“I’m”—wheeze—“fine.”—Wheeze—“Don’t mind”—wheeze—“me.”
“Uh oh, she’s crying black tears. I gotta go get her a tissue.”
Sure enough, as my mascara mixed with the tears pouring out of me—none of them coffee, thank God—I had black tears trailing down my cheeks.
Finally able to stand up without dying, I wheezed, “Still want to stay with us after that?”
If laughter was an answer, the loudness of Carter’s screamed “yes.” Either that or it was a cover for his escape plans. I guess we’d find out soon enough.
It was just after lunch when it happened.
I was in the conference room, waiting to pass out some forms, while the men watched a case report on the large screen television. They did this periodically, and the aim was to either make them aware of something, be on the lookout for something/someone, or get feedback from other officers on a situation.
Todays was the case of a missing baby from 1998, but as a picture came up on the screen, I felt the hair on my arms stand up.
“Wait, how did you get a photo of the guy?”
Dave paused the footage. “You know this man, Naomi?”
“Well, yeah. I only saw the side of his face, really, but I recognize him from when he looked out the door at the forecourt of the gas station.”
Carter looked at me incredulously. “You’re saying this is the dude who robbed McGill’s yesterday?”
I frowned. “Yeah? How is he related to a missing baby from twenty-three years ago? He looked too young for that.”
Dave and Carter shared a look, one that reminded me of the day I’d asked if I could call Dave DB like the guys did, since I was practically one of them. They’d looked at each other, and then Carter had taken me aside and told me it was best to stick to calling him Dave like the other women did.
I’d thought it sounded kind of sexist until his wife had explained that them calling him DB was a matter of respect, Mano a Mano. The women got to call him Dave because they weren’t under him in the chain of command.
It’d still sounded wrong, so I’d proceeded to call him DB for three days…until he’d begun calling me Nee-Nee. Never again would I call him DB, so long as never again did he call me by that awful name.
As far as I could remember, I hadn’t slipped up and called him DB, so the look was confusing. That was until DB nodded and Carter waved me over to him.
“Baby, the guy you’re looking at is Todd Lewis, the father of the baby who went missing in ’98, not the guy from yesterday. Are you sure it’s the same guy?”
Before I could answer, DB hit a button, and another photo came up on it, this one of a man holding a baby in his arms, with his head turned to the side while he smiled down at his son. It was the side profile shot I’d needed.
“It looks so like him, but I’m sure he had slightly lighter hair, his nose was a bit smaller than that guy's, and his jaw wasn’t as square as that. But, man, they look so alike.” I chewed on my thumbnail as I stared at it a while longer. “I know I only saw his side profile for a second, but I’m sure of it.”
“I’ll take the photos and show Margaret,” Alex offered, talking about the sales attendant from McGill’s. “She saw him straight on and from the side.”
“Do that. Take Alejandro with you while Naomi studies the picture and writes out the differences. Also, Margaret said he was driving a black ’87 Toyota 4runner, and we asked the owner, Teddy McGill, for a copy of the security footage from the camera pointed at the pumps. Logan, chase the asshole for them, will you?”
Getting up from where he was sitting around the long table, Logan raised his hand like an idiot. “Anyone else think Teddy McGill’s acting slightly shady about it all? I mean, he started off telling us there weren’t any working cameras, then said he didn’t know how to access the feed, then he said the cameras didn’t record….”
When no one said anything, he shrugged. “Just seems shady.”
DB ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right. Okay, I’d like the information for Theodore McGill and don’t leave anything out. Given that this guy looked enough like Ainsley Lewis for Naomi to think it was him, I need you to find out if he has any kids, their dates and places of birth, and any other information you can find out on them. It’s just a hunch.”
Everyone got up and moved toward the door. “And for the love of tequila and beer at the end of a shitty day, someone get me the mayor. Alex and Carter were right—if anyone knows any history, it’ll be that man.”