Page 37 of No Child of Mine

“Yeah, let’s hit it.”

Alex scanned the street and walked along the sidewalk toward Suarez’s front yard. Very quiet for a Sunday afternoon. The sun was already making its way down in the distance. It should have been time to fire up the mesquite wood in the barbecue pit. Turn up thecorridason the radio. Nobody sat on the porch reading the paper. No kids playing hopscotch on the sidewalk.

Tires screeched in the distance. Someone screamed, “Shut your mouth,idiota.” Now that was more like it.

Joaquin shoved open a rusted metal gate, swinging it back until it stood open on its own, a squeaky hinge protesting the entire way. He rapped on the door. Diego and his partner, a black guy Alex didn’t recognize, stood back on the porch steps.

No answer. Alex eased his head down to peek in one of the front windows. Dirty glass revealed little. Joaquin pounded on the door. “SAPD, open up.”

Glass and flying debris exploded through the window. He dove to the porch floor, Joaquin next to him. Diego and his partner bolted down the steps and slammed to the ground next to the foundation of the house.

“Jerk.” Joaquin muttered.

Alex didn’t feel much happier. Getting shot at in broad daylight on a Sunday afternoon didn’t suit at all. Joaquin crawled toward the end of the porch. “He’s gonna try to get out the back. You watch. We’re gonna have to chase the guy.”

“Call for additional backup,” Alex yelled at Diego, “then secure the house from the front. We’ll take the back.”

He loped after Joaquin, trying to stay low and still move.

The back door stood wide open. A flash of color—a red T-shirt—caught Alex’s gaze. A man hurled himself over the slatted wooden fence that marked the boundary between the yard and the alley.

“There!” He pointed. “He’s going over the fence.”

“That’s Suarez. Stop, police, stop now!” Joaquin shot across the yard and hurdled the fence pole vault style. “Stop!”

Since Joaquin ran several miles a day and Alex only thought about doing it, he found himself lagging a few yards behind. He managed to take the fence without impaling himself and churned down the alley, trying not to stumble over tree limbs, trash, and tires. He couldn’t suck in enough air to fill his lungs. The muscles in his thighs and calves burned.

Suarez took a hard right at the end of the alley, Joaquin only a few strides behind him. For a long second, Alex lost sight of both men. He picked up his pace, ignoring the pain in his side and the excruciating inability to breathe.

He hit the corner full-tilt.

Gunfire erupted.

Chapter Fifteen

Alex dropped to the pavement, his tortured breathing loud in his ears. He sucked in air and flung himself behind a Tahoe parked on the street. His stomach clenched. He hated getting shot at. And where was Joaquin?

Another quick one-two punctuated the still air. Then two more shots farther apart. “Joaquin! Talk to me.”

Nothing. The seconds ticked away in Alex’s ears. One-thousand-one. One-thousand-two. “Joaquin?”

“He’s gone! He got away from me.” Joaquin sounded like a kid who’d been denied a trip to the zoo. “Man, I thought I had him.”

Alex poked his head around the bumper, then stood. Joaquin trotted down the sidewalk, his weapon hanging from one hand. He wasn’t even breathing hard. “That sucker’s fast. He took a couple of shots at me and when I returned fire, he ducked behind a car. I don’t know if he went left or right. Call Diego and make sure they have the house secure, will you?”

“You all right?”

“No. The dude got away, man. That irritates me big time.”

Alex studied Joaquin as he listened to Diego confirm that everything at the house was under control. Something wasn’t quite right. Joaquin’s lips were pursed in a tense, thin line. His breathing was shallow. He winced. His free hand went to his forearm in a tight grip. Alex took a closer look. Blood ran down his colleague’s middle finger and dripped on the sidewalk. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re very observant.” Joaquin’s laugh trailed off. “The bozo winged me—just grazed my arm. I really hate getting shot. It upsets Lily.”

“I’m calling nine-one-one.”

“I don’t need no stinkin’ ambulance.” The bravado didn’t keep Alex from noticing the gray tinge to Joaquin’s skin. “I just need a bandage.”

After completing the call, Alex grabbed Joaquin’s good arm and steered him back down the alley. “You’re dripping all over the sidewalk.”

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