tone. “You’re in charge of this case?”
“Try not to sound so confident.”
Will didn’t waste his breath. Leo’s time in the sun would be shortlived. As soon as the Atlanta chief of police came onto the scene, he’d kick Leo to the curb and put together his own team. Leo would be lucky if they let him fetch coffee.
“Seriously,” Leo said. “Faith doin’ all right?”
“She’s fine.”
He took a last drag on his cigarette and dropped it to the ground.“Neighbor’s freaked out. Almost watched her granddaughters get shot down.”
Will tried to keep his expression blank. He knew a little bit about what had happened here, but not much. The guys from the tactical team had gotten bored after standing around for five minutes with nothing to break. The details of the crime scene had leaked like a rusty pipe. Two bodies in the house. One in the neighbor’s backyard. Two guns on Faith—her Glock and a Smith and Wesson. Her shotgun on the floor of the bedroom. Will had stopped listening when he’d overheard a cop who’d just arrived on scene saying that he’d seen Faith with his own two eyes and she was as high as a kite.
For his part, Will only knew two things to be true: he had no idea what had happened in that house, and Faith had done the right thing.
Leo cleared his throat and spit a chunk of phlegm onto the asphalt. “So, Granny Johnson said she heard some screaming in the backyard. She looks out the kitchen window and sees the shooter—Mexican guy—aiming down on her grandkids. He squeezes off a shot, takes out some bricks on the house. Faith runs up to the fence and shoots him dead. Saves the little girls.”
Will felt some of the weight lift off his chest. “Lucky for them Faith was there.”
“Lucky for Faith the neighbor’s a good witness.”
Will started to stick his hands in his pockets, too late remembering he was still in his running shorts.
Leo chuckled. “I like these new uniforms. You supposed to be the cop in the Village People?”
Will crossed his arms over his chest.
“Los Texicanos,” Leo said. “The guy in the backyard. He’s affiliated, got tats all over his chest and arms.”
“What about the other two?”
“Asian. Both of ’em. No idea if they’re ganged up. Don’t look like it. Don’t dress like it. Bodies are clean—no tats.” Leo took his time lighting another cigarette. He blew out a steady stream of smoke beforecontinuing. “Scott Shepherd over there—” He nodded toward a beefy-looking young man in tactical gear. “Says he had his team suited up outside the house waiting for backup. They heard a gun go off. It’s a possible hostage situation, right? One officer inside, two if you count Evelyn. Imminent danger. So, they breech the door.” Leo took another hit off his cigarette. “Scott sees Faith standing there in the hall, feet spread, Glock out in front of her. She sees Scott, doesn’t say a word, just takes off into the bedroom. They go in after her and find a dead guy laid out on the carpet.” Leo touched his finger to his forehead. “She nailed him right between the eyes.”
“Must’ve had a good reason.”
“Wish I knew that reason. He didn’t have a gun in his hand.”
“The other guy did. The one who ran into the backyard and shot at the kids.”
“You’re right. He did.”
“Fingerprints?”
“We’re working on it.”
Will would’ve bet his house that they would find two sets of prints—one from the Asian and one from the Mexican. “Where’d you find the third guy?”
“Laundry room. Bullet to the head. Nasty shot, took off half his skull. We dug a thirty-eight out of the wall.”
Faith’s Glock was a .40-caliber. “Does the S&W take a thirty-eight?”
“Yep.” Leo pushed away from the car. “Nothing on the mother yet. We got teams out looking for her. She ran the drug squad, but I think you already know that, Ratatouille.”
Will forced his jaw not to clench. About the only thing Leo was really good
“Try not to sound so confident.”
Will didn’t waste his breath. Leo’s time in the sun would be shortlived. As soon as the Atlanta chief of police came onto the scene, he’d kick Leo to the curb and put together his own team. Leo would be lucky if they let him fetch coffee.
“Seriously,” Leo said. “Faith doin’ all right?”
“She’s fine.”
He took a last drag on his cigarette and dropped it to the ground.“Neighbor’s freaked out. Almost watched her granddaughters get shot down.”
Will tried to keep his expression blank. He knew a little bit about what had happened here, but not much. The guys from the tactical team had gotten bored after standing around for five minutes with nothing to break. The details of the crime scene had leaked like a rusty pipe. Two bodies in the house. One in the neighbor’s backyard. Two guns on Faith—her Glock and a Smith and Wesson. Her shotgun on the floor of the bedroom. Will had stopped listening when he’d overheard a cop who’d just arrived on scene saying that he’d seen Faith with his own two eyes and she was as high as a kite.
For his part, Will only knew two things to be true: he had no idea what had happened in that house, and Faith had done the right thing.
Leo cleared his throat and spit a chunk of phlegm onto the asphalt. “So, Granny Johnson said she heard some screaming in the backyard. She looks out the kitchen window and sees the shooter—Mexican guy—aiming down on her grandkids. He squeezes off a shot, takes out some bricks on the house. Faith runs up to the fence and shoots him dead. Saves the little girls.”
Will felt some of the weight lift off his chest. “Lucky for them Faith was there.”
“Lucky for Faith the neighbor’s a good witness.”
Will started to stick his hands in his pockets, too late remembering he was still in his running shorts.
Leo chuckled. “I like these new uniforms. You supposed to be the cop in the Village People?”
Will crossed his arms over his chest.
“Los Texicanos,” Leo said. “The guy in the backyard. He’s affiliated, got tats all over his chest and arms.”
“What about the other two?”
“Asian. Both of ’em. No idea if they’re ganged up. Don’t look like it. Don’t dress like it. Bodies are clean—no tats.” Leo took his time lighting another cigarette. He blew out a steady stream of smoke beforecontinuing. “Scott Shepherd over there—” He nodded toward a beefy-looking young man in tactical gear. “Says he had his team suited up outside the house waiting for backup. They heard a gun go off. It’s a possible hostage situation, right? One officer inside, two if you count Evelyn. Imminent danger. So, they breech the door.” Leo took another hit off his cigarette. “Scott sees Faith standing there in the hall, feet spread, Glock out in front of her. She sees Scott, doesn’t say a word, just takes off into the bedroom. They go in after her and find a dead guy laid out on the carpet.” Leo touched his finger to his forehead. “She nailed him right between the eyes.”
“Must’ve had a good reason.”
“Wish I knew that reason. He didn’t have a gun in his hand.”
“The other guy did. The one who ran into the backyard and shot at the kids.”
“You’re right. He did.”
“Fingerprints?”
“We’re working on it.”
Will would’ve bet his house that they would find two sets of prints—one from the Asian and one from the Mexican. “Where’d you find the third guy?”
“Laundry room. Bullet to the head. Nasty shot, took off half his skull. We dug a thirty-eight out of the wall.”
Faith’s Glock was a .40-caliber. “Does the S&W take a thirty-eight?”
“Yep.” Leo pushed away from the car. “Nothing on the mother yet. We got teams out looking for her. She ran the drug squad, but I think you already know that, Ratatouille.”
Will forced his jaw not to clench. About the only thing Leo was really good
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