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“Really?” Harris turned on all her innocent charm. “Do you know why?”
“Other than it being an eyesore?” He shrugged and went back to emptying the public garbage can. “No clue. Used to be a restaurant, then it got new owners. I think they turned it into an office building but can’t really remember. Didn’t last long. They knocked it down over the summer. Now they’re turning it into something else.”
“Any idea what?”
“Not a clue. Sorry.” He sounded like he meant it.
“That’s okay. Thanks anyway.”
Harris and Cassie stood off to one side and looked up at the scaffolding. Cassie shook her head. “It feels like our luck is running out,” she said. “And we didn’t have much of that to begin with.”
Harris’s phone chimed. When she pulled it out of her pocket, her face erupted into a grin. “Maybe not.” She held the phone out for Cassie to see, but Cassie didn’t recognize the number. “Local call,” she said, then held the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
Cassie watched as Harris’s face turned serious. When the detective responded in rapid-fire Spanish, Cassie knew who the other person was. Mrs. Carrera, the woman from the moving company, seemed to have had a change of heart.
Fewer than sixty seconds later, Harris hung up. She was already turning around and heading back the way they’d come. “Mrs. Carrera,” Harris confirmed.
“What did she say?”
“The kid who stole the truck is her son. She said she knew it was him, and that’s why she never reported it missing. She doesn’t want him to get in trouble, but she does want me to kick his ass.”
Cassie laughed. “She said that?”
“More or less. Said he needs a wake-up call.” Harris was practically jogging back to the car. “But she made me promise not to arrest him. She gave me the address where he’s been hanging out.”
Cassie had trouble keeping up with the detective’s pace. “Does she know why he stole it?”
“If she does, she didn’t say. They’ve been having money trouble. She and her husband spent all their savings buying those trucks, and the business isn’t doing as well as they’d hoped.”
Realization dawned on Cassie. “He’s trying to help them.”
Harris nodded. “Whatever he’s up to, I don’t think he’s doing it because he wants to.”
Cassie finished her thought. “He’s doing it because he thinks he has no other choice.”
18
Chicago’s South Side had a reputation for income disparity and crime, having gotten worse over the years. The divide between the more affluent areas and the streets and buildings that had been ignored was obvious. Having grown up in Montana, Harris had little experience with city life. Her family had been financially comfortable—not rich, but not poor.
When she was younger, she had struggled with her identity. Her mother, whose golden-brown skin was always dark, even in the winter, had been happy that her daughter could pass. You’ll have more opportunities this way, mija. It’s a good thing.
It had felt like a good thing. Until she went off to college and met all different kinds of people from around the world. Her roommate was from West Africa. Down the hall, a pair of twins from Argentina. The RA was from Mexico and went back every summer to stay with her family. Surrounded by a culture she should have recognized and didn’t, it had made her feel twice as out of place.
Embracing the change, she did her homework. She got interested in who she was. When she went home, she asked her mother a thousand questions. She wanted to know more about where they came from and what their family had experienced in Puerto Rico. Her father was encouraging, and eventually, Harris began to feel like herself.
Of course, when she decided to be a cop, she had to set her identity aside again. But that was different. That was survival instinct. It was her choice to bury that part of her. Not from shame or ignorance. She saw how the old guys at work treated anyone different from them and understood she didn’t need to fight another battle on a different front. Not when they were supposed to be on the same side.
But Chicago reminded her that the world wasn’t fair and that she had gotten lucky. The people here didn’t have a choice. The system kept them down, no matter how many times they tried to stand up and fight back. And those kinds of people got desperate. That was part of why she wanted to be a cop—not everyone who committed a crime was a bad person. She wanted to help them see there was another way.
Cassie pointed ahead. “See that tan building up there?” She looked back down at her phone and up again. “I think that’s it.”
Harris pulled over. “I wish I knew what we were getting into here.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “His mom didn’t say much. Just that he hung out here sometimes. And that she didn’t like these boys very much.”
Cassie gulped. “He’s not going to help us if he’s trying to impress his friends.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Harris checked her side view mirror, then stepped into the street, slamming the door shut behind her. The air was crisp, biting at her nose and cheeks and reminding her she’d made the right call bringing her heavier jacket. The weight of the coat continued to brush against her injured arm, and she had to resist the urge to rub the pain away. “Just stay close and let me do the talking. I might have to improv.”
Cassie’s voice was dripping with sarcasm when she responded. “How exciting.”
