D. W. St. John - See Night Run

Foolhe is a fool.

Rain dribbles down out of a dark sky as Nightheads down the walk to the Lincoln where his partner waits. He hasabsolutely no idea what he will say. None. Derek will want answers,and he has none for him.

What he does have is two rooms in a housewith a dealer and a check that will bounce if he doesnt get to thecredit union after work.

What has he done? That he should have been soout of control scares him, thrills him, too. He cant say why, buthe feels more alive than he has in a long time. Like a man comingup from deep water for a gulp of air. But its insane to think hecan move in with a dealer under investigation and hope to get awaywith it.

Its stupid.

Its dangerous.

It could cost him his job.

Then why is he smiling?

Also by D.W.St.John

A Terrible Beauty

Sisters of Glass

The Nasty Little Writing Book with MadelyneSimone Rovenhauer)

See Night Run

2009 D.W.St.John

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Quis custodiet custodes?

Who watches the watcher?)

Juvenal [1st-2nd century, A.D.]

The ruler sees what he chooses. The citizenwhat he is allowed. The outcast what is.

P Ku Vang [1968- ]

ONE

From across the street Night Hume watches thewoman through a rain-spotted windshield.

Its her.

Miserable, he wrings rain from a soppingponytail.

In the back seat Derek yelps. Hey, watch it,man, youre dripping.

Resenting the rain, Night ignores him, cracksthe window, peers out. June in Oregon. Cant turn on the wiperswithout attracting attention he doesnt want. Its her all right.Its the one they are here for. But something is wrong.

From Derek a sigh. Whats she doingnow?

Night cranes his neck to look at his partner,smiles at what he sees. Five-eight in his boots, hundred-fiftypounds, half white, half black, calls himself a zebra. Derek theonly guy he can stand to share a car with all night, seven nightsrunning and not get to hate the sight of, the stink of.

Night watches his target unload groceriesfrom the Volvo, jeans clinging to long legs as she strides upstairs and inside. He frowns, fingers an ear stud. Cant beright.

Unconsciously Night reaches to the neck ofhis sweatshirt to tug down a vest that isnt there. Fingers findingnothing, he sighs. The Kevlar may be in the trunk, but the habit hecarries like a scar, like the mange. Useless gesture. Dead giveaway if anybody knew what they were looking at. They dont.

He watches her move as she returns foranother load. Have any professors look like her when you went tocollege?

Derek reads the paper in the back seat, feetup, toothpick filling the gap in his front teeth. Earphones danglefrom his ears. Never one looked like that. Never dealt either. Heturns the page without a glance up, wrinkles a wide black nose,Your car smells like something died. What you been doing,moonlighting for the coroner?

Night scans the streetshes still inside.Mouse chewed up my lunch, found the napkin all torn up in littlebits on the seat. Making a nest.

Derek grimaces, What you do, shoot him?

Night keeps his eye on the Volvo, hatchbackstill yawning. Still inside. Of course I didnt shoot him.Poisoned him.

Derek looks up. Poisoned him? Whats thematter with you? You dont poison mice in a car. You trap them.Where the hell you raised, boy?

Night wishes she would hurry up. Where wedidnt have mice in the car.

Dereks paper rattles. Say what? That soundslike a racial slur to me.

Still no action at the house. Doors stillwide on the boxy Volvo 980. Professors car. Classy, yet staidtheslacks and silk blouse of station wagons. The thought of this womandriving it lends it an aura of sex.

Any more of that I be axing IAD to dosomething about certain racists in this here po-lice department.Thats what I be doing.

Something about the way she moves. What isit? Hes seen it before somewhere. Get my name right thistime.

Hows I supposed to do that, youse all looksalike to me. Derek tosses the paper away, lays a hand on the backof the seat palm up. Sports.

Night watches as she strides out the frontdoor, down the steps to the car. Ducks took the play-offs sixteenfourteen.

Brown fingers wag. Pass that sucker back.Night does, and Derek takes a look out the window, sighs again.What you waiting for? Get your ass over there and save U of Ossex-puppies from the evil professor peddling them green dope.

Not willing to be hurried, Night finds him inthe mirror. Read your paper and let me do my job, huh?

Derek blows air, goes back to hisreading.

Behind her the house stands, a domesticfortress. Eyebrow dormers frown down at him from above a wraparoundporch as he plots its downfall. Across the slope of a park-likefront lawn oaks stoop, branches pendulous. Castle in the sky.Domestic charmer. Close to U of O. Steps from public transportationand shopping. The kind of house that doubles in price every fiveyears in the hot Eugene market. Too much to lose selling a fewfinger bags. And to your studentshow stupid can anybody be?

Derek taps the paper with a nail, Look here,says they did a poll and sixty-eight percent of voters in Oregonfavor initiative 82. Can you believe that?

Night watches her take in another load, bodymoving like a dancer. In control. Never off balance oroverextended. Night frowns, thinking. That the one aboutlogging?

Nonono. He glances up, appalled. You sureis one ignorant ass white boy, aint you? Its the one legalizingpot. Dont you read the paper?

He doesnt. Doesnt want to know what theycall news, what they call cops in what they call news. Notlately.

Oh, yeah, you been elbow deep in gypsumdust, havent you? Well, I tell you what, partner, that one passes,we be working a garbage truck.

Night releases his seat belt and it whines asit slips away. No, no, youll be working the garbage truck. Illbe warning hot little coeds not to drive their Beemers too fast ontheir way to class.

Derek sneers and the paper crackles. Onelousy year of seniority. Where are quotas when you need them?Again he glances out. Nice neighborhood, anyway. This where youpicked up that fixer, isnt it?

Night nods, attention across the street. Oneblock down. The neighborhood is wrong. Again Night checks his pad.On it he finds the address given him by the informant hed met atIHOP that morning. Usually reliable, Linda had seemed clean andlucid. Hed checked her eyes, her scarred hands, the veins betweenher fingers and had found nothing. If hes wrong, hell find outsoon enough.

Ill have to come check it out.

Night isnt listening. Sure.

Tell me again how you can afford somethingover here?

Night watches the professor lean over toretrieve a bag. Three years with Interagency Narcotics EnforcementTeam and hes seen thousands of white dope freaks. He knows thewalk, the talk, the typeshe isnt it. Everything about her screamseducation, class, restraint. None of the twitchiness of thetweaker, nothing slatternly. He finds Derek in the mirror. Whatdid you say?

Howd you get it?

Probate sale, heirs wanted out. Ray turnedme on to it.

With this load the Volvo is nearly cleanedout. Night flexes his right elbow, working feeling into buzzingfingers. Nights are the worst. Cold curls his fingers into clawswithout the strength to grasp his Glock. Three surgeries later itsno better. At forty, the scars, the aches are piling up.