“Not acceptable. Get the hell out of here. And don’t even think about making a sympathy play. I’m calling your boss, and he’s going to have your head. You’re lucky I’m not taking it to him.”
Jordan’s phone rang. She holstered her Glock and went inside.
“But, Detective—or should I call you Lieutenant now?”
His stomach hitched. “How do you know about that?”
A coy little smile. “I do have sources, despite what you think. And my sources tell me Kaylie Rousch is back from the dead. True?”
“Go away, Lisa.”
“If you won’t give me anything, maybe you’ll listen. Twenty years ago, around the same time Kaylie Rousch disappeared, another little girl went missing. She was the daughter of one of the homeless from down under Whitehurst Freeway. No one ever did anything about it because she was a black girl in an orphanage, and no one cared enough to look for her.”
He shook his head. “You are so off base. If we’d known about it, we would have investigated it. What sort of cops do you think we are?”
“The kind the homeless didn’t trust enough to tell you the truth, I suppose. Her name was Jennifer Harvey. That’s who you dug up when you thought you’d found Kaylie Rousch.”
Fletcher sighed. “Where did you find this?”
“I’ve been working on an enterprise piece about the inequalities in criminal investigations and the media exposure. White Girl Syndrome. I talked to a lot of people down in Anacostia. They all mentioned this little girl who’d disappeared and no one ever did anything about it. Kaylie Rousch disappeared, and every media outlet spent weeks on the coverage. Jennifer Harvey goes missing, and no one even knows her name. It’s a shame.”
“Well, I thank you for the tip, and I’ll certainly follow it up. Now leave.”
“That’s it? Come on, Lieutenant. Don’t you want to know who did it?”
“You think you know who did?”
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Fletcher gritted his teeth together. Jordan looked out the window, ran two fingers in a circle. Wrap it up, her look said.
“Lisa, you are trying my patience. If you have information on a criminal case, spill it, right now. I won’t give you speculation in return, but I will tell the brass you gave us the lead, and will keep you in the loop on the investigation. Deal?”
She smiled widely. “Deal. Look for a guy named Big Tommy. He ran heroin out of Anacostia. Word is Jennifer was one of his corner runners, and she got caught up in a dispute between him and another dealer. That’s all I’ve got so far.”
It was solid information. He knew all about Big Tommy, a ruthless son of a bitch who’d been in and out of prison for years. He had a sheet a mile long; Fletcher wouldn’t be terribly surprised to see murder added to the list.
“All right. Quid pro quo. Kaylie Rousch is alive, and we are endeavoring to find her right now. There is a BOLO out for her.”
“I know she’s alive, dummy. It’s all over the news. Is it a BOLO, or an arrest warrant? I heard she was armed and dangerous.”
“We just want to talk to her. Last known was Georgetown, 2:30 a.m. She stole some clothes, money and jewelry from—never mind, that’s not relevant. But if a redhead comes into a pawnshop today with a TAG Heuer watch, you let me know.”
She pulled herself up to the railing and said, “Thanks.”
He leveled a finger at her. “Lisa. Hear me well. I ever catch you out here again, and you’re finished. You got me?”
She nodded, then gave him a sly grin. “Your FBI agent friend is smoking hot. You should tap that.”
He slammed the back door a little harder than necessary to drown out her laugh.
Jordan had straightened up all the papers, was putting the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Leave those, I’ll clean up later. You ready to head out?”
“Yes. That reporter, she’s quite resourceful.”
“She’s a gigantic pain in my ass is what she is. Always lurking around trying to drum up a story. I can’t believe she was foolish enough to peep in my windows. We arrest people for that shit.”
He grabbed his cell phone to call the Post.
“Don’t turn her in,” Jordan said. “She’s just trying to make a living. Use her instead.”
“She’s not someone I trust.”
“She’ll be more help if she’s out there digging things up.”
“I can’t believe you’re defending her. “
She tossed a dish towel onto the counter, put her hands on her hips. “I’m not. But I want every eye out for this little girl, even unscrupulous reporters. Unfortunately there’s no news out of headquarters. Let’s go talk to Rachel’s parents. It’s time we got the whole story on her background, don’t you think?”
Chapter
49
Georgetown
SAM WOKE AT 6:30 a.m., the sun streaming in the window. Xander had never come to bed.
She tiptoed downstairs, saw him asleep on the couch, shirtless, an arm thrown over his head, blocking the sun’s rays. Thor slept next to him, though he raised his head hopefully when he saw her. His people stirring meant food, and a walk.