Page 98 of Under Cover
Harding glared at them. “I’m sorry, what?”
“We told you where we, uhm, shook our tail!” Carlyle protested. “Look at the address for that warehouse—where all the, uhm, bodies keep coming from. I didn’t even put it together until right now!”
There was a stunned silence in the room.
All those bodies, turning up in that one place in the river, originating from that one warehouse where all the drugs were coming in and all the crooked would-be cops were working.
The case—the entire case—just fell into place.
“So, uhm, tomorrow, if we don’t catch anything we can’t pawn off on the FBI,” Harding muttered, “Swan, Pearson—”
“We will be looking up all the dead people,” Manny said, speaking for Gail, who was apparently in the zone on Garcia’s laptop. “And cross-referencing them with all the names I have written right here!” He held up his copy of the file folder, with all the new information and questions written on a legal pad he’d secured to the back.
“Oh my God, Swan,” Crosby said, sounding proud. “You are like magic. I don’t think any of the rest of us were keeping up.”
“I am a champion notetaker,” Manny said primly. “So what else is on the list?”
Harding and Natalia met eyes, and Natalia was the one who said it. “Me and Harding are going to One Police Plaza tomorrow to introduce ourselves to Cavendish and Beauchamp,” she said softly. “I for one want to get a look at how they talk to us, what they have to say. If they’re Sons of the Blood, you can bet they’re going to bereallyunhappy that I’m even in the building.”
“And if they’re just sociopaths,” Harding said, “there should be tells.”
Harm, who had been sitting quietly on the floor, practically behind Harding’s chair, spoke up. “Body cams.”
Harding looked at him in surprise. “You think?”
Harm nodded. “If you’ve got something more discreet you can rig, do it. I want to see the interviews.”
Harding nodded in return. “Can do.” He sighed and looked around the room, and Garcia didn’t have to double-check to see what he was seeing. They were tired. Gail was clicking away, and Swan was writing ferociously, his pencil making scratching sounds in the sudden silence. The two teams who’d had run-ins were coming down from the adrenaline rush. Harding and Natalia looked frazzled and angry—and exhausted. Even Harman was resting, his head against the overstuffed chair Harding was sitting in, his eyes closed.
Suddenly Harding’s lips twitched up as he glanced in Garcia’s direction, and Garcia turned his head and looked up.
Crosby had slumped into the chair, eyes closed, breath coming regularly, and Garcia wondered how long he’d been like that.
“Ten minutes,” Harm said without opening his eyes. “He nodded off ten minutes ago. He didn’t eat much. Has he been taking his meds?”
Garcia grunted. “I would have no idea about that. I just got home.” He looked around. “But we’ve got a spare bed if anyone needs it.”
Harding nodded. “Nobody goes home alone tonight,” he said soberly. “Swan, can you sleep on Gail’s couch? With her roommate, that’ll put three of you under that roof.”
Manny nodded curtly, without looking up from the notes he was taking as he did some surfing of his own with his encrypted phone.
“Natalia, we… I’ve got a guest room you can sleep in,” Harding said.
She snorted, and that, of all things, seemed to lighten up the room.
“Give it up, Clint,” she said softly. “It’s like Garcia and Crosby—everybody knows.”
Harding’s cheeks turned a gentle pink. “Very well,” he intoned, obviously trying to keep his dignity. “Would you like our guest room?”
She nodded. “Thanks, guys. It would suck, going into an empty house.”
“Carlyle?” Harding said. “You and Chadwick?”
“He listens to pirate metal,” Carlyle said soberly. “Do I get some sort of compensation for having to listen to pirate metal in the morning?”
“Yeah, asshole,” Chadwick retorted. “You get me as your awesome partner, and fuck you with an anchor!”
Carlyle gave a lazy, almost satiated smile. “Looks like I’m in,” he said, and Garcia’s gut gave a little dance then about Carlyle and Chadwick, but unlike the whole rest of the world inhisbusiness, he wasn’t going to pry.
