School of Fish (Fish Out of Water #6) - Amy Lane Page 0,93
not the only one who saw him. You saw—oh for fuck’s sake! Put Dave back on the phone.”
Dave spoke next. “What in the hell did you just say? He is looking very worried.”
“Look, I’m going to call in some reinforcements, but I need you and Alex to do me a favor.”
“What’s—”
“Don’t leave that room,” Jackson said. “One of you needs to be in there at all times. Have your supervisor call me if you need to, but I need a police presence in that room. Turns out Officer Wheezy there is a witness to mob activity. Goddammit, it didn’t even occur to me!”
“Well, it did now,” Dave soothed. “And to be honest, there’s been cops in and out of here all day. It’s a pretty safe place to be.”
Jackson thought about where he’d been showing the picture. “Unless some of them are dirty,” he said. “Shit. Put Wheezy back on.”
“I’m going to tell him that you called him that.”
“Heh heh heh heh heh heh….”
“You are a bad, bad man,” Dave praised. “Here’s Wheezy.”
“Dammit,” Kryzynski wheezed. “Why?”
“Because I can,” Jackson told him. “Now, I need you to think about this carefully—like your life depends on it. Andre Christie?”
“Rock. Solid.”
“Okay. I’m calling him and having him arrange protection for you. Unless it’s someone you know and trust, they can’t stay. You understand?”
“What about you?” Sean asked.
“I was opportunity. Henry wanders up to someone involved and flashes Ziggy’s picture. Think about it. Schroeder pulls out his phone as soon as Henry’s gone, texts a buddy—”
“Why… shoes?” Kryzynski wheezed.
“I’ve got a theory about that too,” Jackson reassured him. It had hit him while he’d been…. Dammit. He refused to call it meditating. God no. Absolutely not. He’d been napping, and that was his story, and he was sticking to it. “But let me call Christie first and get that ball moving. I don’t want you there unprotected.” He’d seen bad things happen when a criminal thought their loose end was unsupervised and vulnerable. One of them had almost happened to Ellery.
“Thanks, Rivers.”
“Well, you know. You’re growing on me. I’d hate to see shit happen to you, right?”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“Good. Christie should be calling in a minute.”
Jackson hung up and—after earning a baleful look from Billy Bob, who apparently thought all humans should become his couch—stood up and paced restlessly, his body accepting the food and rest and moving into recovery. After a couple of barefoot strides toward the kitchen for some water, he hit Christie’s number.
“Oh my God, are we engaged?”
Jackson grinned as he started rummaging through the refrigerator. Maybe not water. Maybe soda. God. Sugar. Wonderful stuff. “Look, someone fired on Henry and me at Capitol Valley High today. And a totally innocent social studies teacher who is going to be in counseling for the rest of her life, but at least she’s alive. I was just talking to your partner, and he reminded me that we’d been flashing Ziggy’s picture around for two days, and—as we just discovered this morning—Ziggy has mob ties. Guess who likes to take out witnesses to crimes?”
“Oh my God!” Christie’s horror sounded pretty damned genuine, so Jackson was going to take it on faith.
“So you can get him some protection outside his door?” Jackson asked. “And make sure it’s not fucking Lindstrom and fucking Craft, by the way, because either they’re dirty or they’re dumb, and either way—”
“Not a good idea,” Christie said smartly. “Okay, good. Who’s with him now?”
“A nurse friend of mine who has promised that either he or his boyfriend are going to be there until your guys get there and talk to their supervisor about who is and who is not allowed into the room.”
“Only cops that we okay,” Christie said, his voice grim. “Only hospital staff on the prescribed list. I hear you. They may have to move him to a secure room. I’ll let you know.”
“Well, if they do, make sure Dave and Alex are part of his support team. They don’t let people die on their watch. It’s bad for their sex lives, so don’t do it.”
Christie let out a short bark of laughter. “Understood. I’m on that ten minutes ago.”
“Good—I got calls to make, so late—”
“Rivers?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for having his back. Man, we watched him get pulled deeper and deeper with you and Cramer, and we were so worried about him. It’s good to see you don’t want him dead.”
“Not even a little. Take care of him. He might be the only person in your department who doesn’t hate us.”