Last Call

"What do you want?" she said.

"Huh?" he said, averting his eyes.

"What are you ordering?"

"Ah," said Jack, relieved to know he hadn't been caught staring. He made some recommendations, but Andie wasn't very hungry, so he ordered churrasco steak tapas and a small serving of chipotle for them to share. Andie wanted a glass of pinot grigio, and Jack convinced her to share a bottle of Santa Marguerita, since he was buying and it was cheaper here than at the supermarket anyway. That she drank was important. Law enforcement types were always stressed at the end of their day, and he wanted her in a good mood, more receptive to his strategy on how to nail the punks who had shot at Theo.

"I assume you didn't invite me out here to get me drunk," she said.

"No. I have a witness to Theo's shooting."

"Terrific. When can I talk to him?"

"He doesn't want any part of law enforcement."

"Naturally," she said. "That's the problem with drive-by shootings. Witnesses tend to get scarce."

The waiter brought their wine and poured two glasses. When he was gone, Jack showed Andie the drawing that Tyrone had sketched for him and Uncle Cy. It was a menacing-looking knife in an upright position, handle at the top, tip pointing down, and blood dripping from the blade. "There can't be that many red cars with this symbol etched onto the back window."

She examined it while tasting her wine. "I know this gang. O-Town Posse. Started in Overtown about five years ago, but it's grown fast."

"What's with the knife symbol?"

"It's actually a KA-BAR – a military fighting knife made especially for close-combat killing. This is who they are: extremely violent, heavy drug traffickers who would kill you as soon as look at you. They're trying to align themselves with the big leagues – Folk Nation out of Chicago or Crips in L.A."

"So this is a good lead?"

She drank more wine. "Just because we have a red car with a recognizable gang symbol doesn't mean we can peg the shooter.

"Find the car and haul in the owner for questioning."

"I definitely will. But it's not easy to get someone to testify against a gang as ruthless as O-Town Posse, and the owner of this vehicle knows that. He won't crack just because I ask him tough questions."

The waiter brought their churrasco. It was done to perfection, medium rare, and the chimichurri sauce wasn't too oily. "What if I can get the witness to talk? Will you protect him?"

"Did he see the triggerman?"

"No."

Andie finished her wine. Jack poured her more. She said, "I can't sell the bureau on protecting a witness who doesn't know enough to get an arrest, let alone a conviction. I already have my hands full trying to justify protection for Theo."

"He's helping you figure out who helped Isaac Reems escape and who shot him. It's not like he's getting something for nothing.

"But we cut Theo's deal on the assumption that the same guy who shot Isaac Reems also tried to shoot Theo. The more we learn about Theo's shooting, the less it resembles Isaac's."

"You don't need the exact same MO for two shootings to be related."

"No, but now that we know Theo was shot by a gang, the state attorney is going to say, hey, maybe this had nothing to do with Reems. Maybe it was even random. Because the Reems case is looking more and more like a professional hit."

"Gangs do hits," said Jack. "And if somebody wanted to eliminate both Isaac and Theo, what better way to confuse the investigators than to make one of the killings look like a drive-by shooting by a gang like O-Town Posse?"

"But all we have is a theory Your theory. Honestly it's not entirely adding up for me."

"Why not?"

"There are a zillion holes."

"A zillion?"

"Yes."

"You counted them?"

"Stop being such a literal lawyer. I meant there are a lot."

"Let's hear them."

"I can't name them all."

"You can't name any."

"I can name plenty."

"Plenty? Help me with my math. Is that more or less than a zillion?"

Jack didn't enjoy getting under her skin, but when she wore her FBI hat, that was the only way to make her talk.

She swallowed more wine. "All right, explain this to me. Every arm of law enforcement was out looking for Isaac Reems and couldn't find him. But the killer was able to hone right in on him. I'm curious as to how that works under your theory. How did the shooter know to go to the restaurant that used to be Homeboy's? How did he know exactly when Isaac Reems was going to be there? How did he get such a clear shot at Isaac? Why did Isaac call out Theo's name before he was shot? Why would-"

"What did you just say?"

Andie froze. She'd obviously shared something she shouldn't have. "Forget what I said."

"No way."

"Jack, be professional about this."

"I am being professional. I heard what I heard."

"All right, fine. Now you understand why I'm having difficulty buying your version of events"

He also understood that the only way to change her views was to tell her about Isaac's phone calls to Theo. Only then would she understand how the killer – by tapping Theo's phone line – had heard Isaac tell Theo to meet him behind the old Homeboy's at 1:00 a.m. Problem was, those calls could also prove that Theo knew where Isaac was going to be.

"I could fill those holes for you," said Jack, "but I need to protect Theo from any possibility of being charged with Isaac's murder."

"What are you asking me to do?"

"Look at the evidence I'm willing to share with no one else but you. See if it convinces you that whoever killed Theo's mother also killed Isaac – and then tried to kill Theo."

"What if it doesn't convince me?"

"I'll forget that you slipped and told me that Reems called out Theo's name before he was shot. And then you'll show me that you can keep your word."

"Meaning what?"

"Somewhere down the line, if the state attorney ends up charging Theo with Isaac Reems's murder, you can't share this evidence with the prosecution."

"You want me to get amnesia?"

"I want you to make a deal, and I want you to stick to it."

She shifted in her seat, her posture more relaxed, and took another drink of wine. "Let me ask you something. I'm curious. What if we were dating?"

Jack coughed. "What?"

"Assume you hadn't decided that I was anti-Theo and we were now several months into a real relationship. Say I had a slip of the tongue and confidential information about a case popped out of my mouth. Would you be busting my chops like this?"

Jack considered it. "I don't know. That's very hypothetical."

"Very" she said.

"Hypothetical always make me nervous."

She leaned closer, elbows on the table. "No, Jack. It's reality that makes you nervous."

Their eyes met, and her gaze was so penetrating that she seemed to be searching inside him for his response. He had none.

"So, do we have a deal?" he said.

She rose slowly, confidently, his concession of the point having apparently granted her satisfaction – at least for the moment. "I'll think about it. And then maybe I'll give you a call."

She turned and exited through the minimart. Jack drank his wine and watched as he let reality walk away from him. Again.