'Sounds like he's coming around,'Glitsky said.

Ridley Banks pulled a toot sweet around the front of the car and got himself standing between his lieutenant and the lights at the head of the alley. There'd been so many accusation of police brutality lately that the media were watching for it at every opportunity. And now his lieutenant was giving them something. Ridley motioned with his head, a warning, then spoke in a whisper. 'Cameras, Abe. Heads up.'

Glitsky was all innocence. 'What?' The poor guy fell.' The suspect lay unmoving at his feet. He hadn't moved after the first rollover. The lieutenant looked over the hood of the squad car to Medrano and Petrie. 'Take this garbage to the detail until he wakes up.'

Petrie looked at his partner again. Neither of them had ever met Glitsky before and he was making an impression-he wasn't one your touchy-feely modern law enforcement community facilitators. The younger officer cleared his throat and Glitsky glared. 'What?'

Petrie swallowed, finally got it out. 'The detail, sir?'

'What about it?'

Medrano took over. 'The guy looks good for medical eval, Lieutenant. We were thinking we'd show him to the paramedics.'

Glitsky knew that this meant the suspect would probably wind up going to the hospital, where there were secure rooms for jail inmates who needed medical care. This prospect didn't much appeal to him. 'What for?'

Medrano shrugged. It wasn't that he cared personally, but the lieutenant's suggestion ran counter to the protocol. He wanted to cover himself. 'Get him cleared before we take him anywhere, maybe start detox before he goes into withdrawal.'

Glitsky had a deep and ancient scar that ran across his mouth, and now with his lips pursed it burned as a whitish gash under the hawk nose, the jutting chin. Glitsky's mother had been African-American, his father Jewish-his visage was dark, intense, hooded. 'How do we know he needs medical care?'