by L. A. Witt
His Adam’s apple jumped. “Y-yeah.”
“Good. So we can move on and quit with this bullshit.”
Corliss nodded.
Once again silent, we continued down the stairs.
At the bottom, I gestured toward the locker room. “I’m going to get something out of my locker. Meet me in the garage in ten. We’ve got someone to interview.”
He just nodded, and we headed off in separate directions. Five steps later, though, he said, “Oh, Ruffner?”
I turned around, wondering if he knew how badly I wanted to lay him out. “What?”
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not calling you sir.”
Then he continued toward the garage, leaving me standing there like an idiot.
Yeah. This partnership is going to be great . . .
Getting some distance from Ruffner made me realize a few things. First, while the man was definitely an asshole, the main thing I was left feeling after our first sterling conversation was guilt. I’d jumped the gun with him, gotten aggressive too quickly, assumed too much. I couldn’t exactly blame him for not wanting to take on a new partner when one of them had literally gotten him stabbed in the back—or close enough.
There was something about the guy that instantly put me on edge, though. I was good at the long game, and all kidding aside, I knew how to keep my cool during confrontations. But less than ten minutes with Ruffner and I was acting out like a grade schooler. It was something I needed to get a handle on, fast.
The second thing I realized? Glancing back was totally worthwhile—Detective Ruffner had an incredible ass. I wanted to cut those tailored trousers right off his legs.
“Maybe save that for day two,” I said to myself as I headed for the garage. “If I survive day one.”
It wasn’t until I got to the garage that I remembered I didn’t know what Ruffner’s car looked like. I was stuck waiting at the curb until he showed up, so I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. Three texts: two from Mom, one from Vic. Mom’s read, Good luck today sweetheart! followed by Don’t listen to your father.
Vic’s just read, Don’t fuck it up, son. Heartwarming, as usual. Vic wasn’t so bad—he treated my mom like gold, as well he should—but he’d never really gotten a handle on how to comfort. I mused texting him back something ridiculous like, They all love me, I’ll be captain by the end of the day, or even better, the truth: IA wants me to spy on my partner, who hates me already. A second later a nondescript sedan screeched to a halt in front of me, and I forgot all about texting. If looks could kill, Ruffner would have just committed murder in the first degree.
“Get in.”
I scooted around the front of the car a little warily, still not completely convinced the guy wouldn’t run me over just to get me out of the way, and got in. I put my phone away, and he scoffed.
“Sure you can live without it in your hand?” he asked as we pulled out into the drizzly morning.
“I think I’ll survive. Sorry,” I said with perfect insincerity. “So tell me about the guy we’re going to ‘talk’ to this morning.”
“His name is Jake Carter. He’s a run-of-the-mill scumbag with slightly more brains than most, which is why he isn’t already in a cell.” I was a little surprised he’d just answered me without taking the time to throw in an insult or two. “I’m sure something’ll turn up at his place to give us reason to bring him in, though. A couple of uniforms are going to meet us there, so you won’t even have to dirty your pretty little hands if things get rough.”
Aaand there was the insult. “Aw, you think my hands are pretty?” I clasped them in front of my chest. “I’m touched!”
“Touched in the head, maybe.”
“I can’t imagine why nobody lasts as your partner, with all this sweet talk.” My phone buzzed with an incoming text, but I ignored it. “Why do you want to talk to this guy in particular?”
“Because he’s connected to Vincent Blake, one of the big players who’s losing guys right, left, and center lately. Mostly disappearances at this point, but bodies started turning up a few weeks ago. Nobody’s seen Blake in almost a month. There’s a shakeup going on, and I want to know who’s trying to be the new top dog.”
I frowned. “I don’t know much about Blake.” My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it. “Are there case files I can read to catch up?”
“Sure. Back at the precinct, on my desk.” He glanced over at me and smiled. Somehow the expression just made him look angry. And hot. “I can pull over here and you can walk back if you feel like you need some study sessions before you can be helpful.”
I can helpfully punch you in the fucking face. Jesus, five minutes in close quarters and he had me on edge again. “I guess I’ll just be on hand to keep you from causing another ‘incident’ then.” I smiled back. “I’m a team player.” My phone buzzed again. Shit.
“You should probably get that. Wouldn’t want to make your mommy worry.”
I already knew it wasn’t my mom. There was only one person it could be, and unfortunately, Ruffner was right. I really didn’t want to make him worry. I tried to keep from grimacing while I pulled out my phone and checked the new messages.
Asher: I’m already an hour late for work and Mom won’t even let me out of the house. Did I get drunk last night? Why am I here?
Asher: Where the hell is my car?
Asher: Darren, call me. Mom and Vic aren’t making any sense.
Another one came in while I was reading, this one actually from my mother. It’s a rough morning for your brother, sweetheart. Come by when you’re off work? But don’t worry! Well, shit. The surest way to get someone to worry was to tell them not to.
“You need to run back to the precinct after all?” Ruffner’s tone was snarky as ever, but the expression on his face was only half as murderous as it had been a minute ago.
“It’s nothing,” I said, stowing my phone in my pocket again. I waited for it to buzz, but there were no more incoming messages. Vic must have gotten Asher’s phone away from him. I took a slow breath; it was my first day on the new job, and my partner was just waiting for me to screw something up. This wasn’t the time for baring my fucking soul. “How long to Carter’s place?”
“Not long.”
The rest of the ride passed in blessed silence. We stopped in a derelict part of downtown, a subdivision that had fallen apart after the meatpacking plant there shut down ten years ago. There were a few decent places left on the fringes, but the deeper you got, the worse it became. The street felt more like potholes than solid ground, and the cracks in the concrete were all populated with weeds—the only green I saw in any direction. The house we pulled up to had once been a duplex, but the right side of the building was half-collapsed. The left side sported empty flowerboxes and a beater in the driveway. A patrol car was sitting across the street, and two cops got out to meet us.
“Detective,” one of them said in a flat voice. “You got an actual reason for dragging us out here?”
“Are drug dealers no longer worth your time, Officer Huan?”
“Only when they’re doing something we can actually pin on them,” the cop replied. “This guy’s been searched before. He always comes up clean.”
“Maybe it’s time for someone else to do the searching, then,” Ruffner said. The cop bristled, but Ruffner was already heading for the door. I followed him, resisting the urge to apologize on his behalf. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get all of Ruffner’s enemies via osmosis before the week was out.
Ruffner banged on the door. “Carter! Open up.”
“Hold your fucking . . . Just hold on.” The door opened a moment later. The man standing in front of us smelled like stale beer and sweat. His T-shirt looked like one big stain, and his hair fell limply over his face. I could see enough of it to make out the guy’s smirk, though.
“Deeetective Ruffner,” he drawled. “What brings you here on such a . . .” he glanced up at the sky, “rainy day?”
“I
’ve got a warrant to search the premises, Jake. Go sit down and shut up.” Ruffner pushed past the man and headed straight through the living room.
“Nah, don’t offer to take your shoes off or nothing,” Jake muttered. “Come on in, other cops.” He stepped aside. “I’d offer you coffee, except I know you guys can’t drink that shit without needing a donut, and I’m fresh out of those.”
“Just sit down,” Officer Huan said. His silent partner loomed by the door. I pulled on a pair of gloves and headed into the house to join Ruffner.
He seemed busy in the kitchen, so I turned left into the bedroom. It was surprisingly neat, no clothes on the floor or trash anywhere but the trash can. I rummaged through the obvious places, turning over the bedding and looking under the mattress, before moving on to the dresser. Jake’s socks were all rolled into individual balls. Shit. Maybe the guy had a split personality or something.
I checked all the drawers, including the balled-up socks, then moved on to the closet. Nothing. The bedside table yielded plenty of tissues and lube, but nothing illegal.
Ruffner met me just as I reentered the hall. “Find anything?” he asked.
“Not in there. You?”
“Not so far, but it’s just a matter of time. Try the bathroom next.”
The bathroom. Right. Lovely. I stepped into the dingy room across the hall, which was unfortunately not nearly as tidy as the bedroom, and sighed. Toilet first, then.
I’d just finished looking under the sink when I heard a door slam shut. I pushed to my feet and went out to see what was happening, only to watch Ruffner emerging from the bedroom, looking grim and holding something in his hand. What the hell? I hadn’t missed anything in there. I opened my mouth to ask about it, but Ruffner brushed past me without even pausing and headed back into the living room where Jake and the officers were.
He held up a small, tightly wrapped white brick and waved it in Jake’s direction. “In the toe of a sock?” he said scornfully. “I expected better from a clever little fuckup like you.”
Jake shot to his feet. “Bullshit!” he shouted. “That’s not mine. This is bullshit!”
“When it’s nestled in with your tighty-whities, odds are it’s yours, Jake.” He put the brick down and turned to Officer Huan. “Cuff him.”
“Wait,” I said, stepping in close. I tried to keep my voice low as I turned to my partner. “Where did you find that?”
“Were you listening for the past minute, or do you have a memory problem?” Ruffner snapped.
I glared at him. “You couldn’t have found that in his dresser. I searched it, and there was nothing there.”
Ruffner shrugged. “Clearly you didn’t search it well enough, Corliss.”
“I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have missed a package of fucking heroin.”
Ruffner’s face darkened, and he stepped in so close I could see tiny flecks of brown in the blue of his eyes. He opened his mouth—
“Fuck this!” Jake drove his shoulder into Officer Huan’s chest before the cuffs were closed, knocking him back, and ran for the door.
I ran after him. Getting the truth out of Ruffner could wait.
I sprinted out the door behind Corliss. Huan and Simmons were ahead of us, and disappeared around a corner.
Before we’d even turned down the alley to find them, I heard a satisfying grunt. Sure enough, when we entered the alley, Huan had Jake flat on the pavement and was cuffing him.
“That shit ain’t mine!” Jake screamed. “I’m being fucking framed, man! That ain’t—”
“Shut it,” Huan growled. “If it isn’t yours, then why did you run?”
Jake glared at me with murder in his bloodshot eyes. To Huan, he said, “I’m being framed, man.”
“That’s for the DA to decide, not me.” Huan tightened the cuffs and stood, hauling Jake to his feet. “Jacob Carter, you’re under arrest for possession of an illegal narcotic. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
And that was when the short run caught up with me.
My knees wobbled and the edges of my vision darkened.
“Detective?” Simmons said. “You all right?”
I waved him away. “I’m good. Get him out of here. I’ll ask him some questions at the station.”
“Will do.”
They started walking away, Huan still reading Jake his rights and Jake still insisting he was being framed, and I hoped their voices were getting quieter because of the increasing distance, not because I was passing out. My ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton—everything was muted and far away.
I planted a hand against the wall and breathed slowly, willing the dizziness to pass and the tunnel vision to clear. This new set of pills was screwing me all up. What was going to happen come summer? It was cool and drizzly today, but before the weather turned hot, I needed to get some—
“You sure you’re okay?” Corliss’s voice was somehow even more irritating when filtered through the cotton in my ears.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “You’re still here?”
“Well, yeah.” Was that sarcasm? Now? Really? “My partner starts wobbling after a half-block foot chase? I’m not about to leave you alone.”
I blinked my vision into focus and glared at him. The edges were still black and sparkling, and I kept my palm against the wall so my balance wouldn’t waver any further. “I’m fine. Look after the suspect.”
Corliss didn’t move. “He’s in good hands. You want to tell me what’s going on here?” He nodded toward my hand on the wall. “This have something to do with that?”
I looked the direction he’d indicated, and my stomach lurched. My silver medic alert bracelet was peeking out from under my sleeve. I jerked my arm back and tugged my sleeve down over the bracelet.
“Talk to me, Ruffner.” Corliss stepped closer. “Because if you can’t even run half a block without—”
“I’ll be fine.” I gave my sleeve another tug, then turned and headed out of the alley. “Now let’s get Carter back to—”
“No.”
I stopped and turned around. “Pardon me?”
“Before we go anywhere, I want some answers.” He closed the distance I’d created, and looked me right in the eye. “One, I want to know if I’m going to be able to count on you if a suspect runs. And two—” he stabbed a finger toward Carter’s house “—I want to know where the fuck that heroin came from.”
“Funny,” I said, and stepped closer to him. “I’ve got some questions about that too. You said you already searched the bedroom, but you didn’t find it? How thoroughly did you search it, Detective?”
“Don’t try to gas-light me, Ruffner,” he snarled back. “I searched it, and I searched it thoroughly. So you tell me—where the hell did it come from?”
“Exactly where I said it came from. And while we’re on the subject, don’t ever question me in front of a suspect. You want to tag along on my investigation? You play by my rules.”
“I’ll play by your rules, but not if it means breaking every code of police ethics.”
“Yeah, and ethic code number one—you don’t throw your partner under the bus in front of a suspect.” I turned to walk away again. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here. We need to get down to the station and get a statement from him.”
I fully expected him to call after me or run up and continue our conversation on the way back to the house. Instead, he muttered something under his breath, then walked back with me in silence.
I just ground my teeth and stared straight ahead.
This was a new record. One hour working together and I already wanted to choke him.
Huan and his partner showed Jake to the interrogation room.
Corliss and I watched him through the two-way glass for a moment.
“You can come in with me if you want to,” I said. “But keep your fucking mouth shut.”
“Why’s that?” he asked under his breath. “He already knows I searched the bedroom before you found the
brick. So do—”
“Consider this your first lesson in being a detective,” I hissed. “Come in with me, keep your mouth shut, and when we’re done, we’ll see if you learned anything.”
I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I headed into the room. He followed and closed the door behind us.
Ignoring Corliss—and hoping he understood I wasn’t kidding about keeping his trap shut—I took the chair opposite Jake and sat down. Corliss stayed back. Against the wall to my right, judging by the flick of Jake’s eyes.
Jake studied both of us. “So, you got a new good cop for your good cop/bad cop routine, eh, Ruffner?”
“How do you know he’s the good cop?”
“Because you always play bad cop.”
I laughed. “Just remember, my friend—no matter how bad I am, there’s always someone worse than me.” I twisted around to glance at Corliss. He stood against the wall, arms folded and jaw tight. His eyes were gleaming with fury. Jake didn’t need to know that fury was directed at me.
Facing the suspect again, I folded my hands on the cold metal table. “We need some answers, Jake.”
He snorted, trying to look nonchalant, but his eyes kept darting toward Corliss. “If you want to know where that shit came from, I don’t know. It ain’t fucking mine, man. I’m clean now.”
“Then where did that brick come from?”
“You tell me!” He threw up his hands. “It ain’t mine, you fucking moron!”
I watched him silently for a moment, making a deliberate gesture of drumming my nails on the table so it echoed in the uncomfortable silence. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m being set up. I’m fucking being set up.” He dropped his hand to the table with a hard smack. “Why can’t you see that?”
I shrugged as flippantly as possible. “It isn’t my decision to make. I found the dope, and I brought you in. All I can do now is decide whether or not to charge you.”
“Yeah?” He narrowed his eyes. “So since you already know it isn’t mine, what do I have to do to not get charged? Suck your dick?” He glanced at Corliss. “Or yours?”
