She'd been putting it off for way too long, a decision she knew stemmed from pure cowardice. But now, something inside her the evidence she had, had shifted. She just had to confide in someone about what she'd witnessed. The evidence was eating away at her conscience, and it was high time to hand it over to the right people. So she finally got the courage to call the NYPD.
The memory still felt as vivid as if it'd gone down just yesterday. Some rough-looking guys had walked into the bodega corner store about five minutes after she came in. It was a simple task of picking up something to eat that evening. She hadn't meant to witness anything, but that night had unfolded in ways she never could've expected.
She'd swung by the bodega to pick up a few things for dinner – some chicken, a few veggies. As she walked in, a prickling sense of unease trailed behind the men who swaggered in, immediately starting to harass the store clerk. Their taunts hung in the air, and she noticed, unnoticed by the guys causing the scene, the clerk's hand resting on a handgun beneath the counter out of view. Now, she was faced with a dilemma. If she approached the counter to pay, she'd be pulled into their twisted game. So, she made a snap decision. She'd do a few more laps around the store, see if she needed anything else, and just wait for them to lose interest. The minutes ticked by, and finally, the group lost interest and moved on.
Just a bunch of troublemakers, she thought, shrugging it off. Approaching the counter, she placed her purchases down, ensured she had everything, and paid for her purchases.
After settling up for her groceries, she shouldered through the bodega's door and onto the sidewalk, every sense on high alert. Those guys she'd seen just minutes before – their creepy stares still giving her the heebie-jeebies – were mercifully MIA. Their absence brought a flicker of relief, but she wasn't about to let her guard down anytime soon. She'd been in tighter spots than this and come out on top.
She picked up the pace, her senses tingling with the knowledge that things could go sideways in a heartbeat. This wasn't the kind of neighborhood where you got complacent, not with those rival crews always sniffing around. She knew the smell of trouble, and these guys reeked of it.
Her gut twisted as she turned onto her street. There they were again – those same guys from the bodega, eyes locked onto her like hawks scenting prey. She hugged her plastic bag to her chest, a sick feeling washing over her that the next few minutes could change everything. Well, they weren't taking her down without a fight.
Think, think, think. Her hand dove into her pocket, fingers scrambling for her phone, flicking on the video recorder without even looking. Maybe it'd catch something she'd miss in the heat of the moment. Her heart was jackrabbiting in her chest as she kept moving, eyes fixed on the potential threat looming ahead. She'd faced worse odds and walked away. These clowns didn't know who they were messing with.
She knew that if she ran, it would be all over. So she moved swiftly, staying out of sight, but her phone was silently recording every move the group made. Granted it wasn't the best of quality only because she was moving around too much. They didn't seem to notice her until it was too late. But by then, she had captured everything - the whole ugly scene of them harassing that man. He looked homeless to her, but that didn't stop them from laying into him relentlessly. First, they were punching and kicking him, and by the time she came upon them, the leader had already pulled out a gun and shot the man in the head. The sound of the gunshot made her think about running but she decided to stay in the darkness. Only when she stepped on a beer can did the leader turn in her direction. The leader of their group spotted her fleeing with her groceries and quickly alerted the rest of the gang that she had seen everything.
She managed to duck around the corner of the building she had been walking away from just as they noticed her, and she knew that they would be giving chase. But she had other options to escape and took them.
She realized she had only one choice if she wanted to save her life: run back to her apartment building. It could be the biggest mistake she ever made, and as she would find out later that decision turned out to be true. The neighborhood wasn't great to begin with, but she knew her neighbors wouldn't rat her out. Instead of taking the elevator to the 8th floor, she decided to run up the eight flights of stairs. That would at least throw the people chasing her off her trail. She had seen some things, but she knew she was relatively safe in the building with the other 148 tenants.
Rick pulls up in his unit, parking right behind his partner's unit. Both were tasked with doing official business after they finished this interview. Instead of riding together, it would have been easier to accomplish what they needed to do with separate cars. Rick shuts off his car, opens the door, and locks it. He steps up on the sidewalk, seeing Esposito waiting for him on the front steps looking at his watch.
"What? You know how Midtown traffic is around this time of day so don't give me that look."
Javi held the door open for Rick as they stepped into a dilapidated apartment building. One glance at the ancient elevator and they both knew better than to risk it, opting for the eight-floor hike instead.
"Ugh, I hate walk-ups," Esposito grumbled, momentarily forgetting Rick couldn't read his lips. He spun around, stopping them both on the staircase adding,
"So, from what I gather, this witness saw the whole thing go down. But who knows how reliable she'll be? You'll follow my lead?"
Rick gave a curt nod. He knew Javi's opinion of him hardly mattered at this point. They had a job to do. At apartment 8G, Esposito rapped sharply on the door. After a two-minute silence, he knocked again, about to give up when Rick caught his arm.
"Espo, try the door," he signed. Esposito's rusty skills managed to decipher the message. To his surprise, the door creaked open. "It's open," he called out "NYPD", and stepped inside.
The apartment was sparse but had a lived-in feel. It wasn't until he moved deeper into the room that he spotted a brunette at the sink, peering out the window as she scrubbed something. She spun, shock written across her face at the strangers in her home.
Her initial defensive stance relaxed a notch when she spotted the badge attached to his belt at the waist on the man behind Esposito, who had his hands raised in a calming gesture. The only reason she knew they were there was because of the reflection in the window. Still, a wary tension hummed through her body. When the detectives remained silent, she took matters into her own hands, signing a query.
The second Rick saw her signing in a language he understood he knew that he'd been set up. But he would deal with that later. He didn't think that Esposito would be so callous, but what she might tell them would be a promise of information so Rick signed to her back telling her who they were.
Esposito yielded to Rick's expertise, watching as the woman's hands danced. Rick admitted to himself she was far more skilled than his year of training had equipped him to be. He watched her, then replied, signing,
"NYPD. We're here investigating the murder you witnessed."
The second she read what he was telling her her body language became a little more readable and relaxed. But she was still on edge. Knowing that just because they came here to her apartment she had become a target. She knew that the gang that she witnessed kill the homeless man had eyes and ears everywhere and at first, she was reluctant to give them anything. She was hospitable and asked them to both sit down and once they did the staring contest began.
Rick took in exactly what he had been trained to do but there were differences. instead of hearing anything he was able to find out more about her by looking around. For instance, there were no pictures of family anywhere other than one lone picture resting on the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room. You could tell just by looking at it it hadn't been updated in quite some time. It was a picture of their witness and what Rick could ascertain was her mother only because they looked so much alike. When he first came back he had been used in a lesser capacity to take on cases with less input as he was working his way back to full duty. Now everything depended upon him.
He understood everything she was telling him with her signing, but he was having trouble getting his point across until he slowed down to where she could understand what he telling her.
She was amazed to see that a detective from the NYPD was deaf. She thought that it must have been so hard for this man to do his job and she wondered if he sustained his injury in the line of duty or if he was born this way. To her, it all fit because there was no way an NYPD officer was working as a detective from the start being deaf. She could also tell that he was still new at getting the signing down, ASL was not his forte. He wasn't making sure that the letters were in the proper place when he spoke, but she got the message.
This seemed to ease her nerves a bit. Even as she was explaining what she'd witnessed to Rick, she couldn't help but keep a wary eye on Espo.
Espo picked up on her wariness, noticing how she could converse with Rick while still keeping tabs on him. Without getting up from the couch, he pieced together that she lived alone in the apartment. And he knew that once they took off, the crew that had taken out the homeless guy would likely be sniffing around here for her. He spotted the bars on her windows – a precaution against unwelcome visitors. He observed as Rick used sign language to talk with her, aware it was a bit shady but they needed to know what was going on. Once he got the gist of her story, he swiveled to Espo and started relaying what she'd seen.
Knowing that she couldn't read his lips If he wasn't facing her he turned and started to bitch at his partner.
"Really Javi? At least you could have given me some sort of warning." Rick said in a disgusted tone.
"Would you have come otherwise?" His partner asked.
Rick couldn't argue with his logic but it was still a shitty thing to do. He used his disability to his advantage for the advancement of the case. He turned back to Kate and asked her if she would let them see the video firsthand.
Before she got up to retrieve her phone she asked them,
"Will you catch them?" She spoke and signed at the same time. She watched patiently as Rick and Javi considered her question. There was no other way they would answer this.
"Yes. We'll do our best."
The weight of the moment pressed down on Kate as she slowly stood and made her way to the bedroom for her phone. The two detectives remained seated, their patience tinged with a somber intensity.
An unsettling unease hung in the air as Kate returned. The detectives avoided her gaze. Rick's pain was evident when she gently reached out and raised his chin. Yet, in his eyes, Kate saw a glimmer of a man worthy of her trust.
Positioning herself on the coffee table directly before the detectives, Kate knew what they were about to witness demanded closeness. With her phone unlocked, she cued up the incriminating video and angled the screen towards them.
Rick and Javi watched in grim silence as the footage rolled. On-screen, a group of men cornered a homeless man against a building. An initial kick seemed a callous test of consciousness. The man's defensive reaction only spurred the group to greater violence.
The assault swiftly escalated, the five men trapping their target against the wall. No longer just bystanders, each joined the attack. The homeless man refused to be an easy target. He landed several blows, striking back at his assailants, managing to shatter the leader's nose with a lucky hit fueled by fear or fury. The retaliation enraged his attackers.
Almost in unison, the leader and his injured comrades drew handguns from their jackets. The leader took aim at the homeless man's head with his Glock 22.
"You'll pay for breaking my nose," he snarled.
A hail of four bullets cut him down. Even as his body hit the ground, the leader fired twice more into his lifeless form. The others followed his lead, their shots ringing out in a shocking display of excess. The concept of overkill seemed a horrific understatement.
What haunted them most was what went down after the murder. Yeah, they had suspects, a lead, but the damning video kept rolling. Kate, hiding in the shadows, trying to be silent, had accidentally blown her cover. Now, the ringleader, blood dripping from his upper lip, swung his gun wildly into the darkness. The video feed grew shaky, then black – Kate had stashed the phone in her pocket, still recording. The audio captured the chilling order being issued by the leader.
"Get her! Cut her off in that alley and finish her! No witnesses! I want her dead." The leader snarled.
All the men started running in her direction. Kate sprinted into the night, her only advantage her intimate knowledge of these streets. A twenty-yard lead, that's all she had. The Chinese restaurant – could she make it? The back door, the basement, and a front exit...it was her only hope.
Breathless, heart hammering, she burst through the back door of the store, tore down the stairs, and raced the length of the dingy basement. Up the front stairs, don't look back, don't dare look back. The front door, was a blur of startled faces as she emerged from the 'supply closet' near the entryway. Across the street, her building, safety, if she could only…
Once she was out on the sidewalk and threw a frantic glance over her shoulder, there was nobody behind her. Satisfied, she dove into her building, out of sight, but was she truly safe?