by J. H. Croix
“They ain’t any of ours,” he replied quietly, his lips twisting as we approached Maclin. Louder now, he called out. “Miss me already?”
Maclin’s jaw twitched. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded sheet of paper. “I have a warrant here to search your car.”
“What for?” Zach’s fists clenched beside me, his muscles tightening as his face reddened. Bracing myself to jump in and hold him back if he took a swing at Maclin, which was starting to seem like a real possibility, I took a step closer to him. “Let me see that,” Zach muttered.
He snatched the paper from Maclin’s hand, yanking it open with a snap as he read it. He crumbled it up when he was done, snarling. “I don’t know what lies you had to tell to get that, but I will find out.”
“It’s legit?” My stomach sank, but my brain geared up into problem-solving mode. If Maclin searched Zach’s truck, he would find the files on my father. I had to think of some reasonable justification for him having them there.
Zach nodded to answer my question, shoving the balled-up paper into my hands. I was only halfway done unfolding it when the first of Maclin’s men stepped forward to examine Zach’s car.
I’d met him before. He was a young, fresh-faced guy with a self-important swagger. These Internal Affairs asses were the bane of my existence. “You mind unlocking your vehicle for us, sir?”
“I do fucking mind,” Zach said as he unlocked the truck. “But that doesn’t matter much now, does it?”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t,” Maclin replied cheerfully, signaling to the two men waiting behind the truck. “Go ahead, gentlemen.”
Less than a minute later, the fresh-faced jerk pulled a file out from under Zach’s passenger seat. “What’s this?”
“What’s it look like?” Zach bit out, defiant to the very end. “It’s a file. I am a cop, you know?”
“For now,” Maclin mused almost absently, holding out his hand for the file. “Are you authorized to remove this from the station?”
“None of your business.”
Maclin laughed humorlessly. “It is my business, Mr. Taylor. Everything you do is. You know the drill, please put your wrists together. It will cause less of a scene that way.”
“You’re arresting him?” I spat. I couldn’t believe this shit. Dangerously close to taking that swing myself, I forced myself to breathe slowly, stuffing my hands in my pockets and balling my fists. “What happened to collegiality?”
Maclin hardly even looked my way. “Mr. Taylor here is well past his chances of being shown the respect of collegiality. He’s not authorized to remove classified files from the station.”
I never even saw the files. It was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
The arrogant young jerk cuffed Zach and took him away. Maclin turned to me. “We’ll see you in the station tomorrow for questioning, Mr. Lovett. Do be sure not to be late.”
His disingenuous smile made me realize he’d been watching me from the corner of his eye all along. Wayne Maclin knew a lot more than he was letting on.
Fuck.
Chapter Fourteen
Niki
Karen frowned as she opened the door for me, curiosity and confusion mingling in her eyes. “This is a surprise.”
“I’m sorry to barge in on you.”
She laughed, stepping aside to let me in. “You never barge. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Neither was I, but on my way home, I realized I didn’t really want to be alone right now. The confrontation with the men at the library had left me rattled and unsure. I needed my friend more than a warm bath and a book, my other options.
In the heat of the moment, I forgot to be scared. But the moment had passed now, and the icy tentacles of fear from their first visit were knotting in my chest. I wanted to protect Sonny from them, and I didn’t want anything to do with them, but I didn’t know how to do any of that.
The first step in my plan was talking it out with Karen while making dinner. I would take it from there. I didn’t have step two in mind yet.
“I know I should’ve called.” I held up the grocery bags I was carrying as we walked to her kitchen. “But I brought food in case you didn’t get around to going to the store earlier. I thought we could have dinner together.”
Karen’s frown deepened. “What happened?”
“I’ll tell you about it later. For now, there are two strawberry milkshakes in one of these bags with our names on them if you’re interested.”
Frown dropping from her face instantly, Karen took one of the bags from me and started rummaging through it as I went through the other. “You don’t show up unannounced often, especially not bearing treats. You can tell me what happened later, but just tell me now if you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.” At least, I thought I was. My palms were clammy, and my hands were shaky, but I was alive and kicking. I was counting that as a win. “I just didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Excellent.” Karen’s smile was bright enough to lighten my mood. She found the milkshakes, passing me mine before she started packing away the rest of the goodies I brought. “I’m never much in the mood to be alone at night. You wanna stay over? We can have a slumber party.”
“That sounds heavenly.” An evening with Karen was sure to do the trick. She always had a ton of girly life hacks she wanted to try out. Between those and Karen just being Karen, I wouldn’t even remember feeling nervous a couple of hours from now. “Can I help you make dinner?”
“Of course! You start chopping the vegetables, and I’ll boil the water to get the pasta going.” I’d stopped at the store on the way over to buy the ingredients for Karen’s favorite homemade dish. She called it comfort pasta and basically, it involved chicken, pasta and whatever fresh vegetables she could get her hands on.
She lathered the entire thing with cheese sauce and baked it once it was done. The first time she explained it to me, I’d been skeptical. Then I tried it. Changed my life.
Soon, the scent of spiced chicken drifted through the apartment, and the mundane activity of puttering around the kitchen helped my tension start to unwind. Karen’s latest music craze—some kind of French music—served as our background noise. Her apartment was as big, or small rather, as mine, but it was just as homey and warm. Instead of bookshelves against her walls, Karen had art. Really cheap, knock off art, but art nonetheless.
Karen considered herself a scholar in the school of life, in the least snobby way possible. Usually when people said stuff like that, it was snooty and uppity. Not true in Karen’s case.
She dropped out of high school during her junior year and never went back to any kind of formal schooling. Some people might look down their noses at her, but I didn’t agree.
Academics weren’t all that mattered in life. No one I knew had more street smarts than her, and in many ways, she knew far more about life than I did. Her carefree, inquisitive attitude was refreshing.
Masters in Greek Mythology be damned. I spent four years of my life slaving away to be called a Master in something.
Karen was a Master at life. No years in college required for the title. She never let her setbacks keep her down and loved living her life her way. She had no pretenses about anything. No fuss, no muss.
The chicken was sizzling in the pan when she turned to me, milkshake in hand. “You ready to talk about it yet?”
I nodded, suddenly eager to get it all off my chest. “This man came into the library a while ago. He started asking questions about Sonny.”
“Okay,” she said slowly, tilting her head as she listened. “Who was it?”
“Internal Affairs.” I told her everything then, starting with being questioned by that Wayne Maclin person and ending with the men in suits taking all the records about Sonny’s father we had in the library.
I only left out parts I felt would make her worry too much. Karen and I cooked as I talked. She was just pouring the cheese sauce o
ver the dish to let it bake as I finished. “Then they left, completely ignoring me when I told them they were taking library property.”
Her green eyes were wide as she slid the baking pan in the oven. “You mean stealing.”
“What?”
“They were stealing library property. No need to make it sound nicer than it was.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Did you call the cops?” she asked, picking up a kitchen timer shaped like a cupcake. It was faded and old, but Karen swore by it.
“No,” I admitted, starting to wonder if maybe I should’ve called after all. “The men warned me to stay away from Sonny. They told me not to get involved. I didn’t know if calling the cops would be getting more involved. Also, I don’t want him to get in trouble. It’s not his fault. The first guy was from Internal Affairs. I don’t know about the others, but I don’t trust any of them.”
“And yet you trust the subject of their investigation?” she asked, disbelief sparking in her eyes. Clearly, she thought I was being an idiot. “Aren’t Internal Affairs supposed to be the good guys trying to keep corruption out of the force?”
“Usually, yes. I think so, but maybe not always.” They had to be the bad guys this time, I could feel it in my bones. And it wasn’t just because I thought Sonny was good looking. “You should’ve seen these guys. They’re all creepy and intimidating.”
Karen cracked a small smile, but worry furrowed her brow. She finished her milkshake, tossing the cup in the trash as she checked on our dinner. “We still have about ten minutes to go.”
The casserole smelled wonderful. Telling Karen about what happened lifted a weight from my shoulders. I was beyond relieved I’d finally talked to her.
“I just don’t trust those men. They give off bad vibes,” I explained. “Everything in me tells me they can’t be trusted.”
Karen paused, contemplating something as she stared out at the fading sunset through her kitchen window. “How can you be sure of that?”
“Because they made my skin crawl.”
She chuckled, her eyes still worried when she tore them away from the horizon to meet mine. “Internal Affairs are supposed to be the good guys. They must usually investigate the bad guys. How can you be sure you didn’t only feel like they were giving off bad vibes because they were insinuating a guy you like wasn’t a good guy?”
“I just know it.” How could I explain it better? “You know that feeling you get when you’ve forgotten something? You don’t immediately know what it is, but you just know you have.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s like that. I don’t know these people, and I don’t know much about what’s going on, but there’s something off about all three of those men who have come to the library.”
“Maybe, but most people will tell you there’s something off about Sonny’s family. They’re in a lot of trouble. And they have been for a long time. Whatever’s going on now, I have no doubt it’s linked to their dad. No matter what you say about Sonny, his dad is definitely a bad guy.”
“I don’t know about that anymore either.” From what I’d read about Roy Lovett, Sonny was right to have his suspicions about the case. I was by no means convinced of his innocence, or anything that drastic, but it seemed off that there would be redacted files well after the entire case had played out in public. What could there be to hide at this point?
“Are you being serious right now? You think Roy Lovett is one of the good guys too?”
I shook my head fast. “No. No, not at all. I just don’t know that he’s all bad. There might be more to the story than we think.”
“There is, but it’s not about them. It’s about you. I don’t know who’s good or bad, but you can’t deny they’re in some kind of trouble. Being around Sonny and helping with whatever you’re helping him with, that’s only going to make more trouble for you. It already is.”
“I can’t turn my back on him. He needs my help.” I realized how I sounded. I knew I wasn’t obliged to help, but the protectiveness that surged in my chest earlier hadn’t subsided. I wanted to help Sonny, simple as that. “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying the night?”
“It’ll be fun,” Karen said. She bent over and checked the food, reaching for an oven mitt to pull it out of the oven. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat and talk about happier things. I’m not going to convince you not to help him, I can see that. You’ve promised to be careful, so please do. Let’s forget about Internal Affairs and men in suits for tonight though, okay?”
“Okay.” I reached into the kitchen cabinet and got out two plates, setting them on the counter as she retrieved silverware for us. “No more talk about men in suits.”
I managed to keep my promise. We enjoyed dinner and later, we applied homemade face masks and watched a romantic comedy in our pajamas. Karen had walked to my apartment with me to pack an overnight bag once we were done with dinner.
Karen made up the couch for me while we were watching television. By the time she went to bed, I was ready to crash, and the stress of the day was forgotten.
My phone buzzed on her coffee table as I started dozing off, and I grabbed it, laughing when I saw the cat meme Karen texted me from her room. When my phone went off again, I assumed it was another message from Karen until I realized it was ringing.
Frowning, I picked it up. No one called me this time of night usually. But someone was, and they were calling from a restricted number. I slid my thumb across the screen, apprehension building as I pressed it to my ear. “Hello?”
Silence met my greeting. Loud, deafening silence. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
Still nothing. Drowsiness vanishing fast, I stabbed my thumb onto the end call button and threw the phone to the foot of the couch.
My heart was hammering, cold fear sliding through me. I blinked into the darkness of Karen’s living room, scared to move so much as a muscle. Pulling the blanket she gave me up to my chin, I switched the television back on and tried to lose myself in reruns.
Nothing worked to lessen the fear building in my chest. Maybe Karen was right. Maybe I was getting myself in way too deep.
Chapter Fifteen
Sonny
“Lovett, get in here!” Chief Harris’s voice rang out when I stepped into the station the next morning. None of my co-workers paid any attention to me, but it looked like they were studiously avoiding meeting my eyes.
The conference room doors were closed, as were all the interrogation room doors further down the hall. I didn’t have to guess who was occupying them. There were Internal Affairs cruisers in the parking lot outside, the heaviness of their presence permeating through the office even though I hadn’t seen them yet.
“What’s up, Chief?” I asked, standing in Harris’s doorway.
“Wayne Maclin is here today. Doing some questioning. He wants to talk to you next.”
Oh, joy. I knew it was coming, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. “I’ll let him know I’m here.”
I walked into the office then, carefully shutting the door behind me. I didn’t want anyone listening in to the next part of the conversation. “What do you want me to tell him?”
Harris sighed a deep, exhausted sound. “You tell him the truth, son. It’s the only real choice here. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Harris had my back. I couldn’t ask for much more. I was as safe as I could be, given the circumstances. I hadn’t done a damn thing wrong technically, but I knew it wouldn’t look good for me that Zach had any files connected to my father with him. “I’ll do that.”
“Good luck. Remember, answer what you’re asked. Don’t say anything more, or anything less.” Basic techniques I would never forget.
I nodded. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Maclin was waiting for me in one of the interrogation rooms. It wasn’t standard practice to use these spaces for his interviews, but Maclin was a dick. He probably got off on seeing us on the wrong side of our own i
nterrogation tables.
He looked up when I walked in, closing the folder he had in front of him. A smug smile stretched across his face, and I forcefully reminded myself not to haul off and punch him. “Mr. Lovett. Thank you for joining me.”
“Don’t thank me, Maclin. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be here, and you know it.” I wasn’t in the mood to fuck around with him today. “What do you want to know?”
Gesturing to the seat across from him, the suspect’s chair, he made a show of straightening his immaculate suit. “Get comfortable, Lovett. You’re going to be in here for a while.”
“Even so, I’ll stand.” I walked to the corner of the room, leaning against the wall with my hands in my pockets. I refused to give him the satisfaction of allowing him to treat me like a suspect. “Fire away.”
He studied me for a moment, shrugging as he acquiesced. “Files relating to your father’s case were found in Taylor’s car.”
“Really?” I widened my eyes innocently. “I wonder why.”
Maclin pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing to slits. “I was hoping you might be able to help us with that. See, Harris told us he was the one who told Zach to take the files with him.”
I shrugged, my brain going numb with relief that Harris was covering for us. My curiosity about why teased at the edges of my thoughts, but I didn’t have time to let my focus meander. “He’s the boss. Whatever he says, goes.”
“Yes,” Wayne mused. “It does. Did you know about it?”
“Why would I?” If Harris said he gave Zach the instruction, there wasn’t a reason I would’ve known about it. A brilliant cover. Disproving it wouldn’t be easy. Even Internal Affairs wouldn’t point fingers at Harris without a considerable amount of evidence.
He pushed up off the chair and turned his back to me, seemingly examining himself in the mirror side of the one-way glass. Without turning, his eyes met mine in the reflection. “Apparently, he was afraid someone on the inside was trying to take the files and thought it would be safer if Taylor took them with him for safekeeping.”
