source at the police department said authorities are speculating that yesterday’s execution-style murders are related to last Friday night’s explosion at the Confessions strip club on Weston Avenue, a known hangout of the Church Gang. Louis Jackson, director of the city’s task force on gang violence, said, “It’s not uncommon to see a series of high-profile gang-related incidents occur when the power of the dominant gang wanes or appears poised to do so. This could be other groups making their move.”
Investigations into the city’s gang violence estimate that the Church Gang is responsible for nearly one-half of all gang-related murders in the city and 23 percent of its overall murder rate . . .
And this was why Emilie hated reading the news. She still did it, of course, but it was more than a little unsettling to hear that the city she worked in once a week might be in the middle of escalating gang warfare. Not that she was really surprised. She worked with patients at the clinic who dealt with or were victims of the city’s gangs all the time. If not as victims of violence, then as victims of the heroin addiction these gangs made possible. It wasn’t for nothing that Baltimore was known as the heroin capital of the United States. Government agencies estimated that as many as ten per cent of the city’s residents were addicts.
Heartbreaking, really. Which was why Emilie gave her time at the clinic up there once a week. She’d do more if she could.
Knock, knock .
Emilie looked up from her computer to find Carol, the office receptionist, standing in the doorway. “Your one o’clock is here,” Carol said.
Quickly cleaning off her desk, Emilie nodded. “Give me two minutes and send her in?”
“You got it.”
The afternoon went by in a blur, a blessing when she had things she didn’t want to think about. And then at five o’clock on the dot, her cell buzzed an incoming text message. Emilie retrieved her phone from her top desk drawer.
Derek .
Her smile was instantaneous.
This time last night I was on your front porch so I thought it would be a good time to text. ;)
She laughed, and was it any coincidence that the last time she’d done so, she’d been with him? Emilie debated how to reply and finally decided to just go for it: Perfect timing, though I preferred you on my front porch . . . Stomach flipping, she pressed Send and grinned like an idiot while she waited for his response.
Her cell buzzed again. Me too, which is why I’m texting. Would either Little Italy or Inner Harbor work for you tomorrow night?
They made their plans for a quiet little place with absolutely divine food in Little Italy. He’d offered to pick her up, and, though her instincts told her that was probably fine, she decided to meet him there instead.
She packed up her belongings to leave. And even though she was going home to an empty house, she was happy. Because Derek had given her something to look forward to, and Emilie hadn’t had that with a man in a long, long time.
M ARZ RECLINED IN his chair, laced his hands behind his head, and basked in the news that he was definitely going to see Emilie tomorrow night. Because that was one of the few things that had gone right about his day.
This morning, they’d debriefed last night’s op and brainstormed scenarios for dealing with Seneka. The possibility existed, of course, that Garza was working on his own, but they had to plan as if they might be up against the whole corporate beast. Plus, something Garza had said that first night they’d seen him at the drug deal argued in favor of him not working solo. When the leader of the other side of the deal asked if Garza was staying with the Churchmen, Garza had replied that he had to because someone wanted him to keep an eye on business with Church.
At the time, their team had no idea who that someone might be. Now that they knew that Garza was SWS, that organization was a prime possibility.
And that was some bad
Investigations into the city’s gang violence estimate that the Church Gang is responsible for nearly one-half of all gang-related murders in the city and 23 percent of its overall murder rate . . .
And this was why Emilie hated reading the news. She still did it, of course, but it was more than a little unsettling to hear that the city she worked in once a week might be in the middle of escalating gang warfare. Not that she was really surprised. She worked with patients at the clinic who dealt with or were victims of the city’s gangs all the time. If not as victims of violence, then as victims of the heroin addiction these gangs made possible. It wasn’t for nothing that Baltimore was known as the heroin capital of the United States. Government agencies estimated that as many as ten per cent of the city’s residents were addicts.
Heartbreaking, really. Which was why Emilie gave her time at the clinic up there once a week. She’d do more if she could.
Knock, knock .
Emilie looked up from her computer to find Carol, the office receptionist, standing in the doorway. “Your one o’clock is here,” Carol said.
Quickly cleaning off her desk, Emilie nodded. “Give me two minutes and send her in?”
“You got it.”
The afternoon went by in a blur, a blessing when she had things she didn’t want to think about. And then at five o’clock on the dot, her cell buzzed an incoming text message. Emilie retrieved her phone from her top desk drawer.
Derek .
Her smile was instantaneous.
This time last night I was on your front porch so I thought it would be a good time to text. ;)
She laughed, and was it any coincidence that the last time she’d done so, she’d been with him? Emilie debated how to reply and finally decided to just go for it: Perfect timing, though I preferred you on my front porch . . . Stomach flipping, she pressed Send and grinned like an idiot while she waited for his response.
Her cell buzzed again. Me too, which is why I’m texting. Would either Little Italy or Inner Harbor work for you tomorrow night?
They made their plans for a quiet little place with absolutely divine food in Little Italy. He’d offered to pick her up, and, though her instincts told her that was probably fine, she decided to meet him there instead.
She packed up her belongings to leave. And even though she was going home to an empty house, she was happy. Because Derek had given her something to look forward to, and Emilie hadn’t had that with a man in a long, long time.
M ARZ RECLINED IN his chair, laced his hands behind his head, and basked in the news that he was definitely going to see Emilie tomorrow night. Because that was one of the few things that had gone right about his day.
This morning, they’d debriefed last night’s op and brainstormed scenarios for dealing with Seneka. The possibility existed, of course, that Garza was working on his own, but they had to plan as if they might be up against the whole corporate beast. Plus, something Garza had said that first night they’d seen him at the drug deal argued in favor of him not working solo. When the leader of the other side of the deal asked if Garza was staying with the Churchmen, Garza had replied that he had to because someone wanted him to keep an eye on business with Church.
At the time, their team had no idea who that someone might be. Now that they knew that Garza was SWS, that organization was a prime possibility.
And that was some bad
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