“What about Cordell and his crew?”
“They cleared the fuck out of that area. I’d be surprised to see them back anytime soon.”
“Give them a few days. Cordell makes too much money off that corner to just let it go. Most of them will be back, except for Little Monster and the driver. They’ll be in the wind for a bit.”
“Yeah, I know you’re right about that.”
“Any word on the officer?”
“Naw, he’s still in surgery. I’ll let you know.”
“What about my car?”
“When they’re done processing it, I can have it towed back here for you. I know you don’t want it to go to our lot, right?”
“No. I’d appreciate if you’d get it here. If it doesn’t drive, I’ll get it towed myself.”
“Want some of this shit they call coffee?”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“All right, then. I’ll get back at you.”
Millhoff gets a call on his cell shortly afterward. He and his partner both walk past me and into the office where the detective sergeants have their desks, while he’s still talking on the cell.
The only thing I hear when he passes is, “Fuck, I’ll hit you back from a landline.”
Sixty-three
I’m starting to crash. I get a soda out of the machine in the lobby, but it’s no use.
Davidson is carrying a case jacket as he walks in with his partner, whose name I still can’t remember. Agent Hernandez follows behind them.
Hernandez is not dressed tactically like she was the last time I saw her. She keeps her tiny FBI badge clipped to her belt and her sidearm in a brown holster on her right side.
“Sorry it took so long,” Davidson says. “We were at the branch working some leads with McGuire and Luna. Where are Millhoff and his partner?”
“Sergeant’s office over there,” I direct him, tilting my head to the left.
“Be right back.”
He and Whatshisname walk into the office. Hernandez remains.
“Where’s your boy?” I ask.
“You mean Hawkins?”
“You got any other boys?”
“He’s the main one.”
“You got anything on the Soto murder yet?”
“We’re working a few things.”
“Don’t worry. I get it. I’m not a part of the club anymore.”
She gives me a half smile, like she agrees.
I do feel like getting under her skin. Maybe it’ll take my mind off the crash I’m facing.
“I bet you’re real good in the box,” I say.
She furrows her brow.
“I mean the interview room.”
“You remember why you’re here, right? An officer was shot.”
“Yeah, I remember. Not gonna forget it either.”
“Maybe you should show some respect.”
“He got my respect on the scene when I was holding him.”
She turns like she’s about to walk away.
“You had me going when we first met. I didn’t have a clue what you guys were really up to. You played me well.”
“We weren’t up to anything.”
“If I had anything to confess to, you’d be my first choice.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. There’s an interview room right there if you want to step in,” she says.
“It’s not cozy enough. And I think you know I had nothing to do with that kid’s death.”
Before she can answer, Davidson, Millhoff, and their partners walk back over. Millhoff is carrying a folder.
Millhoff and Davidson roll up a couple of chairs and sit.
“McGuire and Luna put together a couple of photo arrays,” Millhoff tells me. “Do I have to go through the whole spiel, or can you just look at the photos?”
“I’ve given the ‘spiel’ enough times to still have it. Just lemme see what you got.”
He hands me an eight-by-ten printout from Live Scan. It has three rows of nine PDID photos. It doesn’t take more than a second before I point to the fourth photo on the second row.
“That’s Little Monster. He’s the shooter,” I say with certainty.
He hands me another sheet with photos that are possibilities for Playboy. I look it over, but don’t see him.
“No,” I say. “He’s young. Maybe there’s a juvie photo on file.”
“We’ll look into that,” Davidson says.
“Or maybe he’s a lucky one and hasn’t been arrested yet,” I add. “You find his Lexus and have some good tac officers sit on it, he’ll show. That car’s his baby.”
“We’ll look into everything,” Millhoff says. “We get something, then we might have some more to show you.”
“I’ll be around.”
I hate to say it, but I’m glad they don’t know who he is. I want that little fuck Playboy to myself. He doesn’t know that I know about his prized shiny Lexus. Seventeenth and Euclid is hot now, so he’ll go to another spot they have. And yet again, I’m in a race with my former colleagues.
Sixty-four