is it!"
"Something growing there," said Ralph. "And we're getting you to a doctor right now. I'll wake your sister. We can't leave her here alone."
Before he got to Keisha's room, though, he remembered Ceese Tucker and went back to his office and picked up the receiver.
"How did you know?" he asked.
"Is she all right?"
"Don't you already know she isn't?"
"I hoped I was wrong. What is it?"
"She's got a growth on her nose. It bleeds when she touches it."
"Get her to a hospital right now," said Ceese.
"That's what I'm doing. I'm hanging up now. But we're going to talk, you and I."
"Yes sir. God be with your daughter, sir."
Ralph hung up and went back to wake Keisha so they could take Sabrina to the hospital.
When Mike Herald pulled his patrol car up in front of the house it was obvious there was some kind of party going on inside - the bass from the music was throbbing so loud that he could feel it even before he turned off the engine. But nobody had called to complain. This was a gang neighborhood, and they all knew better than to call in the cops.
But apparently Ceese Tucker didn't know any better. A rape in progress? How would he know that? Who would have called? These gangbangers raped girls all the time. It was like an initiation for the girl. A party favor for the boys. Nobody ever reported it. And it would be worth his life to walk up to that door alone.
Backup was coming. Maybe two minutes away.
There were a couple of kids already out on the street, and of course they noticed the LAPD
vehicle. One of them was starting to sidle toward the house. To give warning.
Mike got out of the car, drew his weapon, and pointed at the boy with his other hand. Not aiming the gun at him, just pointing. The boy froze.
Mike looked around quickly. No weapons being pointed at him. Nobody was on alert - this wasn't a drug deal or anything they planned. Just a party. Didn't expect cops to show up.
Another LAPD vehicle turned the corner, moving fast. His backup was here. He should still wait till they were out of the car, till they could cover the back door and go in in force. But the girl was in there, and maybe there was a chance to stop this thing before it got too bad for her.
So he jogged to the door. It was a piece of crap like all the materials used in these houses. He stepped back and stomped his foot hard against the door just beside the knob. The frame broke and let the door swing free. The music was so loud nobody heard it. He also couldn't hear if the other cops were running toward him or not. Couldn't hear anything except the music.
He moved into the house. Nobody in the living room, where the stereo made the cheap furniture tremble like an earthquake.
In the kitchen was a girl making a sandwich. Probably the girlfriend. Her brother was raping her friend in the back room and she was making a sandwich. She had her back to the kitchen door and didn't hear him. He knew he should neutralize her first - get her down on the floor, out of harm's way - but he let her be and moved on toward the bedrooms.
Now the music wasn't quite so loud and he could hear a girl's voice. "Please, God, no." Or was she saying, "Please, Rod, no"? Wasn't the boy's name Rod?
The door was slightly ajar. Six boys, none of them older than fourteen, were gathered around a bed, laughing and leaning in, and some of them were holding the arms and legs of a girl who had been stripped from the waist down. She was crying, and one of the youngest boys was poised over her.
"Come on, Sherita, I want you so bad."
It was as if the words had plunged a dagger into her heart, the way she sobbed. But she also held still. Surrendering now.
Mike shoved the boy nearest to him, sending him sprawling across Sherita's body, knocking Rod aside. The other boys whirled around to find Mike training his gun on each of them in turn. "All of you little bastards get down on the floor with your hands on your heads. Right now!"
No chance for them to put on their brave gang faces. No chance to go for whatever weapons they might have had.
"She wanted it!"