Page 47 of Crosshairs
“Just doing an evaluation on Trilling. Did he do a good job for you?”
“Surprisingly, yes. I don’t usually expect much from local law enforcement. But he seemed to be sharp and determined, even if he’s awfully young.”
“Anything negative?”
“You understand, supervising a single squad is a sideline for me. I have the entire division to look after. I didn’t see or hear about anything that Trilling screwed up, if that’s what you’re asking. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do. Not that I would expect someone from the NYPD to understand that.”
Robert Lincoln would never know how much it took for me not to respond to a snotty comment like that.
CHAPTER 56
YESTERDAY, ROB TRILLING had found the sniper’s perch one block south of the building where Gus Querva had been shot. Trilling had talked to the crime-scene tech who’d taken the most photographs. The photos were detailed and showed the wound just above Querva’s right temple. Trilling admired the shot from a professional perspective.
After looking at the photos, Trilling determined where the body had been found, then stood in that spot and looked down the street in each direction. That’s when he knew exactly where the shot had come from. A nice recessed doorway to a small office building was perfect. Trilling got crime-scene techs to photograph it. He didn’t ask for any DNA swabs of the area.
Trilling liked working alone and consulting with the crime-scene people as needed. He didn’t feel like he was just tagging along behind someone as he usually did with Michael Bennett.Not that that was a bad place to be. He appreciated how the seasoned detective had gone out of his way to explain how investigations worked and how everything came down to details. There were no shortcuts in a homicide investigation.
Today, Trilling checked security footage from the shops and buildings around the crime scene. He’d just finished looking at the fifth security recording. He was able to find a short clip of a man carrying a long case right after the shooting. The man walked past a camera in an electronics store. The image wasn’t clear enough to identify the man, but Trilling could see that he was around six feet with short, dark hair. He didn’t appear overweight or really skinny. Pretty similar to the description given by the coffee shop employee.
Trilling wanted to prove to Michael Bennett that he could conduct a professional investigation even if he wasn’t sorry that the victim was dead. Gus Querva and his buddies had run roughshod over parts of the Bronx. The media focused on Querva’s PR moves, especially the money he’d shelled out for community centers. The irony was, he had taken the moneyfromthe community before he’d put it backintothe community. Not one major media outlet seemed to ever question how he’d made his money.
Just thinking about the situation made Trilling angry.
As he was going over his assignment notes, Trilling got a text. He looked down at it immediately. He was surprised to see it was from Michael Bennett’s daughter, Juliana, asking if he had time to call her.
Trilling sighed and made the call right then.
Juliana’s cheerful voice immediately made him perk up. She wanted to go to lunch. When he said he didn’t have time, she settled for ice cream. She gave him a place on the Upper West Side that was on his route back to the office.
As Trilling walked down the block toward the ice cream shop about twenty minutes later, he wondered why he was doing it. No question Juliana was a beautiful, intelligent girl. But the hassles this could cause in his already strained relationship with Michael Bennett outweighed the benefits.
Just as he considered turning around and texting Juliana that he couldn’t make it, she spotted him and waved from a table in front of the shop. She wore a simple jacket over jeans and a colorful blouse. Her brown hair bounced on her shoulders as she waved. He couldn’t turn around now even if he wanted to.
Trilling ordered two chocolate sundaes. As they sat in the cool autumn air, Juliana peppered him with questions about his personal life. She sort of sounded like his mother.
No, he wasn’t dating anyone. Yes, he was eating enough. Yes, he was taking a break from work when he needed to. At least that’s what he told her.
Then Juliana asked, “How is it, working with my dad?”
“Educational. He’d be a good teacher.”
“I guess he would be. I never thought of it like that. But he does handle ten kids pretty well. That’s not something everyone can do.”
“It looks like he’s done a great job with your family. I can barely keep my own schedule straight let alone keeping track of ten other people’s schedules too.”
“Mary Catherine gives him a lot of help. She’s been part of our lives for a long time now. My youngest sister, Chrissy, even developed her own little Irish accent for a while, not long after Mary Catherine joined the family.” Juliana paused and turned serious as she said, “How’s the case going?”
Trilling just shrugged. He was tired of telling people they had no leads.
A giant smile spread on Juliana’s face. She was almost bouncing in the seat when she said, “Do you want to surprise him and come to our apartment for dinner again tonight?”
Looking into Juliana’s warm brown eyes, it was hard for him to make a rational decision. After a full ten seconds, Trilling said, “I don’t think that would be a good idea right now.”
Juliana didn’t ask for any explanation. Trilling had a hard time reading the look on her beautiful face. He couldn’t tell if she was angry, hurt, or okay with his answer. Trilling’s experience with women was limited. This was another puzzle he’d have to learn how to solve.
CHAPTER 57
I HEADED OUT of the FBI building, still smarting from Robert Lincoln’s comments about the NYPD. I passed a squad bay markedINTELLIGENCE ANALYSTSand decided to take a risk. I remembered the analyst at One Police Plaza, Joe Tavarez, telling me that his wife, Cindy, worked a similar job here at the FBI. I slipped into the room, and a woman at the first desk looked up and saw my law enforcement visitor’s badge. She asked if she could help me.