Chapter Nine
Reviewingthe footage from the museum revealed that a figure in a black hoodie, most likely a man, had walked up to the statue that matched the Valless piece every weekday the two weeks before the robbery. The figure rarely talked to anyone else, and got closer and closer to the statue with every visit. The day before the robbery, the figure reached for the statue, but pulled away at the last second.
Jesse was willing to bet that the thief would try again, and he’d convinced ASAC Hadler that a burglary was possible that evening. There hadn’t been a lot of time to file the paperwork and get a team, but everyone was in place. He was stationed outside, another few agents were posted around the building, while Milton took waiting in the exhibit itself. Jesse had tried arguing for that spot since he was running down the leads in the case, but Milton cited the fact Jesse was in much better shape, and much more likely to catch a runner than he was. Hadler had sided with Milton.
At least there was movement on the case, though waiting was the hard part. Spring was fickle, and the day was colder than the previous ones. More people wore hoodies or jackets, making the thief impossible to distinguish easily. The footage hadn’t been great. The camera angles were all wrong to catch much of the thief’s face. They’d need someone to make a move on the statue in order to be certain.
If everything went well, Milton would catch the suspect inside the exhibit, and if it went wrong, Jesse was ready. Museum security was aware as well. And if no one went after the statue, he would get to file more reports and spend the rest of the night scouring the footage in hopes of a better picture.
His day could have been worse. Bryce had texted not long after they bumped into each other. Mostly they talked about how they were both so busy, but wound up confessing he liked detective shows and there was loose talk they might binge one during the weekend. Which was hopefully code for lots of sex.
The fleeting breaks from work had brightened Jesse’s afternoon and he struggled to concentrate on the task at hand instead of his phone. But it was a cloudy spring afternoon, with only a trickle of people moving in and out from the museum. Minutes dragged like eons.
Boredom loomed. He couldn’t check his phone, even if he would rather figure out if they were going to meet at his place or Bryce’s. With any luck, Jesse would be well on his way to wrapping up the Valless theft before Friday. If not, he could afford distractions on his time off. Now wasn’t the time.
“Got an interested party near the statue. Dress shirt. Jeans,” Milton said, his voice coming through Jesse’s earpiece.
“Not our guy,” Jesse replied.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Thief’s worn the same black hoodie for a week. Doubt he’s changed.”
“Maybe he’s doing his laundry and wore something else,” Milton snapped. “Anyway, this guy is off. Staring too hard at the damn thing, which, by the way, this is some ugly shit. Don’t know how anyone thinks it’s art.”
“Telling you, hoodie isn’t going to wear a dress shirt,” Jesse said.
“Stop bickering,” said Rowland, a younger agent Jesse had pulled in. She added on, “We’ll see if he makes a grab or not.”
Jesse paced up and down the steps leading to the museum’s entrance. He wasn’t mistaken about the hooded figure. No way had the person made the sudden switch to more formal attire. Just didn’t make any sense. Milton was watching the wrong person, and the thief was more likely to surprise him, giving the thief a head start.
Damn it all. Jesse should have been the one in the exhibit. Waiting around outside, hoping that Milton wouldn’t screw up the operation, bugged him. He stalked back and forth. Now he was likely making people aware of him. If he didn’t blend in, he’d stand out, possibly to the very person he was hoping to surprise. With a sigh, he made himself slow down. Getting worked up wouldn’t help. He needed to stay ready. Keep his eyes open.
Across the pedestrian path through Forest Park was a large statue of a man on horseback. A blond kid in a hoodie with a rainbow on it milled around the area by the statue, and he kept turning his attention toward the building. Not really a kid, but more of a teenager, possibly an adult. But it was the attitude, even that far away, that Jesse recognized. The kid from the coffee shop. The one that had flipped him off while he was talking to Bryce. If Bryce had said his name, Jesse couldn’t remember it.
Running into Bryce inside the museum and the kid outside it was too strange of a coincidence. Bryce hadn’t mentioned where he worked. Maybe he and the kid worked there, but Jesse didn’t think so. All Bryce had said about his job was that it included research, and he’d said the kid had been through too much trauma.
Research and traumatic pasts could point to lives of crime. If the kid’s hoodie was black instead of blinding white, he’d be a shoe-in for the figure in the footage.
Jesse crossed the footpath. Apparently, the kid recognized him, because his eyes went wide and he started walking quickly the other way. But Jesse had the advantage of a longer stride, and the determination not to let him slip away.
“Stop,” Jesse said.
The kid kept going. When Jesse started to grab his arm, the kid spun out of his grasp and hissed, “Don’t fucking touch me.”
They stopped. Though they hadn’t gone far, the kid was panting. Bryce had said something had happened to him, and it was bad enough that Bryce was extremely protective of him. Jesse held his hands up, hoping to convey he wasn’t a threat.
“I need to talk to you,” Jesse said.
The kid rubbed his hands up and down his jeans and scowled at Jesse. “Fine. But don’t fucking touch me.”
“What’s going on, Dawes?” Rowland asked.
“Following up on something,” Jesse replied.
The kid narrowed his eyes, then swore a string of curse words that made Jesse raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re here with the FBI. And this is where we get screwed over because I can’t wear a headset. Fuck.”
“Slow down and start explaining what you’re saying,” Jesse said.
