“Shadow always has the business to do.” He turned, sauntered to the door. He tipped an imaginary cap to Wilburn and Cordts. “Irie, gentlemen.”
Wilburn stared him down, but Cordts was smirking. “We’ll see you soon, Shadow. Real soon. We’ll tell Big Mike you stopped by.”
That last crack almost broke Shadow’s cool. Almost. He threw a glance over his shoulder as he slipped out the door.
“Big Mike’ll fucking kill him,” Maureen said, “if he hears Shadow talked to us. About anything.”
“Fuck that mope,” Wilburn said. “We’ll be better off, and it’ll be an easy solve for Homicide. Everybody wins.”
“Just giving him something to think about,” Cordts said.
“You’re the one about kicked his heart out his back,” Wilburn said, stepping forward. “Now he’s your pal.”
“I was working him,” Maureen said. “Aggressively, but it was work. These are extreme circumstances. He’s not my pal.”
Wilburn stormed outside, slamming the door behind him. Maureen could hear him shouting curses then calling for his partner.
“I take it we’re done here, too?” Cordts said.
“I gotta make a call,” Maureen said, “start moving on Shadow’s information. And I’ll let LaValle know he can finally go home. But, yeah, we’re done. Thank you, the both of you, for having my back. And for showing some flex.”
“Watching you work,” Cordts said, “was interesting. Keep us posted on how it goes from here.” He tilted his head at the door. “Don’t worry about Wilburn. He could give a fuck how you treated Shadow. I think he’s just pissed you let the mope walk. Long day today, for all of us.”
“I’m gonna make sure someone pays for it,” Maureen said.
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Cordts said, “we’re all chasing that same result. Including the two guys who helped you conduct your secret interview with a wanted man.” He duplicated Shadow’s hat-tipping gesture and walked out the door.
Maureen took several deep breaths before calling Detillier. She poured another shot but didn’t drink it. Detillier was fully awake when he answered this time.
“I have new information on Clayton Gage,” Maureen said. “The location of an apartment he used in the city until his death.”
“Should I ask where you got this information?”
“Through a CI of Preacher’s,” Maureen said. “It’s reliable. It makes sense. It’s an apartment that Caleb Heath provided the Watchmen through his father’s stock of properties. That it’s connected to Heath makes me think it’s legit. He also puts Caleb Heath in that apartment with the Watchmen. He gives us back what we lost with Quinn and Scales and Leary.”
“Where’s the apartment?” Detillier asked. “You have an address?”
“Not an exact one,” Maureen said. “It’s in Harmony Oaks, the CI said, in one of the two brick buildings. One of them is part of the rec center, so there’s only one building it can be.”
“There are some logistics I have to work out,” Detillier said, “but I bet we can get in the apartment by morning.”
“By morning? How can you wait that long?”
“Listen to me, Maureen, very carefully,” Detillier said. “The Sovereign Citizens and people like them, they booby-trap their homes before they go out on their missions. I’ve seen it several times before. We have no idea what could be waiting for us there. Please trust me on this. Don’t go looking around there yourself.”
“I believe you,” Maureen said. “It’s just, it’s our best lead.”
“It is,” Detillier said. “And I’m taking it very seriously. I’m on it. I’ll roust a couple agents out of bed and send them to sit on the building overnight.”
“I can do that for you,” Maureen said.
“Y’all are shorthanded enough as it is,” Detillier said. “Believe me, I have the manpower I need after today.”
“Don’t cut me out of this,” Maureen said. “This is my lead. I tracked this down. I want to be there and see what comes of my hard work.”
“I wouldn’t dream of freezing you out,” Detillier said. “But I’ll take it from here. Keep your phone close. Trust me.”
Maureen laughed out loud. “And what do I do until I hear from you?”
“You keep doing your job,” Detillier said. “And you wait.” He hung up.
Maureen slipped her phone into her pocket. She picked up her plastic cup of whiskey, looked down into her drink. She raised it halfway to her mouth and stopped. It came to her what the look on Wilburn’s face had meant, the tough-to-read frown he’d worn as she’d roughed up Shadow. She knew that look. What Wilburn saw when he looked at her was what she had seen when she’d looked at Quinn, when she’d seen him for what he really was.
She knew it wouldn’t make a real difference to anyone, but she poured the shot of Jack down the sink anyway.