hell off my car!” the man screamed, waving the bat in the air. Both teens stood up straight, arms dangling at their sides, mouths slack. “Get on a’fore I beat your asses, you lazy motherfuckers!”
Wisely, the kids bolted.
“Well,” Trent said, letting out a breath.
“Stupid motherfuckers,” the man repeated. He was looking at Michael and Trent, and Michael was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the boys anymore. “What the fuck you two pigs want?”
“Baby G?” Trent asked.
The man kept the bat up, ready to strike. “Who the fuck’s asking?”
Trent took a step forward as if he wasn’t scared his head would be knocked into right field at any moment.
Assault, Michael remembered Angie saying when she told them about Baby G. Rape, attempted murder.
Trent said, “I’m Special Agent Will Trent, this is Detective Orme-wood.” Michael waved, glad there was a car between him and the angry pimp. Trent was an idiot if he thought he’d get anything useful out of this thug.
“We’re investigating the death of Aleesha Monroe.”
“Why the fuck should I talk to you?” Baby G kept the bat in the air; his muscles tensed.
Trent looked back at Michael. “Any ideas?”
Michael shrugged, wondering how he was going to write this up in his report once he got Will Trent to the hospital. Officer antagonized suspect… came to mind.
Trent turned back to the pimp, holding his hands out in an open shrug. “Honestly, I’m shocked my good looks and charm aren’t enough for you.”
Michael felt his jaw drop in surprise. He closed it quickly, let his hand reach down to his gun again so he’d be ready to react when the pimp figured out he was being disrespected.
Two or three seconds passed, then two or three more. Finally, Baby G nodded. “All right.” He smiled, showing the gold caps on each tooth, crosses cut through the centers showing the whites, just as Angie had described. “You got ten minutes before Montel comes on.”
Trent held out his hand, as if they’d made a deal. “Thank you.”
The pimp shook the offered hand, looking Trent up and down, saying, “You sure you a cop?”
Trent reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge.
Baby G glanced at it, then let his eyes do a once-over of Trent again. “You one weird motherfucker.”
Trent tucked his badge back into his pocket, ignoring the observation. “You want to talk out here?”
Baby G dropped the bat to his side, leaning on it like it was a cane. “Them’s my cousins,” he said, indicating the car, obviously meaning the boys he’d chased off. “Up to no good. They should have they asses in school.”
“It’s nice that you take an interest in their lives,” Trent allowed. He had tucked his hands into his pockets again, and was casually leaning against the back of the car like this was some kind of friendly conversation. “When did you last see Aleesha?”
Baby G took his time. “About six last night,” he finally answered. “She was going off to work. Wanted a little something before she went out.” He lifted his chin, waiting for Trent to ask what the little something was.
Trent obviously knew. He had seen the tracks on the hooker’s arms just like Michael. “Did you give it to her?”
Baby G shrugged, which Michael took for a yes.
“Did she have any other suppliers?”
The pimp looked around as if he was checking his audience. He spit on the ground, puffing out his chest in defiance, but he still answered the question. “Hell no. She didn’t have no money. Nobody was gonna float that ho for a dime.”
“I could run up the street and blow just about anybody for a baggie,” Trent pointed out. “No cash involved.”
Baby G laughed at the thought. “Yo, bitch, not on my turf.”
“I’m sure Aleesha reported all her income,” Trent said, more like a question.
“Shit,” Baby G grunted, like it was stupid to even suggest such a thing.
Trent asked, “She a good earner?”
“She like that needle in
Wisely, the kids bolted.
“Well,” Trent said, letting out a breath.
“Stupid motherfuckers,” the man repeated. He was looking at Michael and Trent, and Michael was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the boys anymore. “What the fuck you two pigs want?”
“Baby G?” Trent asked.
The man kept the bat up, ready to strike. “Who the fuck’s asking?”
Trent took a step forward as if he wasn’t scared his head would be knocked into right field at any moment.
Assault, Michael remembered Angie saying when she told them about Baby G. Rape, attempted murder.
Trent said, “I’m Special Agent Will Trent, this is Detective Orme-wood.” Michael waved, glad there was a car between him and the angry pimp. Trent was an idiot if he thought he’d get anything useful out of this thug.
“We’re investigating the death of Aleesha Monroe.”
“Why the fuck should I talk to you?” Baby G kept the bat in the air; his muscles tensed.
Trent looked back at Michael. “Any ideas?”
Michael shrugged, wondering how he was going to write this up in his report once he got Will Trent to the hospital. Officer antagonized suspect… came to mind.
Trent turned back to the pimp, holding his hands out in an open shrug. “Honestly, I’m shocked my good looks and charm aren’t enough for you.”
Michael felt his jaw drop in surprise. He closed it quickly, let his hand reach down to his gun again so he’d be ready to react when the pimp figured out he was being disrespected.
Two or three seconds passed, then two or three more. Finally, Baby G nodded. “All right.” He smiled, showing the gold caps on each tooth, crosses cut through the centers showing the whites, just as Angie had described. “You got ten minutes before Montel comes on.”
Trent held out his hand, as if they’d made a deal. “Thank you.”
The pimp shook the offered hand, looking Trent up and down, saying, “You sure you a cop?”
Trent reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge.
Baby G glanced at it, then let his eyes do a once-over of Trent again. “You one weird motherfucker.”
Trent tucked his badge back into his pocket, ignoring the observation. “You want to talk out here?”
Baby G dropped the bat to his side, leaning on it like it was a cane. “Them’s my cousins,” he said, indicating the car, obviously meaning the boys he’d chased off. “Up to no good. They should have they asses in school.”
“It’s nice that you take an interest in their lives,” Trent allowed. He had tucked his hands into his pockets again, and was casually leaning against the back of the car like this was some kind of friendly conversation. “When did you last see Aleesha?”
Baby G took his time. “About six last night,” he finally answered. “She was going off to work. Wanted a little something before she went out.” He lifted his chin, waiting for Trent to ask what the little something was.
Trent obviously knew. He had seen the tracks on the hooker’s arms just like Michael. “Did you give it to her?”
Baby G shrugged, which Michael took for a yes.
“Did she have any other suppliers?”
The pimp looked around as if he was checking his audience. He spit on the ground, puffing out his chest in defiance, but he still answered the question. “Hell no. She didn’t have no money. Nobody was gonna float that ho for a dime.”
“I could run up the street and blow just about anybody for a baggie,” Trent pointed out. “No cash involved.”
Baby G laughed at the thought. “Yo, bitch, not on my turf.”
“I’m sure Aleesha reported all her income,” Trent said, more like a question.
“Shit,” Baby G grunted, like it was stupid to even suggest such a thing.
Trent asked, “She a good earner?”
“She like that needle in
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