Chapter Eighteen #2
“The request alone was enough to suggest a lot of things. Verify he was in Philly on Sunday night and is still there, and we can check that box. Then we’ll track down Wallack.”
“Will do.”
Sam went into her office, closed the door and turned off the lights, determined to catch ten minutes of shut-eye while she could.
Feet on the desk, head back and eyes closed, she could see only the heartbroken face of Trey Marchand.
That poor guy. He was doing everything right, raising a child on his own and to have something like this happen…
The word unfair didn’t begin to do the situation justice.
Her cell phone dinged with a text from Nick. Call me if you have a minute.
She immediately placed the call. “What’re you doing up?” she asked when he answered.
“I wanted to check on you. I saw the reports about the shooting, and I know how hard it is for you guys when kids are involved.”
“It was horrible. The poor dad is a single parent and buckled to her pleas to take her to the park, even though he knew they should stay in. All I can see are the braids in her hair and her adorable sunflower dress covered in blood.”
“I’m sorry, babe. I honestly don’t know how you guys can see the stuff you do every day and continue to function normally.”
“There are many who would argue that my functioning is far from normal.”
“I’m not one of them. Your normal works for me.”
“That’s good to know,” she said with a sigh. “Most guys wouldn’t want anything to do with a mess like me.”
“This guy wants everything to do with your messy self.”
Sam smiled, which would have been impossible before he called. “Hearing your voice makes it all better.”
“Are you getting anywhere with the investigation?”
“Not really, but we’re doing what we do, pulling threads. We’re working the sharpshooter angle hard. Whoever is doing this has some kind of formal training to be able to strike repeatedly with such deadly accuracy while traveling in a speeding car.”
“That’s a good theory. I hope it pans out.”
“Of course, that angle is fraught with peril as it includes people associated with the department.”
“Does that mean you’re making more friends at HQ?”
“Something like that.”
“You going to be at it all night?”
“Looks that way. I don’t feel right going home until we catch these SOBs.”
“You need to sleep at some point. You won’t be any good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground.”
“I know. I’ll work until I can’t anymore, and then I’ll be home.”
“Keep me posted?”
“Will do. Do you think you can get some sleep?”
“I’ll try. I don’t sleep as well without my wife to snuggle with.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Love you, babe. Be careful out there.”
“Always am, and I love you, too.”
She closed her phone and put her head back against the chair, grateful for him and the support he always provided when her cases got to be too much for her. And this one had been too much since the first bullet hit Jamal Jackson.
Letting her mind wander while she had a moment of quiet, she worked through the details of the case so far.
From Jamal to Melody to Sridhar to Caroline and now Vanessa.
Nothing obvious connected the five victims except for how they were killed.
The shootings had happened in different parts of the city, four of them after dark.
Only Jamal had been killed during daylight hours.
She thought about Joe Kramer and the investment he’d risked everything to make and still couldn’t find a motive that led to his wife being killed in a drive-by shooting.
How did that make any sense? If they killed Joe, that would add up because eliminating him meant they’d have one less investor to share profits with if their gamble paid off.
But killing his wife would’ve gotten them nowhere. Except to maybe send a message to Joe.
Sam sat up in her chair. “Cruz!”
He opened her door a minute later. “You bellowed, Lieutenant?”
“Joe Kramer.”
“What about him?”
“The guys he invested with checked out, right?”
“They did. No criminal records.”
“Were we able to get anything on what this mysterious project they’re working on is about?”
“We didn’t dig into that.”
“Maybe we should. What if they were trying to send a message to Joe by taking out his wife?”
“It’s a thread, but tell me this… What do the other four victims have to do with sending a message to Joe?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe they were collateral damage.”
Freddie thought about that for a minute. “It’s a stretch. If they were going to surround Melody with collateral damage, they did that the first night. Why start it up again tonight?”
His good point had her sagging with discouragement again.
“I was able to confirm that Sergeant Offenbach checked into the hotel in Philadelphia on Saturday and hasn’t checked out,” Freddie said.
“That tells us he was in Philly on Saturday. It doesn’t tell us he’s still there.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Ask Archie to track his phone.”
“Sam… The guy’s a decorated police officer.”
“I know he is, but I’ve got a six-year-old dead in the morgue because she went to a freaking park with her father. Track the phone, Freddie.”
“On it.” He turned and left the room.
Sam immediately regretted her sharp tone and would have to apologize for taking her frustrations out on him.
Apologizing never came naturally to her, but she’d learned to do it when she had to.
Being an adult sucked sometimes. But other times it didn’t, especially the time she got to spend with her sexy husband. That was the best kind of adulting.
Their beach vacation already seemed like it’d happened months ago. With exhaustion creeping in around her rough edges, Sam scrubbed at her face and got up to find some coffee. At the coffee station in the pit, she was surprised to find Cameron Green filling a cup. “What’re you doing here?”
“I heard about the dead kid and came in to see what I could do to help.”
“That earns you big points, Detective,” Sam said, accepting the cup of coffee he poured for her.
“That’s not why I came.”
“That earns you even more.” She stirred cream and a half a teaspoon of sugar into her coffee. “Is there a Mrs. Green at home?”
“Nope. Just me and my pug named Jeffrey. My neighbor takes care of him for me when I get stuck working crazy hours.”
“I love that you have a pug named Jeffrey.”
“He’s my son. Sometime when we don’t have dead kids to deal with, I’ll show you pictures. He’s so ugly he’s cute.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing those pictures.”
“Tell me about the dead kid.”
Sam went over what’d happened and what they knew so far, which was next to nothing. “We’ve got people looking for the car, the Feds are working the homegrown angle and we’re digging into the sharpshooters in the area. Cruz and I are heading out shortly if you’d like to join us.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
“I do appreciate you coming in early.”
“No problem.”
Dominguez and Carlucci came into the pit, and Sam waved them over. “Detective Dani Carlucci and Detective Gigi Dominguez, meet Detective Cameron Green.”
The three detectives shook hands.
“Nice to meet you,” Dominguez said.
“Welcome aboard,” Carlucci added.
“Good to be here,” Green said.
Sam watched the three of them interact, having the wildly inappropriate thought that the tall, blonde, stacked Carlucci would make pretty, pretty babies with Green. Although, petite Dominguez with her olive skin, dark hair and eyes was a head-turner, too.
Thinking about that foolishness kept her from obsessing about the massive bloodstain on Vanessa Marchand’s sunflower dress. Compartmentalization. It kept her sane.
“What’ve you got for me, ladies?” Sam asked her third-shift detectives.
“Simpson, the former SEAL who was shot in the head in Afghanistan, is still at Walter Reid undergoing extensive rehabilitation,” Dominguez said.
“We were able to speak to him and rule him out as a possible suspect.” She glanced at her partner, who nodded in confirmation.
“He no longer has the physical abilities to carry out this kind of crime. He’s in a wheelchair and is obviously impaired. ”
“We can’t find Vega,” Carlucci said. “We tried the address on file for him and were told he hasn’t lived there in more than a year and left no forwarding address. We came back to dig a little deeper on him.”
“Good work,” Sam said. “Keep me posted on what you find out about Vega. We’re following up with Sergeant Offenbach and retired Captain Wallack.”
“Dylan Offenbach?” Carlucci said.
“Yes, do you know him?”
“We were in the academy together.”
“Impressions?”
“Hardworking, by the book, family man. He and his wife have like four kids at last count, I think.”
“He’s supposedly at a conference in Philly,” Sam told her.
“Then I’m sure that’s where he is.”
“We’re confirming it to close the loop. But I want nothing in the reports about investigating our own people.”
“Right. Understood.”
“Green, let’s find Detective Cruz and go pay retired Captain Wallack a visit.”
“At two-thirty in the morning?” Green asked.
“We’ve got murderers killing innocent people,” Sam said. “I don’t give a crap what time it is.”
“Well, alrighty then,” Green said, smiling.
“Welcome to Homicide,” Dominguez said. “Where you never have to wonder what your lieutenant is thinking.”
“I can hear you people talking about me behind my back,” Sam said as she went into the office to get her keys.
As they headed toward the morgue, Freddie came downstairs with Archie. “Ah,” Freddie said. “There she is. You can tell her yourself.”
“Tell her what?” Sam asked.
“I’m not comfortable with tracking the phone belonging to a member in good standing of this department without a damned good reason,” Archie said.
“Come with me.” Sam set off toward the morgue, the three men following her into the cold, antiseptic-smelling space where Lindsey performed the autopsy on Vanessa Marchand. Her chest had been blown wide-open by the bullet.
Sam turned to face Archie. “She is my damned good reason.”
“What’s going on, citizens?” Lindsey asked without looking up from her work.
“Lieutenant Holland wants Lieutenant Archelotta to track the cell phone belonging to Sergeant Offenbach to make sure he’s in Philadelphia and not possibly participating in the series of drive-by shootings,” Cruz said. “Did I forget anything?”
Sam glared at Archie, who glared right back at her, said, “Nope. That about sums it up. Everyone is a suspect in this case until they aren’t. Track the fucking phone, Archie.”
“I’ll do it, but when this comes back to bite us in the ass, it’s your ass that’s getting bitten, not mine.”
“Understood. My ass and I can handle it.” As she said the words, she tried not to think about the fact that he was the one colleague who’d ever seen her bare ass.
Archie stormed out of the room.