The Partnership

by Dustin Stevens

  Finishing with his socks, The Businessman pulled his dress shoes on, lacing them tight without looking up.

  Both sides were only baiting the other, a game they had played a hundred times before, seemed to be doing with increasing regularity.

  Given the hour, and his lack of sleep on the day, it was one The Businessman would rather avoid for the time being if at all possible.

  “What do you want?” he asked, leaning back against the sofa, the leather cool against his skin.

  Across from him The Muscle stared a long moment, the smile fading from view.

  “I assume you saw the news last night.”

  “Saw the early rounds,” The Businessman replied. He waved a hand toward the blanket beside him and added, “Like I said, after that things got a little crazy.”

  The same look remained on The Muscle’s face, his expression letting it be known that he did not believe a word that was being said.

  “Right,” he eventually muttered. “Well, the last news didn’t have anything either.”

  The Businessman stared back, waiting in silence for anything more to come his way.

  None did.

  “It’s only been a day,” he eventually said.

  “Your point?”

  “Maybe she hasn’t surfaced yet,” The Businessman offered. He knew where this conversation was going, the inevitability of it something they had discussed before the original decision to get rid of the girl was made.

  Her disposal was something he was on board with, knowing The Muscle would see to it, that particular ability one of the few things he did to truly justify his place in the organization. It was the latter part that he wasn’t so sure about, The Muscle’s insistence on dumping her in the river, on making sure she ended up on television.

  Only then, he believed, would their message truly be received.

  The Businessman had been a little less certain of handling things in such a manner, preferring to put all the girls in a room and letting The Muscle do his thing for them in private. Once it was complete the body could just disappear, joining countless others in unmarked graves stretched across the Midwest.

  Still, this particular plan had worked once already in Buffalo, and it was The Muscle’s area of expertise.

  If seeing the girl on the news was what needed to happen for the girls to truly grasp the enormity of it, then so be it.

  “I didn’t weigh the body down,” The Muscle replied. “As low as the water level is this time of year, she’s surfaced by now.”

  “Hmm,” The Businessman said, not wanting to hear any more details than were absolutely necessary.

  The Muscle was good at what he did. The girl was gone, her body disposed of. That was all he needed to know.

  As if understanding the internal monologue that was playing out across the room, The Muscle smiled at him. A gold tooth glinted as he did so, reaching up with his right hand into the interior pocket of his coat and extracting a single padded envelope.

  Feeling his insides clench, The Businessman watched as an item six inches long on one end by four on the other came free, the corners of it creased slightly. Across from him The Muscle wagged it once at him before dropping it down onto the desk, the envelope landing with a faint slap against the bare wood.

  “A few close-ups for our friends in the media.” The smile grew a bit larger as he stared at The Businessman. “Feel free to take a look for yourself before you send them off.”

  A shot of animosity passed through The Businessman as he glared back. The man knew he despised that aspect of the job, couldn’t stand the notion of seeing the girls defiled in such a wanton disregard for basic humanity.

  That was why The Muscle insisted on bringing paper copies every time, knowing The Businessman would have to scan them in, staring at each one before forwarding them on.

  For a moment the thought pushed through his body, spiking into a white hot rage before slowly receding, the exhaustion he still felt finally winning out.

  “Yeah, I’m sure I will.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  There was no response at the number McMichaels and Jacobs had taken down the first two times Reed called. It wasn’t until the third try at half past nine that it was answered, the voice sounding quite groggy, letting it be known that she did not appreciate being awoken at such an ungodly hour.

  Not until it was explained who Reed was and why he was disturbing her did her tone relax, her stance receding away from overt hostility but still containing nothing close to remorse for her behavior.

  After a short, stilted conversation, the two had agreed to meet just off campus, Reed making the offer to drive up, pressing her to do it in the immediate future. As to be expected there was some resistance to doing anything before noon, but once he began to transition from nice civil servant into annoyed detective she got the hint and relented.

  Allowing her to choose the location, the girl had come up with a place known as Brain Break, a small shop just beyond the edge of Ohio State’s sprawling campus on the upper west side. Consisting of a small rectangular structure made to resemble an old-time dining car, the exterior was outfitted in polished chrome, the signage all done in bright red and yellow. A row of windows covered the entire front, flower boxes underscoring each of them.

  Parking right along the street, Reed exited the car and opened the rear door, affixing the short leash to Billie’s collar. Together they entered to find the shop more than half empty, most of campus having vacated for the holidays, not to return for at least a couple of weeks.

  In a sharp contrast to what Reed had expected, to what the exterior of the structure had indicated, there was no scent of bacon and eggs in the air, no harried middle-aged waitress in a polyester uniform and a hair net. Instead the walls were adorned with dozens of small chalkboards, the entirety of the menu scrawled across them in various pastels shades, all done in a woman’s handwriting.

  Booths with bright red vinyl lined one side of the room, each positioned beneath its own window. Opposite it was a counter stretched more than fifteen feet in length, the bottom of it made from glass, baked goods of various forms on display. Atop the counter were signs announcing that all their products were vegan friendly and gluten free, these done in markers using the same script as the chalkboards above.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Reed muttered, stopping himself from shaking his head as he took a step forward into the room.

  Opposite him a college aged woman in sweatpants and a black t-shirt with Brain Break scrawled across the chest began to walk forward, her gaze getting as far as Billie before she pulled up short, her mouth sagging open just a bit.

  Expecting the reaction, Reed removed his badge from the pocket of his coat and showed it to her, dipping the top of his head to the side. “My partner. Too cold to leave her in the car.”

  Her mouth still hanging open, the girl nodded slightly, her gaze never leaving Billie. “Sure, just take a seat wherever you’d like.”

  A quick scan of the room showed no young ladies sitting alone so Reed moved to the furthest booth in the corner and put his back against the wall to wait, Billie on the floor by his side.

  Eleven minutes after the agreed-to time a bony woman in running pants and a purple fleece entered, a matching headband around her ears, a dark ponytail swinging behind her head. Without scanning the room she walked straight up to the front counter and conversed with the same girl for a minute, the two sharing a laugh before the waitress pointed to the corner.

  There was little doubt what the topic of conversation was, Reed finding himself not particularly caring as he slid to the edge of the booth and stood, watching the girl approach.

  “Daynette Baines?” he asked, extending a hand before him.

  “Dani,” the girl corrected, meeting his handshake before sliding into the booth across from him.

  If she was sorry about - or even cognizant of - the fact that she was late, she gave no indication as she came to a stop in the middle of the bench seat and s
wept the headband back from her head.

  Up close her features were a bit more severe than they had appeared from afar, her face bearing the look of someone that had taken running to the extreme. Any hint of body fat had been blasted away, leaving little more than skull and skin, every ridge and edge visible beneath the surface.

  At twenty she could still pull it off, but it wouldn’t be long before the look would start to become quite severe.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Reed said as he settled back into position. “As I said on the phone, my name is Detective Reed Mattox. Here beside me is my partner Billie.”

  Acting as if she hadn’t even noticed the oversized dog parked beside him, Dani leaned over onto the bench, her eyes growing large as she saw the solid black animal on the floor nearby.

  As she did so Reed had to force himself not to smile, it being far from the first time the sixty pound Belgian Malinois had had such an effect on someone he was meeting with.

  “Whoa,” Dani said simply before raising herself back up vertically and looking at Reed. “Intimidating.”

  Again Reed had to force himself not to react, not to comment that this was nothing compared to what Billie could look like with her teeth bared, the jaws that had earned her breed the nickname maligators on full display.

  “When she needs to be,” Reed said simply, letting it go at that. “So, I know you gave a statement to the officers last night, but would you mind walking me through exactly what happened?”

  The first part of the question was phrased to cut off any attempt by the girl to claim she had already told the police everything she knew, a tactic that was quite common with witnesses. Already this girl gave every indication of being flighty, forcing Reed to keep her focused, to move forward as much as possible so as to extract what he needed.

  “Sure,” the girl said, shrugging with one shoulder. “Like I told the two cops last night, I was out running the river walk when I spotted something floating just off the bank. Big and white, it kind of looked like a manatee or something, so I slowed down for a minute, just to take a look.”

  Reed allowed a moment to pass before pushing further, making sure his voice was void of judgment, that his face gave no reaction to what she’d just said before moving forward.

  “A manatee?”

  “Yeah,” the girl said, lifting her hands in front of her and beginning to motion, as if trying to mime out for Reed what she was referring to. “They’re big and white. They look kind of like-“

  “Sea cows,” Reed finished for her. “I’ve seen them before. But what made you think there was one hanging out in the Olentangy in December?”

  There was no indication that the girl understood what Reed was hinting at as she lowered her hands to the table, her wrists resting against the edge of it.

  “That’s what I thought! So I went over to take a look, but it wasn’t a manatee.”

  Feeling his eyebrows rise higher on his forehead, Reed drew in a slow breath through his nose. Just two minutes into the conversation it was unlikely that anything useful could be gleaned, his only goal fast becoming to cover the high points and move on quickly.

  “But when you arrived...” he prompted.

  The girl remained motionless a moment before shivering slightly, her collarbones protruding from the movement.

  “I could see it was a body floating there,” she said, “completely naked, very pale.”

  Again she paused, her focus turning to a spot above Reed’s head, her lips moving just slightly but no sound escaping them.

  “And so then?” Reed asked.

  “And then I turned off Pandora, used my phone to call the police,” she said, her focus still high on the wall above him, the first sign that she was shook at all by what she’d seen, had even processed what exactly she had happened upon.

  “They told me to stay right there and wait for somebody, but I wasn’t about to do that,” Dani said, shifting her attention back down. “Just me and a dead girl along a dark and quiet riverbank? No thanks.”

  This part of the story Reed had not previously heard, his brow coming together a bit as he leaned forward. “So what did you do?”

  “I remembered a little convenience store about a block back, so I went there and waited. The guy inside was a total skeeze, kept hitting on me the entire time, but it was still better than chilling with some dead girl.”

  Feeling his hands curl into fists beneath the table, Reed maintained a steady façade. It was the second time already she had referred to the victim as dead girl, her lack of empathy starting to border on appalling.

  “How about anything else?” Reed asked. “Did you see anything unusual as you were running up?”

  “Not at all,” she replied, “but I was pretty zoned out at the time on Beyonce.”

  “Notice anybody watching nearby?” Reed asked, pushing right past the comment.

  “Oh, hell no,” Dani blurted, shaking her head with such vigor it sent her ponytail swinging behind her head, “and if I had, I would have gotten out of there in a hurry.”

  Running the list of everything he hoped to accomplish with the interview in his head, it was apparent that the girl was going to be of little help. She had just had the misfortune of having a bit too much curiosity, had stumbled across something she shouldn’t have.

  Someone a bit older, maybe a bit more self-aware - or even just aware - might have had a shot of being of use to him.

  As it were, this seemed to have been nothing more than a wasted drive to campus.

  “You know, you probably shouldn’t have been there to begin with,” Reed said, conceding that his questioning was over, moving on to wrap things up. “That’s not a safe part of town, especially after dark.”

  Any lingering thoughts of what she’d seen the night before seemed to melt from Dani’s face as she stared back across the table, her mouth and eyes both opening wide.

  “As opposed to what? I’m training for a marathon next month. I have to run somewhere.”

  “Treadmill?” Reed asked, almost instantly regretting pulling the girl into any further conversation.

  “Ew,” she replied, her face contorting just slightly. “Do you know boring those are?”

  Again, dozens of retorts sprang to mind, each a little more acerbic than the one before, but Reed let them go. Instead he tapped once on the tabletop between them as he slid toward the edge of the booth, ready for the conversation to be over.

  “Thanks for your time. If we need anything else, somebody will be in touch.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The precinct had filled considerably in the two hours Reed and Billie had been gone, most of the spaces in the parking lot now full. Forgoing the visitor stalls out front, Reed pulled in to the far corner spot in the lot, opening the back and letting Billie out to do her business in the grassy expanse behind the building.

  No more interested in spending any longer than necessary in the cold than he was, she mercifully was quick about things, both moving fast for the front door just three minutes after parking.

  Unlike their initial arrival of the day, many of the desks on the first floor were full as they passed through, the general hum of office commotion in the air. Without glancing either direction Reed could pick up a pair of conversations going on, hear the shuffling of paper, a few pages being spit out from the printer.

  During his first few months with the 8th he had made a point of keeping as low a profile as possible, selecting the graveyard shift because it kept him out on the streets almost full-time. Still reeling from the passing of Riley, he had wanted to be as close to exile as he could while still maintaining employment, a post many in the building were all too happy to accommodate.

  Exacerbating the chasm between the two sides was the general hazing that seemed to greet any new guy upon transfer. Making it even worse was the fact that his partner was a dog, meaning that every pointed comment, every wicked barb, was aimed at him alone.

  Over time the abuse had su
bsided as both Reed and Billie proved their worth, though little effort had been made by either side to bridge the gap. Most of the people on the first floor were now content to let him pass without notice, whereas he dropped any pretense of open hostility.

  Not exactly the big happy family most precincts tried to portray themselves as, but the closest the 8th would likely ever attain.

  With his attention aimed straight ahead, Reed moved up the center staircase, Billie by his side. A moment later they emerged onto the second floor to find Lou – Jackie’s counterpart on the dayshift – manning the dispatch desk. Perched on a stool behind the elevated counter he looked up once from the newspaper in his hands, bowing the top of his sun-spotted pate before returning to his reading.

  Giving nominally more than the same in greeting, Reed turned in the opposite direction, weaving through the same tangle of empty desks as he had three hours earlier.

  He found the reason for his return to the precinct waiting on his chair, a single folder no more than a couple of millimeters thick. Picking it up and dropping it down onto the desk before him, Reed settled into his seat, shaking his head slightly.

  “Not very much to work with here, Earl,” he muttered as he peeled back the textured brown cover of the file.

  Ignoring the paperwork on the left for just a moment, Reed slid a large paperclip up off the top of the right side of the folder, a thin stack of photographs coming free. Their edges, uniform and precise just a moment before, nudged a bit to reveal a half-dozen in total, all with a glossy finish.

  The top in the stack was a direct shot of the girl’s face, her eyes closed, her mouth a bit puffy from the forcible removal of her teeth. Taken right at the scene, her dark hair was extended in a frozen ring around her head, ice-crusted grass visible beneath her.

  Again the same pang that had touched Reed upon first seeing her kicked up in the pit of his stomach, the serene demeanor of her appearance seemingly at odds with the violent end he knew she had endured.

  For a moment Reed allowed his hands to curl into fists, the familiar clench of equal parts anger and sorrow roiling through him. He held the pose until the veins bulged on the backs of his hands before slowly unfurling, forcing himself to focus, to see past the trauma of the incident and determine what the photo could tell him.