Chicago 1978
Detective Costa took one last drag from his cigarette before throwing the butt down on the pavement and grinding it under the sole of his shoe. He pulled the lapels of his overcoat up around his neck, against the bitter chill of the icy wind. All the time staring across the car lot, watching, as a teenager was led across the lot towards a black Lincoln Continental. The man leading him was his lawyer, he'd arrived at the station two hours previous. Been left to wait for a good half hour before Costa had agreed to see him. Technically a violation of the kids rights but Costa had passed the issue off, said he was busy working another case. Instead he'd sweated the kid some more, really put the pressure on him, before his lawyer started to whisper in his ear, told him to button up.
Costa despised lawyers, he'd been working the streets best part of a decade, dragging in the dealers and the lowlifes. Only for the lawyers to turn up talking about rights and amendments, often as not walking their clients back out and onto the street same afternoon.
The kid had done it, Costa knew that for sure, he'd seen kids like that before, something about them, in their eyes. They'd pulled him in previous day, said they had some questions. Offered him a lawyer? sure they did, but said best keep it simple, just a chat, call a lawyer and it gets official, they'd have to charge him.
So the kid had said, "sure", "no", "he not need lawyer" in that dumb ass Russian accent of his. Yeah kid was guilty as hell and if the dammed lawyer hadn't off turned up. If he'd been able to sweat the kid just a few more hours he'd have squealed for sure.
Now they had nothing. Doubted they'd ever find her alive. Damn lawyers.
