Page 20 of Rescuing Baylee

As he entered the building, Detective Morgan Clay, his current partner, was already at his desk, poring over a stack offiles. Morgan was a diligent cop, and he looked up as Landon approached. “Morning, Hunter. Ready for another round of interviews?”

“Yeah,” Landon replied, dropping his bag beside his chair. “I don’t feel like it’s going to change anything, but we’ll talk to everyone. I don’t think she’ll get charges out of this.”

Morgan shook his head, making a face. “No way. I’ve been reviewing the surveillance footage again. It’s clear Mitchell’s actions saved a lot of lives. It was obvious the shooter was looking for someone specific.”

Landon’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, his woman.”

“He seemed pretty out of it. Like he couldn’t focus.”

“Well, he was gut shot. Probably had a lot of things going on in his head. He was amped up from the shooting…”

They delved into the investigation. The morning was dedicated to reviewing witness statements, piecing together the events of the shooting. Each account highlighted Baylee’s bravery and quick thinking.

Around midday, Landon’s phone buzzed with a new message. He glanced at the screen and saw it was from an unknown number. “Need to see you about the shooting in the hospital. Park on 5th, 1 PM, in front of the soldier statue.”

Landon’s pulse quickened. He showed the message to Morgan. “What do you think?”

Morgan frowned. “Could be a lead. Or a trap. Want me to follow along?”

Landon thought about it. “Nah. They may not show if they see more than one cop.”

“Be careful, then.”

Landon nodded. “I’ll check it out. Keep digging into the shooter’s background while I’m gone.”

He left the precinct and headed to the designated park, arriving a few minutes before one. He scanned the area, lookingfor anything unusual. As he walked, he spotted a figure slouched on a bench, their face obscured by a hood. It was the only bench in front of the Stephen Austin statue.

Approaching cautiously, Landon sat at the other end of the bench, not looking at the other person. “You messaged me?”

The figure glanced up, revealing a young Hispanic man with a nervous expression. “Yes, Detective. I need to talk to you about the hospital shooting.”

Landon’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the kid’s face. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Haze. I knew the shooter. We were part of the same family.”

Landon’s heart raced. “The Tango Blast?”

“Yes,” the boy hissed softly. “You need to know, the woman that took out Chino is in trouble.”

Landon’s mind reeled. “Why do you say that? What do you know?”

The kid looked around nervously. “It’s complicated. But we have eyes on the inside, and they fingered her.”

Landon felt a chill run down his spine. “Why are you telling me this?”

Haze didn’t say anything for a long minute. Then he glanced up, and Landon could see something painful in his expression. “Because Catalina was my sister. And Chino fucked her over, bad.”

Landon’s mind raced. “Again, why are you telling me this?”

“Because I didn’t sign up for this mess,” Haze said, desperation in his eyes. “I was going to school and getting good grades. Then Cat hooked up with Chino, and they needed me. I thought we were fighting against the Texas Syndicate, or MS-13, because they were trying to take us over. But it’s gotten crazy. Now, we’re targeting innocent people.” He shook his head again, glancing at Landon, then away. “Chino has two brothers. One’sa BG but the other has standing, and he wants to avenge his brother’s death. When I found out what the plan was, I couldn’t go through with it. But the others won’t stop until they’ve taken her out.”

Landon took a deep breath, trying to process the information. BG was baby gangster. “You need to come in with me. We can protect you, but I need everything you know.”

Haze shook his head. “No fuckin’ way! I’m risking enough just being here today.”

Landon’s thoughts were a whirlwind. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, but there were still so many questions. He knew one thing for certain: Baylee was in an incredible amount of danger.

“You have my number,” he said eventually. “If you need help, or get more info, call me.”