The next morning, back in brown on beige, Jericho sat in the station conference room with Kayla, Hockley, and Montgomery. Kayla had brought him there after they’d talked in her office. Apparently Jericho was in, at least nominally.
But he wasn’t sure he believed it. “So why’d you change your mind about this?” he asked Hockley.
Hockley shrugged. “You did good work with that drop house. We saw the video you took . . . you kept your head. And the sheriff insists that you can be trusted.”
“That’s all? Because Kayla’s been saying all along that I can be trusted, and what happened at the drop house was more frustrating than dangerous.”
“We’re short-handed. We assessed our possible resources and decided to take a chance. Now, was our chance worth it? Do you have anything to add to the investigation?”
There was something going on, something Jericho didn’t like. Didn’t trust. “You’ve been playing me the whole time,” he said. “All your bullshit—that territorial crap when I first got here, being an asshole at the fire, all the pushing and poking—it’s all been an act.”
“No,” Montgomery interjected. “He reallyisan asshole.”
Hockley gave his partner a quick, unreadable look, then smiled tightly at Jericho. “You and I approach situations differently. You apparently operate on instinct, while I prefer a more intellectual approach. So, yes, I’ve been trying to figure you out, trying to understand you and come up with the best way to use you.”
“Use me,” Jericho echoed. “You’re that upfront about it?”
“You’re a law enforcement officer. A resource. Would you prefer ‘utilize’ or ‘activate’? I’m not too concerned about what word we use.”
It was too close to Wade’s assessment, not only of the situation and the feds’ goals, but also of Jericho’s damn character. He was starting to feel like an ignorant child being manipulated by everyone around him. But if he objected, he’d feel like apetulantignorant child. So he shrugged and said, “I’ll take a look at what you’ve got and see what holes I can fill.”
Hockley nodded. “We can go over our notes. But short form? We’re here to deal with the porous border, in general. Currently, though, we’ve been distracted by a triple murder. Execution-style. The victims were from out of town.”
Yeah, Jericho had gotten that much from Garron. “Their wallets were still on them, right? So you’ve got names?”
They did, but not much else. At least, not much that they bothered to share in their terse summary of the situation. Well, what the hell, Jericho could make a show of good faith and see if it got him anywhere. “I’ve heard there’s a connection to an organization based in Chicago, headed by a guy named Anders Pilman. Has that name come up at all?”
Hockley leaned forward. “The bikers told you that?”
Shit. “No. Wade Granger did.”
“Wade Granger.” Hockley let the name hang in the room for a while before saying, “This just came up in casual conversation?”
“I don’t think Wade’s ever had a casual conversation in his whole life. He came to my place last night, told me I should stay out of things. When I made it clear I probably wouldn’t be doing that, he said the DeMontes are psychos and shouldn’t be trusted, and gave me that name for the other side of the turf war.”
“That’s how he characterized the situation? A ‘turf war’?”
“I don’t think he used that phrase, but that was the idea, yeah.”
“And why do you think Mr. Granger passed this information along to you?” Hockley’s voice was light, but his gaze was sharp.
“I assume he wanted me to pass it along to you. He already tested me with the text about the bar, so he knew you’d end up hearing about this. But why he wanted you to have the information? I have no idea.”
“He certainly hasn’t been too forthcoming inourconversations with him,” Montgomery said.
“Most of your ‘conversations’ are interrogations, aren’t they? Handcuffs are involved? That’s not going to work. You’re not going to intimidate Wade into any damn thing.”
“Sounds like you admire him for that.” Hockley was still prodding, still playing his game, but Jericho was on to him now.
“A bit more intel from him, in case you’re interested.” Jericho leaned back in his chair. “He said you two were assholes. Clean, but . . . assholes.” He glanced at Kayla, then back at Hockley. “I assume he meant for me to passthatalong, as well.”
“We’ve probably come to the end of any useful intel here,” Kayla said firmly. “Hockley, you’ll use your resources to investigate that name? Anders Pilman? Jay, you’ll review the federal files and see if you’ve got any additions or comments? And if the bikers contact you, you’ll come to us before you take action. Right?”
“That can be my goal,” Jericho said. “Can’t guarantee it’ll be possible, of course.”
“Make it happen,” Kayla said. “Wade was correct about the DeMontes being psychos, and they’ve got a well-armed crew. If I’d known about the little stunt yesterday,” and she shot a dirty look toward the feds, “I would have vetoed it. We arenotsetting you up to seem like an ally of the bikers, and you arenotauthorized for any more of your solo cowboy bullshit.” She sighed. “If they contact you, let us know. Otherwise, leave them the hell alone.”
“We’re running scared?” Jericho asked. “The bikers can do whatever they want because we’re afraid to get in their way?”
