to Black.
Her day was already booked with legwork that needed to be accomplished on the Simmons case. “Name the time, as long as it’s after six, and the place,” Jess agreed. “I’ll be there.”
• • •
Finley Boulevard, Captain D’s, 10:50 a.m.
“Mr. Davis, I appreciate your assistance in this matter.” Jess surveyed the prep personnel from her seat next to the manager’s desk at the back of the kitchen area. Harper was out front interviewing the servers who knew DeShawn. The store opened in just ten minutes but no one had complained about taking the time to answer questions. The smell of fish and hush puppies frying had already filled the air.
“Whatever I can do,” Mr. Davis assured her. “DeShawn is an outstanding young man. He is sorely missed here, I can tell you.” He glanced back at the crew working to prepare for opening. “I can’t believe the police haven’t spoken to Jerome Frazier already or that he hasn’t come forward to assist in whatever way he can. He and DeShawn are the best of friends. Have been since elementary school.”
Mrs. Simmons had mentioned Jerome Frazier as well. But Harper hadn’t been able to catch him at home or here, at work, until now. “Mr. Davis, I really would like to speak with Jerome but I’ll need some privacy. Can you spare him for a few minutes? We’ll be right outside.”
“Of course. I’ll have someone take care of his station. You do what needs to be done, Chief Harris. We all want DeShawn found safe and sound.”
The manager would have risen from his chair but Jess waylaid him with a question. “What can you tell me about DeShawn’s other friend, Nina? The young woman you gave a job?”
Not once had Davis mentioned her. Even now he turned away from Jess’s gaze. This was a subject he did not want to discuss.
“In thirty years of food service,” he began, his tone defeated, “I have never broken the rules. But, for DeShawn, I did. He was desperate to help this young girl and I went along with it. I paid her cash for cleaning up after hours. Sometimes my night crew doesn’t get everything done. I didn’t ask any questions. I just did as DeShawn asked. I didn’t want to let him down.”
There wasn’t anything they could do about that now. “This morning one of our sketch artists drew a picture of this Nina based on the description DeShawn’s grandparents gave. Would you mind having a look to see if you can add anything?”
“Certainly.”
Jess showed him the image she had received via e-mail scarcely twenty minutes ago.
Davis nodded. “That’s her.” He looked away again. “She has a tattoo on her left shoulder. I saw it one night when she was wearing just a”—he motioned across the upper area of his chest with both hands—“tube-like top.”
There were numerous tattoos associated with MS-13 and other gangs. New, unique symbols popped up all the time. “Can you describe it to me?”
“It was the number thirteen inside butterfly wings. I might not have noticed except that one of the other employees mentioned it to me. She was worried that Nina might be associated with the MS-13. DeShawn insisted that wasn’t the case, but I asked Nina about it myself. As much as I wanted to help them, I’m responsible for the safety of the folks who work here.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose beneath the glasses he wore. “She told me she was born into that life but her mother stole her away when she was just an infant. When she was thirteen, her mother had the tattoo put on her shoulder as a symbol of her freedom.”
“Did she give you any idea of where she’d come from? Did she grow up here? Is her mother still alive?” Jess needed to identify this young woman as quickly as possible.
Davis moved his head side to side. “She was very secretive. I was surprised she gave me that much information.”
Jess had a feeling she knew why. “When did you confront her about the tattoo?”
“Last Tuesday. One week ago today.”
Her day was already booked with legwork that needed to be accomplished on the Simmons case. “Name the time, as long as it’s after six, and the place,” Jess agreed. “I’ll be there.”
• • •
Finley Boulevard, Captain D’s, 10:50 a.m.
“Mr. Davis, I appreciate your assistance in this matter.” Jess surveyed the prep personnel from her seat next to the manager’s desk at the back of the kitchen area. Harper was out front interviewing the servers who knew DeShawn. The store opened in just ten minutes but no one had complained about taking the time to answer questions. The smell of fish and hush puppies frying had already filled the air.
“Whatever I can do,” Mr. Davis assured her. “DeShawn is an outstanding young man. He is sorely missed here, I can tell you.” He glanced back at the crew working to prepare for opening. “I can’t believe the police haven’t spoken to Jerome Frazier already or that he hasn’t come forward to assist in whatever way he can. He and DeShawn are the best of friends. Have been since elementary school.”
Mrs. Simmons had mentioned Jerome Frazier as well. But Harper hadn’t been able to catch him at home or here, at work, until now. “Mr. Davis, I really would like to speak with Jerome but I’ll need some privacy. Can you spare him for a few minutes? We’ll be right outside.”
“Of course. I’ll have someone take care of his station. You do what needs to be done, Chief Harris. We all want DeShawn found safe and sound.”
The manager would have risen from his chair but Jess waylaid him with a question. “What can you tell me about DeShawn’s other friend, Nina? The young woman you gave a job?”
Not once had Davis mentioned her. Even now he turned away from Jess’s gaze. This was a subject he did not want to discuss.
“In thirty years of food service,” he began, his tone defeated, “I have never broken the rules. But, for DeShawn, I did. He was desperate to help this young girl and I went along with it. I paid her cash for cleaning up after hours. Sometimes my night crew doesn’t get everything done. I didn’t ask any questions. I just did as DeShawn asked. I didn’t want to let him down.”
There wasn’t anything they could do about that now. “This morning one of our sketch artists drew a picture of this Nina based on the description DeShawn’s grandparents gave. Would you mind having a look to see if you can add anything?”
“Certainly.”
Jess showed him the image she had received via e-mail scarcely twenty minutes ago.
Davis nodded. “That’s her.” He looked away again. “She has a tattoo on her left shoulder. I saw it one night when she was wearing just a”—he motioned across the upper area of his chest with both hands—“tube-like top.”
There were numerous tattoos associated with MS-13 and other gangs. New, unique symbols popped up all the time. “Can you describe it to me?”
“It was the number thirteen inside butterfly wings. I might not have noticed except that one of the other employees mentioned it to me. She was worried that Nina might be associated with the MS-13. DeShawn insisted that wasn’t the case, but I asked Nina about it myself. As much as I wanted to help them, I’m responsible for the safety of the folks who work here.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose beneath the glasses he wore. “She told me she was born into that life but her mother stole her away when she was just an infant. When she was thirteen, her mother had the tattoo put on her shoulder as a symbol of her freedom.”
“Did she give you any idea of where she’d come from? Did she grow up here? Is her mother still alive?” Jess needed to identify this young woman as quickly as possible.
Davis moved his head side to side. “She was very secretive. I was surprised she gave me that much information.”
Jess had a feeling she knew why. “When did you confront her about the tattoo?”
“Last Tuesday. One week ago today.”
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