Page 50 of NYPD Red 7: The Murder Sorority

No answer.

Ordinarily, Kylie doesn’t get rattled, but there was nothing ordinary about her relationship with Theo, and I could see the panic mounting in her eyes as she scanned the parking lot. “Zach, I think that psycho took Theo!”

“Nobody took him,” I said. “His bike is gone.”

She looked at me, calmer now, as the pieces started coming together.

“You heard what his father said,” I reminded her as wedouble-timedit to our car. “The kid loves crime shit. And I guarantee you that right now he’s on his motorcycle, chasing after our killer and loving every second of it.”

CHAPTER 33

“This is what happenswhen you grow up hanging around the set of some dumb fucking cop show,” Kylie said as soon as she got behind the wheel. “Call him. He’s got a headset in his helmet.”

I hit Theo’s number and put the phone on speaker.

“Hey, partner,” Theo chirped. “Where are you?”

“Don’t ‘hey partner’ us,” Kylie bellowed. “Where the hell areyou?”

“I’m headed southbound on Riverdale about half a block behind Barbara’s car.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Kylie said.

“You guys didn’t come out of the funeral home, so I followed him,” Theo said, his tone more than a little pissy. “You’re welcome.”

“Theo, the man is a professional killer. Stop following him. Now!”

“Chill, bro. He has no idea I’m behind him.”

“I’m not your fuckingbro,” Kylie thundered. “I’m a cop, and I just gave you a direct order. Pull over!”

“Yeah, yeah. Wait—he just crossedTwo-Hundred-Fifty-Sixth Street. You should call ahead and get some cops to head him off at the pass.”

Our number one priority was to stop Theo from getting himself killed. But we couldn’t ignore the information he was feeding us. I grabbed my radio.

“Central, this is Red Unit. Priority message. Advise all units we have a homicide perp fleeing southbound on Riverdale Ave. in a black Toyota RAV4. He just crossedTwo-Five-SixStreet. Subject is white male, midsixties, armed and dangerous.”

If almost any other cop had made that call, a supervisor would immediately have jumped in and quashed the request, demanding more information before sending dozens of cop cars careening through the city streets. But they know better than to interfere with Red.

“Ten-four, Red,” Central responded without hesitation. “Will transmit that message across bordering divisions.”

The radio came alive with responses. In seconds, cops from every corner of the Bronx would be lights, sirens, and adrenaline.

An authoritative female voice cut through the chatter. “Special Operations Division CO to Central.”

Kylie and I knew her. Trina Jennings, athree-starchief—asgo-by-the-book as they come.

“Clear the air, units,” Central ordered. “Go ahead, Special Operations CO.”

“Oh, shit!” Kylie said. “Is Jennings going to shut us down?”

Just the opposite.

“I have Aviation up and responding to assist Red,” Jennings said. “I’ve also directed ESU truck four to stand by as needed.”

“Central,” I said, “thank the chief, and advise her that we need ESU to respond to Winstanley Funeral Home on Riverdale atTwo-Six-Onestreet. We have a second homicide perp handcuffed to a casket inside that location. Requesting a tactical entry.”

“Red,whatdid you say that perp is cuffed to?” Central responded.

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