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Shep sat down and leaned back in his chair, waiting for Chuck to continue.
“I’ve never known Hooley to ask for help before and you can bet I was surprised when he asked for me.”
“I’m not,” Mike said. “You’re one of the best guys on the police force. You’re meticulous, but fair. You’ve been on the force for how long?”
“Nine years. Seems more like twenty.”
Mike wanted to laugh, but Chuck’s job wasn’t funny. He put his life on the line every day not knowing what to expect on any call that came through dispatch. Sure, firefighters fought fires, but at least they knew what they faced heading out on a call. Chuck could go on a domestic call and end up getting shot. It happened too frequently.
“Does that mean you’re working on the case now? Did you get promoted?” Shep asked.
“Congratulations, man,” Mike added.
“No. I did not. I’m staying in uniform and working—I guess you could say—undercover.”
“Undercover? Holy shit!”
“I’m working the street, watching traffic, looking for anything unusual. Keeping an eye out for strangers. Hooley showed me the film.”
“You saw the film?” Mike shot a glance to Shep then turned in his seat toward Chuck.
“He wanted another assessment from a cop’s view. We size people up and look for details a normal citizen might overlook.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Shep said with a nod. “So, tell me, Chuck. You have any idea who that guy is?”
Mike held his breath waiting for Chuck to answer. If anyone could figure out who the prick was, it would be Chuck.
“I couldn’t get a good look. Most of his face was hidden by the protective mask. He knew where the camera was and kept his head turned.”
“That fucker was right there in plain sight of everyone.” Angry and frustrated, Mike stood to pace the room. Son-of-a-bitch. The guy was a cocky bastard.
“That tells us something.”
Mike spun around on his heel.
“Tells you what?” Shep asked in a calm voice. At least the Captain was keeping his shit together.
“We think this guy is a pro.”
The bottom fell out of Mike’s stomach. “You think he’s a firefighter?”
“Not necessarily. He’s cool. Composed. Unruffled.” Chuck turned his head and met Mike’s gaze. “Like you said, he was right in the middle of the action. Walking around like he belonged there. Wearing Station Nine’s gear.”
“Bold mother—”
Chuck kept talking as if Mike hadn’t spoken. “The guy has balls. At some point, he walked right into Station Nine and stole their gear. A smooth operator. And if he can do that, there’s no limit to what this guy might do.”
“So that you will know, I’ve talked to my men and instructed them to be alert. Mike has the idea, if this character got away with sneaking around one fire station, what’s to keep him from hitting the others?”
“That man has a brass set. But if he comes in Station Eight, he’s going to get his ass kicked.” Mike flexed his arms.
“Like I said,” Chuck stated, “this guy could be capable of anything. I think you need to be prepared for that.”
For what? What the hell did Chuck mean?
He faced Mike. “Did you see anything, anything at all? The way he walked. Did he talk with anyone?”
“No. Nothing.” Wilson had been running the show and all he remembered was the number nine on the asshole’s helmet. Nothing looked out of place.
