She knew she was taking a huge gamble, but she was willing to risk it. She'd taken it upon herself to bring down that cartel in the ghetto along with Jerry. She knew there was a slight possibility she was being followed, but then again they would be too busy.
Now they knew that their consignment was in Police Custody.
Her father had to know something about it, she thought, but she decided not to probe any further. She'd do her investigating from her end, trusting that one way or the other, her father's attempts to fix this would expose him in the end.
"Svensson, I need you at 32nd street now. It's about the Jane Doe that's in our custody," she said in a brief call to her partner. Svensson was an apathetic officer, but there was no brain sharper than his in the force.
Within 30 minutes, he was there
", which was no surprise - he was apathetic and very tardy, rarely ever showing up early when he was called for.
"You do know this is a Saturday, right? We're off duty," he yawned. "I was enjoying a nap when you called," he added, not looking too happy at the prospects of another lengthy adventurous investigation today.
"A Police officer is never off duty, Svensson," she said, smiling.
"Except when the roster says he is off duty. What's up?"
"She had drugs in her."
"What?"
"You heard me."
He stayed there for a few seconds, resting his chin on his palm as he leaned against her car and weighed the situation.
"It must have been A-Grade cocaine, the likes of which are only gotten in the ghetto, right?" he asked, looking at her.
As usual, his analysis was always spot on.
"How'd you know?"
"You wouldn't get involved if it was about drugs except if it was something from them. This means you're on to Jerry?"
"Yeah. The expression he had on his face when he saw her picture. He tried to remove it immediately, but I saw it."
"Can't Jane Doe pin it on him?"
"She's lost her memory, and there's no ID on her. A scan of her image on the database didn't bring about any results. She's probably not applied for any ID, and she has a clean record."
"So why's she carrying drugs then? First time?"
"That'll be answered when we can get her memory back. First, we need to ascertain her identity." She said, looking around.
"And the best way to start is by finding out how she got here. 6 o'clock," Svensson said offhandedly.
She looked in that direction and saw a woman in a little bar looking at them through the from behind her glass window. As soon as their eyes met, the woman averted her gaze and hurried back.
"I'll man the back, you take the entrance," Svensson said, switching into the dedicated mode as he ran across the road and by the side of the building. She quickly dashed across the road and into the bar, manoeuvering around the counter and into the kitchen. The door was wide open, but the woman lay on the ground, Svensson above her with his gun pointed.
"Who are you gringos anyway?" the woman said.
Sheesh, another Latina, she thought.
"Police," she said, whipping out her badge. Svensson did the same and stretched out a hand to help the woman up, but she ignored his hand and stood up herself.
"This guy comes slamming into me like some football player. What do you want?" she said, looking
"You in handcuffs. You know something about the girl that was found in that alleyway, don't you?"
"I-I d-don't know what you're talking about."
"Really? Your stammering tells a different story," Svensson said, aptly applying pressure.
"It's genetic. My dad was a stammered," she said, folding her arms.
"Why are you shaking? Is that genetic too?"
"It's cold."
"So why are you sweating?" Svensson asked, offering her a handkerchief. She'd been sweating profusely.
"Fine! But I wasn't involved in this. I only saw a thing or two," she said, resigning.
"We'll be the judges of that. Spill" Oprah said, getting out a stool for her.
"It was two guys. One was black and the other was white. Both of them were dressed... shabby, I think. Just looked too..."
"We get it, they were from the ghetto, continue," Svensson said impatiently.
"They were transporting her, I think. She was lying on the seat so I didn't see her. They stopped here because of the checkpoint up ahead at Santa Maria."
"The new checkpoint?"
"Yeah, apparently they didn't know about it. It was 4:oopm, and the officers were soon gonna be changing shifts, so some would be on their way back. Anyone who looked at those guys would know they were up to something,"
"So what did they do?"
"They brought her out the other side. No one was walking along that pavement, so I was the only one who saw them."
"Which means you made the anonymous call, right?" Oprah asked.
"Yeah, that's me."
"What's your name?"
"Esmeralda," she said, looking away.
"Don't play with me. Your real name."
"Maria Lopez," she said, frowning.
"Maria, I'll need you to write down your address. We'll be in touch." Oprah said, getting ready to leave.
******
As soon as Oprah and Svensson drove off, Mc brought out his phone.
He'd been hanging around there even before they showed up.
"Hello, Jerry? We have a problem."
******
Where's the 4th part? 🤔