The Night Shift(35)

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Agent Badass.” It’s playful, but Hal isn’t smiling.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was filming. I just didn’t want—”

Hal holds up a hand. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, but Arpeggio…” Hal grunts. “He didn’t care much for his team looking like a bunch of idiots.”

Keller nods.

Hal gives her a mischievous grin. “But like I always say, if you don’t want to look like an idiot, don’t act like one.”

Keller says, “I hope Stan sees it that way.”

Hal shrugs. “He won’t. He hates attention. Not sure what kind of number his folks did on him, but geez.” Hal sits back in his chair, like he’s reflecting on his old friend. “One thing you don’t need to worry about: if you’re on Stan’s team, he’s got your back.”

Keller knows that much. With Keller’s fifteen minutes of fame out of the way, she broaches a topic that’s been bothering her since last night: that Arpeggio hadn’t told her about what the killer said to Jesse Duvall, the same words spoken to Ella Monroe fifteen years before.

“I’ve actually got my own beef with Arpeggio,” Keller says. “He withheld some key intel from me, something important that—”

Hal holds up a hand again. “You’ll have to take it up with him. I don’t interfere with how my lead detectives handle their cases.”

“Stan would be proud,” Keller deadpans. “Okay, I’ll go talk to him.”

“You just missed him. Arpeggio and his team darted out of here. Apparently, they caught a big break in the case.”

“What is it?”

Hal shakes his head.

“Got it,” Keller says. “I’ll have to ask him myself.”

“A badass and a quick study,” Hal says.



* * *



Twenty minutes later she and Atticus are on I-95 South, headed to the Carteret Fishing Pier. Atticus not only tracked down Tony Grosso’s address, but also called Grosso’s house and charmed his wife into telling Atticus where to find her husband.

“Hal said that Arpeggio caught a big break. You hear anything?”

“Nope. I knew something was up, though. They were all buzzing around. When I asked, one of the A-holes on Arpeggio’s team said that me and the Feds need to ‘stay in our lane.’”

“Sorry about that,” Keller says. She doesn’t want the rookie detective to take heat because of her. She’ll be gone soon enough, and he’s just beginning his career. She wonders if Arpeggio’s break came from the kid in the purple backpack Keller had overheard talking in the school’s bathroom.

Atticus smiles. “I’m not worried about it.”

“So, what’s Tony Grosso’s story?” Keller asks.

“I don’t know much about him. Retired years ago; looks like Blockbuster was his last big case. I asked around and was told he was solid. Not an out-of-the-box thinker or a workhorse, but honest, solid. Frankly, from the file, it seems like he was all too eager to accept that Vince Whitaker was guilty and wrap things up.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s like, once Whitaker took off and they found that knife in his locker, the investigation screeched to a halt. No more interviews, no trying to deal with discrepancies.”

“Like what?” Keller asks.

“Like how the hell would Vince Whitaker have made it to the Blockbuster if his dad had the car and didn’t get home until ten when the store closed? Like why would Whitaker kill them all? A customer saw someone fighting with Katie McKenzie in the parking lot, but Whitaker’s little brother said Vince was going on and on about a girl that night. Like he was in love.”

“Still no luck tracking down the little brother?”

“I’m having a heck of a time. He was taken away from Rusty when the investigation team saw signs of abuse. And if he was adopted and changed his name, it’s gonna take a while to track him down.”

“After meeting Rusty, I hope he was adopted.” Keller pulls off the interstate and merges onto a narrow road. She can see the green water from the Arthur Kill in the distance. Along the road, there’s a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Behind the fence is some type of truck yard with about two dozen delivery trucks with their backs to the fence.

“Speaking of Rusty, I’m going on an operation with the Secret Service tonight,” Keller says. “Want to come?”

Atticus’s face lights up. “Heck yeah.”

Keller briefs him on her call with the Secret Service agent, and Rusty Whitaker’s suspected participation in a cigarette counterfeiting ring.

They park in the pier’s spacious lot. The air smells not of the sea, but of industry—they call it the “Chemical Coast” for a reason.

A man walks ahead of them, carrying a pole and tackle box.

“I never took to fishing,” says Atticus. “My father and I went one time, and that was all I needed.”

Keller regards him in his skinny-tailored suit. He certainly doesn’t scream outdoorsman.

“I went fishing, hunting, camping, we did it all,” Keller says. “My father wanted a boy.”