Fire Escape - Book Three: Troubled Heroes Series (An Action Thriller) (29 page)

             
He had to keep his cool and not panic. Would it be stupid to call back? What if this was a trap?

***

              Detective Reynolds stared at the case reports on her desk. A cop had reported that earlier he had seen McGinnis at Gregg Walsh's apartment. They chased him several blocks and even got out on foot to pursue him. As luck would have it, he had slipped through their hands and turned out to be a much quicker sprinter than the officer who was chasing him.

             
She sipped on her coffee, wincing at the sludge they thought they could pass off as drinkable. At least it was caffeine - something she desperately needed right now. Tossing the file aside, she buried her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. Her pounding headache seemed worse as each second passed. They had to catch him. It wasn't a murder or an assault, but he was a firefighter and she had the police commissioner and head of the FDNY breathing down her neck. The commissioner firmly believed he did it and wanted him off of the street. FDNY wanted his innocence proven. As much as she stared at hers and Detective Vasquez's notes, she was starting to doubt everything.

             
"What's wrong, Reynolds? You look like you could sleep for days." Detective Vasquez sat across from her, dunking a jelly filled donut into his coffee.

             
"A little late for a donut?"

             
"You kidding? As long as they supply them, I'll eat them."

             
"Which explains that ever growing gut that's now hanging over your belt." She opened the file up again, not sure why. She could recite it all, word for word. "Just looking over things. We were so close to catching him today. Maybe if they'd cut out those damn donuts the cop could've caught him."

             
Vasquez shook his head. "We'll get him. He's gonna get tired and make a mistake."

             
"You think that maybe..." she cut herself off, knowing good and well that Vasquez wouldn't agree with what she was about to say.

             
"What? Spill it. You can't start something and not finish."

             
"You think McGinnis might not be guilty?"

             
His eyes widened and he laughed. "Seriously? What in the hell is making you have doubts so far into this?"

             
Reynolds shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "McGinnis said during one of his interrogations that we are really quick to find a suspect rather than the truth. What if what we've found against him is circumstantial? We moved fast and now I'm wondering if we moved too fast."

             
Vasquez finished off his donut, his expression skeptical. "His badge was at the scene. You know how those FDNY guys are. Stuff like that is sacred. He'd be a fool to let anyone have access to that. And none of this is circumstantial, or we would've never been able to get an arrest warrant and charge him for the crime."

             
She folded her arms over her chest. "I don't know, I guess I'm just over thinking things. He just doesn't seem like the type."

             
"One more thing for you to consider, Reynolds. If he wasn't guilty, why in the hell is he running? Huh?" Vasquez arched his eyebrow, flashing a sideways grin. "You're just tired. This will all be over soon and we'll have McGinnis in our custody."

             
Reynolds stood up and holstered her firearm. "I guess we better get out there. Start turning over some rocks. Otherwise, lord knows what'll happen."

             
It was a chilly night out. The streets were wet from the rain and if she wasn't mistaken, small flurries of snow were falling. The thought of McGinnis out on the street with no safe haven made her sympathize, but from a cop's point of view, made her realize that the weather would actually be on their side. He'd get desperate, and as Vasquez had said, would start making mistakes.

             
"Where we headed?"

             
She put the car into gear and merged out onto the street. "Down to the neighborhood he was last seen. The only reports we've really gotten about his whereabouts are from other cops. I'm surprised we haven't heard from any civilians."

             
"Consider the area we are going to, Reynolds. Not exactly a neighborhood where people pick up the phone to call us. They grow up being taught you don't tell us a damn thing, regardless of the situation."

             
"True, but just gauging their reactions to the questions will speak volumes."

             
She parked the car on the curb, her game plan to knock on doors and check local businesses. There were several bodegas and convenience stores that lined the street and she hoped that he had stopped off in one of them. It had been two days now, he was bound to get hungry and thirsty.

             
"I'll take this side of the street, you take the other." She pushed the door open to one of the stores, the bells above jingling to let the attendant know someone was there. He was an Indian man and a look of relief flashed across his face when he saw her badge. It was an odd reaction, but Reynolds had to assume he probably had a lot of bad things go on.

             
"I'm Detective Reynolds with the NYPD. Do you have time for a few questions?"

             
He shook his head. "Regarding?"

             
"Michael McGinnis, the firefighter who is on the run and accused of arson. Have you heard about it?"

             
"Of course. It's all over the newspaper. I don't watch much TV, but I have read about it."

             
At least the media was somewhat helpful, even if most of their articles were opinion. "Have you seen him? Has he come in here?"

             
The man looked up as if he were trying to remember. "I don't recall. I get a lot of customers, but I'd like to think I'd remember him if he did."

             
"Can I have your name?"

             
"Why? You think  I'm harboring him?"

             
"No, of course not. I'm just taking notes so we can document everywhere we've been. It'll help me make a map of where he might be. He was spotted near here earlier so I'm just trying to grasp my bearings on it all."

             
"Abdul Azeez. Is this man dangerous?"

             
Reynolds clicked her pen shut. "That's a good question. I can't give an honest answer. Listen, if you do see him or even think you see him, please call me. This is my card." She handed it to him, taking note to all of the locations of cameras in the cramped store. It was likely they didn't work, but if she needed to, she'd get them subpoenaed. They weren't to that point, but at least she had options. "Have a good evening."

             
She walked back out to the sidewalk, noticing that Vasquez was already half way down the block. Damn it. Hopefully he was being thorough, but it could also mean no one was answering their doors. It was more residential on that side.

             
Going into the next business, she jotted down that it was a hole in the wall bar. There was a pretty bartender, multitasking as several patrons were lined up, yelling out their drink orders. The woman was all smiles, not even showing an ounce of distress at the sudden wave of people needing her assistance. Reynolds stayed back until the crowd cleared, wanting her full attention. Sometimes bartenders were the best people to get information from, and she remembered from her notes that McGinnis loved his booze, even if he was in recovery. A situation like this could easily have jolted him off of the wagon.

             
"I'm Detective Reynolds with the NYPD. Do you have a minute?"

             
The girl continued to wipe down the counter. "I'm Crystal. Good to meet you. I guess I have a second, but as you can see, the place is pumping tonight. What can I do for you?"

             
"Are you aware of the arson case that's going on? Firefighter on the loose accused of them?"

             
Crystal looked up. "No, why?"

             
"Maybe this will help you." She pulled out a picture of McGinnis and scooted it across the bar toward her. "Have you seen this man?" She watched closely, trying to hone in on Crystal's gut reaction.

             
She eyed the picture for a second, her eyes telling Reynolds that she recognized him. She backed away for a second, but went back to her task of cleaning. "Can't say that I have, Detective."

             
"Why did you hesitate?"

             
"Excuse me?"

             
"You looked at the picture and hesitated. You've seen him before, haven't you?"

             
Crystal poured a shot for someone at the bar and winked at them. "That's for you, baby." She turned back to Reynolds, her flirty demeanor fading quickly. "I see thousands of people come and go from here. Some needing a quick drink, some staying hours. Their faces start to run together."

             
"So it's possible he could've been in here tonight?"

             
"No."

             
"And how can you be so certain after the statement you just made to me?"

             
Crystal rested the rag on her shoulder, leaning in close. "Because if a good looking man like that came in here, I would definitely remember him."

             
"I think you're not telling me the complete truth, Crystal."

             
The bartender scoffed. "I've got another line going. I gotta get back to work."

             
"I'll be back when you have more time, Crystal."

             
When Reynolds went outside, Vasquez was waiting for her. "Any luck?"

             
"Nope," she replied. "You?"

             
"So far I've only had like two people answer their doors. And out of those two, I got a fuck you and a go to hell. How about you?"

             
Reynolds couldn't help but smile at that. Should they have expected anything more? She was a fool for thinking so. "I think he's been at this bar."

             
"What makes you so sure?"

             
"Talked to the bartender. Might I add that she's female. Just something about her expression when she saw his picture. Almost like a moment of scintillating clarity. She's not admitting to it though, and I can't figure that out for the life of me. Why cover for him?"

             
"Maybe he took her to the back and banged her and she's scared she'll be in trouble if she admits that. You're a woman. You can't tell me you haven't noticed McGinnis and his Irish charm." He let out a raspy laugh and Reynolds knew he was just stirring the pot. It's what he did to try and be funny.

             
"You're kidding me, right Vasquez? I don't view my perps that way. And besides, he's completely devoted to Eva. I don't think he'd ever cheat on her."

             
"Just like everyone that knows him thought he'd never set fire to a building."

             
"It's beside the point. It doesn't matter if he had sex with that girl or not. You just don't like him. She's probably lying because of where we are. Like you said, they don't talk to cops here. Even if he did come here, I guess it doesn't matter. Obviously he's long gone by now."

             
Vasquez lit a cigarette and took a long drag. "So what next?"

             
"We keep looking. Maybe he'll think we've calmed down for the night and come out from hiding."

             
It was a stretch, but it was all Reynolds had at the moment. It was like the childhood game of hot and cold. They were hot right now, close to boiling, and if they let up, they'd be back at square one again.

Chapter Twenty

             
Michael ducked back into the alley when he saw a cop car down the block. Gregg wanted to meet him, but he was still contemplating on whether or not to call. A part of him wondered if it was a trap. What if Gregg was going to set him up and pin more evidence on him? What if the cops were tapped into his phone and they could locate Michael that way? He stared down at the option on his phone to replay the voicemail. Deciding not to, he pocketed the phone and went back toward the street, paranoid and looking over his shoulder the whole time.

             
He couldn't keep doing this. What kind of things would he get done if he ignored Gregg? In the time that he had been on the run, he had not accomplished anything except almost getting caught. Soon the cops would get him. His only chance was to find out what Gregg wanted. He'd keep the conversation short just in case the detectives were with him.