Let It Burn by Steve Hamilton Page B

tunnel. To Canada.”
    “So on these tracks,” he said, looking back down at the ground. “If it was something light, it could have been blown God knows where. Right through the fence even.”
    He kept looking for another few minutes. Then he pulled the radio off his belt.
    “I need some officers down the tracks,” he said. “While we’re at it, can we get the train traffic held up until further notice? I don’t need anybody getting run over here.”
    *   *   *
    An hour later, we were still out on the tracks. There were eight officers, including Franklin, Detective Bateman, and myself. It’s exhausting work, bending down low enough to see the ground, tossing aside the random trash and hoping for something significant. Every few minutes I’d stand up and stretch my back. I’d look down the tracks and see the crime unit specialists going in and out of the building. They still hadn’t brought out the body.
    It was Michigan and it was June, so that meant light until at least nine o’clock. But the sun was getting lower and everything was losing its bright focus. I decided to walk back to the station and to re-create the whole chase scene one more time, second by second, hoping to pinpoint exactly where we were when he threw away the object.
    The detective watched me. I went to the exact spot where I had first seen my suspect. Hey, hold up. Stop right there. The kid turns and runs. Stop. Stop right there. Police.
    I’m running after him now. My gun, my flashlight, everything on my belt bouncing up and down as I make my way down the tracks. He’s opening up a lead. Don’t be an idiot. It’s not worth it.
    No, wait. I hadn’t said that yet. He had already thrown the object. Like right around … Here.
    I stopped a good twenty yards short of my fellow officers and peered at the ground.
    “Do we need to shift back?” Bateman said.
    “Yes,” I said without looking back. “I think we were looking too far down the tracks.”
    The officers moved closer to me. I glanced up and saw Franklin limping, one hand holding his back as he bent over again. I felt bad for him, but I wasn’t about to stop him. The best way to make it easier for everyone would be to just find the goddamned thing the kid threw away.
    The detective picked up his radio and listened to it. He said a few words, then returned the radio to his belt.
    “The family is on their way down,” he said to me. “I need to be there to let them know what’s going on. If the crime scene is done, they’ll be bringing the body over for identification, too.”
    He stopped, closed his eyes, and rubbed his forehead.
    “These are the worst days,” he said. “Makes me wonder why I ever became a cop.”
    “Tell them we’ll find him,” I said. “No matter what it takes.”
    He looked at me. “You know I can’t promise that. Half the time, we don’t.”
    “This time we will,” I said. “I’ll personally go through every face in the city until we find him.”
    He let out a breath. “I like your attitude, McKnight. But we still can’t even put him inside the station, let alone identify him.”
    I didn’t have an answer for that. Not for the first time in my life, I only had a gut feeling and nothing else.
    “I have to get back to the precinct,” he said. “If you find something, bring it right over, okay?”
    That’s how he left me. I was down on my hands and knees now, moving along the far set of railroad tracks. I figured I only had a few more minutes before the light went. I didn’t want to have to come back and do this again the next day.
    “Alex,” Franklin said, a few feet away, “we don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
    “We’ll know when we see it,” I said. “I know we will.”
    He stood up and rubbed his bad knee. I kept looking through the rough gravel bed between the railroad ties.
    “She was going to Wayne State,” I finally said to him. “Just like Jeannie.”
    Franklin didn’t say anything to that. He