Speak of the Devil Read Online Free Page A

looked worried. McGee knelt down so their heads were almost the same height. Then he smiled, revealing the gummy gap where his two front teeth used to be.
    Tavon McGee was 6’4”, 290 pounds, with skin the color of espresso beans. He could use his bulk to intimidate witnesses or bureaucrats. But with kids, the key was getting down on their level—and smiling. The gap in McGee’s front teeth made children feel like he was one of them. Folks speculated on why he didn’t get the hole fixed. Fact was, he’d solved more than one homicide because some child felt comfortable talking to him. No one could argue with the highest case-closure rate in D.C.
    The boy said, “My name’s Jorge.”
    “That must’ve been pretty scary, what you saw next door, Jorge.”
    The kid looked down at the little skeleton in his hands.
    “But I’m guessing you were brave, right?”
    The boy met his eyes and nodded.
    “What happened?”
    “The Devil told me to shush,” the boy whispered. “Then he went in there with his friends.”
    “What do you mean, the Devil?”
    The kid held two index fingers to his forehead, simulating horns.
    A woman appeared in the doorway. “Jorge!” she cried. “Venga aqui! Ahora! ”
    The kid ran into the house. McGee stood up, his knees creaking in protest. The woman tried to shut the door in his face, but he stuck a foot into the doorjamb.
    “Ma’am, I need to talk to your son.”
    “No hablo ínglés.”
    She pushed on the door, putting pressure on McGee’s foot. He held up his badge and cocked his head. She reluctantly allowed him inside.
    Ten minutes later, he walked back out again, with the names and DOBs of everyone in the house—but no further information about the crime next door. Mom refused to allow the kid to talk to him any more. McGee would return tomorrow with a subpoena requiring the boy to testify in the grand jury. But he knew how these things worked. By tomorrow, Jorge’s mother would have convinced him that he hadn’t seen anything. McGee sighed and brushed a ghost out of his way as he went down the steps.
    Hector Ramos came out of the brothel’s basement door, leading a young Hispanic man in handcuffs. The handcuffed man grinned at McGee. He’d been smiling all night. It was a strange smile, completely inappropriate for his situation. McGee wondered what the hell was wrong with him. The man wasn’t carrying ID and wasn’t giving his name. McGee glanced at the tattoos covering his neck, at the two teardrop tattoos by his eye. They’d find out his name soon enough; no way this gangbanger hadn’t been arrested and fingerprinted before.
    McGee nodded at the Human-Trafficking detective. Hector was known as a solid cop and a dependable teammate. McGee wondered why he hadn’t left MPD for a higher-paying federal job years ago. Putting this mope in the cruiser would be the last official move Hector would make for a while, though. McGee doubted the detective would enjoy his time out on administrative leave. He got the impression that Hector was an action guy.
    Hector stopped before putting the thug in the cruiser and spoke to McGee. “Gotta show you something.” Hector pulled out an evidence bag with a small photo inside it. “I found this in his pants pocket when I frisked him. You know who this is, right?”
    McGee took the bag and looked at it. The police flashers bounced red and blue light on the photograph of a woman’s face, smiling and beautiful. McGee knew the face, but she was so out of place and unexpected here, it took him a moment to recognize her. He stopped breathing for a moment. Good Lord.
    “Mirandized?” he asked Hector.
    “Yeah.”
    “Why do you have this picture?” McGee held it before the tattooed man.
    The guy’s weird smile grew. “She’s my girlfriend, man.”
    “The hell she is. Where’d you get this from?”
    “Go fuck yourself is where. I want my lawyer.”
    McGee shoved the guy into the back of the police cruiser and slammed the door. He