“So,” I said, directing my attention to Brooke. “What really happened to your face?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her lips into a tight white slash. “I said I didn’t know. We just got a few bodies. One woman decided it was a brilliant idea to use her vagina as a hiding place for ten ounces of heroin.” She shook her head.
“That’s normal,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. Itwasnormal. That’s what criminals did. They hid their drugs wherever they could to avoid getting in trouble.
“Yeah, well, she was eight months pregnant,” Brooke bit back.
I took a slow deep breath. There wasn’t much to say to that—on our job that was normal too, unfortunately. We all just said a prayer that the drugs were wrapped up well enough that they didn’t affect the innocent, unborn baby. Majority of the time, our prayers went unanswered.
“We just called for a bus. Looks like I’ll be at the hospital all night with the prisoner,” Brooke said, rocking back on her heels. She shook her head and tilted it, “Listen, that’s not why I’m up here though. I just got a call from Vinny Tatum’s mom. She hasn’t seen him since last night, and she’s starting to get worried.”
I tried to place the familiar name. “Vinny Tatum?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s one of the cadets that works with us downstairs. Remember, I told you I had lunch with him a few days ago?” she explained, quickly.
“Okay, right, so what’s going on with him?” Ryan cut in.What the hell, I thought he backed off. My hands tightened into fists.
Brooke’s head snapped in Ryan’s direction. “I’m not sure. His mother said she was worried, because it wasn’t like him to not come home all night.” She turned back to me and sighed. “He’s a good kid. Not the kind to stay out all night and worry his mom. I thought maybe you could ask around since I’m stuck with this hospitalized prisoner.”
“Yeah, no problem,” I said, lightly squeezing her arm. “The kid is around eighteen, right? He’s probably out with a girlfriend and lost track of time,” I lied. She knew it too. “And do me a favor, put something on that eye, okay?”
She nodded and rushed back to the door. “I have to get back downstairs. Thanks for looking into it for me.” She jogged to the stairs and offered us a half-assed wave before disappearing out of sight.
“Thatwas your sister?” Ryan asked, with a smirk. “Wow.”
“Off limits. She’s totally off limits. I’m sure she doesn’t even know what a blowjob is.”
“Right…sure,” Ryan said, winking at me.
Jack and Callie laughed behind us.
It was mid-laugh when Sargent Max Kannon opened his office door and stuck his head out. “Dean,” he called out. Exhaustion hung heavy on his face, red raw eyes and a growth of salt and pepper stubble across his jaw. He smelled of stale beer from the night before. I wasn’t sure if he’d been home since Thomas’ body was found.
“Yeah, boss?” I asked.
He was eyeing me carefully, thoughtfully, weighing his words against my demeanor. “I need Thomas’ locker cleaned out.” He said the words slow and quietly, so quietly that I almost couldn’t hear them. Or maybe that was just my take on it. Maybe I just didn’t want to hear them.
Around us, the room stilled and became void of sound, like the world when it first snows. A muted version of reality to help you not feel so much—not hurt so much.
I nodded my head once, the ache in my chest robbing me of my words. Jack, Ryan, and Callie had the decency to leave then, maybe they thought I was going to blow and lose my temper, but honestly I didn’t have the energy. Ryan left, mumbling about finding out about my sister’s friend. I was only vaguely aware of wanting to punch him.
“I’m also going to need to know if you find anything, Dean,” Max said, quietly.
I felt the color drain from my face. “Anything like what?”
“Like maybe Thomas was in trouble…or—”
“That’swhat everyone thinks?” I growled, spit flying out around my lips. “Thomas was a good guy, Max. You know it, and I know it. We aren’t going to find any—”
“Dean,” he said low. “I know, okay. He was my friend too. But you need to face the facts. Something was terribly wrong.”
All I could do was nod.
And then, I cleaned out a dead man’s locker.
Because Max was right, whether I wanted to believe it or not, something had been terribly wrong.
The locker was full of work gear. Pictures of his family. Even a few of me and him. A few cigars and a challenge coin. Nothing that said, “Hey! I’m in trouble and I don’t want to be here anymore.” Nothing.
