by L. A. Witt
It wasn’t long after her call before Hamilton and Andreas went trooping down the stairs, with Detective Thibedeau on their heels along with Trent. Shit, one of the least trustworthy cops in the entire city had sat in with Andreas and the captain. And the fucker from IA. The four of them disappeared down the stairs before I could catch Andreas’s eye. What was going on?
“They finally got proof,” one of the detectives at a desk near mine said, voice full of satisfaction. I didn’t know his name, but I sure as hell was going to remember his smug fucking face. “It’s about time that bastard went down for his dirty little habit.”
“It’s been an open secret for years,” his partner agreed. “I guess the captain’s finally seen the light.”
“Or he decided Ruffner wasn’t worth the trouble of protecting anymore. You can bet on it, Hamilton’ll be out within a fuckin’ month once IA starts pokin’ into how he conducts himself. You know he wrote me up for goin’ on a coffee break?”
“You were gone for three hours,” his partner said with a chuckle.
“Hey, I’m a big guy, it takes me longer to get to the machine.” They laughed until they noticed me watching them. “Aww, the baby looks like he’s gonna cry! How’s it feel to know your partner’s a dirty cop, Baby-face?”
“I don’t know, how’s it feel to know that if Internal Affairs investigates the captain, they’ll look through all our computers as well? Thibedeau’s the thorough sort.” I smiled sharply. “How will he react when he finds the porn you’ve been downloading when you should be filling in your reports?”
“Bullshit,” the guy snapped, his square jaw flushing with heat. “There’s nothing like that on my computer.”
“Really? You sure?” I leaned in a little. “You do know that deleting your browser history isn’t enough, right? Not with forensic computing the way it is. They’ll dig deep. Are you prepared for that?”
“Fuck you, Corliss,” he said, but he quickly turned his attention to his computer, fingers working rapidly. My shot in the dark had hit the mark, it looked like. Not that I could muster the extra energy to care right now. All I cared about was what was happening to Andreas. Drugs? They were searching for drugs? If they looked in his locker, they’d find his antiretrovirals. His status would be out in the open. That would devastate him after so many years of careful secrecy.
It didn’t take very long for them to come back—no, wait. Not all of them. Where was Andreas? Trent and Thibedeau continued upstairs, probably to laugh maniacally together in the frozen halls of IA. Hamilton looked my way as he continued on to his office and motioned for me to join him.
Once his door was shut, I couldn’t keep quiet. “What’s going on? Where’s Andreas?”
Hamilton sighed heavily as he slumped back into his desk chair. “Detective Ruffner is currently suspended for suspected use of narcotics while on duty. Where he is now, I don’t know.” He set a badge and gun down in front of him, his fingers lingering over the worn leather of the badge.
Suspended? “Narcotics?” I was so confused.
“Dilaudid. In his wife’s name,” Hamilton said flatly. “We found a bottle in his gym bag.”
Oh, what? “This is bullshit. Who told you about this?”
“Detective Newberry brought it to the attention of Internal Affairs, which brought it to my attention. The question is,” he speared me with a disappointed look, “why you didn’t bring it to me first, Darren.”
“Captain—”
“I could have done something if I’d had enough warning. Gotten the man into a treatment program, gotten him out of here without the dog and pony show. Instead I had to humiliate my best detective in front of witnesses, not to mention breaking out the HIV thing. Jesus Christ, Darren, why didn’t you tell me? Or were you and Andreas still having issues?”
“I didn’t tell you anything because he’s not using drugs! His HIV status, okay, I did find out about that, but it wasn’t my secret to tell. If he was using, though, I would have passed it along, of course I would have.” Or possibly not, but he didn’t need to hear that now. “You don’t think it’s a little suspicious that a detective not even based in our precinct is the one to bring the IA hammer down on Andreas? After years of people here envying him, wanting to fuck with him, but no one ever bringing charges because there was no proof, because there’s nothing to prove. And suddenly Detective Newberry manages it?”
“The evidence is pretty damning.”
“The evidence was planted by that son of a—”
“Darren.” Hamilton sounded so tired. “Look, this isn’t how I wanted things to go down, but I have to follow procedure, and procedure means suspending Ruffner pending a full investigation. Maybe you’re right, maybe the drugs were planted, maybe his wife never had a prescription and we can prove it was faked. But that takes time, and it has to be done the right way. Do you understand? If you want your partner to have a future here, you’ve got to let us do things the right way and keep from rocking the boat. I don’t want to hear any complaints about you from Detective Newberry, you get me?”
I could argue. I wanted to keep fighting, to battle over the point until both of us were bloody, but it wouldn’t do any good. Andreas was suspended. That meant only one of us had an in with the cops right now, and that was me. I needed to . . . fuck, I didn’t even know, but getting myself suspended along with Andreas wouldn’t help anyone. In the end, all I could say was, “Yeah. I get you.”
“Good. You’re on desk duty for the rest of the day. The last thing I need is you ‘accidentally’ running into Ruffner while you’re working a case.”
I left on autopilot and headed straight back to my desk before I realized that if I had to keep listening to those two idiots sniggering next to me, I’d brain one of them with my stapler. I went looking for Paula instead. At the very least she’d be a sympathetic ear; at the most, she’d help me start figuring out a next step.
Naturally, Paula was out, investigating a new murder. The desk secretary gave me the info on it when I asked nicely, though; looked like the orchids I’d given her were paying off. The victim was female, midthirties, dressed too nice for the dirty place she was found. I didn’t recognize the name, but the file said she was a public defender at city hall. She’d been shot twice through the head. Fuck.
I couldn’t linger at the desk forever, no matter how hard I prevaricated. Thankfully, my area of the bull pen was fairly deserted once I got back. Looked like the captain had been yelling at everybody this morning.
The day dragged by at the speed of purgatory. I tried to keep myself occupied with files, going over witness statements, looking into anything that could possibly be used to incriminate Trent, but I couldn’t find anything specific enough to be helpful. I only ate because Marla forced a cellophane-wrapped tuna sandwich on me around one, as well as a cup of the hideous break room coffee. “It’s not your mama’s cooking, but it’ll keep you going,” she said. That was as close to sympathy as I ever got from Marla, and I appreciated it.
“Thanks.”
Paula didn’t make it back to the precinct by the time five rolled around, and I was in no mood to wait any longer. I left a message on her phone asking her to call me as soon as she could, then hightailed it out of the bull pen like my feet were on fire. Fuck, I wanted to leave, just go home and be with my family for a while and not think about what a shit partner I was, inevitably letting Andreas down because I was twiddling my fucking thumbs in the middle of—
“Darren.”
Trent. Trent motherfucking Newberry was leaning against my car, the car I’d left in the precinct lot days ago because I’d been riding shotgun with Andreas ever since. I saw red. I wanted to rip him limb from fucking limb. I wanted to . . . not screw over our chances, faint though they might be, of wrapping this case up without more death, and Trent needed to be alive for that. Goddamn it. I needed to play nice.
I exhaled shakily. “Trent.”
“Hey . . . how are you holding up?”
Trent stepped a little closer. “I’m so sorry for how things went down. I tried to keep you out of it as much as possible. Ruffner’s a bad guy though, Darren. He was leading you down the wrong path.”
“You’re upset about us calling your family.” I said it with an air of resignation.
He shrugged. “Well, yeah, but he’s also a drug user. An addict. Who’s to say he wouldn’t get you hooked too? Especially since it seems like you guys were a little closer than most partners.” I knew that tone of his, although I’d never heard it directed at me before. That was jealousy.
Trent was almost close enough to touch now. “Whatever he told you, it’s not true.” His big, blue eyes captured mine, wide and clear with perfect sincerity. “I’m not the bad guy here, Darren. I swear it. You know you can trust me. You’ve known me so much longer than him.”
I never knew you. “That’s true,” I whispered. “But I can’t—I can’t talk about this right now. I have a lot of thinking to do tonight.”
His hand rose, and I watched it come at me like a bullet that I was too slow to dodge. He set it on my shoulder and curled his fingers in toward my neck, and it took all my willpower not to shudder. “You don’t have to think tonight if you don’t want to.” His thumb stroked over my collarbone. “I could help you put it off if you want to forget.”
There isn’t enough alcohol in the world. “I can’t. Not tonight, I need to— Damn it.” I shook my head and stepped back. “I need to go get my jacket. I left it upstairs.”
“Okay.” There was something like lust in his gaze, but he looked hungry for more than just me. He was on a winning streak, and fucking me would be the cherry on his sundae. I was just another goal, another way to beat Andreas. “If you change your mind, you know my number. I’m here for you, got it?”
“Yeah. I got it.” I turned around and headed back to the stairs. I really had forgotten my jacket, but I didn’t stop at the bull pen. I kept going all the way up to the fourth floor, not really thinking at this point, just so furious that I had to let it out somehow. There was one target for my ire that probably couldn’t hurt me right now. If he was on Trent’s side, I’d be screwed soon anyway.
Thibedeau’s light was still on. I pushed my way into his office, so angry I could barely see. He looked away from his computer screen and sneered. “Well, well. If it isn’t the world’s worst detective.”
“I think that title belongs to you.”
“Oh really? I’m not the one who missed my partner’s prescription drug habit. Or were you helping him hide it?” Thibedeau steepled his fingers in that stupid, condescending way he had. “Did he turn you so fast, Darren?”
“Who turned who?” I demanded. “Honestly, is this what you expected to find in Andreas’s locker? A bottle of pills in his ex-wife’s name, so easy to locate that you were back at your desk five minutes later? And you were so happy about it, weren’t you? You finally get to check that little box on your form and file him away for good. But it’s a lie, and I think that somewhere inside, you know it’s a lie.”
“Detective Corliss, listen to me—”
“No, you fucking listen.” I’d had it up to my goddamn eyebrows with listening. “You’ve suspected Andreas of being dirty for years, and you’ve never found anything incriminating. You didn’t even know he was HIV positive, and I bet there was a time you could have used that to drum him out of the force, or at least mandate that he be put on permanent desk duty,” and yep, there was the blink of acknowledgment I was expecting, the bastard, “but you didn’t. Because you had nothing. Now all of a sudden, you get some bullshit tipoff from Detective Newberry and you find the smoking gun? Halle-fucking-lujah? Did you really expect it to be that easy?” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you actually think it is that easy? Because if you do, you’re way less intelligent than you’d like people to think.”
“Are you here to tell me something new about your former partner?” Thibedeau gritted. “Because if not, you can leave, now. I’ll be talking to Captain Hamilton tomorrow about your disgraceful attitude toward authority.”
“Is that your problem with me? Do I not bend over far enough to lick your boots?” I shook my head. “No wonder you hate Andreas. But you’re wrong about him. Your evidence is flimsy, the guy who gave it to you is playing you, and if you’re really lucky, this won’t be the beginning of the end of your career.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m warning you.” My fire was dying, my anger spent along with most of my energy. I was exhausted. I could only imagine how Andreas felt right now. I wondered if he’d be at my apartment when I got home. Probably not—it was almost certainly under fresh surveillance after the scene at the precinct. “You’re investigating the wrong man. I hope it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass.”
I left with heavy feet and an aching head. I barely registered my surroundings as I drove to my apartment; it was kind of a miracle I made it back without stalling the car or running into a curb. I wanted to go home, back to my folks’ place, to sit with my mother and eat with my brother and share a beer with my stepdad. But I didn’t want to draw any more attention to them than necessary, so it was safer that I stayed away.
My apartment was empty. It figured. I turned on a few lights and drifted back into my bedroom to change. My bed was still a mess from this morning, and every crease in the sheets reminded me that last night, I’d slept here with Andreas. The night before that, we’d almost broken the bed frame. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so happy. And now . . .
By the time the knock came at my door, I was into my second beer and halfway through a cold slice of pizza that tasted like cardboard as I checked my email over and over again, hoping for a message from Andreas and coming up empty. Andreas wouldn’t bother to knock, and Trent wouldn’t do it so politely. Maybe Paula had stopped by? I got up and opened the door, only to find—
“Detective Corliss.”
It was Thibedeau. Fuck my life. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you about the right man.” He looked about a second away from tapping his patent leather shoes with impatience. “But not in the hallway, if you please.”
It took me a second to put it together, but as soon as I did—
“Let’s go for a drive.”
I couldn’t leave my apartment without being followed, and I was about to go insane. I didn’t dare call Darren. Or anyone, for that matter. There was no telling who was watching my every move and listening to my every call.
Which meant I couldn’t go near Darren. I couldn’t go near anyone involved in my investigation. We were at a critical juncture, a turning point that would make or break this case that I’d been working on for years, and if we didn’t make our move soon, we’d be back to square one. If we made the wrong move, people could get killed. Darren could get killed.
But we weren’t doing shit as long as that blue sedan was parked across the street from my building, or that lady kept passing down the sidewalk at exactly thirty-minute intervals. When I left around dinnertime to pick up some takeout, I was followed by a car and a bicycle. Shit, no wonder the precinct was short on resources—everyone was busy keeping an eye on IA cases.
If there was one faintly silver lining to having my every move watched, it was that if someone tried to target me in my apartment, there were cops watching. Not that I could guarantee they’d do anything about it, especially if they were in Trent’s pocket. Or not cops at all.
Well. So much for sleeping tonight.
To my surprise, though, it turned out exhaustion had other plans, and I crashed shortly after midnight. I might’ve kept on sleeping—I had the time off, after all—except my phone woke me
up at seven thirty.
Unrecognized number. Of course.
I picked it up. “Detective Ruffner.”
“It’s Thibedeau.”
Now wasn’t that a name I wanted to hear at the ass crack of dawn?
“What do you want?”
“I need to see you in my office. ASAP.”
I mouthed some curses, then muttered, “Fine.”
He hung up. No good-bye, no I’m not kidding about ASAP. Straight and to the point.
Sighing, I rolled out of bed and shuffled off to take a shower. Pity his straight-and-to-the-point-ness didn’t include just cutting to the chase and telling me I was fired. At least then I could be prepared and bring a box with me to empty out my desk. Oh fuck that shit. I’d take one from the precinct. If they were canning me on trumped-up charges after all these years, they could spare a fucking cardboard box.
I showered, debated shaving, and decided not to bother. Then I got dressed and headed to work to find out if I needed to apply for unemployment.
The blue sedan was gone, but as I left the parking lot, a black one followed me. A middle-aged guy spoke earnestly into his phone and watched me as I drove past, so I smiled and waved at him. He instantly turned away.
Yeah, thought so, buddy. Say hi to my boss. Or Trent.
I shuddered and kept driving.
I took the back staircase from the parking garage up to Thibedeau’s fourth-floor office so I’d cross as few paths as possible. By the third floor, I was well aware that my new prescription had not, in fact, completely killed the dizziness, but it was better. Sort of. I’d take it.
At his door, I glared at the lettering etched on the frosted glass.
Det. Mark Thibedeau
Internal Affairs Bureau
