The Innocents by Nathan Senthil (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

gunman holding his ears. Since the shooter was on the left side of the SUV, Peter swerved the car right and floored it.

The Audi zoomed ahead at incredible speed. Joshua turned around. The shooter got down from the SUV and aimed at their car. But he twisted his face away from the gun. Like he was as afraid of the cannon-gun’s trigger as they were of its bullet.

However, he managed to confront his fear. Twice.

Both shots missed them. Not surprising. Closing his eyes shut and turning away from the target had proven to have adverse effects on accuracy.

Peter climbed onto the ramp that merged with the highway. Good thinking. Interstate meant more room for speed, which their could-have-been killers’ SUV lacked.

As the g-force pulled them back, the glorious Audi unleashed the full might of its fleeing capacity.

Chapter 24

April 8, 2019. 06:03. P.M.

“You guys got your car back?” Wheeler asked as he filled some paperwork on the desk.

“Uh-huh,” Peter said.

Joshua said, “May I borrow your PC and access the crime records?”

Wheeler dropped the pen and stared flatly. “You’re kidding me?”

“No, why?”

Wheeler frowned. “Two masked men just tried to murder you in broad daylight.”

Joshua counted with his fingers. “The report’s filed, the slug’s recovered from the car, we’ve given our statements, the detectives are out there collecting CCTV recordings. What else is there?”

“Your mental health!” Wheeler said.

Joshua glanced at Peter who shrugged impassively.

“Don’t you guys feel shaken?” Wheeler asked.

Peter said, “I’ve been shot at more than a dozen times when I was in Gang Squad. It’s no biggie, as long as you don’t compel me to visit a shrink.”

Wheeler looked at Joshua. “And you, Chase?”

“I admit, I’ve never been in a gunfight before.” Joshua lifted his hands. “And I was scared shitless even as we drove into the precinct. But then I remembered my choices. Either tuck my tail and run away. Or stay in Detroit and finish what I came here to do, what I started doing twenty-six years ago. When I simplify it like this, it’s easy for me to put my foot down and deny myself the chance to feel scared. Maybe later in the night, but not now, when I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Is that norm— You know what? Never mind.” Wheeler stood up, pulled his chair out, and motioned at the monitor. “Here. Use it all you want. It’s already logged into the police servers.” He walked around the table and took Joshua by the shoulders. “I’m not supposed to, but I am because: A) You guys are old detectives and B) I’ll do anything I can to help catch that bastard.” Wheeler let go. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Joshua sat behind the desk, while Peter leaned on the wall beside Joshua.

Michigan’s crime database wasn’t unlike the NYPD’s. With Peter’s help, Joshua sifted through the files from 1981 and found the armored cash van robbery Joey had told them about.

On July 26, 1981, a group of three boys bulldozed a van, killed a man, and robbed $51,900. An upwards of $150,000 by today’s value.

“Hey! You’re going too fast,” Peter said, as Joshua scrolled to the next page.

“Let me read first,” Joshua said. He knew he was an asshole sometimes.

“Cocksucker,” Peter mumbled and pulled his phone out.

Joshua read through the reports and discovered something peculiar. Lolly had apparently puked before he shot the security guard. It didn’t make sense. Normally, murderers never vomited before committing the mortal sin.

After the nasty episode, Lolly’s friend had given him a lollipop, and he became better.

When Joshua scrolled to the next page, his heart paused for an instant before fluttering like a butterfly. A pleasant tickle originated within his being and sent a mild electricity across his skin, blanketing it with goosebumps. His vision blurred and an uncontrollable smile spread across his face. Years of toil, agony, and sacrifice had finally paid off!

“A-are you crying?” Peter asked.

Joshua, unable to control himself, hugged Peter’s waist and yelped.

“Let go, goddamn it.” Peter wrestled away.

Wheeler, standing in the doorway with two mugs, was staring at the duo. “Um… I thought you guys were partners. Didn’t know it was that kind.”

“What the—” Peter looked at Joshua and then at Wheeler. “Good grief! This hideous psycho isn’t my lover.”

“Then why’s he all emotional-like, like you just proposed to him?”

“Beats me.” Peter turned towards Joshua and smacked him on the back of his head. “What’s gotten into you?”

Joshua rubbed where Peter had hit him. Then he beckoned Wheeler over, who skirted the desk and handed each a cup, and tilted the monitor.

Squinting at the tiny words, Wheeler asked, “What is it?”

“D,” Joshua dabbed at the corner of his eyes, “fucking NA.”

“Get outta…” Peter said and read the report with newfound enthusiasm.

A bandana soaked in Lolly’s puke was recovered from a bush in the crime scene. As there was no statute of limitations on murder, the DPD had stored it safely. All they had to do was derive the genetic profile from it. No tests were done on the stained cloth because the DNA Identification Act was only passed in 1994, thirteen years after Lolly barfed his intestines out under the bridge he’d just broken.

* * *

As they drove back to the hotel, a FedEx building flickered past. So did a wild impulse. Quickly turning on the indicator, Joshua stopped the car. He took his notebook from the glovebox and began writing on it.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked.

“We had a close call today.”

“Amen to that.”

“So I’m updating the notes and gonna send them to Gabe.” Joshua emitted a tiny smile. “Just in case.”

Peter pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. Joshua hadn’t been paranoid. His fears had proven to be valid.

“Okay. I see a Mickey D’s across. Let