Chapter 16
Beau Lee had eaten two tuna sandwiches and a bag of chips from the corner deli where Alvarez frequently ordered lunch deliveries.
She had just finished her club salad. He’d made significant headway in reviewing Hollis’s current litigation against the Chicago Police Department.
Alvarez had done thorough work, exposing a pattern of behavior that was pervasively hostile, and which resulted in Hollis’s being denied multiple promotions without explanation, as well as being subjected to varying degrees of racially insensitive remarks.
Unnamed witnesses corroborated the behavior.
Some had even experienced the torment themselves but refused to go on record out of fear of reprisal.
Alvarez’s phone vibrated. She glanced at a text and quickly set the phone back down. “The police are holding a press conference about Hollis’s shooting.”
“Already?”
She took a remote from her desk drawer and turned on the flat-screen mounted on the wall.
“It’s started,” Beau Lee said. “Hopefully we didn’t miss much.”
They watched the entire conference in silence. The department spokesperson didn’t offer much; the investigation was ongoing, charges would be forthcoming, and there was the ubiquitous promise of a thorough investigation.
Afterward, Alvarez said, “Doesn’t make sense. Why aren’t they filing charges? They were so sure Hollis was guilty, enough to shoot him, and now, nothing?”
“In my experience, the police department reviews the evidence and institutes a roundtable tribunal with the superintendent, deputy superintendent, the chief, and city attorneys. They’ll consider charges and how to shield the department from legal action, which could mean throwing those officers under the bus.
But you’re right. I can’t see a scenario where they don’t charge Hollis with something.
It’s the only way they’ll be able to justify his shooting and arrest.”
Beau Lee’s phone rang. “Here’s Capes now,” he said, accepting the call. “Capes, go ahead.”
“Hey, boss, got an update for you. Sounds like the witnesses might be headed to Philadelphia.”
“Any idea why?”
“Could be a family connection. Doyle seems to think if we hurry we can catch up with them. We could pick you up. Might be best if you’re with us.”
“Agreed,” Beau Lee said. “Give me a call when you’re here, and I’ll meet you outside.”
“We’re going to drop by Gunderson Security to check something out. Then we’ll be on our way to you.”
“All right.”
Beau Lee ended the call.
“What’s going on?” Alvarez asked.
“Capes might have a lead on the whereabouts of whoever recorded Hollis’s shooting. They’re on their way to pick me up.”
Before he could put the phone back in his pocket, it chimed loudly. Not the default chime either, but the one he specifically selected for Gigi. She had sent three text messages back-to-back. “Excuse me a second. I need to respond to this.”
He stepped into the small lobby outside Alvarez’s office and wrote:
Hey, my love. Everything all right?
Seconds later, she responded:
Just checking on you.
Even when communicating over radio waves on pocket devices, he could sense his wife’s worry.
He sent her a reassuring response that everything was fine and that they were making headway, to which she responded with a heart emoji.
Subtle but enough—just knowing she was thinking about him and praying for him was always enough.