“You were injured while resisting arrest; wasn’t he lieutenant?”
“That’s how my report will read,” Sanchez said.
“Or maybe I’ll just shoot you in the back and say you were trying to escape.”
“You just tryin’ ta’ scare me.”
“Look, I know you were with them when the shooting started.”
“Who told you that?”
“I did,” Sanchez said. “We had you, asshole, under surveillance for months. We know all about Kenyatta Damson and the whole crew of you. You take a good picture.”
“What I get if I tell you what you wanna know?”
“I already told you: you get to get out of this car alive and with no broken bones,” I said.
“All right. I don’t know who them niggas was, but they rolled up on us and just started shooting. Blade was out front; he got cut down ’fore he got his gun out. Kenyatta and Fraz shot back but they were outgunned. Them niggas was bustin’ with AKs or some heavy shit like that.”
“And the rest of you ran for cover,” Sanchez said and got out of the car.
“I took-yeah, we just ran,” he said and dropped his head before he admitted that he was involved in the shooting.
“Thanks,” I said and got out of the car. We ran the same game on the other two and they told us the same story. I had the officers take them in, book them for loitering, and then let them go. At least we would have their prints and mug shots.
After Sanchez and I left the crime scene, he rode with me while I grabbed something to eat and some coffee, and then we headed back to the precinct. I wanted to get a look at the file he had on Kenyatta Damson and he not only wanted, but needed, to find out how this woman was running an operation like she was, and nobody in his unit knew anything about it. He didn’t say it, but I knew he had to be thinking that someone in his unit might be dirty.
While Sanchez wandered around the unit chewin’ ass, I dug into her file. Under the circumstances, I wasn’t expecting to find much. When Sanchez got done with his tirade, he came back in his office, sat down in front of me, and took a deep breath. “Was it good for you?”
“It was better for me than it was for them,” Sanchez said and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. “What about you; you find anything?”
“Nothing current. You got any idea who was supplying this woman?” When Sanchez didn’t answer, I figured he didn’t. “What about Lorenzo Copeland; says he’s a known associate. Got anything current on him?”
Sanchez looked at me and then he looked out in the unit. He stood up. “Come on, Kirk, let’s go get some coffee.”
“Got some,” I said and held up my cup.