The kid’s fist slowly emerged from his pocket, a gold chain dangling from it.
“What do you have there, Stitch?” Michael asked.
“Like I said, I found it.” Fear lurked in the scowl Stitch shot at him.
“And where did you find this?”
Stitch lifted his chin in the direction of the mall. “Over there. On the ground.”
“Show us.” Finn let go of the kid’s arm.
They pushed through the tree line, up the hill, and back to the shopping center.
Stitch led them to the loading docks in the corner. “I found it here.”
A bright-yellow metal staircase comprised of three steps led to an exterior door next to the large overhead truck bay.
“Where here?” Michael looked around.
“Just under those steps.” Stitch pointed.
“Did you see a truck or any vehicle?” Finn asked.
The boy shrugged. “There was a truck leaving the parking lot when I got here, but I didn’t pay no attention.”
“Describe it.” Finn pulled out his notebook.
The kid rolled his eyes. “I dunno. It was old. White.”
Michael began a methodical inch-by-inch scan of the loading area—top to bottom, left to right—and let Finn continue to question their witness.
“What time was that?”
“I don’t got a watch. I just came to skate.” The boy walked over to the shadowed corner and grabbed his skateboard from where it was propped against the concrete wall and showed them. “You got the necklace, and I didn’t do nothin’. Can I go now?”
There. Something else caught Michael’s eye. He pulled out his flashlight and squatted next to the bumper of the loading-dock door. Two drops of red, approximately two centimeters in diameter, reflected the light from the parking-lot pole hovering above them.
“I’ve got blood. Still wet.” He stood to face the kid.
Stitch’s thin face went pale. He lifted his hands. “I swear, I didn’t do nothin’.”
Finn sighed. “I’ll get techs out here.” He moved a few steps away and made the call.
“What did you see, Stitch. What did you hear?” Michael stepped closer to the boy and blocked him in so he couldn’t run.
“Nothin’! I swear. I came, I skated. When I heard sirens, I hid back here and found that necklace. I was just waiting for you to leave.” His voice cracked. Rapid breathing.
There might be some credence to the boy’s story. He was no criminal mastermind pulling off a jewelry heist for one measly gold necklace, but they’d check for gunshot residue on his hands and for blood spatter to be sure.
Parking-lot surveillance would confirm if he was telling the truth or not. He could still have been a part of the break-in. Maybe he’d been a lookout for someone else.
After the past few months investigating a shadow syndicate operating in town, a bit of petty theft seemed almost tame. Michael hoped a more violent crime hadn’t occurred.
Thankfully, Roger Rousseau was in custody now, and once he told the prosecutor everything he knew, they would be able to wrap up this entire Shadow Syndicate investigation for good.
Two uniformed cops came out the same back door Michael and Finn had used. Schafer and Fernando reminded him of younger versions of Mel Gibson’s and Danny Glover’s characters in Lethal Weapon.
Minus the comedy element.
