She was also glowing with a fizzy pink aura, but the aura couldn’t be construed as clothing, and anyway, the sparkles had been Bill Chen’s contribution. They’d wear off by morning. Probably.
Leo dropped the receiver away from his mouth and hollered past it, “Somebody get that kid a shirt or something!”
Bill blindly grabbed a squad jacket off a coatrack as he ushered the protesting prisoner toward booking. He threw it over her shoulders but she almost shook it off when she turned around to tell him, “You’re making a mistake! I … I didn’t just grab my keys and leave the house like this, you have to believe me!”
“I believe you.” Bill said it deadpan, with his peculiarly childish voice. Speech like that shouldn’t issue from a man of his size and shape—six and a half feet from toes to cap, and wide as a firehouse door. He shuffled his beefy shoulders and shook his head, prodding the still mostly naked woman barefoot along the dirty floor of Manhattan’s 5th precinct.
They don’t call it “Fort Freak” for nothing.
“Dad?”
Leo returned his attention to the phone and said, “Melanie, I’m sorry, honey. You’ve caught me at work, here. You know how it is.”
“Oh, I understand. How can my pitch possibly compete with a room full of naked people?”
“Just one. One naked person.”
“Look, Dad. Quit putting this off.”
“But what if I don’t want to move to…” He fished around on his desk, looking for the brochure she’d sent him a week before. He found it buried beneath three or four unofficial “in” stacks of reports, court documents, file notes, and case reminders. The paperwork drifts smothered everything, including the nameplate: DETECTIVE-INVESTIGATOR, 1ST GRADE: LEONARD STORGMAN.
His daughter impatiently supplied, “West Palm Beach.”
“Yeah. Florida.” With the vibrant sales brochure finally in hand, he skimmed the tagline: First planned adult community exclusively for jokers! And he sighed. “I know you’ve worked real hard, pulling this together, but I don’t think I’m ready for an old folks’ subdivision.”
Leo stuck a finger in his shirt collar. He pulled the sweat-dampened cloth loose and let it fall back against his neck. August’s dank mugginess pressed inside the old building, and the precinct’s vintage air conditioners valiantly wheezed and rattled, but did little else to address it. He nearly shuddered at the thought of such excessive warmth all year-round.
“You don’t think you’re ready to retire either.” Melanie’s voice shifted, slipping from hard-nosed community planner to wheedling daughter in a snap. “Dad, I wish you’d just think about it. Come down south! It’s nice here, and I live here—and it would make me feel better to know you’re nearby, in case something were to happen.”
“I’m turning sixty-two, not ninety-two. I’m not going to slip in the tub and break a hip.”
“I’m not trying to imply—”
He cut her off. “Sweetheart, I know you’re trying to help. But I don’t need help yet. I need some time to think, and—” His end of the conversation derailed abruptly, distracted by a pair of swinging hips in a pencil skirt, spotted across the precinct floor. He mumbled, “Hang on a second.”
The hips disappeared behind a column. It wasn’t just the shape of the hips that had his attention; it was something about the gait of the walk, and the curve of the body. He knew that walk. He knew that body.
The woman emerged from the far side of the column, her backside facing him for a moment while she paused to speak to someone. Then she said, “So long, David,” and turned around, and paused. She scanned the room.
Leo watched. He cataloged her like a piece of evidence.
Her hair was shorter now, and smoother, and a little darker—almost a true brunette. The full curve of her cleavage and the dip of her waist were a little more pronounced. One hand on her hip. One hand hanging at her side. Posture off-kilter, just enough to look casual.
Her big black sunglasses were identical to the ones he’d seen her wearing last, but that was twenty-five years ago. Funny, how styles come back around. Funny, how he would’ve known her anywhere, even after all this time.