My heart was racing – galloping – by the time the volume of the sirens let me know that the cavalry had arrived, but it was… shit. Too late for anything to be done for Vivica, too late to possibly catch up with whoever had fired that shot.
All at once, I found myself surrounded, this time by men and women I’d previously considered comrades, but after the way this morning had gone – the way these last weeks had gone – I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.
“Bradley, are you hit?” Somebody asked, somebody whose face I couldn’t seem to make out, not clearly. With so much sudden movement, sudden chaos, the feeling of not knowing what the hell was going on around me only deepened to the point that everything was a blur.
“No,” I answered. “I’m not… there was only one shot.”
How did I get to an ambulance?
My weapon wasn’t on me anymore.
When the hell did that happen?
I frowned at the bleak metal surrounding me as I sat on the end of the open emergency vehicle, then up at the officer in front of me – a suited bastard I didn’t recognize, and another one beside him. And beside him… Captain Santiago.
“Only one shot? Meaning neither you nor Detective Russel fired a shot?”
“No.”
He nodded. “Walk me through it. From the beginning.”
“There’s nothing to walk through – we pulled up, got out of the car, Vivica got shot. That’s it. The end.”
“What are you doing here in the first place?”
“Investigating a murder.”
“You were taken off the case,” Captain Santiago growled, finally speaking up.
“The case was being reassigned this afternoon. No point in wasting valuable time twiddling our thumbs.”
The other guy spoke again. “Better than getting your partner killed, no?”
“Fuck you,” I spat, standing up, bristling when the two men I didn’t know moved hands to their weapons. “What, you’re gonna shoot me? That’s what this is? I may be a cop, but I’m still an unarmed Black man, right?”
“Okay let’s calm down.” Captain Santiago stepped between us, hands up. “Guys, the man just lost his partner, do we have to do this now?”
“We need to know what happened here,” one of those assholes sneered, making Santiago pull up his signature scowl.
“And we’ll find out. Gray has a security camera feed on the driveway he says. We’ll see it ourselves.”
The other asshole scoffed. “What Gray has is a driveway full of fucking police officers, with news crews probably on the way – your precinct was told to drop this, so it could be handled quietly, and now look where we are!”
“Then it sounds like you have more important shit to do than berating my detective for trying to do his job, right?”
They exchanged a look with each other, glared at Santiago for a moment and then turned their ire on me before going back to my captain. “Keep him away from Gray.”
I didn’t know who they were, but they had enough authority to keep Santiago’s mouth closed, the only indication of his feelings being the large vein at the side of his head. As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned to Santiago, ready to talk shit and ask questions, but my captain put up a hand before I could get a word out.
“I’m not even going to ask what the hell you two were doing here. I know – knew – your partner way too well to think coming here was anybody’s idea except hers. But you knew better, Bradley.”
“I—”
“You knew better. And now, I have to call Russel’s husband to inform him he’s going to have to tell their daughters that mommy isn’t ever coming home again. Because you couldn’t just leave it alone.”
“Captain—”
“Just stop, Bradley.” Captain Santiago shook his head. “You’re going to have to talk to Internal Investigations. Do it today, don’t wait.”
I frowned. “Captain, we – I – don’t have time for this. We need to be looking for whoever did this! Are they sweeping the area, have they found—”
“Wait, back up – we?” Santiago put his hands on my shoulders, eyes narrowed as he met my gaze. “Bradley, you will absolutely not be part of the investigation into Detective Russel’s death.”
“You can’t be – you’ve got to be kidding me,” I exclaimed, backing out of his touch. “There’s no damn way I’m gonna be sitting on my ass at a desk while somebody else—”
“You’re right – you won’t,” he told me. “You are going to turn in your badge and take a break.”
“A break?!”
“A break,” he confirmed. “Has it even really registered to you that Russel is dead? Not coming back. This isn’t a drill, Bradley.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, I know that, which is why there’s no way I’m taking a break while whoever did this shit is out there running free!”
“So what you’re telling me is, you think it’s a good idea for me to let you loose on this city with a gun and vengeance on the brain?” Captain Santiago laughed, but I knew neither of us found a damn thing funny. “You are not as smart as I thought you were, man.”
“Captain, I—”
“Again – this is not a drill. I am dead serious, Detective. We will find Russel’s killer, and we will keep you updated – at home.”
I ran a hand over my head, pushing out a sigh. “I can’t sit at home and do… nothing. How the fuck am I supposed to do nothing?”
“You will figure it out,” he shot back, with no hint in his expression that this was up for negotiation. And I knew it wasn’t. Knew that from the moment this conversation started, but I just…
Without looking at him, I grabbed the badge on the chain around my neck and pulled it over my head. I tossed it in his direction, leaving it up to him whether or not it hit the ground, since he was the one who wanted the shit anyway. He could have it.
Fuck this.
&
Fuuuck.
With effort, I pried my eyelids open, finally giving in to the sunlight that had been trying to get my attention for the last few hours. It’d be a significant stretch to refer to my inebriated slumber as anything adjacent to “peaceful”, but some sleep was better than none.
Whoever was at my door was fucking up the flow.
I cringed over the dry, stale taste in my mouth as the knock that had woken me sounded again, more insistent this time – a detail that didn’t make me move any faster. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I dropped my face into my hands, using them to scrub away the last remnants of sleep before I stood.
A bottle on the dresser caught my attention, and I wavered for just a moment before I picked it up and took a swig.
Of course whiskey for breakfast is a good idea. Best shit I’ve come up with in weeks.
“Are you kidding me?”
Still facing away from my bedroom doorway, I closed my eyes, using pure muscle memory to accurately bring that bottle to my mouth for another swig. I knew ignoring my baby sister wouldn’t make her go away, but damn if I wasn’t about to prolong the impending bullshit.
“You give this—Cree – will you – give me the damn bottle!” Camille hissed, quickly growing impatient when I didn’t give in to her suddenly crossing the room to take my breakfast. I smirked as I held it high above my head, out of her reach. Even those long ass legs of hers didn’t help.
“Your key to my house is for emergencies only,” I reminded her, lowering the bottle when she finally stepped away. I returned it to its place on the nightstand, then eased past her, toward the bathroom, closing the door behind me to take a leak.
“You drinking yourself into a stupor certainly qualifies as an emergency to me,” she sniped – a disembodied voice of reason I could’ve done without. I closed my eyes, letting the steady stream of liquid hitting liquid drown her ass out as she went on, and on, and on, nagging like she was my damn wife.
By the time I was done, and hit the lever to flush the toilet, she’d stopped. But I knew she was on the
other side waiting, ready to go at me again with more of the scolding she’d picked up from Janie Cartwright.
In fact, because I had a feeling our dearly departed was about to be invoked, in “what would she think of you if she was here” fashion, I took my goddamn time meticulously washing my hands, brushing my teeth, washing my face, and even gave a few seconds to grooming my beard and the still new-to-me hair on my head – I’d given up the maintenance of being bald just a few months ago.
When I finally stepped out of the bathroom – with a nicely mellowing buzz, thanks to the good old Irishmen at Jameson – Camille was fuming.
I grinned.
It was good to know something around here hadn’t changed.
“Is this funny to you?” she asked, arms crossed as she tipped her head to the side.
I shrugged. “Yeah, a little. You’re really mad right now, like you didn’t use my key to walk up in my shit unannounced. Anybody should be pissed, it’s me.”
Her nostrils flared. “Oh, my bad, brother. I thought I was the one watching the one person who means more to me than anything and anybody in the world happily self-destruct. My bad. I didn’t mean to be an insensitive asshole. It must be hurting you, deeply, to have your sibling give you the cold shoulder while they drink their problems away, instead of… I don’t know, talking to you. My apologies.”
I blinked a few times once she was done, then cast my gaze toward the cold hardwood floor. “Cam…”
“Keep it. And put on some damn clothes. I brought you breakfast. Actual breakfast.”
With that, she stomped out of the room, leaving me shaking my head as she went. I knew I’d pushed about as far as I could without her getting sensitive on me, so I didn’t argue. I pulled on some shorts over my boxers and a tee shirt, and went to eat the breakfast my little sister had brought me.
“So… are we going to talk about it, or not?” she asked, after I’d plowed halfway through the food she’d brought.
I stopped with my mouth full to look at her. “Talk about what?”
“Don’t do that, Cree.”
“Do what?”
“That,” she snapped, her pretty face on the verge of twisting in anger again. “Acting like you don’t know what I’m talking about. Like… you’re just cool. Like somebody you cared about didn’t get shot in front of you two days ago.”
I snorted. “Oh. That. Nah. We aren’t going to talk about that.”
“Why?”
“Why would I want to talk about that, Cam? I want to go back in time and not get in that car. I want eyes in the back of my head, so I could have seen it, stopped it before it happened. I want to put a bullet between the eyes of the person who shot my partner. I do not want to talk about it. I’m sorry.”
Camille blinked, then pushed out a sigh. “Don’t be. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” My tone was much softer than before, and I reached out a hand to grab Cam’s. “You’re good. I know you’re just trying to…”
“Mother you,” she finished for me, squeezing my hand before she released it so I could finish tucking into my plate. “Like I’m not the baby.”
“Your ass has always been bossy, don’t act like it’s new now,” I chuckled.
I still remembered when Camille had shown up on our doorstep – a toddler coming into an already too-full house. But we made room for her – Janie made sure of it. We may not have been blood-related, or even shared the same last names, but we were family, from the moment anybody new came in, and it didn’t end when you left.
According to Janie, there was no other way.
From the time I was introduced to my “baby sister”, she left me wondering which of us was really in charge. She was good at getting people to rally behind her, crazy smart, crazy talented with those graceful feet and long legs, as soon as some music turned on. Bubbly, and confident, always wearing a smile.
No matter what.
“Oh whatever Cree. Hey – did you ever get that DNA test, see if you really have Indian in your family?”
I chuckled. I had no idea if my name had really come from my birth mother’s – wishful, maybe? – insistence that she was from the noble bloodline of the Native Americans, but it had been a running joke over the years.
“The funeral is today, right?”
Changing the subject so quickly took me a off guard, making me choke a on the food in my mouth. I quickly recovered though, taking a drink of water and clearing my throat. “Uh… yeah. Not sure if I’m going.”
“Of course you’re going.”
I sighed. “Cam, I—”
“We both know I’m just gonna annoy the hell out of you until you wish you were the one in the casket instead, so you may as well just save yourself the trouble.”
“Goddamnit,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I… I don’t even have a suit ready.”
“Already taken care of,” she sang, patting my hand. “Coordinated with Captain Santiago to make sure I got it all right. Dress blues. Draped over your couch. I’ll go with you.”
“I’m on suspension—”
“Which doesn’t matter. Stop making excuses. It will mean a lot to her husband. To her children. You knew her better than anybody on that force, and I maintain that she should’ve been my sister-in-law, if you hadn’t let ol’ boy get her first. You should be there. You should speak.”
She was right.
I knew she was right, and I knew I would do the right thing, but still… that didn’t make it easy. I finished out my breakfast in silence, and then with a quick squeeze of my shoulders by my little sister… I got up to get ready to bury my partner.
SEVEN.
I was spending way too much time wallowing in my feelings lately.
I’d never been one to sit in my car, obsessing about this or that before all of this mess brought the Belrose syndicate back onto my radar, and I was not happy about it.
I just wanted things… back to normal, whatever the hell that was. Back to a time before my dreams were plagued by a father and sister I couldn’t clearly remember. Before I had an emotionally damaged teenager depending on me. Before… shit. Before I found myself worrying – worrying! – about a man whose guts I previously couldn’t stand, for reasons that had never been clear to me.
But here I was.
In front of his building.
Talking myself into getting out of the car.
I could easily explain my presence by simply flashing the notepad I’d brought with me – notes I’d been taking over the days since Cree and I had spoken last.
The day Vivica was murdered.
There was no way he wasn’t traumatized – Cree was a good guy, a normal guy. He wasn’t desensitized to death like I was, so it had to be messing with his head. So I called myself leaving him alone, giving him time, and space, while I poked and prodded and found out what I could.
But then Camille came over.
She was Cree’s foster sister, but also Asha’s good friend – a crossover that worked in my favor. Asha had been super apologetic about the list of errands I was tagging along with her for, knowing my interest level in her maternity shopping was next to zero. But once Camille showed up, and started talking about her concern for her brother, well… I had no trouble being attentive to that.
I kept my expression bored, but I was completely tuned in as Camille fretted over Cree’s drinking, his disinterest in leaving his home or eating, and his possibly fragile mental state after seeing Vivica shot right in front of him, and ending up covered in her blood.
That detail hadn’t exactly made the news reports.
As soon as I was done with the Whitfields for the day and had them set up with Kerri, I’d headed for Cree’s building, using my usual underground means of information gathering to get his address without having to ask.
I didn’t know why, but I just… I needed to lay eyes on him.
Again, I could’ve explained it all very simply by showing that notepad – there was still a mountain of unans
wered questions that I could use his help unraveling. But I didn’t have to shower and change, if it was just about that. Didn’t have to stop to grab food for both of us, to make sure he ate. Didn’t have to have my cell phone use the Bluetooth connection in my car to read off the Top 10 Ways to Comfort a Grieving Friend.
I didn’t have to do any of that, at all.
And yet… I did.
And was that what Cree was to me now, a friend?
I rolled my eyes at myself as I finally opened the car door and stepped out, only briefly wondering if I should be a little more careful about it, considering what had happened to Vivica Russel.
But, no… I wasn’t concerned there.
I knew exactly what that was about.
When I’d looked up the address I found for Cree, I couldn’t imagine him living somewhere this…cute.
It was one of those buildings with a shared courtyard in the middle, flanked by what appeared to be ten apartments – two apartments on each side, one in the middle, and then a second floor with the same configuration. Palm trees and other desert-friendly greenery dotted the spaces between benches and flower beds, creating a vibe that screamed… quaint.
Cree didn’t seem like a “quaint” kinda guy.
Still, I grabbed my stuff from the car and headed up the stone paved walkway that split the courtyard into sections. Cree was in 2C – the apartment right in the middle, up the stairs.
From a security standpoint, this place was a nightmare – there was no way to cover myself from all angles – not that it was necessary, but still. That spatial awareness was simply ingrained in me at this point, something I couldn’t turn off if I wanted to.
It wasn’t something to complain about though – that same awareness kept me safe usually.
Once I’d climbed the stairs to Cree’s apartment, I took a deep breath, then pushed it out. I was showing up at his door unannounced, feeling things I didn’t really understand, and it was just… weird.
Deuces Wild Page 9
