Crosshairs, page 21
Walter asked, “Who would do something like that? Why would they do it?”
“Good questions. I have no answers.” The frustrating part was that I knew I had all the information in my head to figure this out. I just needed to organize it and then worry about articulating it.
I thought about it for a few moments, then said, “One key question for me is, where did someone plant the empty casing in Trilling’s car? It would’ve had to be in the FBI parking lot or possibly even the NYPD parking lot near One Police Plaza. If we could figure out where it happened, it might lead us to the more important question of who planted the casing.” I added, “Maybe someone was trying to take the heat off themselves. That means we might have to consider another suspect who works in law enforcement.”
“That means your original theory could still be true. The killer could be a straight arrow who doesn’t like the fact that criminals are not being punished.”
“And it has to be someone with access to police files and the inner workings of a criminal investigation.”
Then it hit me. How could I have been so focused on one suspect? There was another suspect. Another sniper. Also a cop. I recalled speaking with the former NYPD sniper now on desk duty: Joe Tavarez.
CHAPTER 90
I DIDN’T SHARE my epiphany with Walter Jackson on the phone. I trusted Walter completely. But I didn’t want to put him in an awkward position. If I ended up accusing a different person after first suggesting it was Rob Trilling, the fallout could be harsh. Especially if I was wrong. Command staff could move me to some distant precinct to write traffic tickets until I retired. I didn’t want Walter to catch any of the blowback, so I didn’t tell him what I was doing.
This was going to be a difficult concept to sell. After accusing one cop, I was now saying I was wrong. And I would be accusing a different cop. But I wasn’t sure if there was any alternative.
In fact, if I wasn’t careful, I could end up ruining the reputations of three different cops on this case: Rob Trilling, Joe Tavarez, and me. I slipped back into personnel to speak with Sharone Baxter-Tate again. It took me about five minutes to verify that Joe Tavarez had been off duty during each of the five sniper murders. That in itself didn’t mean anything. And I recalled talking to his wife, Cindy, some days ago, to verify his alibi for one of the nights in question. She had backed him up, with details about what they’d had for dinner too.
Then I texted Sergeant Jeff Mabus, the ESU supervisor I’d talked to about Trilling. He was on his way to One Police Plaza and agreed to meet me in the back parking lot at the exact same spot where we had spoken last time.
Today, Mabus was dressed more like an NYPD officer. He wore a blue, long-sleeved T-shirt with an NYPD insignia on the chest. He still looked impressive physically.
We both leaned against an unmarked Chevy Tahoe the ESU team used to move around the city unnoticed.
After a quick greeting, I wasted no time. “How well do you know Joe Tavarez?”
“I know him pretty well since we were on the team together for about three years. Very stable and reasonable guy. Why? Are you going to pile on him like everyone else? He saved a young woman’s life by making an incredibly difficult shot and hitting an armed man before the perp could kill the victim. Now he’s being punished, rotting away as some kind of analyst for doing the right thing—exactly what he was supposed to do as a sniper on the special-ops team.”
“I’m not disputing that. I’m just trying to piece together some information. What kind of rifle did he use when he made the shot?”
Now Mabus gave me an odd look. “It was a Remington 700, the SPS Tactical. Why?”
“Because I am trying to figure a few things out, and you’re the guy with the knowledge to help me. Was Tavarez angry he was relieved of active duty?”
Mabus considered this question. Finally he said, “Who wouldn’t be? You train for one job, do it right, and still get crucified for it. And it’s not just Tavarez. Any police sniper who takes a shot is treated about the same way.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Now wasn’t the time to get into political discussions, and Mabus had a point. “Can police snipers do anything to change that policy?”
Mabus shrugged. “You know the saying: There are two things cops hate. The way things have always been done, and change.”
It was an old saying but absolutely true. I made a few more notes, then asked a question I knew the answer to. “What caliber does that Remington 700 take?”
“Either .300 or .308.”
That last one matched the casing found in Trilling’s FBI car.
CHAPTER 91
HARRY GRISSOM WAS meeting with another homicide detective when I got back to the office. I wanted to burst in and start telling him everything I’d figured out, but I restrained myself. I went back to my desk and started looking again through all the reports, trying to find something I had missed. Key during a good investigation is keeping an open mind. It’s a lesson I had to relearn almost every time I started to look at a mysterious death.
As soon as Harry was free, I burst into his office. I laid out exactly what had happened and who I had talked to.
Harry considered everything as he stroked his long gunfighter’s mustache. Then he looked up at me and said, “Joe Tavarez could’ve had access to FBI investigations through his wife. That would explain Adam Glossner and Gus Querva, who were not under investigation by the NYPD.”
“So you don’t think I’m crazy?”
“That remains to be seen. But you’ve laid out a logical argument on this investigation. Even with Tavarez’s wife alibiing him for that one night. Was she just protecting him? As a responsible supervisor, I can’t ignore it all. These findings are going to throw Dennis Wu into a tizzy.”
Harry gave me a little smile. I wasn’t sure if it was because he liked the idea of aggravating the Internal Affairs sergeant or his use of the word “tizzy.”
Harry said, “How do we make the case on Tavarez? He’s got to be pretty smart the way he threw the blame onto Trilling. And his wife could be actively helping him in his crusade. We have no physical evidence or witnesses. We don’t even have anything that can put Tavarez in the area of the shootings.”
“I can try and get all of that through interviews and investigation. It might take some time.”
“I don’t see command staff giving us much time. They won’t railroad Trilling on the killings if we convince them Tavarez is our man, but they won’t want to wait either.”
I said, “What if we set a trap?”
“What kind of trap?”
“I’m not sure. I just thought of it this second. But I think we’d need Trilling to help us with this trap. It makes sense to use a sniper to catch a sniper.”
“What if it’s not Tavarez?”
“If we set up a trap right, it won’t matter. He just won’t show up. No one is hurt and we can decide where to go from there. Do you think you can get Trilling back on duty?”
Harry was already picking up the phone. I knew that meant yes.
I had a new list of priorities. After getting Trilling back, I intended to focus completely on Tavarez. It was like starting the entire case over again.
CHAPTER 92
IT DIDN’T TAKE long for Harry Grissom’s clout to be obvious. The first sign that he’d stirred the pot at headquarters was Internal Affairs sergeant Dennis Wu storming into the office and throwing daggers at me with his eyes. A few minutes later, Inspector Lisa Udell arrived in full uniform like she’d been called away from some sort of public ceremony. There were two points on Lisa Udell that no one could argue. She looked impressive in her dress blues. If you were in the right, she’d back you every time.
The two visitors huddled with Harry in his office. Walter Jackson joined me at my desk. We supported each other like two siblings waiting out an argument between their parents.
Walter said, “There’s a strong set of personalities crammed into that office.”
“At least they’re actually communicating.” Then some voices were raised. It turned into a series of shouts.
I said, “That’s not Harry yelling.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because Harry doesn’t shout.”
Walter looked at me and said, “I guess you’re right. Given your ability to stir people up, I would’ve heard a lot of shouts over the years.”
I just shrugged. Walter was right. I could stir people up.
The office door opened. Harry leaned out and motioned me into the office like they were on a coffee break.
As I stepped inside, Inspector Udell said, “Hello, Bennett.”
I smiled and said, “Inspector. Nice to see you.” I glanced over at Dennis Wu.
He said, “Is it nice to see me too?”
“Of course. It’s always a pleasure to deal with a representative from Internal Affairs.” I was surprised that earned a smile from Wu.
Harry said, “We’ve been discussing the Rob Trilling situation. Inspector Udell says we can reinstate him.”
The inspector chimed in. “Should be easy. No one even realized he’d been suspended. There’s no official notice yet.”
I couldn’t help myself. I looked at Dennis Wu.
He shook his head and said, “Sounds like another Bennett screwup to me.”
Inspector Udell turned to face Wu. “Screwup? Are you some kind of moron? Bennett followed the evidence that was available. He did what he thought was right. He investigated, then corrected a mistake.” The inspector turned toward me. “Drove to Albany on a hunch. You can’t teach that in the academy.” She paused, then looked back at Wu. “Besides, as I understand it, you were at Trilling’s apartment when he was sitting in personnel right inside One Police Plaza.” The inspector shook her head in disbelief.
Dennis Wu said, “Fine, he’s fucking Columbo.” He stared at me. “What’s your plan?”
“I need to talk to Trilling first. Make sure he’ll still work with me. I wouldn’t blame him if he told me to hit the road.”
Wu said, “Is that an option? Because I don’t want to work with you.”
Inspector Udell said, “That can be arranged.”
Wu said, “You need IA on this. You know it. We gotta keep this quiet until this caper is over.”
Inspector Udell nodded. Then she looked at me and said, “What are you waiting for? Get your ass moving.”
CHAPTER 93
I FOUND MYSELF back at Rob Trilling’s apartment building, feeling a little uncomfortable about the awkward conversation I was about to have. It can be tough to look someone in the eye and tell them you really believed they were a killer. And the way Trilling held his feelings inside didn’t put me any more at ease.
I stood in front of his building and rang the buzzer for Trilling’s apartment. I looked at the two Band-Aids on my fingers. I wondered if the girl with the knife and the long brown hair was home. The one I’d thought was Juliana at first. I’d say it was none of my business, except my daughter is my business. That was an issue I might bring up later. For now, I was on an apology tour.
Trilling’s voice came through the intercom and I asked if I could come upstairs.
Trilling paused, then said, “The apartment’s a mess. I’ll meet you out front in a minute.”
I walked over and waited by my car. A couple of minutes later, Trilling strolled out in jeans, a jacket, and cowboy boots.
I said, “I’ve never seen you wear boots before.”
“Is that why you’re here? To talk about my fashion choices?”
I got right to the point. “No, I’m here to tell you you’re no longer a suspect in the Longshot Killer case. And you’re no longer suspended.”
Finally, after almost a full minute, Trilling said, “What happened? Have you found the real sniper?”
“I think so.” I explained everything about how I thought Joe Tavarez could be the sniper, including my theory that someone had planted the .308 casing in Trilling’s car. I even went into my trip to Albany.
Trilling never interrupted me. When I finished, he said, “Darcy Farnan confirmed the trip?”
“Not exactly. She wouldn’t say anything officially without your consent. But I can guarantee you she’s on your side and wants things to work out.”
Trilling looked off into space. When he was done thinking, he turned to me and said, “Darcy’s the best.” He paused, then added, “You drove all the way to Albany?”
“Yep.”
Trilling smiled. “That’s smart. And I appreciate it.”
“You’re cleared to come back. If you want to work on our squad again.”
Trilling just looked at me. He didn’t say a word. I was starting to get used to that. I decided I could do the same thing. Then he just nodded and said, “When can I start?”
“Right now, if you’re up to it.”
A woman with short, dark hair walked past us. She gave us a quick look. Something about her seemed familiar to me.
Trilling interrupted my train of thought. “What’s the plan for Tavarez?”
“The best I’ve got right now is that we send a memo or report through the analysts’ room. We make sure it’s forwarded to the FBI as well. In it, we’ll talk about an unnamed cop who’s cooperating so he can skate on a whole slew of charges. Then we’ll see if Tavarez bites.”
“Sounds risky.”
I said, “I like the plan sounding risky rather than sounding crazy.”
“No, it’s crazy too.”
CHAPTER 94
I MADE IT home in time for dinner. I needed a respite from the craziness of this investigation. Rob Trilling and I had discussed the case. His initial anger had given way to understanding. I think his outlook could’ve best been described as “logical.” He understood duty and honor. That meant he understood I had been duty bound to investigate the possibility that he could have been the sniper.
I’d considered asking him to come home with me for dinner again. I knew Juliana would’ve been thrilled. But I didn’t know what the story was with the woman at Trilling’s apartment, and it wasn’t something I wanted to get into with him just yet. He and I both needed to focus on our incredibly dangerous plan to trap the sniper.
It was so nice to listen to the chatter around the table. Trent leaned in from the far end of the table to say to me, “I have some puns for your friend at work.”
“Walter?”
“Is that Mr. Jackson? The great big guy?”
“That’s him. I’m not sure I want to start the precedent of me telling him puns. But I’d definitely like to hear yours. Whatcha got?” I smiled at my son, who looked about to burst with excitement.
Trent said, “Hear about the butter rumor? Don’t spread it.” He got a couple of chuckles from the older kids, and Mary Catherine gave him a mercy laugh. The lack of a big reaction didn’t dissuade him. “I’ve got another.” He looked around the table to make sure he had everyone’s attention. A true showman. “I had a photographic memory. But I didn’t develop it.” That one got a better response.
Chrissy and Shawna jumped in with some basic riddles. Shawna’s was the best, asking, “Why did the rooster cross the road?” She didn’t wait for any guesses. “To prove he wasn’t a chicken.”
We all had to giggle at that one. I never knew my kids were so talented with jokes. I never really felt this way waiting for a pun to come from Walter Jackson. Then Jane cleared her throat and waited until everyone was looking at her. She glanced over at my grandfather, who nodded his encouragement.
Jane said, “I know I’ve been sort of secretive lately and hiding out at the library a lot. I’ve been getting tutoring and doing research for a speech I’ve been asked to deliver at Columbia because of my performance in Debate Club. It started last month and just sort of snowballed from there. I was jealous of Trent when he spoke at the mayor’s office, and it spurred me to work harder and do well. The speech is going to be this Friday night. I hope everyone can make it.”
My second oldest daughter is not prone to showing off, but she was clearly quite satisfied with her announcement. She sat with a smile on her face as she glanced around the table. Then, with perfect delivery, she said, “You may all applaud now.”
Mary Catherine was quick to say, “Sounds like we have a great Friday night plan. Dinner, then we hear Jane rock Columbia.” She focused on Jane. “What are you talking about?”
Jane just smiled. “I was told I could talk about anything, so I’ll just tell you it has to do with our family. I’ll let you guys wonder about it until Friday. There has to be some mystery in our lives.”
The laughter and celebration were almost enough to take my mind off the sniper case.
CHAPTER 95
IT WAS AMAZING how much we accomplished with everyone working together. This hodgepodge team of homicide investigators, Internal Affairs investigators, analysts, and even an inspector had created a fake cop with a history and a court schedule.
I hated to admit it, but Dennis Wu had designed a realistic scenario in the fake memo. On the surface, the memo was only meant to warn law enforcement of unusual activity near one of the NYPD off-site buildings in lower Manhattan. The memo had just enough information to tease Joseph Tavarez and make him act. It basically said that a corrupt officer who was cooperating to avoid indictment would be meeting at the off-site building around 2 p.m. The extra cops were supposed to transport the bad cop to a hearing at 4 p.m.
We’d made sure the memo came through Joe Tavarez’s office around 5 the previous evening. We wanted to also be sure that Tavarez saw the memo that night because his schedule had him listed as off duty today until 4 p.m.
Rob Trilling was trying to catch up on as much as he could and peppered me with questions. We were now set up in an NYPD surveillance vehicle that no one would notice. A beat-up hatchback. From it, we could see the off-site building where the fake cop was supposed to enter and leave. We could also see some of the surrounding buildings.
