“Mmm. Breakfast was great.”
Isaac stuffed the last of a Belgian waffle into his mouth and swallowed it down with a sip of coffee.
“Are you sure? I’m surprised you’ve even tasted it.”
The sarcasm in Sidney’s voice had him glancing up at her. She was watching him with a slightly amused, kind of annoyed smirk.
“I’m sorry. I guess I have sort of been rushing through things this morning.”
“You think?”
“It’s just that… well, today is the day Lt. Hayes leaves town, you know?”
“Ah, right.” Sidney nodded in remembrance. “Leaving you in charge of the Homicide Division for three whole days.”
“Exactly. And I’m just a little bit…” He let that sentence dangle as he searched for the right word.
“Nervous?”
“No. I’m not nervous.” Was that defensiveness he heard in his own voice just now? “Not really, anyway. I’m just… I don’t know. A little anxious. That’s all.”
“Well, I get that. But it doesn’t explain why you’re rushing around and wolfing down your breakfast.”
“I just want to try and get to the station early so that I’m prepared for the morning briefing. You know, I’ll have to gather the overnight reports from Hayes’ unit box and look them over in case I need to assign any new cases. I just want to be prepared.”
Sidney ran a hand over his. An action that soothed him immediately. He took a deep breath and sighed.
“I guess I am a little nervous. But I’ll basically be overseeing all of the cases and running the show for the next three days. Everybody in homicide will be reporting to me. Both shifts. It’s a big responsibility.”
“I know it is,” Sidney said, setting her coffee cup down. “And I also know that you’ll do just fine, baby. You know, you should try to think of the next three days as sort of a test.”
“A test?”
“Yes. To see whether or not you think that moving up the ranks is really something you want to do or not. I know you’ve had your misgivings, even though your lieutenant has encouraged you to get this degree solely for the purpose of advancement. But here’s your chance to really find out if it’s what you want.”
Isaac thought about that for a moment, and it all made so much sense.
“I suppose you have a point there.”
“Yeah. The next three days could really help you figure out what you want in your career for the future.”
“Thank you, darlin’. I’m going to try to take that advice to heart these next few days.”
He leaned in and kissed her lips. Then he stood and gathered his things.
“You have a good day at work.”
“You too. Please be careful.”
“Hey. I’ll mostly be riding the lieutenant’s desk this week. Can’t get much safer.”
“Well be careful anyway. That’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am. I love you.”
“I love you back, baby.”
On the drive to the station, Isaac tried to run through a list of steps. Things he knew Lt. Hayes did each day that he wanted to be sure not to forget. Like making it a point to ask each detective team for an update on their hot cases and staying available in case any of them hit a snag and needed to talk it out. That extra attention was important. It had certainly helped him and Pete a time or two. He needed to remember to channel Hayes in that regard over the next few days.
When he got to the station, he hurried up to the fourth floor detectives section and took a moment to gather a few things from his desk that he thought he might need over the next three days — the files on the hate crimes and Pete’s shooting, his favorite coffee mug — then he went to the back left wall of the pit to check both his and Lt. Hayes’ unit boxes.
Unit boxes were the standard system of inter-office communication at most police departments. While some things were sent via email, there were those hold outs who still didn’t possess an email address or didn’t check it on a regular basis. So the unit boxes were how important information got disseminated.
At Hayes’ box he pulled out the overnight reports and then he let himself into Hayes’ office.
On the desk was a folded piece of paper with Isaac’s name on it.
Lt. Hayes had left him a note?
Isaac picked it up and read it over.
Good morning, Detective Sgt. Here are a few tips I thought you could use this week.
1. Trust your detectives. They know how to do the job, and they’re each excellent at it.
2. When they hit a snag, and they will, they’ll come to you. Trust your own instincts.
3. Trust your own instincts. It bears repeating. Remember, you made sergeant for a reason. You earned this spot. You know what you’re doing.
There is no one I trust more with my detectives section, Ike. You’re smart and highly intuitive, and that’s got nothing to do with your “special abilities.” So stay out of your own way and just do the job. You’ve got this. And I’m only a phone call away.
Gavin
Isaac read the note three times before he took a deep breath and let his boss’ words sink in. Lt. Hayes trusted him. He was counting on him to keep things running smoothly this week. Isaac nodded his head.
“I can do this.”
He set the note aside and got to work reading over the overnight reports and making notes for the morning briefing. Finally he glanced at his watch and got to his feet. Taking his notes with him, he headed for the briefing room.
The last stragglers were just sitting down when Isaac strode in dragging a small trail of nerves with him. Why was his stomach quivering over this? He’d run the morning briefing more than once in the past.
“Good morning, detectives.”
Replies of “good morning, Detective Sergeant,” and “morning, Ike,” “morning, Sarge” came back at him. He took the podium at the front of the room and quietly cleared his throat.
“All in all, it was a pretty slow night. A couple of burglaries, a couple of assaults.”
Those were not their problem. Those cases would be handled by the Burglary and Violent Crimes Divisions respectively.
“But there was a domestic disturbance in Fairfax that resulted in a multiple shooting. We’ve got one dead body and another family member in the hospital. The shooter is believed to be at large.” Isaac held up the file. “Wheeler and Walker, I’m giving this one to you.”
Frank Walker stood and collected the file from him. “Thank you, Sarge.”
“That is thankfully all I have for you this morning, so unless anyone has any questions let’s—”
“I have a question, Sarge.” Gary Barker raised his hand, like they were in school.
“Yes, Barker?”
“Any word on how Vega’s doing this morning?”
Isaac shook his head. “I did run by the hospital again after shift last night and spoke to Pete. He was in a fair amount of pain at that time, but refusing anything stronger than a Tylenol. His spirits were good, and he was glad to know that we’d gotten at least one of the scumbags who might’ve shot him into custody.”
Barker nodded, seeming satisfied with that response.
“But there are still two more out there,” Isaac continued. “And while I’m stepping into Lt. Hayes’ shoes these next few days, I will also be hard at work on trying to locate those other two. I may need to call on one or more of you to help me out in that regard. It just depends on how things go.”
“Anything you need, Sarge,” Barker called out.
“Just say the word. We got you.” Lonnie Spencer chimed in.
Mumbles of agreement went around the room, and Isaac nodded. Everyone was always eager to help find a cop shooter.
“All right. Let’s get to work,” Isaac said. Then he suddenly heard Lt. Hayes’ voice in his head, and he added, “And remember to be safe out there.”
Isaac waited until the briefing room emptied out, and then he headed back to Hayes’ office. It felt weird sitting there, on this side of Hayes’ desk. Like he was playing pretend or something. But Isaac shook the impostor syndrome off as best he could and got to work.
He spent the next hour looking over the reports the patrol officers took from the canvas of Jasper Duke’s neighbors. None of it revealed anything very significant, except that a number of his neighbors admitted to being afraid of Duke. But there was one report taken from a man who lived in a house across the street. That neighbor, a Black man, told patrol officers that he’d reported Duke to the police several times for what he called racial harassment.
Isaac went looking in the electronic reports and found those complaints, pulling the files and reading over the details.
As he worked, he remembered that the anonymous tip that gave them Jasper Duke’s name as being one of the men on the grainy video footage had come through 911. On a hunch, he left the office and ventured down two flights of stairs to dispatch.
At the door, he knocked and waited to be buzzed in. He glanced up at the camera that was aimed at the door, giving those inside a clear view of his face.
Buzzz, click.
The lock on the heavy door disengaged and Isaac pulled it open and stepped inside.
Dispatch was a large open room where three walls were lined by a huge built-in desk. That desk held a row of screens and keyboards. Some of them were CCTV screens that were connected to cameras strategically placed around the station — like the one Isaac had just looked into outside this very room. Others were computer screens that allowed the dispatchers to do their jobs of monitoring the incoming calls to the police station and dispatching units accordingly.
Everything in the room was gray — gray walls, gray carpet, gray desk tops. The only pops of real color came from the navy blue leather desk chairs and the red or blue covers of the various code books, plat maps, and the like.
There were three dispatchers on duty this morning — one male and two female — and they all greeted him warmly.
“Good morning, Detective.”
“Hey, Detective.”
“What can we do for you, Detective Sergeant?”
“Good morning,” Isaac said to the first two. Then he turned his attention to the one asking the question — Linda Chase. He wasn’t sure what the hierarchy was up here in dispatch, or whether or not one of them served as the boss. But he did know that Linda was the senior dispatcher on duty this morning. She’d been at the PD just about as long as Isaac had.
“Linda, I’m told the tip about the hate crime beatings came in through 911? Is that right?”
“It sure is. I was the one who took that call.”
“Perfect. And we still have a record of that call?”
“Of course we do. Would you like me to pull it up, Ike?”
“Please and thank you.” Isaac took a seat in the empty chair beside her.
Linda’s fingers flew over the keys and then she motioned to the monitor in front of him. “Okay, the info should be on your screen.”
Isaac turned to the screen and pulled over a scratch pad and pen that were lying nearby. He scribbled down the name, number, and address of the caller — Cindy Hale. He tore off the piece of paper.
“Thank you, Linda.”
“No problem. How’s your partner?”
“He’s doing okay. Doc says he’s going to make a full recovery.”
“That’s great.”
“I was here when that call went out yesterday,” the other female dispatcher said. “The tension in this place ramped up about a thousand percent.”
“I know,” Linda said. “I hate officer down calls.”
Isaac stood. “I’m pretty sure we all hate those calls.”
“At least you got one of the bastards,” the male dispatcher said.
Isaac held up the slip of paper. “And this info is going to help me get the other two. Thanks for your assistance.” He headed for the door and let himself out. He heard the lock engage as soon as it closed behind him.
Back up on the fourth floor, Isaac marched over to his desk and then remembered that he was working out of Lt. Hayes’ office today. Habits.
He continued on to the office, and once there he picked up the desk phone and placed a call down to patrol. Since he wasn’t sure about leaving the office while he was supposed to be in charge, he requested they send a car to escort Cindy Hale to the station for questioning.
Half an hour later, Ms. Hale was sitting in an interrogation room twisting her fingers this way and that on her lap and trying her best to avoid eye contact with Isaac.
“I thought anonymous tips were supposed to be anonymous.”
Her voice was timid, and full of fear. The corner of Isaac’s lips kicked up in a half smirk.
“They are, when they come through the proper channel. The tip line doesn’t keep a record of calls because, as you said, it’s supposed to be anonymous. But that’s not the case with the 911 line. All of those calls are logged and stored. The number you’re calling from, the address, the name associated with the address. Even if you call from a cellphone we can determine the name associated with that particular phone and track you down.”
“Tricky.”
Isaac nodded, studying her. Cindy wasn’t unattractive. Long blonde hair and nice eyes. She looked like any normal college student or young adult.
“Ordinarily we wouldn’t track down someone who called in a tip to the 911 line. The only reason I saw fit to do so in this case, Cindy, is because of the nature of the crime. The man you turned in is now guilty of murder, and he shot a cop.”
Cindy shook her head. Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I saw that on the news. I still can’t believe it.”
“Can’t you?” Isaac’s tone held a note of accusation and he stared at her. “Wasn’t that the whole point?”
Cindy’s gaze met his and she looked stunned. “What do you mean?”
“Wasn’t your 911 call all a set up in order to get the cops to Jasper Duke’s house so that he and his buddies could open fire on us?”
“What? No!” Cindy’s eyes were big as saucers, and filled with fear. “No that’s not true. Jasper didn’t know I was turning him in. I would never set up the cops, I swear!”
Isaac could feel the genuine terror rolling off of her. He drew in a deep breath as he studied her. “I believe you.”
Cindy wiped a tear from her face and tried to pull herself together.
“How do you know Jasper Duke, Cindy?”
She licked her lips and hesitated a few seconds, like she was trying to gather the courage to have this conversation.
“I used to date him.” It was almost a whisper, and Isaac could hear the shame in it. “That’s how I recognized him on that awful video they keep showing on the news. I knew it was him. I could tell.”
“How long did you and Jasper date?”
“About three months.”
“And why did you turn him in?”
“I broke up with him because I didn’t realize at first how deep his hatred went. I just thought he made stupid racist jokes sometimes.” She wiped another escaped tear from her cheek. “I didn’t know that he was a full out white supremacist until I happened to see some stuff on his laptop one day.”
“What kind of stuff?” Isaac asked.
“Vile things. Stuff about hanging ni—” She stopped, her hand racing to cover her mouth. Then she shook her head as more tears fell. “I can’t even say the word.”
She broke down into sobs, and Isaac fished the pale blue bandana-style handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Thank you.”
He waited until she had composed herself some. Then he gently said, “So this stuff you saw on his laptop? Was that an article he was reading or something he was writing?”
“It was like a humorous how-to manual. Something that he was writing.”
“Wow.”
“Right?” The word came out on another small sob. “I have a sister who’s married to a Black man. They have two kids, and he’s a great guy. All of my family loves him. Jasper never met them because they live down in Reynoldsburg, but I could just imagine what would happen if he had. I would never want that jerk to do or say anything to hurt my family. So I broke up with him. And when I recognized him on that footage, I knew I had to turn him in.”
Isaac nodded. He could feel this young woman’s despair. She was heartbroken over Jasper Duke’s beliefs, and he got the impression that she had truly liked the guy before she realized what he was.
“Cindy, would you be willing to testify in court to everything you’ve just told me?”
Her eyes flew open wide and she shook her head. “Oh… no, I don’t know.”
Clearly the prospect terrified her.
Isaac couldn’t let that stop him.
He opened up the file he had with him and pulled out five pictures of the beating victims. Pictures that were taken at the hospital of their mangled faces. He laid them out one by one.
“These are the five victims of those horrific beatings, Cindy. The recipients of Jasper’s handiwork. The last two are dead now. Killed by Jasper’s racial hatred. And I have no doubt in my mind that he and his cohorts will continue their little hate spree if given the chance.”
Cindy looked over the pictures, still wiping tears.
“Imagine if that were your brother-in-law. Because next time it very well could be.”
It was a low blow, and he knew it. But he needed her cooperation.
Cindy closed her eyes. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
“You’ll testify if it comes to that?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Cindy. Truly.”
Cindy wiped more tears, but she didn’t respond.
“Do you know anything about the other two men on the video footage? Did you recognize them?”
“Yes.”
Excitement zipped through Isaac’s veins. “You do?”
Cindy nodded. “I don’t know their names. But I’ve seen them with Jasper before. He took me to a house once for a barbecue. Burgers and beer with some of the guys he works with and their girlfriends. One of the guys on the video lived at this house. Eddie maybe? Or Eric. Something like that.”
“Do you remember where the house was?”
“Um… yeah, I think so.”
She gave him a possible address and a detailed description of the house in question, even down to the type of car that was sitting in the driveway that day.
Isaac had her write out her statement and sign it. Then he thanked her for her time, and had a patrol officer escort her back home. As he watched her leave he wondered what were the odds of finding this Eddie or Eric from a possible address?
He was about to find out.