Cash Braddock

by Ashley Bartlett

  I could easily pick out Sergeant Ionescu and Deputy DA Walton across from the detectives. Ionescu looked weathered and tanned. He was slim, but built. The sleeves of his dress shirt were taut against his muscled arms. His sun bleached hair was military close. The guy looked like he belonged on a boat or a farm or blowing up a third world country. Or whatever it was that good ol’ boys did. He should have been anywhere but a conference room in the district attorney’s office. Walton was obese and flamboyant. It was already over one hundred outside, but he was wearing a forest green sweater vest, a faintly pink dress shirt, and a beige suit. Ionescu managed to look calm, restrained. Walton looked bored.

  I was careful to not look at the detectives. Reyes had finally gone home for a shower. His hair was artfully combed back. His fresh suit was less disheveled and a lot cleaner. Laurel had also changed her clothes and combed back her hair. I wondered if either of them ever noticed that they had the same haircut. Probably not.

  Walton handed out copies of the agreement we were about to sign. He walked us through it page by page and outlined the specifics of the deal. It was the very long version of what Kent had already told me. The lawyers nodded respectfully. The detectives took notes. Ionescu stared longingly out the window. When Walton was finished, he asked if there were any questions. Laurel put up a finger, but finished writing a note before she spoke.

  “Yes, Laurie?” Walton asked.

  Laurel gave him a look that could have killed. If he was looking at her. He wasn’t. I watched Reyes reach under the table and squeeze Laurel’s leg just above the knee. She took a deep breath and schooled her expression into one of reverence.

  “There is the matter of Henry Brewer. He is still at large and we can reasonably assume that Ms. Braddock will be a target,” Laurel said.

  “You’re not concerned about Mr. Xiao?”

  “Less so. Brewer likely still believes that Xiao was trying to help him.” Reyes squeezed again. “Sir,” she added.

  “What do you propose, sweetheart?”

  I thought the first look was bad. This look was enough to make a normal person cry. This look was a death wish. Reyes wasn’t even squeezing anymore. He had a vice grip on her leg. Laurel put her hand on Reyes’s wrist and forced a smile.

  “I believe it would be wise to divert part of our team to help track down Brewer,” Laurel said.

  “I think it would be a waste of time and department resources,” Ionescu spoke for the first time. His voice was deep and masculine and condescending and everything I expected it would be. “Brewer will turn up quickly. He has ties to the community. We have also been in extensive contact with the El Dorado Sheriff’s Department. He makes them look bad so they are being cooperative. Sheriff Tolson is personally invested in seeing Brewer brought in.”

  I bet he was. If I remembered correctly, Henry’s grandmother was friends with Tolson’s wife. They had a knitting group. Henry’s behavior didn’t look good for anyone.

  Reyes jumped in. “While that may be, we are still responsible for Braddock’s safety. Kallen and I think that patrols should be increased around her house.”

  “Which would potentially jeopardize the investigation,” Ionescu said.

  I glanced at Kent, but she gave a quick shake of her head so I didn’t speak. Which was fine. I enjoyed being discussed while I was sitting five feet away.

  “What do you think should be done?” Walton asked Ionescu.

  “Kallen’s cover makes it reasonable to spend time at Braddock’s house. Having a detective inside would be far superior to a noticeable police presence in the neighborhood.”

  Walton closed his notebook. “That settles it, then.”

  I don’t know who was more unhappy about that resolution. Me or Laurel.

  *

  Rookie boy brought me back to County so I could be released. When my clothing and possessions had been returned to me, I was allowed to walk out into the blinding heat of downtown. My phone was dead. I was a solid twenty blocks away from home. This was going to be a long walk. I put on my sunglasses, thankful they had been in my pocket instead of Henry’s rental. I had only taken two steps before I saw the large, baby blue truck double-parked at the curb. I turned the other direction. Laurel got out of the truck and came toward me.

  “Don’t,” I said and kept walking.

  “Just let me give you a ride home.” She grabbed my arm.

  “I’d rather walk.”

  “That will take you an hour. Longer in this heat. We don’t need to talk. Just let me drive you.”

  If I let her drive me, I could be home and drunk a lot faster. Except I didn’t get drunk. And I didn’t think poetry was going to make me feel better. But at least I could see my cat. Fucking unconditional love, that was what I needed. I turned toward the truck, disgusted with myself.

  The door cracked and popped like it always did. The noise was an affront. Laurel climbed behind the wheel and pulled into traffic.

  “I’m sorry,” Laurel said.

  “You said we didn’t need to talk.”

  Laurel nodded and concentrated on driving. I hated watching her drive. I hated watching her. She was everything I was attracted to. On top on that, she had conviction and a killer right hook. Then again, all of that was probably a lie. I wondered how much of what I had fallen for was specifically engineered to make me attracted to her. Was this her normal haircut or did she cut it to fit a profile? Was this her usual wardrobe, or had some pencil pusher at Sac PD designed it to make her more my type? What if she wasn’t even gay?

  I was trying to piss myself off. I had literally dug through the woman’s closet. Everything in her apartment showed that she was exactly who she said she was. Plus, that photo of her as a teen definitely suggested she was a lesbian. Not to mention the hot sex. Okay, she was gay.

  We went three blocks before I broke my own rule.

  “What’s the deal with Walton?”

  “He’s an old friend of my mother’s.”

  “And he’s known you since you were an infant?” That much was obvious.

  “Basically, yes. I avoid him like the plague because he treats me like shit.”

  “How did he land my case?”

  “I asked him.”

  I nodded. That sounded like a stupid idea to me. “Why?”

  “I knew he would give me special treatment.”

  “Smooth. Make sure the deputy DA is in your pocket. That way, if anyone finds out you were fucking the person you were investigating, he will look the other way.” I settled into my subject, into my anger. “This is why I don’t buy into the system. You wanted to know. This right here is why. As long as your mommy is friends with the deputy DA, you can do whatever the hell you want. Nice moral code, Kallen. Really. I’m so glad the system has been kind to you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck me?”

  “Yeah, fuck you. I’m sorry life was tough for you. But I would trade my parents’ disinterest for your uncle’s love any day.” She took the next turn at a brutal speed. “You want to know why I asked Brian to take the case? I knew he would cut a better deal for you and Nate. I called him at six a.m. on a Saturday. I interrupted his tee time.” Was that golf? Well, gosh if she had interrupted his tee time, it must have been a big deal. “I’m going to be indebted to that piece of shit excuse for a human. For your ass. To keep your ass out of jail.”

  “You got my ass put in jail,” I shouted.

  “No, you did. You’re a drug dealer. That was your decision, not mine. Stop blaming other people when things don’t go your way.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do. You claim some sort of enlightenment as if you’re better because you chose not to buy into the system. As if choosing the people around you is easy. Everyone else is weak because they do what is expected out of normal fucking human beings.”

  “They are weak. You’re weak.” This wasn’t the time for pulled punches.

  “No. Sometimes, strength is making the har
d decision and making it work.”

  “Christ, now you’re going to tell me that you’re changing the system from within instead of rejecting it, right, Stevo?”

  “No. I’m just saying that you can’t reject every institution. Some of them are broken, some can be fixed, and some of them you just don’t understand. But it’s childish to claim that you reject them all.” Her arrogance was astounding.

  “I never claimed that.”

  “You’re right. You pick and choose. That’s not how adulthood works.”

  “You’re seriously lecturing me on adulthood? Thanks, I think Sacramento County Jail already gave me the extended version of that lecture.”

  Laurel sighed. “This isn’t productive.”

  “No shit,” I said. “We disagree on basically everything. You just lied and told me that you agreed.”

  “That’s the thing, though. I don’t disagree with you.” Her tone made me believe her. Which was just insulting. She had proven pretty well that her tone was a tool of manipulation.

  “Yeah, that rant was pretty indicative of agreement.”

  “I’m angry at you,” she said.

  “Good.”

  “But the only thing I lied about was my job.”

  “And that I was your job.” That was an important detail.

  “And I’m sorry for that. I really am.”

  “Look, I’m stuck with you. I don’t see any way out of that right now.”

  “Neither do I. You’re going to have to trust me again.”

  “I can’t.” How could she ever imagine that I would trust her?

  “What can I do?”

  “You can’t do shit. You targeted me. It was a planned betrayal.”

  The anger seemed to drain out of her. “I didn’t know you.” Her tone was pleading, desperate.

  “And you still don’t. Don’t go soft on me now just because you feel bad for fucking me to get ahead, Detective.” I spit the title at her.

  “I didn’t fuck you. I lo—”

  “Pull over. Let me out.”

  “What?”

  “Let me out of the truck. I’d rather walk.” Laurel slowed, but didn’t pull over. “Pull the fucking truck over.” I opened my door and she slammed on the brakes.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Walking.” I got out and slammed the door behind me. If the only truth she had told me was that she loved me, I didn’t want to hear it.

  “Cash, please.” I made the mistake of looking back. Her forearms were braced on the wheel. She looked young and small. “I didn’t know.” Her voice cracked.

  I believed her. And I hated myself for it. But believing her wasn’t enough for redemption. So I walked away. I needed to go home. Feed my cat. Read poetry. Do something other than look at Laurel Kallen.

  Everything I’d built was in pieces. A part of me knew that I was to blame. Hell, a part of me had always expected that it would fall apart. Selling drugs didn’t exactly engender a feeling of security. I didn’t fault her for that. But she had held up a mirror to me. I didn’t like what I’d seen.

  The slow rumble of her engine followed me until I reached the corner of a one-way street. I turned so she couldn’t follow me. She idled for a long time before the hum of her engine faded as she drove away. I loathed the part of me that wanted her to come back.

  I’d find a way to make this work. I’d feed pieces of information to the police in exchange for my freedom. I’d build protective walls between my dealing and the farm. I’d make enough for the mortgage and Nate’s tuition. But I couldn’t forgive her because I couldn’t forgive myself.

  I was broken, but I lied and told myself it didn’t matter because none of us are whole.

  About the Author

  Ashley Bartlett was born and raised in California. Her life consists of reading, writing, and editing. Most of the time Ashley engages in these pursuits while sitting in front of a coffee shop with her wife.

  It’s a glamorous life.

  She is an obnoxious, sarcastic, punk-ass, but her friends don’t hold that against her. She lives in Sacramento, but you can find her at ashbartlett.com.

  Other Ashley Bartlett Titles Available Via Amazon

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