NYPD Red

Chapter 56



TWO COPS GOT out of the car.

Gabe looked them over. One was male, young, and big. The other was male, young, and bigger.

Officer Bigger walked up to him. The other cop went inside.

“Is this 33-87 Skillman or 33-97? The building address is rubbed off.”

“I’m not really sure,” Gabe said. “I don’t live here.”

The other cop came back out.

“Danny, this is the place. The guy’s name is on the bell. Fifth floor.”

“Looks like my partner solved it,” Bigger said. “Have a good day, sir.”

“You too, officer,” Gabe said.

He watched them take the elevator, and then casually sauntered over to the patrol car. And there it was, painted in blue and white on the rear fender: 19 PCT.

No wonder these guys had trouble finding this building. They’re from the 19th Precinct—the one Jordan and MacDonald work out of. This is no random parole check. They’re not just here to rattle Mickey’s cage. They’re trying to connect him to me.

Bag full of C4 or not, there was no going home now.

He walked to the corner, crossed Skillman Avenue, and leaned against a traffic light, where he could watch Mickey’s building and still stay out of sight.

Lexi was waiting for him at home. He called her. No answer. He tried her cell. Again no answer. He texted. Nothing.

Dammit. First she kills Fitzhugh, now she’s off the grid, and to top it all off, the cops have come for Mickey.

His heart was thumping. He dialed Lexi again. This time he waited for her voice mail to pick up. As usual, the outgoing message sounded chipper, perky, and happy.

“Hi, this is Lexi. I’m making some changes in my life right now. If I don’t return your call, then you’re one of the changes. Bye.”

“Lexi, it’s me. Things are turning to shit. I’m outside Mickey’s building, and the cops showed up. I’m pretty sure they’re going to pick up Mickey. I got forty-five thousand dollars’ worth of C4 in my bag, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop them. That’s all. Oh yeah, one more thing. Where the f*ck are you?” he screamed.

Ten minutes later, the cops came out. Mickey was with them. No cuffs.

He’s not under arrest. They’re just bringing him in for questioning. I know Mickey. He’ll play dumb—won’t say a word.

But then his parole officer will show up and give him an ultimatum. Tell me what you know, and I won’t charge you with violating your parole. But if you clam up and I find out you were with Benoit, you’ll be back in Ray Brook in time for dinner.

Mickey would panic. He’d rather die than go back, and if the PO pushes him to the wall, he’ll give me up in a heartbeat.