And the Bad Cop, Phillip decided. He was nearly amused.
"That's what they keep telling me. So, what the hell happened?"
"You tell us." Bad Cop poised his pencil over a page of his book.
"I got the shit shot out of me."
"What were you doing on the street?"
"I think I was going home." He'd already decided how to play it. He let
his eyes close. "I can't remember exactly. I'd beena at the movies?"
He made it a question, opening his eyes. He could see that Bad Cop
wasn't going to buy it, but what could they do?
"What movie did you see? Who were you with?"
"Look, I don't know. It's all messed up. One minute I was walking, the
next I was facedown in the street."
"Just tell us what you remember." Good Cop laid a hand on Phillip's
shoulder. "Take your time."
"It happened fast. I heard shots--it must have been shots. Somebody was
screaming, and it was like something exploded in my chest." That much
was pretty close to truth.
"Did you see a car? Did you see the shooter?"
Both were etched like acid on steel in his brain. "I think I saw a
car--dark color. A flash."
"You belong to the Flames."
Phillip shifted his gaze to Bad Cop. "I hang with them sometimes."
"Three of the bodies we scraped off the street were members of the
Tribe. They weren't as lucky as you. The Flames and the Tribe have a lot
of bad blood between them."
"So I've heard."
"You took two bullets, Phil." Good Cop settled his face into concerned
lines. "Another inch either way, you'd have been dead before you hit the
pavement. You look like a smart kid. A smart kid doesn't fool himself
into believing he needs to be loyal to assholes."
"I didn't see anything." It wasn't loyalty. It was survival. If he
rolled over, he was dead.
"You had over two hundred in your wallet."
Phillip shrugged, then regretted it, as the movement stirred up the
ghosts of pain. "Yeah? Well, maybe I can pay my bill here at the
Hilton."
"Don't smart-mouth me, you little punk." Bad Cop leaned over the bed. "I
see your kind every fucking day. Not out of the system twenty hours
before you end up bleeding your guts into a gutter."
Phillip didn't flinch. "Is getting shot a violation of my parole?"
"Where'd you get the money?"
"I don't remember."
"You were down in Drug City to score."
"Did you find any drugs on me?"
"Maybe we did. You wouldn't remember, would you?"
Good one, Phillip mused. "I could sure as hell use some now."
"Ease off a little." Good Cop shifted his feet. "Look, son, you
cooperate and we'll play square with you. You've been in and out of the
system enough to know how it works."
"If the system worked I wouldn't be here, would I? You can't do anything