Southtown (Tres Navarre #5)(62)

DeLeon managed to contain her mirth. “Twenty minutes ago, Wil Stirman robbed a mom-and-pop on South Presa. The store owner stabbed him in the shoulder; Stirman shot the old guy dead. We blocked off the entire area, but Stirman stil got away. Now we’ve got a wounded armed fugitive roaming the South Side.”

“Straight down Broadway,” I advised. “When you hit downtown, keep going.”

“This is bul shit,” Cooper said. “Cuff him.”

DeLeon held up her hand. The uniforms stayed where they were.

“Tres, no games,” she said. “The media is running with the story. Every cop in Bexar County who’s not already on flood duty has been cal ed up. We need to know what you know.”

In the backyard, Jem was kicking his soccer bal at the patio table. He was trying to dislodge Robert Johnson, who was playing goalie. The score was zero–zero.

“You said it yourself,” DeLeon reminded me. “If Stirman is forced to run, he won’t bother keeping a hostage alive. We may have minutes rather than hours.”

I glanced at Cooper. His face betrayed no surprise. He’d been ful y briefed on Erainya.

I tried not to be angry. I tried not to feel like DeLeon had betrayed me by showing up unannounced with a bunch of bruisers. It wasn’t her fault. She was doing her job, trying to help. Ralph had told me I should trust her, let her handle it. Maybe that’s what decided me.

“Stirman cal ed last night,” I said. “He thinks Barrow and Barrera stole fourteen mil ion dol ars from him.

He demanded we return it.”

No one looked surprised about the amount of cash.

DeLeon said, “When and where?”

“Tonight. He’s supposed to cal after midnight and specify a drop.”

“You found the money?”

“No.”

DeLeon arched an eyebrow.

“Search the house,” I offered.

DeLeon must’ve never heard of a bluff. She glanced at the uniforms. “Gentlemen?”

They tore up my apartment with gusto.

“While they’re at it,” she said, “mind if I search you for a weapon?”

Motherhood hadn’t made her any gentler when it came to frisks.

Once she satisfied herself I wasn’t carrying, and the cops found nothing more incriminating than my tai chi sword above the toilet and a cup ful of HEB Buddy Buck coupons, DeLeon and Cooper exchanged looks.

“We’l tap the line,” Cooper said. “Wait for the cal .”

“No,” DeLeon and I chorused.

I’m not sure who was more embarrassed by our agreement.

“Stirman’s wounded,” DeLeon said. “If he’s listening to the news, he knows we’re on to him. He’s not going to keep a schedule. He’l cut his losses and run.”

“We’ve got every highway under surveil ance,” Cooper said. “We’l shut down the f**king city. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Right,” I said. “You’re just toying with him now.”

Cooper took a step toward me.

DeLeon interposed. “Major.”

“You vouched for this son-of-a-bitch,” Cooper reminded her. “He knew Stirman was in town, maybe for days. If he’d given us a few goddamned details—”

“Major,” DeLeon cut in, “as I explained at the hospital yesterday, Tres’ boss may be in danger—”

“Hel with that. I should throw his ass in jail for aiding and abetting.”

“You see that boy outside?” DeLeon asked. “His mother is the one Stirman took. Tres is trying to make sure she doesn’t die.”

“I don’t . . .” Cooper stopped himself. His temples turned purple with the effort.

“You don’t care,” I supplied, “about anything except catching Stirman.”

“Tres,” DeLeon said, “if we knew where to look right now, it would be the San Antonio SWAT team who deployed. They’re the only hostage force ready. I know them. They would do things right.”

“If you knew where to look.”

Her eyes held mine. “Stirman stil wants his money. He might’ve cal ed you after the robbery went bad, moved up the meeting time.”

I thought about Sam Barrera, who would be arriving at Jones and Avenue B about now. Minutes rather than hours.

Cooper grumbled, “This ass**le is holding back.”

“I know that, goddamn it!” DeLeon snapped. She turned her attention back to me, tried to moderate her tone. “Wel ?”

I walked to the answering machine.

“I got home maybe two minutes before you walked in,” I said. “This was waiting for me.”

I pressed play.

As soon as Barrera’s voice mentioned an address, Cooper whipped out his cel phone, but DeLeon said, “Wait.”

She listened until I punched stop, then studied me uneasily. “Why did he cal you Fred?”

“I’m the guy who works with Erainya. Sam’s got Fred Barrow on the brain. You’ve never cal ed somebody the wrong name when you were under stress?”

She thought about that. “He told you to cal the field office. You’ve been talking with the FBI?”

“He means I-Tech, his agency. Look, I gave you what you want. Now get moving, or let me do it.”