Page 11 of Under Cover
Still, he couldn’t help listen in as Crosby bid goodbye to the Campos family in the midlevel safe house one suburb over from their own neighborhood.
“Okay, now, you’ve got Officer Gibbs and Officer Swan here to keep you company,” Crosby said, smiling at the two officers wearing plain clothes. Swan was young, African American, and male, with one of those round faces that seemed sweet and trustworthy. Garcia knew this could be a lie, but the rapport between Swan and his partner—older, female, with no-nonsense brown eyes and a tight braid of graying brown hair—was sound and efficient. “This shouldn’t last more than a night or two. We want to make sure it’s all clear before we send you back to your home.”
“Won’t be much of a home left without that check from the Carpenters,” James said, his voice bone weary. “God rest their souls.” He grimaced, probably aware of the crassness of mentioning his own problems when the couple had been murdered that morning but also afraid of losing his house.
Crosby nodded. “Look, I don’t know what to say. But we’ve got some money people who might be able to help you guys get some loans or grants or something. I’ll ask my boss. There’s almost always money lurking in corners, but nobody knows how to find it. How about you, Jesse? How you doing?”
The boy hadn’t stopped crying since he’d first talked, and Garcia wondered if he was grieving for his friend. He gave a quiet sob now and shook his head, and Crosby frowned.
“Kid, you want to talk to me privately?”
And with that he pulled Jesse Campos into the living room while Garcia, the two protective officers, and James and the boy all stared at each other.
Officer Swan glanced around and said, “So, uhm, anybody want pizza?”
Garcia would havekilledfor some pizza then, but he figured it wasn’t his call. James and little Jimmy said that was fine, and they sat at the table, the boy on his father’s lap, and drank sodas while nice Officer Swan used his expense account to order a family style with the works.
And Garcia glanced into the prefurnished living room to see how Crosby was doing with the kid. He didn’t want to look pointedly at his watch, but theydidhave the other runner to track down. Crosby must have sensed the urgency, because Garcia watched his brows knit in that apologetic grimace people get when they have to bail.
Finally Crosby put his hands on the kid’s shoulders and said, loud enough to carry, “Kid, that sucks. I can’t even imagine how much that sucks. But you gotta tell your brother, or he’ll never know how much it sucks for you, okay? It’s good info formeto have, because I know how to talk to your friend, but it’s gonna take some time beforeyoufeel better, and only your family can help with that.”
The kid said something inaudible, and Crosby’s expression softened. “Kid, trust him. He seems to like you fine. Besides, you’re here with nice police officers. He can’t kill you here.” And with that, Crosby gave the kid a brief, hard hug and then pulled out his wallet and gave the kid his card. “Look, I’ve got to go, but I don’t want to leave you hanging. You give me some time to get the bad guy so your family is safe, and then if you feel like you need a friend, give me a call, okay?”
Jesse nodded, obviously dumb with misery, and Crosby squeezed his shoulder before striding through the kitchen, nodding to Garcia without breaking stride.
“Guys, it’s been real. Gibbs, Swan, can I speak to you for a moment?”
She followed them outside, and Crosby handed her a piece of note paper with an address. “I need a unit sent out to this place to patrol. The people inside aren’t great, but they don’t deserve to be shot in the face, you read me?”
She nodded and pulled the radio at her belt, and he stopped her. “Look, the kid’s fragile. You two take care of our friends here for us, okay?”
She nodded, and then Crosby and Garcia were out of there, trotting toward the agency-issued SUV with all of the urgency Crosby had been trying not to show the kid in the living room.
Garcia waited until they got back into the SUV to ask, “What was that?”
Crosby grunted and held up a finger, pulling his radio out to contact Gail. “Elsa, you there?”
“Yeah, Olaf, speak to me.”
Garcia held back a snicker—if he ever wanted to know about their relationship, the Disney references clued him in.
“Look, I’ve got three names for you to run down on potential victims for Sewell, but I got more.”
“Gimme the names first,” she said, and he rattled off the top three names from memory, which impressed Garcia, because that’s why he used a notebook.
When he was done he said, “We got three more that might be a possibility, and Garcia’s going to get those from my phone and send them to you,” he said, pulling the device from his pocket and handing it to Garcia after unlocking it with his face. “It’s in Notes, and she’s in frequent contacts,” he murmured as Garcia got moving, listening as he followed directions. “But I got more than that. I also got a line on Kurt Armbruster, and it’s in the city. I need to know if the chief wants us to track this guy to Queens, or if he wants another team to do it.”
She grunted. “You sure this tip is live? We’ve got him living in Elizabeth, same as your last boy.”
“Yeah, well, my last boy met his two friends while bussing a gay club in Queens. Nobody’s parents knew, but the guys were pretty tight. Kurt and Ryan had shitty home lives, and they used a little flop above the club to hook up with each other and dodge fists and lamps and baseball bats and shit. Jesse thinks Sewell found out—he’d had a crush on Ryan since the beginning—and that’s what sort of tipped him over the edge, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh dear God,” she muttered. “Does Sewell know about the flop?”
“The answer there is maybe. I guess Sewell had been dogging the kid pretty hard before he shot poor Ryan in the face. So we know Kurt’s probably there, and we know where Kurt’s family lives. I sent a unit there to keep an eye on the family, but someone needs to check out the flop.”
She grunted. “Give me five. Find a drive thru or something, get some coffee, and let me run names and locations and work.”
Crosby signed out and scowled, brows knit like he was thinking of a place to go while they waited for directions.