last three years, homicides have quadrupled, you're executing cops-turned-serial-killers... and that doesn't even get into the fact that you've got a freak out there who thinks she can play dress-up and bust people's heads. What do you have to say for your hometown, David? ”
“ If the police would do their jobs, we wouldn't need a costumed vigilante in our city ,” Gregor replied with a casual shrug. Richards dropped the remote and shook his head with a rueful chuckle, half-tempted to reach for the bottle of bourbon sitting behind his desk. “ The fact is, Sean, that Bounty is doing good things for this city. She dismantled the Order. She has taken hardened criminals off of our streets, and she has proven to the citizens of Baltimore that there's someone out there they can trust. ”
“ Never mind the fact that she's breaking the law . ”
Another shrug from Gregor. “ So did the officers who killed Devin Buckner. ”
The anchor was clearly angry at this point, tightly clutching his pen and clenching his jaw. Even though the TV was standard definition, Richards could see the vein throbbing on the anchor's forehead. Clearly an ideological blowhard with his own agenda, this man didn't appreciate his guest -- normally very friendly with that particular network -- going off-script.
“Ain't that some shit,” Richards mumbled to himself with a sideways grin.
CHAPTER 24
“Hey, Hi,” Ramon called out as he came out of the break room, a fresh mug of steaming coffee in his grasp, “any word from Tech yet on that mystery call?”
“Nothing yet,” Hitori Watson answered, his voice muffled by the pencil clutched between his teeth as his fingers danced over his keyboard. Inter-departmental emails were his preferred method of communication -- phone calls were not Watson's forte. In what felt like a stroke of irony, Tech was notoriously slow at responding to emails. Watson's lack of patience was in direct conflict with the other department's slow-but-steady approach, and he was in the process of typing his third email inquiry of the day -- and he still had an hour before lunch.
“You know what would be funny?” Ramon asked before cringing. “I mean, not funny , necessarily, but...”
Watson looked up from his monitor. “Ramon.”
“What if that voice was Detective Paulson?”
Watson removed the pencil from his mouth, placing it in a mug next to the framed photograph he kept of his parents from a trip they had taken back to their native Japan before he was born. His father had died a month ago, and after finding the picture while going through his things, Watson was determined to keep the reminder of where he came from close. “You don't really believe that, do you?”
“No.” Ramon took his first sip. “But the guy's a Grade A prick, and his badge is going to waste.”
“Could say that about a lot of the cops in this city.”
The elevator dinged , and Ramon turned in time to see Officer Sorenson emerge from the car with Mitch in tow. The blond and purple dreads clashed with her maroon hoodie and khaki-colored cargo pants. Mitch favored large, loose-fitting clothes, and she struck Ramon as the sort of person who liked covering up from head to toe even if the weather was warm.
“Mitch,” he called out in surprise. “Is everything alright?”
“She insisted I bring her here to see you,” Sorenson explained. “Never seen someone so eager to talk to a cop when they weren't in any danger.”
“Thanks, Greg.” Ramon tilted his head to the side and started back toward the break room. “C'mon. I'll get ya something to drink.”
◊◊◊
“Got any hot chocolate?” Mitch asked as soon as Ramon shut the door to the break room.
“Um... not sure.” Ramon frowned and opened the faded blue cabinet above the coffee pot, his eyes scanning the almost-bare shelves. “Most of us around here are coffee addicts. I know I can't live without the stuff... even if it tastes like warmed-over
“ If the police would do their jobs, we wouldn't need a costumed vigilante in our city ,” Gregor replied with a casual shrug. Richards dropped the remote and shook his head with a rueful chuckle, half-tempted to reach for the bottle of bourbon sitting behind his desk. “ The fact is, Sean, that Bounty is doing good things for this city. She dismantled the Order. She has taken hardened criminals off of our streets, and she has proven to the citizens of Baltimore that there's someone out there they can trust. ”
“ Never mind the fact that she's breaking the law . ”
Another shrug from Gregor. “ So did the officers who killed Devin Buckner. ”
The anchor was clearly angry at this point, tightly clutching his pen and clenching his jaw. Even though the TV was standard definition, Richards could see the vein throbbing on the anchor's forehead. Clearly an ideological blowhard with his own agenda, this man didn't appreciate his guest -- normally very friendly with that particular network -- going off-script.
“Ain't that some shit,” Richards mumbled to himself with a sideways grin.
CHAPTER 24
“Hey, Hi,” Ramon called out as he came out of the break room, a fresh mug of steaming coffee in his grasp, “any word from Tech yet on that mystery call?”
“Nothing yet,” Hitori Watson answered, his voice muffled by the pencil clutched between his teeth as his fingers danced over his keyboard. Inter-departmental emails were his preferred method of communication -- phone calls were not Watson's forte. In what felt like a stroke of irony, Tech was notoriously slow at responding to emails. Watson's lack of patience was in direct conflict with the other department's slow-but-steady approach, and he was in the process of typing his third email inquiry of the day -- and he still had an hour before lunch.
“You know what would be funny?” Ramon asked before cringing. “I mean, not funny , necessarily, but...”
Watson looked up from his monitor. “Ramon.”
“What if that voice was Detective Paulson?”
Watson removed the pencil from his mouth, placing it in a mug next to the framed photograph he kept of his parents from a trip they had taken back to their native Japan before he was born. His father had died a month ago, and after finding the picture while going through his things, Watson was determined to keep the reminder of where he came from close. “You don't really believe that, do you?”
“No.” Ramon took his first sip. “But the guy's a Grade A prick, and his badge is going to waste.”
“Could say that about a lot of the cops in this city.”
The elevator dinged , and Ramon turned in time to see Officer Sorenson emerge from the car with Mitch in tow. The blond and purple dreads clashed with her maroon hoodie and khaki-colored cargo pants. Mitch favored large, loose-fitting clothes, and she struck Ramon as the sort of person who liked covering up from head to toe even if the weather was warm.
“Mitch,” he called out in surprise. “Is everything alright?”
“She insisted I bring her here to see you,” Sorenson explained. “Never seen someone so eager to talk to a cop when they weren't in any danger.”
“Thanks, Greg.” Ramon tilted his head to the side and started back toward the break room. “C'mon. I'll get ya something to drink.”
◊◊◊
“Got any hot chocolate?” Mitch asked as soon as Ramon shut the door to the break room.
“Um... not sure.” Ramon frowned and opened the faded blue cabinet above the coffee pot, his eyes scanning the almost-bare shelves. “Most of us around here are coffee addicts. I know I can't live without the stuff... even if it tastes like warmed-over
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