believe. Do me a favor: try and think for yourself. I’ll leave you with a question.” He leaned across the table, calmer now and more deliberate. His tired, haunted eyes were earnest. “Have you ever really sat down and thought about why you’re stuck behind a desk when where you want to be—and what you’re good at—is patrol?”
He continued without waiting for an answer. “It has nothing to do directly with you. It has to do with the news coverage the shooting brought to the station. They were afraid some reporter nosing around about you and Derek might accidentally uncover their dirty secrets. They didn’t like the heat, so they took you out of the kitchen while Derek chose to take stress leave. Teresa knew something she shouldn’t, and she was murdered. I don’t know what, but the only way they can fix the problem they now have is by speedy closure. The two boys are sacrificial lambs. Their speedy trial and conviction will keep prying eyes away from the PD.”
Carly glared at him and said nothing.
“I know I sound crazy. I told you I would,” Jeff continued. “I can’t help it. I’ve stumbled onto the tip of something that even I don’t believe. And I can’t stress enough how you can’t trust anyone—not even Nick. He’s part of the administration now. Not even people you’ve known for years at work. This thing has spread like cancer. This city has sold its soul to the devil, and Teresa’s death is only the tip of the iceberg.”
He turned to leave and then stopped. As if there was a monumental struggle going on inside him, Jeff slowly turned around. “Carly, you’re still a good cop. Doing the right thing matters to you. Help me. Please.”
Carly looked away from him. His reasoning for her transfer was jarring, but it made more sense than “for your own good.” She wanted to tell Jeff to get lost, because his cheating reminded her too much of Nick. But what if he was right? She swallowed any sharp retorts—and maybe some good sense. “I can’t say I’ll do any more than just keep my eyes open.”
“Fair enough.” If he relaxed at all, it was imperceptible. “Let me leave first. Here’s a number you can call if you need to reach me.” He tossed her a card. “Give me a few minutes, and then you leave. And, Carly, don’t tell anyone about this conversation, not even Nick.”
He threw some money on the table and was gone.
12
Like a tornado, Jeff carved a swath across Carly’s consciousness and twisted on. She watched him leave, somewhat numb. Maybe he’s working too hard. Maybe being undercover is to blame. She glanced at her watch and panicked. I’m late! How do I explain this to the sergeant?
Rising quickly, Carly checked the money Jeff had left. There was enough for both meals. Good. He owes me for listening to his ravings. Unfortunately the soup was now congealing into an unpleasant lump in her stomach. As she made her way to the front door, she realized there was no choice but to tell Nick, in spite of Jeff’s warning. Maybe I won’t tell him everything, but he should at least know how strange Jeff is acting. This thought brought up too many conflicting emotions. She didn’t want to talk to Nick, but she should, shouldn’t she? Nick should know that his best friend is 5150, considering the fact that Jeff carries a gun. Maybe I should call Jeff’s sergeant. . . .
“Carly!” Derek Potter stepped into her path, surprising Carly enough that her hand went to the fanny pack gun compartment.
“Hi, Derek. What a surprise.” She let her hand drop to her side, tempted to tell Derek the surprise was not a pleasant one.
“You look great! Are you here with anyone?” His eyes scanned the immediate area around Carly. There was a beer in his hand, and given his demeanor, it wasn’t the first of the night. Derek was a fireplug of a guy, short but thickly muscled with what an old training officer would call a punch-me face. No matter what his mood, he always seemed to
He continued without waiting for an answer. “It has nothing to do directly with you. It has to do with the news coverage the shooting brought to the station. They were afraid some reporter nosing around about you and Derek might accidentally uncover their dirty secrets. They didn’t like the heat, so they took you out of the kitchen while Derek chose to take stress leave. Teresa knew something she shouldn’t, and she was murdered. I don’t know what, but the only way they can fix the problem they now have is by speedy closure. The two boys are sacrificial lambs. Their speedy trial and conviction will keep prying eyes away from the PD.”
Carly glared at him and said nothing.
“I know I sound crazy. I told you I would,” Jeff continued. “I can’t help it. I’ve stumbled onto the tip of something that even I don’t believe. And I can’t stress enough how you can’t trust anyone—not even Nick. He’s part of the administration now. Not even people you’ve known for years at work. This thing has spread like cancer. This city has sold its soul to the devil, and Teresa’s death is only the tip of the iceberg.”
He turned to leave and then stopped. As if there was a monumental struggle going on inside him, Jeff slowly turned around. “Carly, you’re still a good cop. Doing the right thing matters to you. Help me. Please.”
Carly looked away from him. His reasoning for her transfer was jarring, but it made more sense than “for your own good.” She wanted to tell Jeff to get lost, because his cheating reminded her too much of Nick. But what if he was right? She swallowed any sharp retorts—and maybe some good sense. “I can’t say I’ll do any more than just keep my eyes open.”
“Fair enough.” If he relaxed at all, it was imperceptible. “Let me leave first. Here’s a number you can call if you need to reach me.” He tossed her a card. “Give me a few minutes, and then you leave. And, Carly, don’t tell anyone about this conversation, not even Nick.”
He threw some money on the table and was gone.
12
Like a tornado, Jeff carved a swath across Carly’s consciousness and twisted on. She watched him leave, somewhat numb. Maybe he’s working too hard. Maybe being undercover is to blame. She glanced at her watch and panicked. I’m late! How do I explain this to the sergeant?
Rising quickly, Carly checked the money Jeff had left. There was enough for both meals. Good. He owes me for listening to his ravings. Unfortunately the soup was now congealing into an unpleasant lump in her stomach. As she made her way to the front door, she realized there was no choice but to tell Nick, in spite of Jeff’s warning. Maybe I won’t tell him everything, but he should at least know how strange Jeff is acting. This thought brought up too many conflicting emotions. She didn’t want to talk to Nick, but she should, shouldn’t she? Nick should know that his best friend is 5150, considering the fact that Jeff carries a gun. Maybe I should call Jeff’s sergeant. . . .
“Carly!” Derek Potter stepped into her path, surprising Carly enough that her hand went to the fanny pack gun compartment.
“Hi, Derek. What a surprise.” She let her hand drop to her side, tempted to tell Derek the surprise was not a pleasant one.
“You look great! Are you here with anyone?” His eyes scanned the immediate area around Carly. There was a beer in his hand, and given his demeanor, it wasn’t the first of the night. Derek was a fireplug of a guy, short but thickly muscled with what an old training officer would call a punch-me face. No matter what his mood, he always seemed to
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