He snaps his teeth when his rage bubbles over. “I was working undercover. What were you doing?”
“Being a child, mostly. I can’t control which family I was born into, but I sure could control which family I left. Walking at sixteen is, in my humble opinion, a decent indicator of where my moral compass stands, don’t you think?”
“If you two don’t put this old shit behind you soon, you’re gonna be mashed together like a toddler’s Play-Doh set.” Fletch folds his arms and flicks a whiteboard marker between his fingers. “Clay’s cool and all, but I don’t wanna be responsible for a rookie. I’ve done my years, and I’ve worn Arch in like a comfortable pair of shoes. Cut the shit.”
“Where’s Agosti now?” Drake draws a calming breath. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. “I doubt Cordoza reported his death to the cops, so what did they do with him?”
“He’s at the morgue undergoing an autopsy.”
“Really?” Surprised, his eyebrows sling high on his forehead. “Seems uncharacteristic. Theydidcall the cops?”
“They called Felix, and Felix told me. Cordoza’s demanding an autopsy, and it just so happens I’m married to someone who can perform one of those.”
“Chief Mayet is implicated in this crime, too?” His nose twitches with the rage he keeps bottled inside. Barely. “Inadditionto being forced to work with a couple of cops who help the mob, hide bodies, and smooth over a man’s death, you’re telling me that my girl’s dream boss isalsoon the mob’s payroll?”
“No payroll,” Fletch snarls. “She didn’t get a choice. Andwedo not, have not, and will never lie or cover up the death of anyone who deserves justice. But when the mafia are infighting and a piece of shit ends up dead, consider my sympathy reserves all run out.”
“Which is great for you, Detective Fletcher! Except that’s not how the law works. If a person dies, no matter their fucking job, that death needs to be reported, and a crime scene should be established. You claim to beother.” He swings his scowl my way. “You say you left, but you are actively,currentlyworking for the mob. Wake up and pay attention.”
“I’m protecting my wife.” I step around the table and stride closer. “Cordoza saw Agosti and me having words on Saturday night. Hours later, Agosti is dead. I didn’t do it. I never saw him again after that moment. But you spent more than enough time in the business to know how this looks. Cordoza assumes it was me, and so now he’s demanding a full autopsy and complete disclosure. He isn’t giving mywife a fucking choice, and I won’t throw her to the wolves, all because the law hasn’t made provisions for when this shit happens. I’m covering nothing up. I don’t care if Agosti’s death hits the six o’clock news, and I have no affiliation with, or knowledge of, whoever killed the prick. My only loyalty is to my wife. It isnother fault she’s been dragged into this.”
“The fact Agosti has a reputation for transporting women and selling them to the highest bidder, and now Agosti is dead and we have a whole shipment of unaccounted for women, makes it reasonably safe to assume the two may be connected.” Fletch writes nothing on the whiteboard, though I know he wants to. His twitching hand proves it. “We can run this case how Fabian wants us to, and we can find whoever moved those women the old-fashioned way. If it turns out it was Agosti, then so be it. If it were someone else, we would find them and shut it down. Either way, we three know what’s up. Officer Clay does not.”
“How the hell do you expect the kid not to sniff this out? He’s smart, driven, and intuitive as hell.”
“He’s also a baby,” I argue. “And he follows orders without question. Use him the way you would any other rookie. Send him on errands, keep him busy, but most of all, keep him out of our business.”
“Or…” Drake takes a single step forward, staring me down the way I’ve seen men do before one ends up dead. “What’s stopping me from taking what I know and plopping it on Lieutenant Fabian’s desk? Gets your crooked ass out of my face, a helluva commendation for cleaning up the force, and a promotion too, probably. I count a million reasons to march my ass back into his office, and none that entice me to bend like a pretzel and allow you to turn me intoyou.”
“I suppose you could.” I set my hands on my hips and breathe through my desire to gut the snitch prick like a fish. To end his life and make mine a hell of a lot more peaceful. But that’s the Malone in me, and I’ve long since learned other, more productive negotiation tactics when my adversary lacks respect. “I seem to recall a time your girlfriend’s life was in danger, Detective Banks.”
His eyes flare with potent rage. “Don’t talk about her. Don’t do it.”
“And I remember her mother dying of cancer during a time Rory couldn’t get to her. I remember Chief Mayet bending like a fucking pretzel to ensure your girlfriend could say goodbye. It wasn’t according to regulations. Moving a body from one facility to the next, undocumented, wasn’t in the rules. But it’s pretty fuckin’ easy to find that gray area when you really take a look, isn’t it? My wife put her life and careerat risk to serve your girlfriend’s emotional needs.” I tilt my head to the side. “I haven’t forgotten. But perhaps you have.”
“The Get-Along shirt is in our future.” Fletch strides to the head of the table and shoves between us, pressing one hand to Drake’s chest and one to mine. “There isn’t a soul in this room who is gonna like the Get-Along shirt.”
“I don’t intend to wear it.” I knock Fletch’s hand away and take a step closer. “I don’t intend to allowanyoneto threaten my wife, either. Snitching to Fabian means defying Estefan Cordoza, and when she can’t perform the autopsy he wants, because she’s busy dealing with the legal fallout ofyourinability to shut the fuck up, you’re essentially signing her death certificate. Are you sure that’s the path you wish to take, Detective?”
Fletch swings his gaze across.
“Go.” I gesture toward the door. “Tell him. But if that’s the choice you make, be ready for what comes next. If you disrespect Chief Mayet’s selflessness during Rory’s time of need, then I’ll be sure to let her know how this went down.”
“We’re threatening to yap to the women now?” Fletch groans. “That’s what we’re doing?”
“Yep. And if you keep it up, I’ll tell Fifi you were whining about her today.” I flash a taunting smile and bring my eyes back to Drake’s. “You wanna live long enough to risk the Get-Along shirt, Detective? Or shall we take care of business right here, right now?”
He bristles with rage, his teeth grinding together and his eyes blistering with a glare. But when my weapon is named Rory Swanson, it seems I hold enough aces to get what I need.
He shoves Fletch’s hand away and turns on his heels. “I’m not going down for this. I’ll run the case and talk to the victims. I’ll co-sign the investigation as though we have no clue who our missing guy is. But if shit goes sideways, and it looks like it’s gonna affect my job, I’m tossing you crooked motherfuckers to Fabian without hesitation. I’m here for me, first and foremost. You’re not even second. Or tenth.”
“A detective who places himself ahead of his victims.” I click my tongue and glance back at the rattle of the door handle. “Now, who is crooked?” I make my way to the door and flip the lock, then, swinging it wide, I expose Officer Clay on the other side, loaded down with a pot of coffee and four to-go cups stacked inside each other. “Thanks. We’re almost ready to go.” I step back and make room for him to file in. “Did you sign an SUV out for us yet?”
“No, Detective. But I’ll get to that next.” He sets all four cups side byside on the table, pours steaming liquid into each, and caps them with a fast click. “I look forward to learning with you all today, Detectives. I appreciate the opportunity.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I like you, kid. I swear I do. But Special Agent Dickhead proves why fewer people in the know is better for my stress levels. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Officer. These types of cases come with a lot of paperwork and drudgery. Homicide division isn’t as fun as it looks on the outside.”
He straightens out and broadens his shoulders. Falling into parade rest, he tucks his arms behind his back. “I didn’t join the force because it would be fun. I joined to make a difference.”
