Haunted (Michael Bennett 10)

I nodded and said, “I understand. I see it in police work as well. So all that being said, do you have any theories?”

She leaned in close and said, “I’ve heard rumors, but I can’t have them associated with me.”

I nodded.

“The student was involved in selling drugs. Everyone knew it. Everyone knows he was killed as part of a drug hit, no matter what we’re peddling to the public.”

“A drug hit? On a fifteen-year-old?”

“That’s not all. It was a specific hit man. I’ve heard about him for months now. I don’t have a name or any concrete info.”

I said, “Do you have anything at all?”

She nodded. “He’s a New York City high school student. That’s how he’s able to move so freely without raising any suspicion.”

Chapter 10

It was hard to shake Toni DiPetro. I finally explained that I couldn’t have her present during my interviews with students, and she pointed me to a couple of areas where I might find kids willing to talk to me. It made sense that kids in the library might be more studious and less involved in criminal activity than others. Still, I realized, asking questions out of the blue might not be the best approach, especially since I was an adult male dressed in a suit. I could always change it up if it didn’t work.

There was a study area behind the library where kids were allowed to have drinks and snacks. A cute young woman, maybe sixteen years old, sat reading a giant textbook and holding her nose only a few inches from the pages. I approached her slowly, and before I even pulled out my badge and identification she said, “I have nothing to say to the police.”

“Really? You’re not even going to let me ask a question?”

“Do I need to refer you to my dad’s attorney?”

“How do you even know I’m a cop?”

She didn’t miss a beat as she flipped a strand of blond hair out of her face. “If you’re a lawyer you would be dressed in a better suit. And if you’re a teacher you wouldn’t be wearing a suit.”

I took that as a cue to move on. The assistant principal had provided me with a list of several names. I made a quick cell-phone call and asked her to summon those kids to an administrative office. Clearly I wasn’t going to get anywhere just wandering the halls.

The first kid I met in the comfortable office, which had a wide couch and a TV on the wall, was a stocky Latino named Robert Hernandez. He had dark curly hair parted down the middle and a teenager’s attempt at a beard, with stubble sprouting between a moderate case of acne.

I identified myself, and he seemed friendly. He just shrugged and said, “This is about Gary, right?”

“It is. Is there anything you could tell me that might help us catch who killed him?”

“Not a thing. In fact, I don’t want anyone to see me in here talking to you for too long, so if it’s okay, can I go?”

“Your friend’s life meant that little to you?”

“No. It’s more like my life means that much to me. You’re not gonna find anyone to talk.”

“Are you worried about reprisals from a gang?”

“These guys are beyond a gang. You can see gang members coming. These guys use people you would never expect. I’m sorry. I can’t stay.” He sprang up and darted out the door before I could try to persuade him to stay.

The next student was a lanky senior with long greasy hair and a voice that couldn’t decide if it belonged to a kid or an adult. He wore a loose plaid shirt over a Nirvana T-shirt, and I understood exactly the look he was going for. His name was Jimmy Hilcox, and I quickly realized that no one at his house had ever taught him the meaning of the word respect. That deficiency almost never worked out for kids as they got older and entered society. It didn’t work out that well for society, either.

He was more sullen than Robert Hernandez and, for the most part, wouldn’t acknowledge me. He didn’t even admit that he knew Gary Mule, despite the fact that I’d been told they both played on the lacrosse team and had three classes together.

Finally the dour young man looked at me and said, “Why do you even care what happened?”

“I care anytime someone is murdered in the city. Especially a kid. It’s my job to care. But probably the biggest reason is that I have kids of my own.”

“Aren’t you worried what might happen to your kids if you push this too hard?”

“I always worry about my kids, no matter what I’m doing. Why? Do you know these guys? Can you just give me a name?”