There was a pause.Mel knew that was a lie.Cloister’s trailer park was out on the other side of Plenty; it would be hard to find a more out-of-his-way route back.But gossip like someone being in IA’s pocket got around fast, and Dispatch was always the first to know.
“Copy,” she said.“Give that good dog a pet from me.”
The call dropped, and Bourneville shoved her nose between the seats, under Cloister’s elbow, to collect her scratch.He scrubbed his thumb over the top of her head, between her eyes and back along her bony skull.There was a lump in front of her ear that made her grunt and shake her head, ears flapping, when Cloister’s fingers found it.
“I know,” he said.“If Gardner hadn’t let that guy go, you’d not have gotten that.Why don’t we see what he has to say for himself?”
Thesliplinetrailedbehind Bourneville as she trotted over to the scrubby verge between the gas station and the desert to do her business.As she squatted, gaze fixed on the horizon, Boyd glanced from her to Cloister.
“You know what, I need to use the little girl’s room too,” Boyd said as she grabbed the trash from lunch off the hood of the car.“Be right back.”
She wouldn’t be.
As the rookie made herself scarce, Cloister helped himself to Gardner’s Orange Bang.The plastic sides of the cup were cold against his fingers as he lifted it to his mouth.The whipped orange was cool and foamy on his tongue.
“Why’d you cut Brian Fowler loose?”he asked as he let the straw slip back out of his mouth.
Gardner’s expression toggled between irritation at having his drink jacked and aggression toward the question.It settled on sour as Gardner leaned back against the side of the car and crossed his arms.His mouth twisted up at the side as he sniffed dismissively.
“You ever think I was doing you a solid?”he asked.
“No.”
Gardner reached up and pulled his Sheriff’s Department branded cap off.He slapped the cap against his thigh as he glared at Cloister.
“It wasn’t a clean collar, Deputy,” he said, his voice scathing.“You didn’t have eyes on the perp for the majority of the pursuit, you didn’t have reason to make entry to the house—which our aggrieved homeowner was going to make a fucking thing of—and your loose-mouthed dog made unnecessary contact with a suspect.The whole station already knew you were on thin ice, that that Fed from LA had it out for you.So I figured, the guy obviously wasn’t well, and nobody got hurt.Why not cut you both a break.You’re welcome.”
He spat the words out like a TO dressing down a rookie.It might have worked…on a rookie.Cloister had been called on the mat by a drill sergeant before.Gardner didn’t have those chops.
“Bullshit,” Cloister said.
The thing about gingers was that they had a hard time hiding their temper.Color flushed livid pink from Gardner’s throat up past his ears and into his hairline.The color was visible through thinning hair as it worked its way back over his scalp.He tossed his cap onto the hot hood of the car and took a step forward into Cloister’s space.Gardner was lanky, but he wasn’t short.At…five nine, five ten…he was probably tall enough that he could crowd most people.
Cloister was six four in his boots.
As realization hit that wasn’t going to work, Gardner shook his head and stepped back.He jabbed a finger at Cloister’s face.
“Is that what passes for clever banter with dog cops?”he asked, lip curled.“One word.No.Bullshit.Sit.Stay.Fucking Caesar Milan could do your job.”
“My dog could do yours,” he said.“In fact, she did.Which is why Brian Fowler is back in custody.”
Gardner licked his lips and scratched his eyebrow, a quick fidgeted tell.
“Yeah?”he said with a nervy shrug.“I heard the Feds took him.”
“They did,” Cloister said.“Frome’ll get him handed over to us.He’s already got his back up about the Feds interfering in his business.He’s not going to let this slide.And if you think Kincaid is going to cover for you…”
Something flickered over Gardner’s face.It looked like fear.Cloister wanted to doubt it, but it looked genuine.
“Did he threaten you?”Cloister asked.
“Fowler?”
“Kincaid.”
Gardner screwed his face up and blustered, “I’m not scared of that pale streak of piss,” he said.“I’d nothing to hold Fowler on because of your fuck-up, Witte.Kincaid’ll buy that, just like everyone else.I don’t know how thefuckyou got your badge back, but that investigation can be reopened like that.”
He snapped his fingers.
