the stoop. “Can you tell me what happened today?”
“We went to the movies at the Air and Space. Jamal... He liked that space shit and begged us to go with him so he wouldn’t have to go by himself. It was pretty cool.”
“How’d you get there?” Sam asked.
“Took the bus,” Vincent said, “and we was walking home when this car came flying down the street. It was going so fast that we kinda jumped out of the way cuz we were afraid it might hit us. Then there was a loud boom and Jamal... He just went down.”
“Did you get a good look at the car?”
He shook his head. “It happened so fast,” Vincent said. “The car was long gone by the time we realized Jamal had been shot.”
“Think about it. Was it a regular car or a truck or an SUV? Any detail you can give us would help.”
For a long moment, he was quiet as he tried to remember. “I think it was black. And a regular car. Not a truck or an SUV. But I can’t be sure. It was like a flash flying by us, and when we heard the boom, I got kind of confused about what was happening. I was on the inside. Jamal was closest to the street and Corey was in the middle.” Vincent wiped a tear off his face. “Why would anyone want to hurt Jamal? He was the nicest kid.”
“It’s very possible,” Sam said, “that these guys, whoever they are, were looking to hurt someone, and it didn’t matter who it was.”
“That’s so fucked-up,” Vincent said.
“I agree. I have to ask if any of you had any contact with gangs or friends who are in gangs.”
“We all know people who are into that shit, but we aren’t.”
“Did Jamal or either of you have any beefs with anyone?”
“Nah,” Vincent said. “Nothing that would get us shot. Some chirping and crap on Twitter. Whatever. No one wanted us dead. Least not that we knew about.”
“You’ve been very helpful.” She handed him her card. “If you think of anything else, call me. Even if it’s the smallest detail that comes back to you tomorrow or the next day or chatter you see online. Call me.”
He nodded in acknowledgment.
“I’m really sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks,” Vincent said, wiping more tears from his face.
She had a similar conversation with Corey, who didn’t add anything new to what Vincent had told her. Sam went to talk to Beckett. “Have their parents been called?”
“They’re on their way.”
“Don’t bring them down here. Meet them at the corner or something. They don’t need to see this.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Beckett ushered the boys to the far end of the street.
“What’s the plan, Lieutenant?” Gonzo asked as Sam took a good look around at the nearby houses.
“We need an APB for a fast-moving black sedan. Make sure they know these people are armed and not afraid to shoot.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Gonzo said.
“What do we have for cameras around here?”
“There’s one at either end of the block, and I’ve already asked Archie to pull the feed,” Gonzo said of Lieutenant Archelotta, who ran the IT squad.
As Lindsey wheeled Jamal’s body to the Medical Examiner’s truck, Sam said, “Let’s canvass the crowd and go door-to-door to see if anyone else witnessed the shooting. When we get back to the house, I want to go through all their social media accounts. My gut is telling me this is random, but we need to check all the boxes.”
They spent the next hour talking to each person at the scene and knocking on every door on the street but didn’t find any other witnesses to the shooting. A few had heard the boom of the shot and had rushed outside to see what’d happened. None of them reported seeing the car or the shooter.
When they’d done what they could, they turned things over to the Crime Scene detectives. “Let’s pick it up at HQ and see what Archie has for us.”
AS SAM APPROACHED her car, she noticed Darren Tabor from the Washington Star leaning against it, typing madly on his smartphone.
“Get off my car, Darren. You’ll scratch the paint.”
“I see the vacation didn’t do anything to sweeten you up, Lieutenant.”
Though his comment amused her, Sam didn’t let him see that. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want. The whole world is waiting for a comment from you or the vice president about what’s going on with Nelson and how you guys feel about the possibility of becoming president and first lady.”
“You’re going to have to continue waiting. I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Come on, Sam. You’ve got to be worried about it. How could you not be?”
“The only thing I’m worried about is the really good kid who was just gunned down in my city. He has my full attention.”
“How’re you going to do this job if you become first lady?”
“I asked you nicely to get off my car, Darren. I’ve got work to do, and you’re in my way.”
He pushed himself off the car. “Will you give me something when you can?”
“Have a good day, Darren.”
“I thought we were friends, Sam. Friends give friends a break.”
Sam laughed at that. “And what will you do for me, as my friend?”
“I’d write a nice story about what a fantastic president and first lady you guys would be. A hell of a lot better than what we have now. That’s for sure.”
“I thought the press was supposed to be impartial?”
“Come on, Sam. You guys gotta say something!”
“No, we actually don’t. If you want to do me a favor, Darren, write me a front-page story about the good kid who was killed here today and how senseless gun violence is.”
“If I do that, will you give me something on the Nelson thing?”
“See you later.” Sam got into the car, started the engine and drove away, leaving him glaring at her. She was so sick and tired of people trying to get them to comment on the Nelson situation. What did they expect them to say? We hope the president, whose son threatened to dismember the children we love and had my ex-husband tortured and killed, manages to hold on to his presidency so we don’t have to deal with it?
In truth, Sam wasn’t sure what to hope for. Half of her wanted Nelson and his entire family behind bars for what Christopher had put her family through with the horrific threats that had been levied against Scotty, her beloved nieces and nephews and Nick’s much-younger half-brothers. The far more rational side of her hoped that maybe Nelson could somehow prove he’d had no idea what his son was doing and hold on to his presidency.
She and Nick were painfully aware that the DNC expected him to be their candidate in the next election, but they had a couple of years before anything had to be decided for certain, and they’d hoped to enjoy those years in relative peace and quiet that had been badly disrupted by Christopher Nelson’s shenanigans.
“Here I am obsessing about that crap again when I have far bigger things to worry about.” She placed a call to her commander, Captain Malone, to report in about the new case.
“Welcome back, Lieutenant.