And when you were up against the ticking clock of a missing person, that took time you couldn’t afford.
And that was when therewasn’ta crime syndicate with a grudge involved.
“It’s still—” Cloister stopped mid-probably-going-to-fall-flat-reassurance as Bon started to bark.He turned and saw her dart into one of the rooms they’d opened to clear.He followed her into what had probably been a home office, from the empty shelves and the plugged modem line dangling from the wall plate.She’d gotten to the window and stood up, paws on the sill, to look out.
He joined her and looked out, just as the first local news van pulled up outside.The side-loading door swung open to let the crew out, the redheaded anchor in the nice suit already indicating Cloister’s patrol car.
“Shit,” Cloister muttered as he looked down the street and saw the rest of the pack trying to navigate the tight corner.A couple of reporters had just left the driver to it and were briskly headed down the sidewalk, cameramen fumbling their equipment as they jogged to catch up.“We’ve got media.How the hell did they get the tip already?”
“Oh,” Javi said sourly from behind him, “I think we can guess.”
Cloister turned, and Javi held his phone up for him to see.It was footage of Brian Fowler, arm strapped and in a wheelchair, being escorted into the station.The anchor’s voice delivered the story with restrained interest.
“Believed to be implicated in the recent incident around an injured federal officerandlocal missing man, Miles Lassiter.”
Fromehookedhisthumbinto the armpit of his tactical vest to adjust the fit as he stalked into the room.The low mutter of speculation that was being traded between tables died down as everyone focused on him.
Someone nudged Cloister’s elbow.He looked over to see Boyd.She rubbed the back of her neck.
“Shouldn’t Gardner be here?”she asked.
Cloister glanced around.He’d not noticed that Gardner hadn’t made the briefing.His bone to pick with the idiot was low on his list of priorities right now.Frome might have made a different call.
“Don’t worry about him,” he said as he jerked his chin toward the front of the room.“Pay attention.”
Boyd twisted her mouth unhappily but leaned back out of the aisle, settling back into her chair next to Tancredi.She picked up her pen and did a test scribble at the top of her pad to make sure it was working.
“We retrieved five hard drives and other media from the Fowler residence,” Frome said briskly.He leaned his elbows on the podium as he talked, occasionally flicking his eyes down to his notes.“We’re still waiting for the full report from the techs, but with the media leakandthe clock ticking on our missing person, we’re hitting the ground with what we’ve got.So far, we know that Fowler was obsessed with the idea that the developers buying up properties in and around his neighborhood were part of some sort of government conspiracy to isolate and control him.The prowling charge he was initially arrested on involved addresses that we now know had been recently purchased after a foreclosure.But right now we’re only looking at properties that are still empty, which narrows it down.Just not by enough.”
He glanced over at Mel and gave her a nod.She tapped her tablet, and the screen behind Frome flickered to life with a closely spaced spreadsheet of addresses.
A quiet “Fuck” drifted up from a table in the middle.Frome rapped his knuckles on the side of the podium.
“None of that,” he said, then glanced over his shoulder at the screen.“I get it, but once the techs get access to the files, we can narrow it down.For now, though, we need to get started.We’ve divided the list by district and neighborhoods.Check your phones for the addresses assigned to you.State of Mind Corporate Security has also sent over a master code to access their properties, but if that doesn’t work…do it old school.Any questions?”
A few hands went up.
“A man’s life is on the line,” Frome said.“It’s not the time to be funny, and wewillneed people manning the station tip line.”
Two hands went down.Frome nodded at Tancredi, whose scarred hand had stayed up.
“What about the Feds?”she asked.“They have more resources than us.”
Frome glanced to the side, where Javi waited by the door.
“Agent Merlo.”
Someone sniggered.From the grunt that followed, they got kicked for it.Javi ignored it as he pushed himself off the door and took Frome’s place at the podium as the lieutenant stepped back.
“Our office has been read in on the operation, and we’ve been assigned our own list of addresses,” he said.“We’ll keep Frome informed of anything we find.”
Emboldened by it not being Frome at the front, one of the hands that had dropped shot back up again.
“Who the…who is this guy Miles, anyhow?”Deputy Rios asked.“I thought he was a florist or something, but now his face is on the news, it’s all hands to the pump?What is he, on the most wanted list or something?”
Javi paused, then replied, “That’s above your pay grade to know and mine to tell you,” he said.“But his face being out there has put him at significantly more risk.Make of that what you will.”
Frome leaned in to the mic.“Rios, you want the tip line so bad?Go join Gardner.”
