Crosshairs, page 22
Trilling said, “How many people do we have out here?”
“For a big case, this is an absolute skeleton crew. Terri Hernandez and a couple of the detectives from our squad are on the perimeter. We have a special team led by Jeff Mabus of four ESU members for the takedown. I think Dennis Wu is lurking somewhere. We’re all on the same secure radio channel.”
Trilling said, “Are we trying to limit the possibility of a leak by only using a few people?”
“You’re starting to catch on. This is nothing like fugitive cases or patrol, is it?”
“I never would’ve been able to put this together.”
“After today you will.”
Trilling said, “Where’s the lieutenant on this surveillance?”
“He’s inside our trap building. He’s going to move the curtains and turn some lights on and off to make sure the sniper sees someone in the building. We purposely didn’t put a surveillance team on Tavarez so he wouldn’t get hinky.”
“Get what?”
I grinned. “It’s a word old-school cops use to mean suspicious. One of the problems with surveillance is if you’re following someone with some experience, they often spot the tail.”
“Words are a little like fashion. Their popularity rises and falls with different generations.”
“That’s pretty smart. Did your grandfather teach you that?”
“Modern Theories of Society, Columbia University.” He gave me a decent, smug smile, then cocked his head and said, “I’m curious. Do you also call marijuana ‘Mary Jane’?”
I laughed out loud at that one. Trilling sounded like one of my sons when they broke my balls. It was also possibly the first joke I’d ever heard him crack.
I said, “I’ll try to work on my vocabulary. I’ll admit I cringe when I hear older people try to use street slang. I guess that’s why I use out-of-date terms.”
Maybe he was becoming a New Yorker.
CHAPTER 96
THE SURVEILLANCE STARTED to drag on. I’d been on dozens of stakeouts like this. Even ones where the suspect acted hinky. I’ll admit, I might not have been worried, but I could feel my nerves. There was a lot that could go wrong with this plan. Even though I wasn’t in command, everyone knew it was my idea. The whole thing was my case. And I’d already made one major error on it. Thank God I’d been able to figure it out and correct it.
Trilling said, “If Lieutenant Grissom is inside our fake office, where are the ESU guys?”
“In an unmarked Chevy Tahoe a few blocks away. We’re the main team watching the fake office.”
Trilling sat up in his seat quickly. He moved, trying to see a building across the street. “I got something.”
I looked toward the older apartment building. “What do you see?”
“It’s tough from this angle, but I think a man walked into that building via the front door, carrying a case of some kind. I didn’t get a good look.”
I put it out over the radio and said we’d keep everyone updated. It’s a good idea that everyone knows what others are seeing during a surveillance.
Harry came on the radio. “Everyone stays in place until we hear something more definite from Mike.”
I hit the Transmit button when he was finished. “It’s the building to the south and west of you. Trilling thinks he saw a male walk through the front door with a case of some kind. We don’t have a perfect angle from here.” My heart was starting to beat faster.
Now Terri Hernandez came on the frequency. “I’m looking right at the building now. I can see in the lobby through the front door. There’s no one visible from here.”
Trilling said, “Should I get out and walk past the building? Or maybe try to get inside?”
“Let’s give it a minute. I want you out of sight. As long as Harry is staying away from the windows, the sniper doesn’t have a target. I’m sure the ESU guys are getting ready and can move anywhere we tell them to go.” It was easy to advocate patience but much harder to practice it. My first instinct was also to get out of the car and go to the building myself. But if Tavarez had scoped out the area and was watching from somewhere else, we’d blow the whole surveillance.
Trilling twisted in his seat. He almost shouted, “Look, on the second floor! Looks like a community balcony.”
I followed his line of sight and saw that the narrow balcony had some plants. Then I saw something move. I only got a glimpse, but it did look like a man with a rifle. And from the front of the balcony, he was aiming directly down on our fake office.
Just as I grabbed the radio from the console of the surveillance car, someone rapped on the driver’s-side window. It was enough to make me jump. When I turned, I almost said, What the hell, out loud.
Leaning down, looking into the car, was our suspect, Joseph Tavarez.
CHAPTER 97
I STARED AT Joe Tavarez with my mouth open. I had to blink my eyes a couple times, wondering if I was dreaming. What the hell? It really was Joe Tavarez standing on the driver’s side of our car.
I turned quickly to Rob Trilling. “Keep watching the balcony. See if you can confirm what the man has with him. It may not be a rifle.”
Tavarez signaled for me to lower my window.
I held up my hand and reached for the handheld radio we’d been using on surveillance. “Hold, hold.” I gave it a moment for everyone to focus on their radios. Then I said, “Terri, can you confirm what the man on the balcony is holding?”
Terri Hernandez came on the radio. “Stand by.”
Joe Tavarez crouched down so his head was even with mine. I finally said, “Tavarez, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to help. Not as a sniper, just as a cop.”
I could only continue staring at him in disbelief. A thousand thoughts rushed through my brain.
Tavarez said, “I saw the memo. Then I saw the Emergency Service memo about detailing some ESU members to this operation. I figured out exactly what you were up to. When I saw you sitting in the car, I knew I was right. I know what you’re doing.”
“Right about what?”
“You’re trying to catch the sniper.”
The radio crackled and I held up a hand to Tavarez again.
Terri Hernandez came on the air. “I have a male in a dark hoodie. He’s crouched low and some plants are blocking his face. He’s definitely looking toward our off-site building.”
“But you don’t see a rifle?”
“Not at the moment. I saw what I was pretty sure was a rifle a few moments ago.”
“Keep a sharp eye. Everyone else, hold your positions until we verify a few things.”
I turned my head to face Tavarez outside the driver’s-side window. “I still don’t understand what you’re doing here, Joe.”
“You think the sniper is someone in law enforcement, don’t you? I knew this would need to be kept quiet and you couldn’t use many cops. I’m not officially on duty until 4 p.m. Consider me just an extra set of eyes.”
Now, from my right side, Trilling said, “I see him clearly at the near end of the balcony. He’s scanning the area.”
I barked at Tavarez, “Get down!” I didn’t want him to give away our position.
After a moment, Trilling said, “Now he’s changed positions and I can’t see him.”
Tavarez came level with the window again. He said without prompting, “You don’t understand what it’s like to be sidelined.”
Trilling chimed in, “I do.”
I said, “I can appreciate that, Joe, but you didn’t think this through.”
Terri Hernandez came on the radio. “I see him. Suspect is holding a scoped rifle. No question.”
Just as I held the radio up to acknowledge Terri Hernandez, our windshield in the surveillance vehicle shattered. My brain registered the sound of the gunshot at about the same time that glass sprayed into the car.
I ducked low in the seat as the rest of the windshield dropped onto the dashboard.
Trilling bailed out of the car instantly. It took me a moment, then I yanked the latch to the door, but it didn’t open easily. I realized that Tavarez was huddled against the car and I had to bark, “Joe, move away from my door!”
Tavarez scrambled to the rear wheel.
I tumbled out of the car onto the asphalt, then scuttled back to the protection of the vehicle. My hand hit something wet in the road. Blood. I looked up and saw the bullet had struck Tavarez in the ear. I blurted out, “Joe, you’re hit.”
“No shit. It’s just my ear. I’m okay.” He reached up and touched his ear gingerly. “God damn, that was too close.”
I started to call out on the radio when I realized I’d left it in the car. Before I could open the door and reach for the radio, another shot rang out.
I did what every cop under fire does: I crouched down for cover and wished I had more.
CHAPTER 98
I WASN’T THE only one trying to find shelter behind the surveillance vehicle. Joe Tavarez and Rob Trilling were both huddling near the rear of the vehicle. I noticed Trilling had stayed calm and kept surveying the street for a safe path to get to the building where the sniper sat.
After another shot, I risked opening the driver’s door to reach in and snatch the radio off the seat. I heard radio traffic, someone already asking what had happened.
I shouted into the radio, “Shots fired, shots fired! Shooter is on the balcony!”
Jeff Mabus, in charge of the ESU team, came on the air. “We’re moving as a group into the lobby. Too dangerous to split up.”
Terri Hernandez said, “I can cover the front door.”
Trilling called to me from his position at the rear of our car. “I’ll cover the back.”
I saw him low-crawl from the car until he was covered by another building. Then he started to run.
I glanced over at Joe Tavarez, who had his Glock pistol trained on the roof. His ear poured blood onto his shoulder, but he held his position.
I said, “Joe, we gotta stop the bleeding from your ear.”
“It can wait. We can stop this asshole right now if we keep our cool.”
I said, “Joe, that’s someone who read the memo. Someone in the analysts’ room or maybe the FBI. Do you have any ideas who it could be?”
Tavarez peered up at the balcony like he might recognize the man with the rifle. Then he snapped his fingers, leaning back slightly as he turned to me. “Son of a bitch.”
I said, “What is it, Joe? Who’s up there?”
Another shot rang out. It was from a different position on the roof. The bullet ripped through the car’s side window. It hit Joe Tavarez in the center of his back and exited through his chest.
Tavarez toppled onto the asphalt with a thud. Blood immediately spread across the street.
I quickly reached out and grabbed him by the arm to drag him back behind the car. I checked his pulse. It seemed futile, but it felt like he might still have a heartbeat.
I grabbed the radio and called out, “Officer down, officer down! We need medical help!”
Harry Grissom came on the radio. “How bad is Trilling?”
“He’s not the officer down.”
“Who else is there with you?”
I didn’t want to confuse things. I just said, “Harry, stand by.” I heard sirens. Help was coming. I saw a woman and two kids step out of a building across the street. I screamed, “Police! Get back inside!” The woman gathered up the children and stared at me and Tavarez lying on the ground. I shouted again, “Get back inside!” The woman turned quickly, fumbled with the door handle, then shooed the kids inside and followed them.
I felt again for a pulse on Joe Tavarez’s throat. Nothing. He was definitely dead. I stayed low just in case the sniper was still up there, looking for a new target. When I peeked over the rear panel of the car, I saw no movement on the balcony or the roof. The radio was quiet.
After a minute, I saw Harry scurrying along the street toward me. He stayed low behind parked cars. I heard him on another radio channel, directing arriving cops, setting up a perimeter and generally keeping things running.
Harry slid in next to me and looked over at Tavarez’s body. Harry said, “That’s Joe Tavarez.”
“I know.”
“Then who the hell has been shooting?”
“No idea.”
Harry checked Tavarez again for any signs of life. When he was done, he just shook his head. Then he said, “Where’s Trilling?”
“Covering the back door of the shooter’s building.”
Jeff Mabus came on the radio. “The balcony is clear at the end of the second-floor hallway. No one on the roof either. No sign of the shooter anywhere.”
Terri Hernandez said, “He didn’t come out the front.”
I had to use my cell phone to call Trilling. We had shared the radio in the car. As the phone rang, I realized he could be in danger. Each ring made my heart pound harder. I mumbled, “Answer. Answer.”
Then he did. Thank God. Trilling said, “I haven’t seen anyone in the rear of the building.”
“Keep your eyes open. He’s on the move. Watch for Mabus and his guys.”
“Roger that.”
I looked over at Harry, who summed up the situation. “That did not go well at all.”
“You should’ve been a poet.”
CHAPTER 99
I SAT ON the curb, a few feet from Joe Tavarez’s body. I watched the paramedics slowly pull a tarp over him. Even the wide tarp couldn’t cover the giant pool of blood on the asphalt. Rob Trilling plopped down on the curb next to me. I didn’t feel like talking. Trilling made the perfect companion.
We sat in silence as Harry Grissom spoke with the four-person ESU team.
I was in shock. Seriously. The only thing I could do was think about how Joe Tavarez gave his whole adult life to service, only to be benched and then killed for trying to help. Sometimes this job didn’t make any sense at all to me.
Trilling put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to spend time with my family. But I knew that wouldn’t be in the cards for me today. There was still way too much to do.
A shiny new Dodge Charger rolled to a stop across the street.
Trilling said, “Someone from command staff?”
I watched for a moment, then said, “Worse. It’s Dennis Wu.”
The Internal Affairs sergeant was the only one at the scene dressed in a suit and tie. He looked at all the flashing lights from the emergency vehicles and shook his head. As Wu walked past me, he said, “Looks like you’re oh for two, Bennett. Excellent job, as always.”
I felt Trilling start to rise in anger. I grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the curb. I said quietly, “Wu’s right. Let it go.”
After a few more minutes, Harry Grissom came over and leaned against the car we’d been driving. “I guess we can write off Joe Tavarez as a suspect.”
I knew it was Harry’s way of easing me back into reality.
He said, “We have to figure out who else, exactly, saw that memo back at headquarters. It might take some time.” Harry let out a sigh, then said, “Why don’t you and Trilling make notification to Cindy Tavarez, Joe’s wife. I know you’ll be sensitive to the moment, but maybe she’ll know something. Anything. Maybe she mentioned the memo to someone.”
I nodded. Harry was doing me a favor by getting me away from the scene and Dennis Wu.
Harry gave us his car since our surveillance vehicle was shot to pieces. I turned down Trilling’s offer to drive. The FBI office wasn’t too far from here. I took one more look at the body covered by a tarp. I wondered what Joe Tavarez had been about to tell me just before he got shot.
I said a prayer for him.
CHAPTER 100
I PULLED HARRY’S car into someone’s reserved spot in front of the FBI. Rob Trilling and I were inside the building a few seconds later. The expression on the receptionist’s face when I identified myself made me pause.
The young woman said, “You’re here about Cindy Tavarez, right?”
“How’d you know that?”
She held up a long, slender finger as she spoke to someone on the phone. We only had to wait a minute to see who the receptionist had called: Assistant Special Agent in Charge Robert Lincoln.
Lincoln didn’t bother to greet us at all. Not even a nod. He walked right up to me and said, “We’ve already informed Cindy about her husband. One of the NYPD officers on a task force told me about the incident and I didn’t think we should withhold that from Cindy.” Then he folded his arms across his chest and stared at me like I was going to refute his reasoning.
I said, “I appreciate your thoughtfulness. We’d like to ask Cindy a couple of important questions. We don’t feel like it can wait.”
“Why?”
I hesitated, the natural instinct of any cop to not share details of a case before it’s finished. “It appears that someone from either the NYPD or the FBI is the Longshot Killer. Or at the very least fed him information. We need to know if Cindy mentioned to anyone today’s covert operation we had going on. I think this is an important issue for both of us.”
Lincoln took a long moment to consider the situation. I couldn’t get a read on his facial expression. After a full twenty seconds, Lincoln made a decision. He looked at Trilling and me and said, “This way.”
We followed him up the stairwell and through a maze of hallways until we were in the analysts’ common room. Cindy Tavarez sat on a long brown couch with two women, one on either side of her. She held a soaking-wet paper towel and used it to wipe the tears from her eyes.
We hung back until Cindy looked up at us and burst into a new set of sobs. Her two friends, who had been comforting her, moved from the couch so I could sit down. I sat quietly while Cindy first asked me a few questions. I told her everything I knew. When I thought she was calm enough for me to continue, I hit her with my big question.
“Who saw the memo about the NYPD operation to take an indicted cop to court?”
