The Night Shift(7)

“I’m okay.”

She’s a kind, sweet woman, Ms. May. In the aftermath of Vince’s arrest, one of the prosecutors running the investigation—now the head of the Union County Prosecutor’s Office—had questioned Chris. He’d seemed more interested in Chris’s bruises and fat lip than the whereabouts of his fugitive big brother. Shortly after, Chris found himself in foster care with Ms. May and Clint. Clint isn’t his real name, just what Ms. May and Chris call him ever since Chris had compared him to a cranky character played by Clint Eastwood in a movie they’d watched together.

“Really, I’m fine, but thanks for checking. How’s Clint doing? Feeling okay?”

“You know him. The doctor tells him to take it easy, so he’s out there building a shed in the garden.”

Chris smiles. “You tell him to take it easy.”

“I try, dear,” she says. “I know you’re working, so I’ll let you go.” She pauses. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m totally fine. I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner.” They’d changed his life, adopted him, given him a new name, a new school, a new life. He’s Chris Ford now. The guy with supportive parents, a beautiful girlfriend, a law degree from Columbia. The least he can do is dine with them once a week, the only thing Ms. May has ever asked of him.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Ms. May says. She disconnects the line.

Chris looks around the bleak conference room.

Are you sure you’re okay?

He isn’t so sure about that.





CHAPTER 6


KELLER





“The prodigal daughter returns.”

Keller smiles at Union County Prosecutor Hal Kowalski, who’s stationed behind a mountain of papers on his desk at the Ruotolo Justice Center.

Eyeing Keller’s pregnant belly, the county’s chief law-enforcement officer smiles broadly. “Holy smokes, you came with a task force.”

“How are you, Hal?”

“You know better than to ask someone my age that question.” Hal actually doesn’t look much older than he had when Keller interned at UCPO during summer breaks from college. Hal’s still athletic with a Marine’s hair and demeanor. He gestures for her to take the chair opposite his desk.

“When I told Stan we needed help from the Feds, I didn’t know he’d send the A Team.” Hal’s an old friend of her boss, the SAC of the Newark field office. Keller suspects that’s how she landed the Newark assignment five years ago, a plum post for a new agent. She also thinks that’s why she’s here now.

“How is Stan?” Hal asks. “Still got that stick up his keister?”

“No, he’s actually started yoga and has us all going to mindfulness seminars.”

Hal studies her for a long moment. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

Keller grins, confirming that she most certainly is.

“Still a smartass, I see. That’s good. Don’t let them dark suits take that from you.”

Requisite small talk out of the way—neither Hal nor Keller cares much for it—Hal gets down to business.

“You’ve been briefed on the ice cream shop?” he asks.

“Yes. I see there’s already media stationed out front. They brought out the tents, so it looks like they’re getting comfortable.”

Hal sighs, shifts in his chair. “They’re gonna go on a feeding frenzy when they find out the perp used a knife.”

He doesn’t need to say why. In the fifteen years since the Blockbuster slayings, there’ve been countless mass killings. The world has changed dramatically. But in only a vanishing few cases has the perpetrator used a blade.

“You don’t think Vince Whitaker…” Keller doesn’t finish the question.

“I don’t know—that’s why I brought you all in. Let your shop shrink some heads, see what you think.”

“Any leads?”

Hal puts a hand on his temple and massages. “Negatory,” he says. “We’re trying to get info from the surviving girl. I’m told she’s in shock but maybe we’ll get a break. If not, I’ll give it a week before they’re calling for my head.”

“And mine.”

“Why the hell else would I call in the FBI?” The corners of Hal’s lips rise slightly.

“What can we do to help?”

“Rule out Vince Whitaker. I can’t imagine he’s back. He fell off the face of the earth fifteen years ago. But you have resources we don’t. And I’d prefer my team not get pulled sideways chasing a ghost. Stan said you all can handle the Whitaker angle because of the UFAP warrant.”

The FBI generally doesn’t have jurisdiction over homicides, which are state-law crimes. But here the federal hook is an Unlawful Flight to Avoid Prosecution warrant for Vince Whitaker. Standard operating procedure when a high-profile perp goes on the run. The state and local authorities get the Feds to issue a UFAP warrant, which opens up federal coffers to help track the suspect.

Keller nods. “But the ice cream store … what can we do to help with—”

“On that, let’s take things a day at a time. My chief detective, a humorless SOB named Joe Arpeggio, is running point. In case you don’t watch TV cop shows, the local yokels are never happy to have the Feebies crash the party.”