Page 8 of Crosshairs
“What do you think our mission is?”
“To protect people.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
CHAPTER 10
I SAT AT my desk after Rob Trilling had left. I was at a loss. My initial meeting with my new partner had been a little tense and awkward. Altogether less than spectacular. Less than encouraging, even. Veteran cops have a natural inclination to want to help younger cops along. Pass on some advice, maybe a few decent quotes. It makes you feel like you’ve done your part.
Rob Trilling was not making me feel that way. He’d seemed happy to scoot out of the office and grab the gear he needed from the FBI task force. I’d told him we’d start early the next morning. I hadn’t given him a time on purpose. I wanted to see what his idea of “early” would be, what kind of a work ethic the young man had.
But he’d left me with a number of questions. Questions that made me uncomfortable but I had to get answered. You can’t be with one agency for as long as I have been and not have a list of contacts that could fill up three phones.
I wasted no time jumping on my phone. I was able to reach exactly who I was looking for. Sergeant Alane Eubanks was an old friend who was now working as some kind of liaison to the federal agencies and a task force coordinator. It was a desk job after she’d been ambushed by young men claiming to fight fascism. They’d fired sixteen shots at her and hit her three times. The three bullets had put Alane in the hospital for more than two months. She’d fought her way back on the job. The shitheads had taken a generous plea offer and were now in jail upstate.
Alane sounded like her usual cheerful self when she answered the phone. “Bennett, you old dog, how’s it hangin’?”
I couldn’t hide my smile, hearing her sound like her old self again.
Alane made me fill her in on the family. She’s one of the few people who can remember the names of all ten of my kids. I remembered how Alane once told my daughter Bridget that the next time a particular boy started to pester her, she should punch him right in the nose. No boy is going to admit that a girl clocked him hard in the face, Alane said. But she’d left out one detail: she’d forgotten to tell Bridget not to do it in front of a teacher. Bridget may have scared away a bully, but she spent a week in detention for it. Secretly I was still proud of her.
After we made it through the family roundup, I was finally able to ask Alane, “How are you feeling now?”
“Not bad. Few aches and pains. One of the bullets damaged my bladder and I feel like I have to pee all the time. I guess it’s better than the alternative.”
I set her up for one of cops’ oldest jokes. “What’s the one thing you never want to hear anyone say again?”
“‘It comes with the job.’ I swear to God I will punch the nextasshole who thinks being shot is part of a cop’s job description.” Every cop hears that every time they’re punched in the face or stabbed or shot. Then Alane said, “So what prompted this call out of the blue?”
“I got assigned a new partner named Rob Trilling. Most recently he was over at the FBI fugitive task force.”
“The really young guy? I remember him. Good-looking too.”
“That’s him. I was just wondering if you had any insight into why he’s been shuttled around even though he’s been on the force less than two years.”
“The FBI says he’s a real go-getter. They like him.”
“He made it sound like he had been sent here as a punishment.” I noted the long silence on the other end of the phone.
Finally Alane said, “I know they pulled him from Emergency Service a couple of months ago and sent him to the FBI. Our command staff had put him into ESU without the usual time in grade, and enrolled him in sniper school immediately. He got moved to the FBI without much notice.”
“Do you know why?”
“No, not really.”
“Can you guess?”
Alane had a slightly harsher tone when she said, “You’re the devil, Michael Bennett. I’m trying to be a professional.”
“And I’m trying to make sure I’m not being saddled with a problem partner who could get me killed.”
She started slowly. “Okay, this is only conjecture. Command staff must be worried about him for some reason. Either some kind of complaint or a weak allegation against him. It’s easy to shuttle someone off to a simple task force. Looking for fugitives. What could go wrong?” There was a pause before Alane asked, “Why the hell is he working in Homicide?”
I explained the case and his expertise.
She said, “That makes sense. He’d be the right guy to talk to. I can tell you, all his assessments are very good. But you know how people around One Police Plaza get nervous and overreact about every little thing.”
I really did know.