It took considerable effort to keep my expression neutral.
That was it? That was his grand strategic insight?
Sure, it was true that Linda Fell’s boyfriend, Jared Finch, wasn’t exactly what you’d call a clean-cut citizen. His record read like a list of bad decisions and worse luck: possession, petty theft, disorderly conduct. Nothing ever violent, however.
When I questioned him, he had been cooperative, but dazed. He spoke in starts and stops, his thoughts tangled, but there was no real fear there, just the quiet resignation of someone used to being on the wrong side of the interrogation table. I had looked into his eyes and didn’t see a killer—only a man barely holding himself together, worn down by a harsh life.
“If I may, sir. I have a feeling we may be barking up the wrong tree.”
Donovan let out a quiet breath. “Of course you do, Detective Sawyer.”
He sounded like he expected nothing less.
It was anything but a compliment.
Fucker.
As if hearing the silent insult, Donovan lifted his head and met my eyes directly—the first real act of acknowledgment since I’d walked into his office. There was something glacial in his gaze, sharpened by years of unchallenged authority, meantto remind you of your place.
“Go question Jared Finch again. Then get back to me.”
I knew an order when I heard one. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste copper.
“Understood,” I responded, then turned around and left before I said something I couldn’t take back.
I’d have to go through yet another round of unnecessary interviews.
But there was nothing I could do about it. What the boss said, went.
Even if he was a stupid fuck.
I jammed the elevator button, hard. The plastic panel flickered under my touch, offering nothing but a dull, mechanical blink in return.
Useless. Slow. Just like everything else in this damn building.
Sudden movement stirred at the edge of my vision—Adam, appearing with his usual to-go coffee cup in hand. I snapped my head toward him, scowling.
“Where the fuck have you been? Did you forget we had a meeting with Donovan today?”
Adam took a leisurely sip, seemingly unbothered by the bite in my tone. “I was following a lead.”
Yeah, right. Sometimes I wondered why I even bothered. If I could, I’d work every case alone and be happier for it, if not for the stupid department policy.
Thankfully, Adam and I had come to a mutual understanding early on—we each did our own thing. He followed his leads, I followed mine, and we met up and compared notes once the case demanded it. I had to admit that out of all the previous partners I’d been saddled with, he irritated me the least, mostly because he had the good sense to stay out of my way.
“You seem a bit pissed off,” Adam observed as I stabbed the elevator button again.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
One of these days, I swore I was going to ‘accidentally’run Donovan over with my car. Nothing too fatal, just a fractured rib or two, enough to keep him out of my sight for a couple of weeks.
After what felt like an eternity, the elevator doors finally slid open.
Adam made a quiet noise of understanding as we stepped inside. “You shouldn’t let him get to you so much.”
I let out a breath, pulled from somewhere deep inside my chest. “Easier said than done.”
Donovan was always watching, waiting for me to screw something up. Well, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I’d sooner die than let Donovan get one over me.
