“And we had a woman sitting behind us that would not shut up the entire way,” Cheryl added. “Started in on that poor man beside her the second he sat down, did not stop until we got up. Everybody on board had to hear about her kids, and her grandkids, and how one of them will soon be having her first great-grandkid.”
A bemused grin settled across Reed’s features as he felt his cell-phone begin to vibrate against his hip. Without extracting it to check the caller ID, he depressed a button on the side to silence it, the group falling in line with the fellow passengers, the usual zombie shuffle taking place as they marched toward the appropriate carousel.
“Aside from that, though?” Reed asked. “Everything went okay?”
“Aside from that,” his father said.
“And it being cold as hell outside,” his mother added.
Again his phone began to pulse against his side, a long, single buzz that let him know a text message had been received.
“I warned you,” Reed offered, pulling the phone from his jeans and extending it before him. “Always colder up here than at home. This year’s been worse than most.”
Working the screen with his thumb, Reed pulled up the message, seeing just four digits staring back up at him.
10-28.
Police code for homicide.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered, glancing between his parents as beside them the automated buzzer for the carousel sprang to life, the oversized red bulb at the end of it flashing three times in succession.
“What?” Rhett asked, looking over at him. “Here five minutes and you’ve already got someone calling in an excuse to get away from us?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Reed said, not bothering to explain any further, allowing his tone to do it for him. “You guys grab your bags, I have to make a call right quick.”
Chapter Three
Receiving the news that a homicide had taken place was never easy, though sometimes Reed could feel a bit of heightened sensation. It started with a clench in the pit of his stomach, something that had first originated when he and Riley were still just beat cops with the 19th Precinct. From there it worked its way up, constricting his chest, ultimately settling into his throat.
It wasn’t all-consuming, certainly didn’t render him motionless, but it managed to serve as a natural warning system that something was awry, bearing more weight than the average death.
How his body seemed to know whenever one such case arose he had no idea, though to date he couldn’t remember it ever being wrong.
Backing away from his parents, Reed forced a half-smile into place for the benefit of his mother, knowing that she would see right past it, would make the effort to match it just the same. He remained facing them as the distance grew, waiting until there was more than a dozen feet separating the two sides before turning and pressing the phone to his ear.
A digital clock hanging down from the ceiling told Reed that it was just half past seven, late enough that the shift change had taken place, that Jackie would be manning the dispatch desk.
Two rings later the assumption was confirmed, the same high-pitched voice he’d been speaking with for more than ten months coming on the line.
“8th Precinct.”
“Jackie, it’s Reed,” he said, raising his left hand and jamming his index finger into his ear as he walked a little deeper into the corner. Keeping his back to the room he rested a shoulder against the wall, trying his best to block out the residual noise of the baggage claim area.
“Hey, Sugar,” Jackie said, the official tone she had used to answer the call bleeding away, replaced by the saccharine voice employed when speaking to co-workers. “Sorry to text you, I couldn’t get you on the radio and your phone went to voicemail.”
“No worries,” Reed said, rotating at the waist to glance over his shoulder. At the other end of the room his mother stood with her arms folded across her stomach, his father a few feet away, arm outstretched to fetch a plaid bag from the conveyor belt. “What’s up?”
“Where are you?” Jackie asked, the question asked with enough emphasis that Reed could easily envision the look on her face as she did so, her inflamed blonde hair shifting above her as she tilted her head to look at him. “Sounds like a rodeo going on in the background.”
Rotating back to face forward, Reed let a retort about how many rodeos she had ever attended slide by, preferring to move things along as fast as possible, knowing Jackie would extend the conversation much longer than necessary if he let her.
“I’m at the airport picking up my folks,” he said. “We’ve got a homicide? Where? How bad?”
A moment of silence passed, the move one that Jackie had perfected in her time behind the desk. It was meant to be subtle, a gentle nudge to make whoever was on the other end know that she was aware of what was going on, that she didn’t quite appreciate being rushed.
Considering Reed had just informed her that he was at the airport with his parents, he found himself not particularly caring.
“Probable 10-28, possible 10-20,” Jackie said, a tiny hint of an edge present.
Running the list of codes quickly through his mind, Reed felt his face scrunch slightly, his eyes squinting as he settled on the corresponding identifier.
“Drowning? In December?”
“Floater,” Jackie corrected. “Olentangy River. Jogger found the body caught in one of the grates along the river walk.”
The previous feeling within grew from a small clench into a tight squeeze, Reed removing the finger from his ear and using the hand to rub his forehead.
Of all the victims that occasionally surfaced, floaters were among the worst, especially in the winter. The plummeting temperatures made it nearly impossible to identify a time of death, the water managing to wipe away nearly all evidentiary matter.
“Great,” Reed muttered, working the folds of skin on his forehead between his thumb and forefinger, running the next few hours through his mind.
His parents had been warned before arrival that he would be working the first half of their trip, the precinct still operating with a short staff after the early retirement of Detectives Iaconelli and Bishop two months before. They would say they understood, would insist he go and do whatever he needed to, but it would have no effect on the guilt that accompanied having to leave so soon after their arrival.
Coupled with that, his farmhouse was on the polar opposite end of Columbus, a full fifteen miles from the airport in Gahanna.
“Who’s on site now?” Reed asked.
“McMichaels and Jacobs,” Jackie said.
“Good,” Reed replied. “Anything urgent?”
He could hear paper shuffling as she consulted her notes before responding, “No, looks like it has been there a while. You want me to tell them you’re on your way?”
Keeping his shoulder pressed against the wall, Reed rolled back to face toward the baggage claim, his parents standing side-by-side, their luggage in front of them. Their bodies were turned inward a small bit so they were facing each other, the implication clear that they were not trying to pressure him, but were ready whenever he was finished.
Right now at home there were three t-bone steaks marinating in the refrigerator, twice baked potatoes beside them on the top rack, ready to be placed in the oven. On the counter was a host of Christmas cookies he had picked up from Kroger’s, all in anticipation of the first evening he’d spent with his folks in months.
For the time being though, it would have to wait.
“Yeah,” Reed said, pushing the word out with a sigh. “I have to run my folks home, grab Billie and the sedan. Tell them I’m maybe forty-five minutes out.”
Chapter Four
“Out. Now.”
The words seemed to surprise the girls a bit, both of them sitting on the leather sofa in the back of The Businessman’s office, staring back at him, their painted lips parting more than a half inch. Neither said a word as they held the pose, seated with their knees curled up und
er them to face each other, their heads rotated to stare his direction.
“Did I stutter?” The Businessman spat. “Go, be gone.”
As he issued the order he waved his hands in front of him, shooing the girls away.
For another moment they both sat and stared, seemingly unsure of how to respond. Not until he slammed the heels of his Ferragamo dress shoes down on the plastic mat beneath him and started to rise from his desk chair did they get the message, both clamoring to their feet and fleeing the room.
Only once they reached the hallway did either make a sound, just barely crossing the threshold from his office before beginning their incessant yammer again.
The Businessman couldn’t quite make out what they were saying in their native language, but it wasn’t hard to determine that he was the subject of whatever they were carrying on about. As if trying to drive home this point they offered several glances over their shoulder, letting him know their displeasure, realizing he wouldn’t understand a word of it.
Their insistence on using the foreign dialect was fast starting to become an annoyance to him, a detail he had been tempted to address in the past but was becoming something that could no longer be ignored. Now that he and The Muscle had split duties and were very rarely in the same place, the girls seemed much more emboldened, not quite as content to hold their tongues.
That too was something he would soon need to remedy.
Rising from behind his desk, The Businessman let out an audible sigh. At just shy of eight the evening was already well underway, though his night had barely even begun.
The thought of what lay in the hours ahead pulled another groan from him as he crossed the bare floor of his office and pushed the door closed. Already the early buzz of the shift was beginning downstairs, the sound falling away as the thick wooden gate swung into place, the echo of it reverberating through the office for a moment before falling silent.
In its wake there was only the sound of the aerator on the oversized fish tank that comprised the back wall, the item never stopping or even slowing down as it pushed a steady stream of bubbles into the fixture.
Rather than return to his seat behind the desk, The Businessman perched himself on the front edge of it, unbuttoning the coat of his suit and allowing it to fall open on either side. Reaching down, he took up a remote control from the polished cherry top and aimed it at the flat screen mounted in the space above the tank, the television popping to life on command.
In the semi-darkness of the office the light was especially bright, The Businessman pinching his eyes shut a tiny bit as he maneuvered the controller to one of the local news affiliates before dropping the remote back into place.
Still a relative newcomer to Columbus, The Businessman had decided long ago that KCBS was his source for current gossip in the area, his decision steeped more in the fact that they were the only station with a moderately attractive female lead than any reporting acumen they might have.
Just as she was most every night, the woman was back in position on his screen, the sight of her a welcomed change from the children he dealt with most days. Clearly in her mid-thirties, The Businessman stared at her with an appreciation that bordered on longing, imagining what she wore beneath her blue suit coat, what her hair smelled like.
A small smile affixed itself to his face as he let the fantasy play out for a moment before snapping awake, forcing himself to pay attention.
For as wonderful as even one night with the woman would be, his interest in this evening’s newscast went far beyond any long held role playing ideal he might harbor.
There was work to be done, and as much as he hated to admit it, the media would soon be playing a vital role in it.
The question simply remained if they were as yet ready to be called in.
The top news for the night opened with a story about the local Toys for Tots running a final push before Christmas, the screen cutting away from the reporter to a warehouse where dozens of volunteers were bagging toys.
Rolling his eyes slightly at the unnecessary pageantry of the feature, The Businessman waited as the second topic came on, an update on the Buckeyes preparation for their upcoming showing in the Outback Bowl.
No more than ten seconds into it The Businessman cut the feed, the room again plunged into a darkened silence as he slid the remote down beside him.
If a girl found floating in the Olentangy didn’t outrank a story about college football, then clearly her body had not yet been found.
Priorities were in place for such matters, even in a town as sports crazy as Columbus.
For a moment The Businessman considered grabbing up his cell phone to call The Muscle, to ensure the drop had gone down the previous evening as they discussed, but ultimately he thought better of it. Doing so would only anger his cohort, leading to another convoluted conversation that The Businessman would rather do without.
One or both would get angry, The Muscle would threaten violence, The Businessman would pretend to placate, waiting until the moment came when he could free himself from his overgrown sidekick.
There would be a time for all of that - and it was no doubt fast approaching - but it had not arrived just yet. Until then he needed to be mindful, to see things through, to wait until matters began to progress the way they had planned.
For another moment The Businessman remained on the edge of the desk, one foot swinging above the floor, enjoying the silence, before turning back toward the door, another long night set to begin.
Chapter Five
Reed had entered the address Jackie sent him into the GPS mounted onto the dash of his standard issue sedan, though he turned off the automated voice long before he got to his destination. Instead of letting the digitized tones direct him turn by turn through the streets of The Bottoms - the run down area on the middle west side that comprised most of the 8th Precinct’s jurisdiction - he just drove straight to the Olentangy and followed it south, letting the glow guide him in.
Any semblance of sunlight had fled the sky more than two hours before, everything overhead blanketed in darkness, even the stars blotted out by thick cloud cover. Set against such a backdrop it made spotting the crime scene easy, the oversized stanchion lights already set up somewhere ahead, their enormous bulbs thrusting a dull yellow orb into the sky.
The very last thing Reed had wanted to do was leave his parents behind in his house, feeling the full effect of the disappointment on his mother’s face, having noticed the way his father’s mouth curled downward on either end.
Neither one would ever say a word about the hasty departure, certainly not for work purposes, especially not after hearing what he had been called to investigate. Instead his guilt was more born from the things they never said, the parts about still worrying every time he was working a case, of feeling concern whenever something he was involved with ended up on the news.
It was a topic he had tried more than once to broach with his mother, knowing better than to even try with her counterpart. Each time she had deftly managed to brush it to the side though, nudging the conversation into safer waters.
There was no doubt that those same feelings, for both parties, would again rear their heads in the week ahead. It had been the only downside Reed could foresee when they had mentioned wanting to visit, even more so than any crack psychology attempts that might be made regarding Riley.
Never had he dreamed that it would happen within the first minutes of their arrival, though.
Easing his way along the riverbank, a splash of color became visible against the backdrop of the straw colored hue, red and blue lights flickering low to the ground, just barely visible.
“You ready back there?” Reed asked, switching his glance to the rearview mirror for a moment, a pair of eyes and the outline of ears standing erect the only things visible behind him. A low whine found its way forward a moment later, letting him know that his partner was set, eager to be out of the backseat and on her way.
“Yeah,” Reed
replied, his voice just barely audible in the quiet of the car, “I feel the same way.”
There was no response this time as the source of the flashing lights came into view, a single blue-and-white police cruiser parked perpendicular to the roadway, detouring traffic back into The Bottoms and away from the river. Keeping one hand on the wheel, Reed reached out and flipped on the flashers for his own car, white light beginning to dance across the asphalt before them in a steady pattern, passing from one front headlamp to the other.
Easing to a stop just a few feet short of the cruiser, Reed killed the engine, leaving the lights on as he opened the door and climbed out.
A blast of arctic air greeted him the moment he stepped from the car, pulling at the front flaps of the coat hanging free on either side of his torso. It wrapped around him, swirling the length of his body before passing over his short brown hair, rising away into the night.
In just a single moment it managed to pull any semblance of warmth from his body, his jaw clamping shut to keep his teeth from chattering. Alongside the river the temperature seemed to be more than a dozen degrees colder than it had been at home, the breeze much stronger.
“Sonuva...” Reed muttered, turning his back to the wind and wrenching open the rear door, a black bolt shooting out from the seat with a clatter of feet working for purchase atop cold concrete. Just as fast it stopped and stared up at Reed, the same dark eyes appearing as a pair of moist discs.
Reed had first met his partner Billie eleven months prior, a compromise solution offered by his new captain. There was no way Reed could continue working without a partner, even less chance that he would be willing to take one on in the wake of Riley’s passing.
The Partnership Page 2
