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“I saw some people, I guess.” She narrows her eyes and hardens her face—it’s her thinking pose, I suppose. “A group of them. Youths, I think.”
“Do you think this group of youths were the ones who shot him?” he pounces. “Did you see a gun? Were they wearing hoodies? Something to cover their faces?”
“No.” She steals her hands back and returns to massaging them together. “No, I don’t think they hurt him. They were merely curious, as young boys tend to be. They were looking at him when he was already on the ground.”
“And you saw no one else? No one running away? No cars speeding away?”
“I saw no one else.” She moves off her chair, hardly gaining height when she changes position, then she wanders around her desk and kicks a pedal beneath to start her sewing machine. “This isn’t the first time someone has been shot in my street, Detectives. It probably won’t be the last. But you don’t become as old as I am by sticking your nose in other people’s affairs. I did my civic duty and made the call. But I don’t know who your shooter is.”
Frustrated, Fletch stands and snags a card from his back pocket. Extending his hand over the mountain of fabric, he offers it to the woman. “If you think of anything that might help us, please call. If someone stops by, or is wandering the streets and maybe looks a little shady, call. No one ever has to know you’re talking to us.”
She sets the card down and feeds fabric through the machine. “I will.”
Letting ourselves out and stepping into the sunlight, Fletch waits for the shop door to close before he releases a grunt of dissatisfaction. “She’s too afraid to speak.”
“Not afraid, I don’t think. But she’s smart enough to mind her own business. Like she said, you don’t get to her age by being stupid.”
“So she lives a life of ignorance.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders as we move along the street. “She purposely keeps her head down and her ears closed. If she sees nothing, she doesn’t have to report anything.”
“But hearing gunshots is a whole other thing. Can’t ignore it, so she got ahead of it and made damn sure she saw as little as possible.”
“It would help if we found that group of teens.” He stops in the middle of the still-barricaded street and looks all the way to the cruisers parkedhaphazardly to block traffic. “Though if she’s telling the truth, it seems they arrived after our shooter left. They might not have seen anything.”
“Let’s talk to the unis who canvassed. See what they came up with and if any reports mention a bunch of kids loitering around. Then we gotta get the bullet from Minka and take it over to ballistics.”
“Then we head to Midtown,” he sighs. “It’s time to talk to Mercer’s C.O. Chances are, whatever he’s working on right now is probably gonna connect to whoever held the gun. He was closing in on a perp who didn’t wanna go to prison, so they silenced him.”
“Doesn’t bode well for us.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure our cop-killer doesn’t have us in his sights. Because fuck it all, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and that foreboding feeling I long ago grew to trust tingles with nerves. “Our to-do list is growing. And I only have a day and a bit to tie this up. No way I’m leaving you to work it alone.”
“Suppose we better get going, then.” He claps my back and pulls me around. “Let’s push on.”
MINKA
“Chief Mayet!” The moment I step out of my autopsy room and angle for my office, the crowd of cops descends. Noisy. Demanding. Worst of all, they want to speak tome. And that’s not really my thing.
“What can you tell us, Chief?” One of them, a dude about Archer’s build and height, grabs my arm when I attempt to pass, tugging me to a sharp stop that has a snarl ripping along my throat. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, releasing me and raising his hands in surrender. “Lucas is my partner, Chief. He’s my boy.” His eyes glisten with a pain I know Archer would feel if it was Fletch’s body on my table. “Some motherfucker shot my best friend, Chief. So if you have information for me…”
“I have nothing.” I fix my jacket, straightening it because his hands tugged it askew. Then I stand taller and speak to everyone. “You know just as well as I do, I cannot comment on an open case. If you want information, call the primaries. And since we’re all adults here, we also know that even if youdocall the primaries, they’re going to tell you the same thing:no comment. This is an active homicide investigation. To speak about it could undermine the whole thing.”
“That’s my partner!” the first barks impatiently. “We’re all cops, Chief. We’re not your standard fucking pedestrian standing on the street and begging for a morsel of information. We’re not here to gossip. Tell us what you know, or I’m gonna have to?—”
“Gonna have to what?” Like a ghost in the night, Archer stalks through the crowd, a bowling ball through pins, and comes to a stop directly in front of me. His shoulder blades practically touch my nose and his back swells with adrenaline. “You best find your manners, Detective Wright.” He takes another step forward, forcing the group back. “Or I will remove you from this building. If you can’t get yourself under control, I’ll put you in a cage and happily charge you with obstruction of justice.”
“I’m not obstructing! I’m looking for answers. My partner was shot dead on the street today. I deserve to know what happened.”
“You don’t have rights.” Fletch pushes through the crowd and turns to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his partner. “The deceased has a right to a thorough and fair investigation. You stepping in our way or harassing our team violates those rights.”
“I just want answers.” I can’t see past my security detail, but I hear the emotion in Detective Wright’s voice. The hitch in his breath. I know damn well, if our situations were reversed and Fletcher was hurt, Archer would do more than raise his voice and demand answers from a hapless M.E.
“Why don’t we step into my office?” I move around the pair and look up at a red-eyed Wright. “Considering you were his partner, I’m certain Detectives Fletcher and Malone were coming to speak to you next. It works out that everyone is in the same place at the same time.”
“She’s actually right.” Fletch fakes a smile and gestures toward my office. “We have a list, Wright, and you’re on it. We were heading to your precinct after our chat with the doctors, but since you’re here…”
“Fine.” He shoves away from Archer, blowing past another cop whose eyes glitter with interest, then he stalks through my glass door. “Let’s go. At least then I might get more than the shit currently on the news.”
Before he follows, Archer points toward the elevators. “The rest of you can clear out. If I find you hanging around the M.E.’s office while they’re trying to work again, I’m gonna take names and talk to your C.O.s. This isn’t a fucking carnival. This is one of your comrades. Doctors need clear heads to do their thing, not adrenaline kicking in the back of their brains because they’re afraid of being jumped in the halls.”
“Let’s go.” Fletch herds the unhappy cops, arms wide and commanding tone, toward the elevators. “There ain’t enough room here for you all.”
