by Brian Parker
“Yeah, seems like that’s the only thing I’m good at,” I grumbled.
She smiled. “Well, you are a good kisser, if that’s any consolation.”
I laughed bitterly. “The only reason you know that is because you were trying to build a case against me.”
“What was that just now, then?” she asked. “That was the most passion that I’ve ever felt from a simple kiss.” She lowered her chin and whispered, “It makes me want more.”
“I meant what I said. We can’t be together right now, regardless of how perfect, how much we get along, how—”
I stopped. This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I wasn’t as furious with the woman as I’d thought I was. She was just too…adorable. Even her stupid haircut fit her perfectly. I needed to distance myself from her for a while to see if I still felt the same way.
“I’m running late for an appointment,” I stated woodenly.
“Can I call you?”
“As Detective Townlain from Internal Affairs or as Katheryn, the woman whom I’ve become quite fond of?”
“We’re one and the same, Zach.”
I grimaced. I knew that mentality all too well. A committed cop was inseparable from their job. It was a part of them; it helped to define who they were as a person. I could never ask her to separate herself from her career—the same as I could never separate myself from my career.
“You’re right,” I said. “I need to work through some things. I’ll call you in a few days.”
She nodded, once again sending her hair in a thousand different directions, but her refusal to be sidelined shone through. “You better call me, Zach. Regardless of what happens.”
“Yeah. I will.” I stepped back, appraising her. She was sad, which probably meant the investigation against me wasn’t going well.
There wasn’t anything I could do about the IA dicks right now. I wanted to ask her who ordered the investigation, but I knew she wouldn’t answer while we were in the police headquarters, too many microphones and way too many prying eyes.
I left our conversation unfinished as I turned and walked quickly down the hallway toward Dr. Jones’ office. I was too close to the issue with this one and needed to put some distance between me and her.
So I did.
“You really need to redecorate this place,” I told Dr. Jasmine Jones as a way of greeting. “I don’t think you’ve changed anything in ten years.”
“I’m not sure which part is more disturbing,” she replied. “The fact that we’ve had a client and therapist relationship for that long or the fact that you recognized that not much has changed. Most of my clients don’t have an eye for that sort of thing.”
“I’m a detective, I get paid to notice details.”
“It only took you ten years to realize it.”
“I’m a slow learner.” I replied before shifting gears to get to the matter at hand. “You said you were getting emails about an ongoing investigation into my conduct as an officer and on my file, but my AI can’t find anything on the server. Who sent you the email?”
“Internal Affairs. They’re holding all of their cards close to the chest on this one.”
“Tell me about it. They’re also being sneaky, trying to entrap me into violating police regulations.”
“What?”
I gave her the five-minute version of what had transpired between one beautiful undercover IA detective, Katheryn Townlain, and myself. When I was finished, she was visibly angry.
“That’s… That’s entrapment,” she stated. “Isn’t that illegal?”
I shrugged. “Depends on your definition of entrapment and which judge examines the case. It would be a cut-and-dry definition if I was a civilian, but since I’m a cop, tricking me into violating the law isn’t really a defense. We all know that there is a hard and fast line against relationships beyond friendship with an NOPD contractor. They just provided a pretty face with a convincing backstory and tried to get me to bite to wrap up their case.”
“But it’s bullshit,” Jasmin asserted.
“You’re goddamned right it is,” I agreed. “But what would have been my defense—that I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants because a pretty girl happened to come into my life at the opportune moment, even though I knew it was expressly forbidden?”
Love it or hate it, IA played their cards exactly like they should have. They played by a different set of rules than the rest of us. Putting a cop into a compromising situation was legal for them to do if they suspected ethics violations under the department’s Immorality Clauses. Thankfully, I’d kept my senses and not taken Katheryn up on her advances when she posed as a contractor.
“I still don’t like it, Zach. I’ve worked here long enough to know that something like that isn’t done very often. They’re gunning hard for you.”
“Yeah, I’ve got Andi looking through the NOPDnet and MainFrame to find out who ordered this investigation. So far, we’ve came up with nothing.”
“Doesn’t that point a finger at them? If everything was on the up-and-up with their investigation, why do they need to hide information?”
“There’s no requirement for them to disclose any information about on-going investigations, so they’re keeping everything on a separate, disconnected server—or worse, analog,” I said. “It’s a smart move on their part, Andi could wipe everything they have and not leave a trace of her presence there if they were operating on the police server.”
Okay, that part wasn’t technically true. Andi was a good hacker, but I didn’t spend a lot of money on those types of programs, so everything she knew how to do had been through trial and error. She could probably break into any secure file on MainFrame, but she’d leave a path of destruction as wide as the rushing water from a broken levee.
“So, what are you going to do about it?” Dr. Jones asked.
I shrugged. “What can I do?”
My chair screeched on the tile floor as I pushed back from her desk and stood up. I crammed my hands in my pants pockets and walked aimlessly to the window. “I can’t change what I’m currently doing because that would indicate to whoever was watching me that I had something to hide. That means, I continue on with my current investigation and follow a few leads on other things I’ve gained over the past few days.”
“What are you going to do about that lying bitch detective?”
I thought of Katheryn’s cute, button-nose and the way the corner of her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “I really don’t blame her for anything. She was following orders and admirably, she pulled herself out when things got out of control.”
“She could have single-handedly gotten you fired.”
“Probably. It would’ve been the straw that broke the camel’s back; that’s for sure. I’ve done a lot of things that would have gotten an average cop relieved. So far, my saving grace has been solving the high-profile cases that came down the pipe toward Easytown, which is why my current investigation needs to go well.”
“What happens when those run out or your luck gives way and you don’t solve the big case before something major happens?”
“Well, then I guess I’ll get shit-canned.”
I started to go back to my chair across from the doctor, but thought better of it, and sat heavily on the couch instead. “So, we gonna do this therapy thing or what?” I asked.
Dr. Jones sighed and used the desk to help lift herself up. There was a noticeable bulge in the front of her dress that wasn’t there the last time we talked. What’s it been? I asked myself. Two months? Three?
She’d been instrumental in helping me get Sadie off the street when the mayor’s people were looking for her. That was in February. I hadn’t been in any type of altercations that required special therapy sessions recently… Was that case the last time I’d seen her?
“Ah…” I hesitated. What if I was wrong? “Congratulations?”
Her hand went to her stomach and she smoothed the dress down. “Thank you. We’re excited; m
y six-year-old especially. She can’t wait to be a big sister.”
“I’m sure she’ll be great.”
“Thanks,” she said, walking over to the wingback chair she sat in for our sessions. “Okay, the main reason I wanted to bring you in today was to let you know about the investigation; you’ve stepped into that one up to your knees. Part of helping you out—as a friend and as your therapist—is ensuring that your records are straight on my end, which I’ve done. Getting you here, today, will also look good from the clinical standpoint that you are seeking counseling even when not mandated by the department. That shows self-awareness and emotional control versus someone who has moved beyond the ability to feel emotions.”
“Great. I know you didn’t have a lot of time,” I replied, sitting up. “So, I’ll just be—”
“I’ll make time,” Dr. Jones stated, the edge to her voice letting me know she was serious. “You made a conscious decision to move over to the therapy couch. Why?”
“I felt like lying down.”
“Bullshit, Zach. I’ve been thinking about this since you told me about the IA detective—Katheryn, was it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did they send her after you if you’re seeing Teagan? The few times I’ve talked to you since you began dating, you were happy. Your medical profile even states that you’ve been removed from the watch list of stroke and kidney failure victims. What’s their game? Is there something I don’t know?”
I sighed, louder than I meant to. “Teagan walked out on me last Friday. Actually, she walked out on everything and moved to Indonesia.”
“That’s… Hmm, that’s a major life change. I thought you and I were good.”
I glanced over at her. “What do you mean? Of course we’re good.”
“You’re supposed to contact me as soon as you can when a major life event occurs. I would have expected a call on Saturday or Sunday.”
“I’ve been busy, which, consequently, is one of the reasons Teagan left. I’m always too busy.”
Dr. Jones did what she did best, by steering the conversation along with gentle pushes in the right direction and prods to keep me talking. After our thirty minutes stretched to over forty-five, I felt better. Truly better. Teagan’s departure hadn’t been entirely my fault, it was a shared failure on both of our parts. I’d ignored her needs and desires, while she’d failed to tell me what she wanted or expected, until it was too late.
Jasmin gave us both an F in Communication 101, a little bit of college humor since I’d been dating a girl more than a decade my junior. Everybody’s got jokes.
“You’re gonna be okay, Zach,” the doctor said with an affectionate hand on my upper arm as she saw me to the door to her office. “You’ve got a lot of flaws, but you’re willing to work on them. Believe me, that’s much better than most of my clients.”
“Thanks,” I answered. “Glad I’m not a lost cause.”
“Not even close. I’ll take care of the medical side of the investigation; recommend they retain you and all of that, of course. To be honest, though, if they’re out for blood, I don’t know if they’ll consider my word over Internal Affairs.”
“Every little bit helps. The fact that I’m not a psychopath has gotta be a mark in the WIN column.”
“You’d be surprised at the psychological profiles of some of the people around here.”
“No, I really wouldn’t,” I said, thinking of that looney patrolman, Tidewell.
“So, what’s your next step? How are you gonna fight this?”
I admired her desire to help, it showed that she was a true friend. Those were hard to come by these days.
“I’m going to do my job,” I answered her honestly. “There’s nothing I can do to affect the path of the investigation. I have your endorsement and Katheryn says that she’s recommending retaining me as well. Both of those are huge. I just wish Andi could snoop into the case they’re building against me. I’d like to see all the bullshit up front before it surprises me later.
“Doesn’t matter, though,” I continued. “I’m juggling a few major investigations right now, so the sooner I can focus on each of those and close them out, the better.”
She nodded in understanding. My work was what grounded me, and made me feel normal. The best thing for me to do was dig in and get to work. “Be safe, Zach. Don’t do anything stupid that will intensify their witch hunt.”
“Oh, you know me. Even when I try to keep my nose clean, trouble seems to come along and throw shit in my face.”
“Maybe you should try ducking once in a while,” Jasmin counseled.
“That’s a move I never learned, Doc.” I opened the door. “I’ll see ya around.”
TWELVE: TUESDAY
“What’s the closest address to where we are, Andi?” I asked, unconsciously motioning to Drake beside me in the Jeep.
“It’s up to you, Zach. You’re perfectly in the middle of the two. Hector Gonsalvez lives and works in Leonidas, while Farouk Karimov lives and works in Easytown.”
I glanced at Drake. “Any preference?”
“Yeah, let’s do the easy one first.”
“Andi, notify the Leonidas Precinct of our arrival time. I want the house locked down by the time we get there to issue the search and arrest warrants.”
“They’ve already been notified and were on standby. I’ll let them know that you’re en route to their location now.”
While the Jeep made the drive out to Leonidas, Drake and I chatted about sports and where to eat after the search. Both of us agreed to the Pharaoh for lunch, but disagreed on the Astros chances for the year. They’d picked up a few new pitchers and a power hitter in the off-season, so he was hopeful for a conference title. I doubted they’d do much more than participate and end near the bottom of the charts like they had for the last nine seasons. Seriously, the Astros stank and they needed to spend some money on enhancement upgrades for their players.
The Gonsalvez residence was on lock-down by the time we arrived in Leonidas a little after 10:30. I found the sergeant in charge at the scene to verify that they’d interrupted all communication signals coming in or going out. We needed to keep this guy from alerting Karimov that the noose was tightening around his neck.
“Yes, sir,” the officer replied. “Standard signal disrupters for anything digital and or satellite, we cut the hard lines to the house, and we’re actively intercepting all drones within a two-mile perimeter. The house is as isolated as we can make it.”
“Thanks. Has there been any communication with the team at Gonsalvez’s work?”
He nodded. “Yup. They breached about four minutes before you got here. Typical snatch and grab operation. The homeowner will be on scene shortly.”
What the sergeant termed as shortly turned out to be almost immediately. Two black and whites rumbled up to our location, the officers wrangling the Hispanic male I’d seen last week at the riot. The four cops from the vehicles prodded the shackled male along until he stood in front of me.
“Hector Gonsalvez, have you been made aware of why you’re being arrested this morning and why we’re searching your residence?” I asked.
“Who the heck are you?”
I introduced myself and went over his rights, just in case the arresting officers forgot to do it back at the furniture shop. Then I told him he was suspected of inciting a riot, and possibly connected with the manufacture and sale of illegal substances.
“You—I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Yeah, I was at the rights demonstration last week, but I didn’t incite no riot. And what’s up with the drug charge? Is that just standard these days for you cops? You already plant your stash on me?”
“Synthaine,” I hissed. “You heard of it?”
“Yeah, sure. Who hasn’t? You can’t go anywhere without seeing some bloody-eyed junkie these days. Maybe you should spend your time hunting down those people instead of hard-working, tax-paying citizens.”
“If we don’t fi
nd anything in your home, then you don’t have anything to worry about the drug charges,” I replied, choosing to ignore his barb about the police department’s lack of control over the rampant drug use that’d taken hold over the city.
“I can’t believe this is happening, man,” Gonsalvez practically cried. “I didn’t do nuthin’ but help organize a march for human rights to work. I’m gonna get fired—probably replaced by a robot or something and lose my house. My wife—” he stopped, and a look of sheer terror crossed his face. “My kids don’t know you’re here, do they? They’re not inside, right?”
“No, Mr. Gonsalvez. Your children are at school.”
“I can’t let them see me in chains, man. That would ruin their lives. This isn’t fair. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Let’s go inside, Mr. Gonsalvez,” I said gently, beginning to wonder if I’d made a mistake. Either he was a convincing liar or he hadn’t done anything that he felt warranted an arrest and a search of his home.
Leonidas officers were in full search mode when we entered. Machines checked for hidden doorways and hiding places, while others sampled the air and fabrics for evidence of drugs. A middle-aged woman sat on the family’s couch and she jumped to her feet when Hector Gonsalvez shuffled into the room. She lit into him in Spanish, which Andi translated in real-time for me. The wife wanted to know why we were here, what had he done to bring us into their home, was he involved with all the horrible things we’d accused him of, and the like. They were basically the same standard questions that someone who has no clue what’s happened would ask in this type of situation.
The sinking feeling in my stomach descended even further.
I’d wanted to keep my nose clean, but serving a couple of warrants outside of my precinct and enlisting the help of officers I didn’t know, all for a wild goose chase would not look good in the eyes of the reviewing officers for my case. Talk about a shit show if nothing came of this.
I sat beside Hector and his wife, Silvia, on their couch. “Tell me straight, Mr. Gonsalvez. Are you involved in the formulation, manufacture, distribution or sale of any controlled substance?”
