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She quickly examined the folders in the box and then scanned through them a second time. To her dismay, the file for Eddie Green was missing. Had Jason taken it with him? Did he believe that this man was somehow involved in her father’s shooting?
And then she knew.
Jason had gone to see Eddie Green. The file had listed his address as Hunters Point, which was also where Jason had grown up. Caroline wondered if they had known each other, and recalled how Jason had deliberately shut her down when she’d asked that very question. Had their paths crossed when they had both lived in Hunters Point? It would make sense that Jason might have fallen in with Eddie as a kid, which had led to him getting into trouble.
Curious, Caroline went in search of Deputy Black and found him standing outside in the corridor, speaking into his earpiece. When he saw Caroline, he turned away from her and lowered his voice, then abruptly ended the conversation. When he turned around again, she could see the concern on his face.
“Everything okay, ma’am?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Is it?”
He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind her words, before drawing her a little away from the door and the guard who sat outside.
“What is it?”
“Did Jason go to Hunters Point?”
His voice grew cautious. “Why would you think that?”
Caroline gave him a tolerant look. “Because he took the file on Eddie Green. I know that this guy had a thing against my father for putting some of his gang members—including his own brother—on death row, and that his last known address was Hunters Point. Is that where Jason went?”
Deputy Black’s lips compressed into a thin line, and he considered her for a long moment before he spoke. “Jason knows that area well, and he knows what he’s doing. He’s a U.S. marshal.”
“Has he even been back there since he was a kid?” Caroline demanded. “Well, has he? That place hasn’t gotten any better over the years, Deputy. At least tell me that he brought backup.”
Deputy Black nodded tersely. “We have support from the local P.D., and there are undercover guys tailing him. He’ll be fine.”
Caroline wasn’t convinced, but knew she had little choice but to accept what he said. He was right; she needed to trust that Jason knew what he was doing. He might be the youngest U.S. marshal in California, but he’d been in law enforcement for over ten years. He hadn’t been appointed to his position because he was afraid to take on guys like Eddie Green. He’d gotten the job because on some level, he understood men like Eddie Green. And maybe, deep down, he was even a little bit like them.
“Okay,” she finally said, turning back to her father’s room. “But let me know the second he returns.”
Without waiting for a response, she closed the door quietly and returned to the small table where she had been working. She knew Jason wanted to evaluate every possible suspect, and she could help him with that. After sitting down, she pulled the first file from the box. She’d go through every case her father had been involved in and make her own assessments about whether or not the claimants might have had reason to hurt him. She glanced over at William, who lay unresponsive in his bed, surrounded by the sounds of the medical equipment that helped to keep him alive. Straightening her spine, she opened the first folder.
* * *
HUNTERS POINT HADN’T changed since Jason had been a teenager. Now, driving through the streets and seeing the evidence of poverty and neglect, he knew why he had never been back. There was nothing for him here. As he turned down several side streets and saw groups of inner-city youths on the street corners and congregated on the front steps of the tenement buildings, he thought that could easily have been him. That had been him, some twenty years earlier. He’d preferred to hang out with the older boys in the neighborhood than go to school. At least until his father had gotten a call from the principal about his absences.
Jason absently fingered the scar on his cheekbone, where his father’s ring had caught the skin and laid it open. The old man had always had a hell of a backhand. The kids watched as he drove past, and Jason knew they were looking at the distinctive U.S. Marshals insignia on the doors of the silver SUV and were taking bets on who he was after. Jason wondered how many of the youths were actually undercover police officers, trying to infiltrate the narcotics ring that purportedly operated out of the Point.
Glancing at the computer screen of the dash-mounted laptop, where he’d keyed in the last known address of Eddie Green, he turned down another side street, this one lined with what looked like abandoned warehouses. Furtive movement in the alleyways between the buildings told him he was being watched, probably by Green’s men. He also knew that Eddie and his gang members had been under surveillance by federal law enforcement for some time, and that he was likely being observed by undercover agents. Nevertheless, he had his service revolver in his shoulder holster and another in the back of his waistband, concealed by his sports coat. He had no illusions that he’d be allowed to keep either once he found Eddie.
