Crackhead II: A Novel by Lisa Lennox

in mommy and daddy’s car, and hits the Henry Hudson Parkway back home.” The detective laughed at his own humor. “Well, what’s up with her, rookie, what else did you find out?”
    “Nothing much,” Officer Jones sighed. “I’m afraid we may not find her.”
    “Why not?”
    “Word on the street is she’s out there bad on the pipe and when they’ve got that itch, trying to find that one crackhead is almost next to impossible.”
    “A crackhead?” Detective Clifton picked up the picture and looked closely at Laci, then shook his head in disbelief. “This girl right here?” Officer Jones nodded his head. Clifton looked back at the picture and shook his head. “Just doesn’t seem right,” he mumbled under his breath.
    “No telling what this girl looks like now.” They both looked at Laci’s picture.
    They both knew that there was no specific look for a druggie, as they came from all walks of life, but most of the people they arrested were dirty, toothless, and homeless. Scrungy-looking at best, but even on her worst day, Laci didn’t fall into this category.
    “Look, I don’t care what kinda itch she got. We got to find her. I think she could have some information on why or who would report Ms. Moore as being armed and dangerous.”
    Once the rookie had analyzed the situation as his partner did, he nodded his head in agreement. “You’re right, but let me keep working on this. I should have more answers for you by tomorrow.”
    “Nuh huh, you’re not going back down there alone this time,” the detective told him. “It’s almost night and the area’s too bad. They see you in your uniform and all hell will break loose. Rule number one, you always need a backup, and rule number two, don’t be a fuckin’ wise-ass.” The detective got up in Jones’s face and pointed a finger. He saw how smooth Terrance Jones’s skin was, and he even caught a faint whiff of Eternity for Men. Rodney Clifton was incensed now. “Y’all come in here, straight out the academy like y’all on some robo-cop shit try’na make us look bad. Fuck that shit! I told you I put a big case on hold that could have promoted me to the head of the drug task force, but now, I gotta investigate this shit because a fuckin’ cop was involved in the shooting. IA is breathing down our necks. There is a link here with these two cases that I’m try’na work out. I worked too long and hard, man. Ain’t no fuckin’ rookie gonna take what’s rightfully mine.”
    “Man, I ain’t try’na take none of your cases from you,” Officer Jones confirmed, moving out of the way of his partner’s stank coffee breath and getting his personal space back. “I could careless about that! I’m just trying to help. I know my way around the streets more than you do as an officer.”
    “I don’t care if you were a goddamn blind mouse working your way around a fuckin’ maze,” Clifton spat, “I can’t let you do that. You’re fresh out of the academy. You ain’t been trained for the streets yet. Especially the Bronx.”
    “I know more than you think I do,” Officer Jones told him honestly.
    “Is that so? And how you figure that? You got an insider on the girl or something?”
    “No, I just know how the streets work. You go down there demanding answers and shit, try’na bum-rush those kids, you don’t know what’s gonna kick off. Just sit back at yo’ desk, eat some donuts, move some papers and look busy. Let me do this.”
    “Man, fuck you,” the detective retorted. Officer Jones winked at him, signaling that he’d won this round with his comrade, and walked out of the office.
    “Hotheaded rookie,” Detective Clifton mumbled under his breath. He was glad his trainee was out of his face. He had him so worked up, he needed to go back to the West Village to find some stress relief.

CHAPTER 11
    S ONNY OPENED THE door to Margaret’s house when he heard the doorbell ring. He had been staying with Margaret since Laci went to rehab.