By the time Jack wheeled into the parking garage downtown at Chicago Police headquarters, Boone had texted Pete Wade. He had first bounced off Jack the idea of just informing Pete that they needed to talk. “That could spook him, Boones. You have to make him think he’s gotten to you, not make him worry about what you’ve found.” So Boone texted, Pete, I’m going to be in the office later today. Open for lunch? Crow is on the menu for me. “Perfect,” Jack said. “I’m going to make myself scarce so he doesn’t see us together. Keep me posted.” “I feel as nervous as when we were transferring PC,” Boone said. “This shouldn’t be dangerous.” “Of course it will. This’ll be as important and dicey a conversation as you’ve ever had. You blow this and he gets the drift that you’re onto him, well, you know what that means for Pascual and his family.” “Thanks for nothing.” “It’s not my job to make you feel better, Boones. You should be nervous. Use that edge.
