Ethan went there.
“Or they weren’t in the water long.”
There was that.
It was a distinct possibility that whoever was dumping them wasn’t taking them far from shore—or sending them out right from shore.
That would take more digging.
Clearly.
“And you have the reports and all that information, so we can add it to our report?”
Corbin did.
“I’m recovering—not incompetent, Gene. What do you want me to help out with next? What’s the next interview to handle?”
Oh, well…
About that.
Gene knew.
“I want you to be careful. Drop the reports, and then hang out with Greyson until we get in. Then, you’re off for the rest of the day. We’re not playing games. The people investigating this keep dying, and you’re not back to work yet. We played stupid games before, and we’re not playing them again.”
There was a pause.
Immediately, Gene expected pushback, but it didn’t happen.
Not.
Even.
Close.
“Okay. I’ll drop off the files and check in with Greyson. Can I get my gun at least?” he asked. “I feel naked without it, and if it’s just sitting around...”
What was this?
NOfighting?
NOarguing?
That was the most un-Corbin-like thing they’d ever experienced.
Now, Gene needed to know.
“Are you feeling okay? Normally, you’d shit a ton of bricks about us excluding you, and yada-yada-yada how you’re a cop and can hold your own. You’re going to just agree to do what we say without a fight? Do you have a fever?”
Blackhawk laughed.
Gene had been accurate in describing Corbin on that one.
As for the detective, they were discussing…
Har-har.
They were funny.
