Page 33 of Crosshairs

“The only people who wear ties here are the people whowantto work in this building. We’re just coming in to talk to this guy, Joseph Tavarez.”

Trilling said, “Do you really think an NYPD officer could be the sniper?”

“First, I always try to keep an open mind. Second, if we makea case on someone else, the defense is going to ask if we checked other potential suspects. This will show that we’re diligent. Third, and most important, it wouldn’t hurt to get another perspective on the case from a guy who was an actual sniper with the NYPD.”

“Why is this guy working an admin job if he’s a qualified sniper?”

I stopped in the doorway and turned to Trilling. “He took a shot as a sniper about two years ago. A guy with a gun was holding a convenience store cashier hostage. All the negotiations had failed. The robber had been surprised by a patrol officer who happened to pull in front of the bodega just as the robbery was going on. The robber was more and more frantic and drew blood from the victim’s temple by pressing the barrel so hard against her head.

“Tavarez got the green light and made a phenomenal shot. The cashier was saved and the robber had a bullet in his brainpan.”

“So what happened? Did Tavarez freak out and ask to be on desk duty?”

“They had to pull him off the street because of a lawsuit from the robber’s family, pressure from the media, and insurance liability. It sucks that he did his job perfectly and still got punished for it.”

I let Trilling think about that as we worked our way through the maze of hallways and secure entrances of the NYPD headquarters. I nodded hello to half a dozen people who passed us in the halls. After all these years, I still didn’t like getting caught in this building.

We found the unit where Joseph Tavarez was assigned. Theunit was basically comprised of nine intelligence analysts handling information, similar to Walter Jackson’s job, with Tavarez and a lieutenant running the whole thing. As I understood it, Tavarez’s job was to review intelligence reports to see if there were crimes that needed to be investigated or referred to other agencies. Not a job I’d care for at all.

When we walked through the door, I saw the pool of analysts working in cubicles and a man with dark hair, wearing civilian clothes, working at a desk over to the side. He looked up and noticed us, stood from his desk, and walked over to us.

The man said, “You’re Michael Bennett.”

“Have we met?”

“Are you kidding me? I’d know you anywhere. If not from the newspapers, from some of the NYPD news briefs. I’d recognize you before I’d recognize the commissioner.” He stuck out his hand and said, “Joe Tavarez. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re just who I wanted to talk to.”

CHAPTER 41

THE FIRST THING I noticed about Joseph Tavarez was how similar he seemed to Rob Trilling. Not only in his demeanor but also in his appearance. He was ten years older but had the same lean frame and short, dark hair as Trilling.

I introduced Trilling.

Tavarez said, “I know your name too. You’re on ESU, right? You came on after I was reassigned.”

Trilling nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m not assigned to the unit at the moment. I’m working with Detective Bennett for the time being.”

“Don’t sweat it. There are worse assignments.”

The two of them chatted comfortably for a few minutes until Tavarez looked at me and said, “I know you didn’t come by here just to keep me company. Is there something I can help you with?”

I let Trilling explain what we were working on.

Tavarez said, “The Longshot Killer? You guys are working onthe most interesting case I’ve seen in a long time. I’ve been following it closely in the media and in homicide reports. You know, the exciting part of police work.”

I decided to handle this sensitive part of the interview. “We have to eliminate potential suspects. You were a sniper in the Army, and according to Trilling, military snipers are rare. You were also a sniper with the department. So I’ve got to ask you where you were on a couple of dates.”

Tavarez just eyed us silently. Clearly he didn’t expect to be considered a suspect. Even the way I’d worded it, by telling him we wereeliminatingsuspects, didn’t ease the insult. He was a guy who’d spent his whole life in public service and it looked like the only reward he’d gotten was a shitty job at headquarters and now someone suggesting he was a potential killer. I gave him some time.

Tavarez said, “I’ll talk to you, even though we both know it’s never a good idea to talk to the cops. This is bullshit.”

“No one is accusing you of anything. You know all the hoops we have to jump through. I’m just trying to be thorough.” Then I did the calendar trick with him. He said he’d been off duty for the most recent murder, at home with his wife. He gave us her phone number.

“You can call Cindy right now to make sure I don’t try to coordinate my story with hers.” Joe still had a touch of annoyance in his voice. “I’ll give you her office number too. She works over at the FBI as an analyst. Kinda what I’m doing here. In fact, I know I have a similar schedule to FBI intake analysts because I got a buddy of mine from the service a job over there, and we have almost identical schedules. I work ten hours a day, two evening shifts and two day shifts a week.”

I said, “Was your buddy a sniper in the military too?”

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