Land of Careful Shadows by Suzanne Chazin Page B

don’t stray far from their mothers.”
    â€œCould be a father or grandparent is raising her,” said Greco. “As for the woman—well,” Greco spread his hands apologetically. “Comes with the territory.” They both knew that a dead Latina, especially one who might be undocumented, was unlikely to garner the same sort of media coverage as a white American woman.
    â€œWe’d get all the media attention we needed if we broadcast our suspicions,” said Vega.
    â€œThat’d be like using a fire hose to extinguish a candle. No thank you,” said Greco. “I don’t want to be the guy cleaning up that mess.”
    â€œIs that what you told Adele Figueroa after someone torched the community center’s Dumpster last month?”
    Greco drummed his fingers on his desktop. “What, Sherlock? So now you think a bunch of dumb-ass kids decided to move from vandalism to murder?”
    â€œHow do you know the fire was started by kids?”
    â€œI don’t. But in my book, if it walks like a dog and shits like a dog, it’s not a camel with a personality disorder. That fire had all the earmarks of a few punks fired up on their own rage and bravado.”
    â€œThe words that were spray-painted across La Casa’s parking lot seem a little close for comfort, don’t you think?”
    â€œEasily a hundred people saw those words, Vega. They weren’t poetic. Or original. That situation is nothing like what we found at the lake.”
    â€œHow about Ernesto Reyes-Cardona? Is he a dog or a camel in your analogy?”
    Greco blew out a long breath of air as if Vega had been sent as a personal test from God. Job’s final burden. “That’s not a Lake Holly police matter.”
    â€œI know. It’s Metro-North jurisdiction. But it happened here, Grec. All of these crimes happened here. Scott Porter told me about two other Latino men who were beaten in Michael Park. Don’t all these potential bias incidents make you wonder what’s going on in town?”
    â€œSo now you’re taking your cues from a guy who wants to hand out green cards like they’re grocery coupons?”
    â€œIs Porter right about what’s happening in town or not?”
    â€œThat shit happens? That people sometimes behave badly? Of course. But I don’t like your insinuation that we’re not doing our jobs. Hell, you know the drill as well as I do. You try to interview an illegal, he won’t talk to you. Or he gives you a fake name. Or a fake address. Even if these people give you a real address, they move every fucking week. They don’t have steady jobs. How the hell can I catch a criminal if the witnesses and victims scatter like cockroaches every time I step into a room? Never mind all the shit I have to do when I finally do talk to them. I can’t ask them the same things I’d ask my own kids if I caught them messing around. I see a white guy pissing on the sidewalk, I can bust his ass and no one’s gonna do anything but applaud me for doing my job. I do the same thing to an illegal, and in two minutes flat, I’ve got Scott Porter and every Hispanic group in the county breathing down my neck and calling me a racist.”
    Greco’s view of the world, 101. Vega leaned an elbow on the corner of Greco’s desk and rested his cheek against his fist. “I see the county-mandated sensitivity training had a big impact on you.”
    â€œYeah? Fuck you. You can’t decide if you’re for them or against them. That’s your problem. Least I know where I stand.”
    Vega’s view of the world, 101: wherever you are, you don’t belong.
    Neither man spoke for an instant. Then Greco turned away from Vega and punched a number into his phone. He told the person on the other end to wait around another ten minutes. He hung up and turned back to Vega.
    â€œEver meet a guy named Tim Anderson?”
    â€œNo. Should