She shook her head. “No, actually. I thought you might want to know that a detective from New Gothenburg came in yesterday, and they hauled Peter Gaffin to the Downtown Station. He spent last night in the medical dorms, and then they took him again first thing this morning. There are orders to transfer him back to the jail in New Gothenburg, which is just weird. I’ve never seen anything like that happen, except that time the FBI came in and snatched the guy who was turning on the Reyes Cartel. Do you remember?”
“I remember hearing about his body floating in the lake last year, prior to him being able to testify,” I muttered.Fuck, don’t let the same thing happen to Peter.
She winced. “Yeah, well, it was so strange, I came to ask you if someone else noticed you two… doing whatever, and turned you in? I couldn’t figure out why that was happening with Gaffin. I was going to offer to—uh—cover your tracks. The footage from that night is gone. I got rid of it.” She fiddled with a strand of her hair, then flung it aside.
“You’re not supposed to do that. The footage is supposed to stay for six months. If someone looks….”
“I know,” she whispered and shrugged. “But they’d have to know what they were looking for to notice.”
“They came and took him.” My mind whirled and I could feel my brain being sluggish around the pain meds I’d had today. “Shit. I honestly have no idea why. Beast didn’t get to him?” It hurt to ask, but I needed to know.
She gave me the kind of frown where her eyes squinted and her nose wrinkled.
“Fuck!”
“Sorry, I was thinking.” She sighed. “I don’t think so. There was nothing on the camera feeds that I watched. Therewasan altercation between them in the yard. Gaffin walked away. From what I understand, he started it.”
“Fuck.” My heart swelled with pride and I nodded. I shouldn’t be happy Peter had shit-stirred, but it was nice he’d tried to stand up for himself.
“Detective Hanlon is who grabbed him. Really serious guy. Good-looking.” She smiled and stared over my shoulder for a second before she shook her head and glanced back at me. “He took Gaffin in his car, didn’t even bother with transport.”
“My shoes.” I pointed at them where they were in a clear plastic bag in the corner and made grabby hands. She frowned at me but did as I asked and plopped the bag in my lap.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she stared while I began to struggle with the bag.
“Going to the police station.”
She sighed, snatched the bag back, and helped me put on my boots with the verifiable patience of the sort schoolteachers and parents showed everywhere. I could barely help get the boots on, and she only snorted when I bent to lace them, swatted me away, and finished the job herself. I looked goofy in the shorts and my work gear, but it would have to do. She stood and stared steadily into my eyes.
“You have a thing with Gaffin.”
“You saw.”
“You’re really fucking lucky it was me.” Lightly, she poked my shoulder. “Anyone else would have hopped, skipped, and jumped to turn you in. You know what that place can be like. The guards are there too long, and soon enough they start to act like the cons.”
“Thank you. I know.” I stood again, and she removed my winter coat from another bag that had been tossed in the corner. I winced my way through putting my arms through the sleeves as I hobbled toward the hallway, cursing and swearing under my breath about my fucking leg.
“What the hell are you doing?” Rowdy asked as I left the room, straightening from where he’d been leaning against a wall. The twisted scowl he wore told me he was two seconds away from fireman-carrying my ass back into the hospital room—and he could.
“Peter’s at the police station in downtown New Gothenburg.” He didn’t need me to explain any further because I’d been talking about Peter every time he visited, whether he wanted to hear it or not. The pain meds made me chatty.
Rowdy shook his head. A nurse pushing an old woman in a wheelchair smiled her way past us and all three of us pressed against the walls to get out of the way. “Dr. Andoh didn’t sign you out officially. You go back in that room.”
“I am leaving. You gonna make me walk? I will.” Jutting my chin at him, I silently dared him to test me.
“Settle down. Fuck. Fuck you for doing this, Drew. Making me act like a jackass.” The dick rushed over and cuffed the back of my head, but it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t difficult for him to get out of striking distance before I could retaliate.
“Good luck.” Burnsdale gave me a happy grin and waved at me.
Less than an hour later, after a forced stop at a Walmart by Rowdy for me to buy and pull on some sweatpants, we were standing in the lobby of the busy police station. I gripped the ledge of the finger-smudged counter in front of the cop on information duty to keep myself upright. The glass barrier between us made me uneasy. He was an older man with a mole on his left cheek I couldn’t stop staring at. “I need to know what’s going on with Peter Gaffin.”
“They aren’t going to tell you shit,” Rowdy said unhelpfully from my side.
“Sir, whoareyou?” the cop behind the counter asked, sliding his gaze down my sloppily dressed body.
“I’m a guard from TFC.” I gave him my name and guard number and hoped beyond hope that might help out. The police didn’t always like us.
“Who do you want to speak with about Mr. Gaffin? What information are you passing along?” The cop tapped a pen on a notepad on the desk in front of him, his eyes shrinking to a penetrating squint. I thought maybe if I’d been a true civvy he’d have told me to get lost by now.
