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PART I

CHAPTER ONE

FEBRUARY 5, 2006

Detective Michael Orame on the radio as he drove down DeKalb Avenue toward Grady Hoot to the projects, thefroht into whatAuthority slowly devoured itself, subsidized co of the past The in-town real estate was too valuable, the potential for kickback too high Right up the road was the city of Decatur, with its trendy restaurants and million-dollar houses Less than a old-encrusted capitol do between the reminder that the city too busy to hate was also too busy to take care of its own

With the ga dealers and piht off to watch that rarest ofin the Super Bowl This being a Sunday night, the prostitutes were still outto confess next week Soirls waved at Michael as he drove past, and he returned the greeting, wondering how ht, cops telling Dispatch they were taking a ten-irls to help blow off some steam

Building nine was in the back of the developed by the Ratz, one of the new gangs that had moved into the Homes Four cruisers and another un, radios squawking Parked in the residents’ spaces were a black BMW and a piator, its ten-thousand-dollar razor rie to jerk the steering wheel, take some paint off the seventy-thousand-dollar SUV It pissed hiers drove In the lastall his jeans, but new clothes would have to wait for Michael’s next paycheck Tih tide while Daddy’s tax dollars went to help these thugs pay their rent

Instead of getting out of his car, Michael waited, listening to another few seconds of the ga a moment’s peace before his world turned upside down He had been on the force for alht fro too late that other than the haircut, there wasn’t that ot out of his car it would all start up like a clock that ound too tight The sleepless nights, the endless leads that never panned out, the bosses breathing down his neck The press would probably catch on to it, too Then he’d have cameras stuck in his face every ti hi it on the news and asking Daddy why people were so mad at him

Collier, a young beat cop with biceps so thick with ainst his sides, tapped on the glass, gesturing for Michael to roll down hisCollier had h the kid had probably never been in a car with crank s

Michael pressed the button on the console, saying, “Yeah?” as the glass slid down

“Who’s winning?”

“Not Atlanta,” Michael told him, and Collier nodded as if he had expected the news Atlanta’s previous trip to the Super Boas several years back Denver had thumped them 34–19

Collier asked, “How’s Ken?”

“He’s Ken,” Michael answered, not offering an elaboration on his partner’s health

“Could use hi “It’s pretty nasty”

Michael kept his own counsel The kid was in his early twenties, probably living in hishe was a un every day Michael had met several Colliers in the Iraqi desert when the first Bush had decided to go in They were all eager pups with that glint in their eye that told you they had joined up for more than three squares and a free education They were obsessed with duty and honor, all that shit they’d seen on TV and been fed by the recruiters who plucked theh school like ripe cherries They had been pronn on the dotted line Most of the shipped off on the first transport plane to the desert, where they got shot before they could put their helmets on

Ted Greer ca at his tie like he needed air The lieutenant was pasty for a blackin the fluorescent lights as he waited for his retirement to kick in

He saw Michael still sitting in the car and scowled “You working tonight or just out for a drive?”