Ambush
- Автор: Паттерсон Джеймс, Борн Джеймс О.
- Серия: Michael Bennett #11
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Little, Brown and Company
- ISBN: 978-0-316-27398-5
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «Ambush». Краткое содержание книги:
She sat up on the bed next to me and leaned her head against my shoulder.
Juliana said, “It just hurts so bad. I thought we had something real.”
“You did. He was just too stupid to realize it.” I put my arm around her and wiped a tear off her cheek with my finger. “There’s nothing I can say right now that’s not a stereotype of something every dad would say. But you are so beautiful and so smart that you’ll have your choice of men across the city. And you’ve always got this guy, who loves you no matter what.”
She squeezed me, then mumbled, “Thanks, Dad.”
I patted her on the back and said, “Do you feel like going to Super Tacos with us? It’s up to you. No one will force you.”
She sniffled and said, “I heard Trent might be some kind of brainiac like Eddie. I can’t miss a celebration for that. Can you give me a few minutes?”
“As long as you need, sweetheart.”
I kissed her on the top of her head, and somehow I was the one who felt better.
Chapter 68
My ad hoc task force on homicides had attracted some attention. While I was briefing the forensics people and some of the detectives involved, I noticed Internal Affairs inspector Alice Witcroft slip into a seat at the rear of the conference room.
Roddy Huerta had been true to his word and not mentioned to anyone that I had cut a deal with Julio Laza just before he was murdered. He sat, in his usual suit and tie, making notes as I spoke.
I had to give him credit because he didn’t even shoot me any sidelong glances when I talked about the murders and failed to mention Julio and his cousin Willie Perez. Of course, there was no evidence that the two Dominican gunmen were murdered by our suspect. But I still believed it deep down.
When I asked if anyone had anything new, Cassie Max was the first to speak up.
She said, “I’ve done nothing but look through surveillance videos in the areas of my two homicides. I have a couple of shots that don’t show a face but do show a woman with long brown hair, about five foot seven, who seems to have something strapped across her that’s not a purse.”
Cassie handed out photos taken from the video. She had described it perfectly.
Roddy said, “I have a similar-looking woman coming out of the East Harlem hotel.”
“Can you see her face?”
“No. Just long hair, nice legs, and high heels. I discounted her the first time I saw her. Once you gave us more information I zeroed in on her immediately.”
A plump forensics tech named Harry said, “I think she has a camera on a strap around her.”
I said, “How do you know?”
“Because I have one strapped around me most of the day. No one ever even notices.”
Now, with a new perspective, I saw it, too. “It does look like a camera.”
Cassie Max said, “Do you think she takes trophy photos?”
I said, “Or is it a cover?”
The meeting broke up on its own. Everyone had things they wanted to get done immediately.
I thought I might slip out of the conference room without having to talk to Alice Witcroft. I had nothing against her personally. It was just a general feeling that it was best to avoid Internal Affairs.
The tall and fit fifty-year-old woman nearly blocked the door to keep me from escaping.
She smiled as she said, “C’mon, Bennett. You really think you can evade me that easily?”
“I thought I’d try.” I matched her gaze. I’m sure many a cop had melted under those intelligent blue eyes. “What are you doing here, Alice?”
“Internal Affairs just wants to make sure one of the department’s most well-known detectives is not too close to a case.”
“I’m just helping out with a series of homicides. Technically I’m not even the lead on any one homicide investigation.”
“As I understand it, you think these murders of Canadians could be related to the death of your partner, Antrole Martens. Am I right?”
There was no sense in denying anything. But there was no reason to admit it, either. “Possibly. We really don’t have much yet.”
“Look, Mike, I get it. The public is never that outraged by the murder of a cop. They remember every shitbag shot by a cop in the middle of the night, but aside from a few headlines and a high-profile funeral, no one remembers the names of cops killed in the line of duty. Except other cops.
“No matter what you think, Internal Affairs is still staffed by cops. I don’t want to stand in your way. I just don’t want you to get in the trick bag, either.”
“Since when is Internal Affairs so worried about my job security?”
“Since the Post called you the best detective the city ever produced.”
“So it’s more of a PR issue than a desire to catch a cop killer.”
The slick IA detective said, “Why can’t it be both?”
Chapter 69
Alex Martinez finished her conversation with both her daughters over a static-plagued cell-phone line. Her daily conversations with Gabriela and Clemency just made her miss home that much more. It didn’t help that her mother called every other day and made her feel guilty about staying so long in New York.
She sat at a computer in a café a few blocks from Times Square. She’d been making notes from articles and posts about Detective Michael Bennett on the Internet.
Normally this was the part of her job she really enjoyed, but now she was ready for some time with her daughters and her horses.
As she was reading yet another article about Bennett’s involvement in the famous case of hostages taken at the First Lady’s funeral, her phone buzzed. Only a few people had the number. For a moment, she was scared something could be wrong at home, even though she’d just spoken to the girls.
When she looked down, she recognized the number as that of her mounted police officer, Tom McLaughlin. She let the phone go to voice mail. As sweet and fun as Tom was, she had a job to do, and she wanted to do it as quickly as possible.
She still could find no photographs of or information about any of Bennett’s children. Not that she would ever hurt a child, but the kids could be a trail to the detective’s weakness. Or perhaps she could use one as bait. At this point she didn’t care, as long as she was able to finally close the contract on Bennett.
She decided to start serious surveillance, which meant she had to rent a car. The first place she watched was his office, on Broadway and 133rd Street.
Unless you knew what you were looking for, there was no way to tell that this was an official police office. There were a lot of Chevrolet Impalas and Ford Crown Victorias parked on the street around the building and under the elevated train track, but the building itself was unmarked and innocuous.
Alex was peering out her open driver’s-side window when a rap on the trunk of her car startled her. When she looked into the rearview mirror she saw a tall black woman, a traffic enforcement agent, strolling to her window.
Alex smiled and said, “I’m sorry. Do you need me to move the car?” The woman didn’t say anything but leveled a stern glare at Alex.
She said, “It’s too late. The signs posted all around here clearly say no parking or stopping.” She pulled out her ticket book and started writing.
Alex said, “I’m still in the car. I never got out. I was just stopping for a few moments to check my phone.”
“I saw you sitting here for more than six minutes. That’s six minutes of breaking the law. That’s an awfully long time to be checking your phone. I don’t care how pretty you are.” She stepped to the rear of the vehicle and noticed from the tag that it was a rental. “Where you from, young woman?”