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Patrol had taped off the area where a crowd had formed around the covered body. From the other side of the street, Sam saw Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Lindsey McNamara working her way through the large crowd with her deputy, Dr. Byron Tomlinson.
Sam zeroed in on a wailing black woman being supported by two equally distraught young women. Her gut clenched with empathy for the woman, who had to be the victim’s mother. How anyone survived losing a child to violence was beyond her. She could barely stand to work cases that involved kids.
“What’ve we got?” she asked Officer Beckett, who greeted her at the tapeline.
He held it up for her to go under. “Jamal Jackson, fifteen, picked off in a drive-by as he was walking home with friends.”
“Do we have the friends?”
Beckett nodded toward the stairs of a nearby townhouse where two traumatized teenage boys sat on the stoop under the care of another Patrol officer and two EMTs.
“The mom was all over him when we arrived,” Beckett said, letting her know their crime scene had been compromised.
“Let me see.” She followed Beckett to the covered body and squatted for a closer look as he lifted the fabric to reveal the handsome boy who’d been struck in the right side of the head by the bullet. A tragic waste of a young life.
Sam glanced up at Lindsey, noting her red hair was up its customary ponytail and her hazel eyes brimmed with compassion. “Let me get the mom out of here before you get started, Doc.”
“Good idea. And welcome back. We missed you.”
“Wish I could say the same.” Sam stood. “What do we know about the family?” she asked Beckett.
He consulted his notebook. “Danita Jackson, single mom of three. Jamal was her youngest. Those are her daughters, Misty and Tamara, with her. Misty told me he’s never been in any trouble. Honor roll student, hard worker, plays basketball in a rec league and at school.”
“Son of a bitch,” Sam muttered.
“You said it, LT.”
“How’d they hear about it?”
“One of the friends called Tamara.”
She took a deep breath and sought the fortitude she needed to talk to Jamal’s devastated mother and sisters. “Mrs. Jackson.” Sam showed her gold shield. “I’m Lieutenant Holland, MPD.”
“We know who you are,” one of the daughters said.
Sam had become accustomed to that response since Nick became vice president. “May I have a word with you across the street?”
“This way, Lieutenant,” Sergeant Tommy “Gonzo” Gonzales said as he arrived on the scene with Freddie. They cleared a path for Sam to escort the three women to the other side of the street and down the block, away from the fray of first responders, neighbors and reporters who’d begun to arrive.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss.” Sam kept half an eye on the reporters who were being waylaid by Beckett and the other Patrol officers.
“I don’t want your sympathy,” Danita said between sobs. “I want the person who killed my baby!” She began to wail, and her daughters tried to comfort her through their own distress.
“I want that too, and I’ll do everything in my power to find the person who did this.” Sam withdrew the notebook from her back pocket. “Can you tell me where he was coming from?”
“They went to see the new IMAX movie at the Air and Space Museum.” Danita wiped tears from her face. “My baby wanted to be an astronaut. He was obsessed with space and flying. He was going to make something of himself.”
Sam’s heart broke as she took notes. “Did your son have any conflicts with anyone?”
“Not that I knew of. Everyone liked him. He had lots of friends.”
“And no involvement with gangs?”
“Absolutely not! He knew I’d have his ass if he even talked to those people. I stayed on top of him. I always knew where he was and who he was with. I did everything I could to keep him out of trouble. How could this have happened to my son?” She broke down again, and her daughters tried to comfort her as tears ran down their faces. In a softer tone, she said, “He was a good boy, Lieutenant. A son any mother would be proud of.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. We’ll do everything we can to get justice for Jamal.”
“What will it matter?” Tamara asked bitterly. “It won’t bring him back.”
“No, it won’t, but it’ll ensure that whoever did this can’t do it to anyone else. I’ll need contact information for each of you.” She handed her notebook and pen to Misty. She wrote down the information and returned the notebook to Sam.
Sam gave her a business card. “If there’s anything I can do for any of you, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call. My cell number is on there.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” Danita said. “I so admire you and your husband. I never dreamed that this is how I might meet you.”
Sam squeezed her arm. “Please call me if I can help.”
She nodded and Sam left them to cross the street, ducking back under the tape. “Tell me about the friends,” she said to Beckett.
Consulting his notes, he said, “Vincent Andina on the left and Corey Richie on the right. I ran all three boys, and only Richie popped up as being in the system for a misdemeanor that was adjudicated in juvie. EMTs checked them out, and they’re as okay as they can be under the circumstances. A little shell-shocked, but that’s to be expected.”
“Good work, Beckett. Thank you.” She approached the two boys who sat together on the stairs of a townhouse. “I’m Lieutenant Holland, Metro PD.”
“You’re the chick that nailed that guy at the parade,” Vincent said. Like Jamal, he was black but had dyed his hair blond.
“Yeah, that was me.”
“That was cool.”
“Glad you thought so. I’d like to speak to you separately, if you don’t mind. Vincent, can you please come with me?”
He exchanged glances with Corey, who was Hispanic. “I guess so.”
Sam walked him a hundred feet from where his friend sat on the stoop. “Can you tell me what happened today?”
“We went to the movies at the Air and Space. Jamal... He liked that space shit and begged us to go with him so he wouldn’t have to go by himself. It was pretty cool.”
“How’d you get there?” Sam asked.
“Took the bus,” Vincent said, “and we was walking home when this car came flying down the street. It was going so fast that we kinda jumped out of the way cuz we were afraid it might hit us. Then there was a loud boom and Jamal... He just went down.”
“Did you get a good look at the car?”
He shook his head. “It happened so fast,” Vincent said. “The car was long gone by the time we realized Jamal had been shot.”
“Think about it. Was it a regular car or a truck or an SUV? Any detail you can give us would help.”
For a long moment, he was quiet as he tried to remember. “I think it was black. And a regular car. Not a truck or an SUV. But I can’t be sure. It was like a flash flying by us, and when we heard the boom, I got kind of confused about what was happening. I was on the inside. Jamal was closest to the street and Corey was in the middle.” Vincent wiped a tear off his face. “Why would anyone want to hurt Jamal? He was the nicest kid.”
“It’s very possible,” Sam said, “that these guys, whoever they are, were looking to hurt someone, and it didn’t matter who it was.”
“That’s so fucked-up,” Vincent said.
“I agree. I have to ask if any of you had any contact with gangs or friends who are in gangs.”
“We all know people who are into that shit, but we aren’t.”
“Did Jamal or either of you have any beefs with anyone?”
“Nah,” Vincent said. “Nothing that would get us shot. Some chirping and crap on Twitter. Whatever. No one wanted us dead. Least not that we knew about.”
“You’ve been very helpful.” She handed him her card. “If you think of anything else, call me. Even if it’s the smallest detail that comes back to you tomorrow or the next day or chatter you see online. Call me.”
He nodded in acknowledgment.
“I’m really sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks,” Vincent said, wiping more tears from his face.
She had a similar conversation with Corey, who didn’t add anything new to what Vincent had told her. Sam went to talk to Beckett. “Have their parents been called?”
“They’re on their way.”
“Don’t bring them down here. Meet them at the corner or something. They don’t need to see this.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Beckett ushered the boys to the far end of the street.
“What’s the plan, Lieutenant?” Gonzo asked as Sam took a good look around at the nearby houses.
“We need an APB for a fast-moving black sedan. Make sure they know these people are armed and not afraid to shoot.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Gonzo said.
“What do we have for cameras around here?”
“There’s one at either end of the block, and I’ve already asked Archie to pull the feed,” Gonzo said of Lieutenant Archelotta, who ran the IT squad.
As Lindsey wheeled Jamal’s body to the Medical Examiner’s truck, Sam said, “Let’s canvass the crowd and go door-to-door to see if anyone else witnessed the shooting. When we get back to the house, I want to go through all their social media accounts. My gut is telling me this is random, but we need to check all the boxes.”
They spent the next hour talking to each person at the scene and knocking on every door on the street but didn’t find any other witnesses to the shooting. A few had heard the boom of the shot and had rushed outside to see what’d happened. None of them reported seeing the car or the shooter.
When they’d done what they could, they turned things over to the Crime Scene detectives. “Let’s pick it up at HQ and see what Archie has for us.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u99104933-900c-57d2-b8bc-cf29aa606eb5)
AS SAM APPROACHED her car, she noticed Darren Tabor from the Washington Star leaning against it, typing madly on his smartphone.
“Get off my car, Darren. You’ll scratch the paint.”
“I see the vacation didn’t do anything to sweeten you up, Lieutenant.”
Though his comment amused her, Sam didn’t let him see that. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want. The whole world is waiting for a comment from you or the vice president about what’s going on with Nelson and how you guys feel about the possibility of becoming president and first lady.”
“You’re going to have to continue waiting. I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Come on, Sam. You’ve got to be worried about it. How could you not be?”
“The only thing I’m worried about is the really good kid who was just gunned down in my city. He has my full attention.”
“How’re you going to do this job if you become first lady?”
“I asked you nicely to get off my car, Darren. I’ve got work to do, and you’re in my way.”
He pushed himself off the car. “Will you give me something when you can?”
“Have a good day, Darren.”
“I thought we were friends, Sam. Friends give friends a break.”
Sam laughed at that. “And what will you do for me, as my friend?”
“I’d write a nice story about what a fantastic president and first lady you guys would be. A hell of a lot better than what we have now. That’s for sure.”
“I thought the press was supposed to be impartial?”
“Come on, Sam. You guys gotta say something!”
“No, we actually don’t. If you want to do me a favor, Darren, write me a front-page story about the good kid who was killed here today and how senseless gun violence is.”
“If I do that, will you give me something on the Nelson thing?”
“See you later.” Sam got into the car, started the engine and drove away, leaving him glaring at her. She was so sick and tired of people trying to get them to comment on the Nelson situation. What did they expect them to say? We hope the president, whose son threatened to dismember the children we love and had my ex-husband tortured and killed, manages to hold on to his presidency so we don’t have to deal with it?
In truth, Sam wasn’t sure what to hope for. Half of her wanted Nelson and his entire family behind bars for what Christopher had put her family through with the horrific threats that had been levied against Scotty, her beloved nieces and nephews and Nick’s much-younger half-brothers. The far more rational side of her hoped that maybe Nelson could somehow prove he’d had no idea what his son was doing and hold on to his presidency.
She and Nick were painfully aware that the DNC expected him to be their candidate in the next election, but they had a couple of years before anything had to be decided for certain, and they’d hoped to enjoy those years in relative peace and quiet that had been badly disrupted by Christopher Nelson’s shenanigans.
“Here I am obsessing about that crap again when I have far bigger things to worry about.” She placed a call to her commander, Captain Malone, to report in about the new case.
“Welcome back, Lieutenant. I’d tell you we missed you, but of course you know that.”
Sam rolled her eyes at the predictable comment from her friend and mentor. “I’m sure you enjoyed the vacation from me as much as I enjoyed the vacation from all of you.”
“You hurt my feelings, Lieutenant.”
“Ha! You have to have feelings before they can be hurt.”
