Patience wasn’t my strong suit, and waiting to hear if our officers had spotted Kevin Tibbs was getting the best of me. I paced the bullpen, filled my coffee cup for the third time, and tried to stay busy at my desk with the stack of paperwork that had grown several inches higher over the past few days.
I turned at the sound of the door opening. Lutz’s eyes widened when he saw me still there after seven o’clock.
“What the hell are you doing here, McCord?”
I chuckled. “Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black?”
“I was leaving this warrant on your desk so you’d have it first thing in the morning. RailGears is all yours, and you and Frank can head there right after roll call. So again, why are you still here?”
“I’m planning to talk to Kevin Tibbs when he’s brought in, remember?”
Lutz looked around. “Of course I remember that, and I also know there are four detectives sitting here who will let us know when the officers round him up, so go home.” I began to protest, but Lutz held up his hand. “That’s an order, Jesse, not a request. If Kevin is brought in, I’ll be contacted, and so will you. That’s a promise.” He jerked his head toward the door in a not-so-subtle hint.
With a sigh, I grabbed my jacket off the chairback and left.
Once home, I sat in my recliner and wondered why more tip-line calls hadn’t come in from the enhanced photo. I assumed it was because criminals ran with criminals, and those types had no intention of squealing each other out. The original tips that came in were all we’d get, and they were dwindling to nothing.
I smiled at Bandit, who sawed logs as he slept at the end of the couch. “Man, to have a dog’s life. Come on, boy. Let’s hit the sheets.” Eight hours of sleep was more than I could hope for, but by going to bed at nine o’clock, there was a chance that I’d get my wish.