“Just the slug embedded in the mortar between the bricks.” Kramer walked over to the wall to show him the hole made by the slug. The fact that it was so close to where Di had been standing was sobering. The shooter had missed, but not by much. “It’s too mangled to get anything useful, though.”
“Figures.” He turned to look toward the third-floor open window. “I want those crime scene techs to take their time in the apartment. If this guy so much as dropped a bead of sweat, I want them to find it.”
“Understood.” Kramer grinned. “You already sound like a detective.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure Andrews will tell you the same thing.” Actually, he doubted Andrews would say anything at all, but he figured it was better to play along. Forty-three days until he would receive his promotion and gold shield. “Let’s do a quick canvass of the area. Maybe someone saw our guy going in or leaving the building.”
It was a long shot, but they had to cover all bases. He and Kramer took the building itself, leaving the others to work Di’s building. He and Kramer hit every door on either side of the apartment and across the hall. Only half the residents were home, and none claimed to have seen anything suspicious.
One guy admitted to hearing the gunshot but hadn’t called it in. When Jarek pressed the issue, the older guy shrugged. “Saw the squad on the street. Figured you already knew about it.”
“Next time, make the call,” he admonished the guy. If he’d been hit or killed, the shooter would have had ample time to try again to take Di out of the picture. This wasn’t New York City, but the attitudes of residents choosing to hunker down and mind their own business despite crime happening around them was much the same.
He and his fellow officers cleared the scene, then headed back to the precinct. His partner, Jim Kent, was annoyed that he’d missed the action.
“It doesn’t make sense to me that someone from the gang is doing this,” Kent said, as Jarek finished writing up his report. “They don’t usually hide out in third-story windows to wait for someone to show up. And from what I know, Di’s apartment isn’t anywhere near any gang turf.”
“That’s true.” Those inconsistencies nagged at him too. Something he intended to grill Di about in detail later that evening. “Any chance you’d be willing to cover my shift for the next couple of days?” He knew Kent was off duty but didn’t have any plans. Kent was married and had a baby. “I’ll take your weekend shift in exchange.”
“Sold,” Kent said without hesitation. “I’d much rather be off the weekend with Cindy and Lindsey.”
“Great.” He had assumed as much. After scanning his second report of the day, he hit send, then rose to his feet. “Appreciate the swap. Let the CO know about the switch, okay?”
“Sure thing.” Kent eyed him curiously. “Why the sudden urge to be off work?”
“I plan to check in on my old man.” His father, who’d retired as a police captain from the New York City police department eight years ago, was showing the early signs of Alzheimer’s. It wasn’t too bad yet, but he worried about him living alone. Jarek’s parents had been married for forty years before his mother died of cancer. His dad had remained stoic after her passing, but he knew the old man missed his wife. Jarek had always admired their commitment to each other and to raising their three kids. Cops had a high rate of divorce, but his parents had attended church regularly and made the sacrifices and compromises needed to make things work. His sister, Claire, and his brother, Tony, were living on Long Island near his dad. Jarek was the odd man out, having chosen to live in Newburgh because of the increasing crime rate, and he’d wanted to be where he thought he could make more of a difference. And sure, it was also an excuse to work without his father’s legacy hanging over his head. Yet he still made it a point to make the drive down to visit his father on his days off.
This time, though, he’d have to make do with a phone call.
He detoured to the locker room to change out of his uniform. The Newburgh police department frowned on their officers being in uniform while off shift. He put everything away in his locker, except for his gun. That he placed in a belt holster hooked to his jeans. On his way out, he nearly ran into Detective Andrews.
“Hey, I heard there was a second shooting.” Andrews glared at him. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I figured you’d hear the call out on the radio.” He strove to sound believable. The truth was he should have notified Andrews but hadn’t really seen the point. “I’m sure it’s the same shooter, but we didn’t find any evidence on scene.”
“You’re not a detective yet, Brooks,” Andrews said in a snide tone. “Next time call me and I’ll decide if there’s evidence worth finding.”
The guy was a piece of work, but Jarek simply nodded. There was no point in fighting with him. Forty-three days and counting, he reminded himself. “Sure. Like I said, I figured you’d have heard the call.”
“I’ll read through your report,” Andrews said, turning away. “I’ll let you know if I have questions.”
He forced a nod, then asked, “Any ID on the dead guy?”
Andrews paused and glanced back at him. “His name is Gilbert Levine. His prints are in the system because of an old weapons charge. He was twenty-five years old. Do you know him?”
“Gilbert Levine.” He played the name through his mind but came up empty. “Never heard of him. Any known gang affiliations?”
“Nope.” Andrews shrugged and turned away. “It’s another dead end.”
Having a name was hardly a dead end, but Jarek didn’t voice his thought. Andrews’s comment only reinforced his opinion of the detective’s lackadaisical approach to the job. The guy had one foot out the door and was coasting along until he would leave permanently.
Taking a quick detour, Jarek went back to his laptop to find the arrest report for Gilbert Levine. The guy had a Newburgh address listed along with information on the vehicle he’d been using at the time of his arrest. He printed it out, noting the weapons charge had been from two years ago. Apparently, it was found during a routine traffic stop, so the guy hadn’t done any time.
Now he was dead, killed while following Di through the city. Hired by someone, obviously, but who? And why? Her last case? Or something else?
He folded the report, put it in his pocket, and turned to leave.
He used his phone app to order a large pizza with the works from his favorite pizzeria. As he slid in behind the wheel of his SUV, he hoped Di would be in a cooperative mood after she’d eaten.