Page 55 of More Than a Hero
Lashawn narrowed his eyes. “You wanna know why I go by Ciao?”
Pete looked at him, a bored expression on his face.
“’Cause when you meet me, it’s goodbye. I go where I want.” He chuckled while staring at the detectives.
Pete and Jeremy shared a look. “That’s fucking lame,” Jeremy said, walking out the door.
“Fuck you!” Lashawn shouted.
Pete refused to give the gang member any more attention, not even looking at him as they walked out of the jail and over to the DTF offices. They ran into their captain.
“Any luck?” Terry asked.
“Not from him. He’s too hopped up on his own self-importance. But what we do know is he’s Lashawn Jeffries. Twenty-four. From Philadelphia. Juvie file, then as an adult, he’s had four arrests, three on drug charges and one on stealing a car. He’s had gang tattoos since his first arrest when he was thirteen.”
“He’s in for a long time with the charges from yesterday,” Jeremy said.
“We’re waiting to talk to the juvenile again. Just need to get a call that we can see him—” Pete halted as his phone vibrated. He looked down at the message, then lifted his head and grinned. “Just got the word. We’ll catch him after we visit the middle school.”
23
Pete and Jeremy stepped into the middle school. The front desk secretary barely glanced up before motioning them toward the principal’s office, her expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion—cops in schools were never a good sign.
Mr. Morrison, a solidly built man in his late fifties with thinning hair and a tie that looked like it had been yanked loose too many times, stood as they entered. “Detectives.” His handshake was firm but quick. “What can I do for you?”
“We appreciate you seeing us on such short notice,” Jeremy said, as he and Pete settled into the chairs.
“It’s not a problem,” Mr. Morrison replied. “Is there an issue?”
Pete nodded. “We need to talk to five of your students. I could have caught them at home, but they all live in the same apartment complex, and we’d rather not be seen talking to them in uniform.”
Jeremy added, “They’re not in trouble or anything. We just want to make sure they stay safe. We know for a fact that at least one Bloods gang member is hanging around the complex.”
Mr. Morrison’s expression darkened. “That’s concerning.” He folded his hands on the desk, nodding. “We can call them out of class?—”
“Is there a way to do it discreetly?” Pete interrupted. “The last thing we need is them being labeled as snitches.”
The principal considered that, then reached for his phone. “Yeah, I think we can handle that.” He pressed a button and waited. “Ms. Lipton? Can you come to my office, please?”
A moment later, the door opened, and a tall woman with sharp eyes and an easy smile walked in. Ms. Lipton, the director of counseling, radiated the kind of warmth that made kids feel safe, something Pete immediately appreciated.
Mr. Morrison turned to her. “The detectives need to speak with a few students, but we don’t want to pull them in a way that makes it look like they’re in trouble.”
Ms. Lipton’s brow lifted slightly, but she nodded without hesitation. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll say I need to check in with them about their grades or an upcoming school event. I’ll have them meet you in the conference room.”
Pete exhaled, grateful. “Perfect.”
Ten minutes later, the door to the conference room swung open, and five middle school boys shuffled in. Their expressions ranged from wary to downright anxious, their sneakers scuffing the tile floor as they took in Pete and Jeremy.
“What’s going on?” Tony asked, his voice cracking slightly.
“Why are you here?” Caleb muttered, glancing to the side.
“All of us at once? That’s gotta be bad,” Jimmy added, shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket.
Pete held up his hands in a calming gesture. “Relax. No one’s in trouble.” He gestured to Jeremy. “This is Detective Pickett. He’s with me on this.”
Jeremy nodded, his expression easygoing. “We just need to talk. Take a seat.”
