The Seventeen by Joel Arcanjo

Author:Joel Arcanjo [Arcanjo, Joel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781472096302
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Boyd knew that Archer had hacked the CCTV of that building but it didn’t matter right now. He had information that could further the case. He needed to go and check out the employees of that building. They may have some vital information about the out of place old woman.

Boyd navigated the halls to the parking lot his Cruiser was in. He sped over to it, climbed inside and took off at pace towards the building. It wasn’t a long drive, but traffic in New York City always added an extra ten to twenty minutes onto your journey. Sometimes more. That had always been the worst part about New York City for Boyd. Being a police officer in the Big Apple wasn’t easy either. But he loved it. He had dedicated his life to it. And he would do it all over again. This was the city that he had lived in his whole life. He had met his wife here. Both his sons were born here. It was his city. He felt a responsibility to protect it. Protect and serve.

Twenty five minutes later he pulled up to the shooter’s building. The building had an underground parking lot so he drove slowly deeper and deeper, until finally he found a space. He took the elevator up to the ground floor and asked the smiling receptionist where the security team in charge of the CCTV were located. She jumped off her seat, all too willing to help. She beckoned him into the back where two thick-set males sat talking.

One was white, the other looked Hispanic. Mexican or Brazilian most likely. They had trash all around them and were shooting the shit. In the minute Boyd observed them he could tell why the old woman was missed. They clearly had no interest in doing their jobs properly.

“Tell me, what’s your job title?”

They both stopped their chattering and turned to face him. But Boyd didn’t expect an answer from them, so he just continued. “Because it sure as shit ain’t ‘the bitchin’, burger-eating supervisors.’”

One of the guys got up fast. He’d obviously taken exception to Boyd’s words. Boyd showed his badge and the guy shrunk back into his seat.

“What happened yesterday, about ten past ten?” Boyd asked.

The white guy who had reacted angrily to Boyd spoke first. “Fire alarm.”

“Anything out of the ordinary happen?”

The Hispanic guy spoke next. “Don’t look at me, I wasn’t working yesterday,” he said, putting his hands in the air and looking to the white guy. The white guy didn’t like that very much. He gave his partner a nudge. Boyd waited until he spoke again.

“There didn’t seem to be anything wrong at all, no.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. So I brought along this,” Boyd said, opening his laptop and playing the clip. The guy looked up at him angrily again.

“How the hell did you get that? It’s private.”

“Trust me, that’s the least of your worries right now.”

“No, I don’t remember seeing that.”

“Probably because you were sat here talking the ears off another poor bastard.

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