That was saying a lot. That was saying her case leadership had come into question. Not only that, it was being challenged within the squad. Quietly, but a challenge nonetheless. Had her reprimand so upset these two that they would rift-out on her like this? “Let’s talk about it.”
“Yeah, let’s.” Detective Raley went up to the board. Space was getting tight but he found room and put two mug shots up: one of each of the pair from the ATM who had also chased and shot at Beauvais in the video from Queensboro Plaza. “Let’s talk about these thugs. Thug-One: Mayshon Franklin. Twenty-eight, in and out of prison three times, not counting juvie. Convictions for assault, weapons possession, and credit card theft.”
He moved to the second photo, and the tougher-looking character. “Thug-Two: Earl Sliney. This is our shooter from the video. Age, thirty-seven. Older than his partner, but apparently no wiser. Also a juvenile offender; also numerous stretches as a guest of various states. A deuce in Colorado for check fraud and ID theft, a bid in Florence, Arizona, for an armed home invasion robbery; closer to us, he stacked five years upstate at Dannemora for kneecapping a drug dealer who shorted his cut. Earl Sliney is currently at large with a warrant for a recent murder in Mount Vernon, New York. He shot and killed an elderly woman hiding in her bathtub trying to call 911 during an armed home invasion.” Raley strode back to his seat. The move reminded Nikki of an improv comic she and Rook saw once who dropped the microphone and exited the stage after he scored the un-toppable laugh.
Nikki sat on the front table and took a moment to consider Roach. And how the pressure she felt could sometimes create harm where she least wanted it, to those who least deserved it. It had been on her mind all the way back to the precinct. It had been she who told Raley and Ochoa to take point on the home invasion case. And from that work came the receipt in Jeanne Capois’s purse that led them to Chelsea. And in her irritation, she’d thoughtlessly bigfooted them on the sidewalk and sent them away.
Would an apology make that right? Or maybe this wasn’t pushback about her smacking them down. Maybe they truly had doubts. Maybe they smelled something about this case she was missing. “You like these guys for this,” Heat said, not challenging, not buying, either.
“We like being open to that,” said Ochoa.
Raley nodded. “We feel like things went one way in a hurry.”
“Way big a hurry,” repeated his pard. “Just noticing what we’re noticing, boss.”
Roach, her best detectives, were kicking the ball back by feeding Heat her own training lectures. “All right, fine. Tell you what. Follow this thread. See if you can track these two. Relatives, known associates, the usual. Obviously, they’re stealing bank card skims, so I’d start there. Maybe you can get more hits from the same source of the ATM still photo. By the way, where’d that picture come from?”
Nobody said anything. Then Rhymer cleared his throat. “Um, got a call from Rook yesterday after he got his tip from that woman at the chicken place.”
Thinking back, trying to recall the name, she asked, “You mean Hattie?”
Rhymer nodded. “Yeah, exactly, that’s the one. Anyway, Rook asked me to call some of my old pals in Burglary and Fraud to surf for Beauvais in their ATM perp database.”
“Wait a minute,” said Heat in disbelief. “Rook. Rook called and asked you to do that?” First Roach, now him? Nikki thought, Et tu Opie?
The detective shrugged. “Sort of felt like the same thing you’d ask for, if you were around.”
Heat dismissed them to tackle their assignments. She returned to her desk and felt that tug of barbed wire pull snug across her back muscles again.