CHAPTER ELEVEN
Vicente Pérez was getting desperate. He had barely made it out of his neighborhood alive. A patrol car had driven not ten yards away from him while he hid behind a parked van, and then the police helicopter had shone its light so close he felt sure they had seen him.
They hadn’t. He had gotten away. But for how long?
Now there would be a city-wide manhunt for him. His description would be on every news source. Police sketches would soon follow. Thank God he had never let anyone take his picture, and he had never been arrested. They’d have a hard time tracing him.
They’d try, though. Unlike a lot of the young hotheads in the gangs, he didn’t underestimate the police. He’d read up on Homicide Detective Rebstock. He’d cracked a lot of tough cases, and he seemed to have the
