Fahey's Flaw

by Jenna Byrnes

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Fahey’s Flaw

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-929-9

  ©Copyright Jenna Byrnes 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright December 2015

  Edited by Rebecca Scott

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Pride Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Pride Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Kansas City Heat

  FAHEY’S FLAW

  Jenna Byrnes

  Book nine in the Kansas City Heat series

  Can KCPD detectives keep the latest designer drug off the streets and out of the hands of teenagers?

  There’s a new drug of choice in town, and the detectives of the KCPD Vice Department are working fast to keep it away from unsuspecting students looking for a cheap high. Detective Wynn Fahey’s son, Connor, is thirteen going on thirty. His recent announcement that he’s gay causes concern for his mother and her new husband, and the parents of the boy he’s been caught in a compromising position with.

  Wynn struggles to help his son adjust, not having gone through the same issues since he didn’t come out until he was divorced with a child. When the new five dollar Insanity drug invades Con’s school, the boy is forced to grow up faster than his parents would have liked. Will the love and support of handsome English teacher Reilly O’Keefe be enough to sustain Wynn and Connor, or are they in too deep to scrabble their way out of danger?

  Dedication

  To my friend S. who had the strength to ‘come out’. Love you always!

  Author’s Note

  While the Kansas City Police Department is definitely a real organization, the stories you will read in this series are complete works of fiction, with made up characters who are in no way based on actual persons. Likewise, some neighborhoods and locations are similarly fictional. The stories are simply born from a love of Kansas City, from the stockyards to Arrowhead Stadium, the Plaza to Legends Outlet Mall, and lots of things in between.

  Trademarks Acknowledgment

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Ford Explorer: Ford Motor Company

  Lincoln Town Car: Lincoln Motor Company

  Clairol Hair Coloring: Procter & Gamble Co.

  Toyota Camry: Toyota Motor Corporation

  Austin Powers: New Line Cinema

  Superman: DC Comics

  Fatal Attraction: Paramount Pictures

  Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

  Hoover: The Hoover Company

  Boy Scout: Boy Scouts of America

  Cheshire Cat: Lewis Carroll

  Tweeting: Twitter, Inc.

  Chapter One

  “It’s your fault I’m gay, you know. That’s what Mom says, anyway.”

  Wynn Fahey rubbed the three-day beard growth on his chin and considered his son’s comment. Several replies came to mind but he’d promised his ex-wife never to knock her in front of the kid. She’d obviously forgotten their agreement. “Yeah, well, I’m sure that’s Derrick talking. He’s got a low threshold comfort level for people who are different than him.”

  He’s a homophobic asshole. Wynn’s opinions about Sydney’s second husband were also best kept to himself. Since Connor had come out as gay, both Syd and Derrick had struggled with the news. Wynn found their discomfort a bit funny and definitely ironic.

  He pulled to a stop in front of St. Sebastian’s Academy and turned to Connor. “One more month then you’ll officially be a high schooler.”

  His boy grinned, exposing a mouthful of metal braces. “Oh geez, I know it! We’re counting the days.”

  Wynn saw the excitement on his son’s face and remembered how he used to feel at this time of year. “It’s easy to get sidetracked when the weather turns nice and you want to be anywhere but inside a school building. Just stay focused and finish strong.”

  “I will, Dad. But you always said a little fun never hurt anyone. Which reminds me, Ben Baxter’s having a party Saturday night and Mom’s giving me crap about going. I told her his parents will be there and he’s invited about fifteen people, all from our class. Will you talk to her?” He made a pleading face that reminded Wynn of Connor’s expression when he was younger, and the begging was for an extra hour of video game time.

  Times have changed. Ever since Connor and Ben had been caught in a compromising position in Ben’s bedroom, none of the parents had been inclined to let them hang out together. When the Baxters had relayed the story to Syd they’d felt sure that nothing had happened…yet. But they were duly shaken up about it, as were Syd and Derrick. Wynn didn’t know what the hell to think.

  He glanced at his son. “You and your buddy sorta burned that bridge for yourselves, kid. You really can’t blame your mom.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “Dad, I’m thirteen!”

  Wynn reached into the back seat for Connor’s backpack and handed it to him. “My point exactly. You’re thirteen. I understand you’re discovering your sexuality, and you’re curious. But thirteen is too young to be having sex of any kind, gay or straight.”

  Another eye roll. “Now you sound like Derrick, only you didn’t yell and let spit fly from your mouth.”

  “And on that happy note, go to school. Try to behave yourself.”

  Connor opened the door and slid out. “Talk to Mom?” He did the pleading thing with his eyes one more time.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  The boy smiled. “Thanks, Dad! Bye.” He slammed the door and weaved his way through the crowd of students filing into the brick building.

  Wynn watched him go and sighed. Thirteen. Where had the time gone? Connor had been two when he and Syd had divorced. It’d been her idea, and little had Wynn known at the time she’d already met Derrick and fallen for him. When he’d found out he’d been shocked, but not truly devastated.

  Syd had been his high school sweetheart, his one and only girlfriend. They’d been hot and heavy for three years because that’s what teenage boys were expected to do, and it had been the easiest thing. When she’d gotten pregnant just before graduation there’d been a couple of awkward months deciding their future. In the end their parents had figured it out for them, and they’d been married shortly thereafter.

  Wynn had known then that he wasn’t truly the man of Syd’s dreams, but he’d figured he could fake it. They’d been happy
enough for a couple of years.

  A car behind him honked and he was startled back to reality. He checked his mirror before pulling out and headed to the office. It was a short ten minute drive, just the way he liked it. Ten minutes from home to work. Ten minutes from either place to his boy’s school. He knew it was slightly obsessive, and he knew it wouldn’t stay that way as Connor grew older. But in a post-nine-eleven world, where school shootings were becoming commonplace, this was the way he wanted it for now.

  He pulled into the parking lot of the Kansas City Police Department offices and strolled into the Vice Department. The place was quiet, which was a good thing. Any day it was bustling first thing was sure to be a hectic one.

  He poured a cup of coffee before heading to his desk and slipping into his chair. “Morning, Mel.”

  His partner spun around in her chair. “Good morning.” She held up her own paper cup from a local coffee shop. “I would have brought you one but I knew the extravagance would be wasted on you.”

  He smiled. “True that. I don’t need no stinkin’ five dollar cup of coffee. But thanks for thinking of me.”

  Melanie Riggs was a pretty brunette with shoulder length hair which she usually pulled back into a ponytail. They’d been partners for nearly five years. She nodded and said, “The chief brought bagels if you’re hungry.”

  “Nah, I’m good. I made breakfast for Con this morning.”

  “How is that cute little devil?”

  He leaned forward. “Let’s put it this way. His mother might want to buy stock in Lady Clairol. She’s going to need it.” He ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair, which was showing the slightest tinges of gray. “So would I, if I gave a shit.”

  Mel’s brow furrowed. “Gave a shit about Connor, or gave a shit about getting gray hair?”

  Wynn chuckled. “The gray hairs, of course. It’s more important to Syd in her high society world than it is to me. Now Con—he is my world, which is why it’s so hard to see him struggle. And to hear some of the bullshit they’re feeding him at home.”

  She sipped her drink. “What now?”

  He lowered his voice. “This morning he told me it’s my fault that he’s gay, according to his mother.”

  Her eyes widened. “Nice. She’s a real piece of work, Wynn. I thought you two agreed not to say bad shit about one another in front of him.”

  “We did. Apparently only one of us remembers.”

  “Or someone is coaching her. Derrick has his own opinions on things, doesn’t he?”

  “Most definitely.” He leaned back and sighed. “The thing is, I don’t know. Maybe it is my fault. I don’t know how that gene business works. I know mothers are responsible for some things and father for others, but is there even a gay gene? And if there is, who passes it along?”

  “Damned if I know. Beck has kids, he might know.” She swiveled her chair around to face Beck Mathes, another detective in their squad. “Hey, Beck, have you ever heard of a gay gene?”

  Wynn winced. Mel was a great partner but unless he asked her not to, she flapped her jaws slightly more than he preferred. He didn’t have anything to hide from the other four people in his immediate unit, but it was too damned early for such a deep conversation and Mathes could get pretty intellectual sometimes.

  Beck carried his coffee to her desk and leaned up against it. “A gay gene? I don’t think so. Some scientists did a study to prove there was, but the baseline theory was skewed. Some talk came out that the real reason they did the study was so gay people could blame biology when someone called their orientation a ‘preference’. Plus, they didn’t have a good sample group. They used the number of two percent, but we all know there are more gay people than that in the population. Hell, in the KCPD alone it’s more like fifty percent.”

  Wynn scrubbed a hand over his face. “Thanks for the clarification.” He hoped that would cut it off, but he secretly knew better.

  “The two percent didn’t take into account guys who have sex with other guys but don’t identify as gay, nor men who were married but now live as gay.” He smiled at Wynn.

  “Bingo. Yeah. Like I said, thanks.”

  Beck’s partner joined them with his own cup of coffee. “Morning all. What’s going on so far today?”

  Glancing at Jeff Taylor, Wynn said, “Nothing. Just talking about the Royals baseball game last night. Did you catch it?”

  “Nah, missed it.” Jeff nodded and sipped his drink.

  Wynn knew that would be the case, and that was why he mentioned it. Jeff was the youngest detective in their squad and the handsome hottie had a sugar daddy at home who took good care of him. Wynn knew for a fact that neither of them followed baseball. Jeff’s fella, Reese Iverson, was British and a football fanatic. British football, which those of us in the states call soccer. He smiled and shot a look at Mel and Beck. They seemed to catch his meaning.

  “Good game,” Beck commented. “If you’re a Yankee fan.”

  “Who’s a Yankee fan?” Their chief approached with a scowl on his face.

  Rod Kern was beefy and squat, a former marine who still wore the crew cut to prove it. He was a diehard Kansas City fan, whether it was baseball or Chiefs football. Merely mentioning the New York Yankees in his presence was an invitation to an ass-whoopin’.

  Wynn tried to reel the conversation back in. “No one, boss. Just talking about the game. You ready for briefing?”

  “As soon as Dix and Abby get here. We’ve got a different kind of briefing on tap for today, people.”

  Surprised, Wynn raised his eyebrows. “We’re being briefed by the Homicide chief and the medical examiner? This can’t be good.”

  “It’s not. They want to tell us about a new drug hitting the streets.” He glanced up as the aforementioned couple entered the room. “G’morning,” Kern called to them and waved a hand.

  James Dixon was the sergeant in charge of the Homicide squad and Wynn liked him a lot. A standup guy, Dix was one of the first gay cops he’d met in the department. Dix had never tried to hide it, which had made Wynn—and probably a lot of others—feel more comfortable coming out. Like him, Dix had been married and had had a son before he’d decided to follow his true preferences. He’d met his soulmate a few years back and the men had gotten married, combining their households and their grown kids. His husband, Bryan, ran a nice Italian restaurant that most of them frequented regularly.

  “Morning, all. Hope the Vice Department coffee is better than Homicide’s today. Ours is really bad.”

  Abby glanced at him. “Did you make it?”

  “Of course.” Dix grinned.

  Kern motioned to the conference room. “Coffee’s out here, bagels in there where we’ll meet.”

  “Bagels.” Abby smiled and bypassed the coffee as she headed in.

  The tall woman had a long shock of thick, silver hair and an attitude that was just as impressive. She knew her stuff, she could dish it out as well as take it, and Wynn had learned early on, cops didn’t want to cross her. He grabbed a notebook and his cup, stopping long enough to refill it before entering the conference room.

  “How’s it going, Fahey?” Dix asked as he took his seat.

  “Not bad. Trying to keep a thirteen year old on track for one more month of school.”

  “Yikes.” Dix and Abby both made faces. He added, “I remember those days. Of course mine’s about fifteen years older than that, but he was a rascal back in the day. We were happy when the Marines took him.”

  Abby nudged his arm. “And look how good he turned out. Jared’s a dream.”

  “Just got married,” Dix agreed. “Really nice girl.”

  “Pretty soon we’ll be calling you ‘grandpa’,” she teased.

  He shot her a look. “Try it once and see what happens.”

  “Aw,” she leaned into him. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re going deny that cute little kiddo when he or she toddles up to you and says ‘Pa-pa’?”

  Dix grinned. “No, I didn’t say
I’d deny the kid anything. Hell, I’ll probably buy him a car. I’m just not going to take it from a sadistic medical examiner. You have been warned.”

  She made a face at Wynn. “Did he just call me ‘sadistic’?”

  Laughing, Wynn nodded.

  The others had all taken their seats and gotten bagels. Dix glanced around. “We might as well get started. Thanks for giving us this time, Rod.” He nodded to the chief.

  “Of course.”

  Dix continued, “I’m going to give you an overview of why we’re here, then Abby will talk specifically about this drug and its side effects. It’s particularly nasty, folks. You heard about the bath salts on the street a year or so ago? It’s right along those same lines, with a few differences.”

  He pulled out some notes. “The drug is called Flakka, which comes from the Spanish slang term la flaca meaning a sexy, skinny girl. It’s a new designer drug hitting the streets particularly hard in Florida, and a few other states including Texas. Two nights ago, a case was reported here and that’s why we’re trying to get the word out before anyone else gets hurt.” He glanced at Abby.

  She nodded and picked up her notes. “Flakka is a man-made stimulant called an alpha PVP. It’s a close relative to the bath salts that were so widely reported not too long ago, and they were banned. So far, Flakka hasn’t been. Of course, the people who make this crap can get around a ban by sticking a ‘not for human consumption’ label on it. Anyway, the main attraction is the low price—three to five dollars—and the long-lasting high it creates.”

  “Three to five dollars?” Wynn repeated, shocked. “No wonder it’s popular. That’s cheap as hell.”

  “It is, and it’s completely unregulated. The stuff is also called ‘gravel’ because it looks like aquarium gravel. And one reason it’s so dangerous is that it’s cut with dirt, talc and other cheap crap that should not be injected into a person’s veins.”