I park outside of a rundown dive bar outside of town with a gravel driveway and a sign so worn and chipped it’s impossible to read. “Where the hell did you bring me, Angelo?” Sara asks, squinting through the windshield. It’s around five on a Saturday and there are already half a dozen cars parked nearby.
“This is the High Noon and it’s a freaking cop bar.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope, I’m serious. The state police have a headquarters nearby and I guess a bunch of the cops in the area all started congregating here. Don’t ask me how that happened.”
“I thought they all hated each other.”
I shrug and kill the engine. “Here’s the thing. I did some research over the last few days.”
“Yeah? Did you now? And what did you find out?”
“Our detective, Misty Vance. She happens to come here, to this bar, every single Saturday right around this time.”
“And how the hell do you—” She holds up a hand. “You know what, never mind, I don’t want to know.”
I grin at her and don’t bother saying I hounded the secretary that works at the Dallas PD and gave her a big fat bribe for any info he had to share about Detective Vance. This was the only good tip she had.
“Vance is going to be surrounded by her cop buddies in there which means she’s not going to talk. But we might be able to wait out here until she emerges.”
Sara’s lips press into a line. “I’m a lawyer. I could go in there.”
“I doubt they get very many lawyers like you at a place like this.”
“It’s a cop bar, right? That means it’s the safest place in the world.”
I laugh drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “You’d be surprised how not true that is.”
“Look, you can stay here, but I’m going in.”
“Sara—”
“This isn’t your show, Angelo.” She gives me a hard look. The soft, moaning, whimpering girl from a few nights ago is totally gone. I thought I saw a glimpse of her the next morning, but Sara’s been rebuilding her walls and putting them up twice as high ever since she gave in and let me make her feel good.
But it was fucking worth it.
The taste of her skin, her hard, pink nipples, her soaking wet little clit, her moans, everything about her was perfection. I wanted so much more and it took all my willpower not to cross that line.
I could see what would happen in her face. The moment the real world began to reassert itself, her walls came back up. She would’ve been freaked out and any progress I’m making on opening her up would’ve been ruined.
I held back. But I don’t know if I can do that again.
She snaps off her seatbelt and goes to get out, but I grab her arm. She glares at me, nostrils flaring.
“Think for a second,” I say quickly. “If you go in there and start talking to her in front of all her cop buddies, what do you think will happen?”
She hesitates. “I’ll ask her to speak privately.”
“And they’ll all know she’s talking to a lawyer. They’ll figure out who you are and connect you back to her one big case. Then whoever is behind this coverup will know we’re after them.”
“How do you know it isn’t Vance herself?”
“You really didn’t look at her files.”
“Yes, I did,” Sara says, sounding annoyed. “Vance is twenty-eight, young for a detective, but decorated. She was promoted six weeks ago—” She stops, lips pressed together. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“She’s a rookie,” I say. “A young detective without much experience. Why would anyone assign her a case like this?”
“Unless they want her to mess it up.” Sara relaxes and sits back in her seat. “I should’ve seen this sooner.”
“You have enough to worry about. If you go storming in there, everyone will know we’re chasing after this lead, and we definitely don’t want that.”
“So what do we do?”
“Sit back and wait.”
Sara glances at me then looks at the bar and sighs. “Stay in this car with you for possibly hours or roll the dice and go inside. I have to admit, it’s not an easy decision.”
“As much as I love your wit and your conversation, this is what’s right for the case. Sit back and relax, my frigid little princess. We’ve got time to kill.”
Sara closes her eyes, curses quietly, but at least she doesn’t move.
Half my job is boring. There are exciting bits, like running after scumbags that won’t pay their debts or breaking knees or killing enemies, but mostly it’s a lot of administration. Making sure guys have product, making sure the stash houses are safe and secure, keeping cops fat and happy, all that shit. I’m used to this sort of exhausting boredom, but Sara’s not.
She gets antsy after ten minutes.
“Tell me something about growing up,” I say just to keep her distracted. “What was it like?”
“I’d rather not give you my sob story.”
“Ah, come on. You’re one of those overachievers. What did Mommy and Daddy do to you?”
Her jaw flexes, but she must be even more bored than I realized, because she answers. “Mom is an alcoholic homemaker and my father is a surgeon.”
“Surgeon. Fancy. Gotta admit though, I know a whole lot of alcoholic homemakers. That’s basically just wife where I’m from.”
She gives me a look like she’s sick of my shit. “What about you? Your parents both passed?”
“That’s right. My grandma raised me.”
“She must’ve been a good woman.”
“The best there is, but she couldn’t work much. Had all these health problems. COPD, arthritis, diabetes. Bunch of shit. That’s why I am what I am.”
“And what are you, Angelo?”
I consider that question. “I’m a man that looks out for those that I love.”
She seems surprised by my answer, but she doesn’t try to correct me. Instead, she shifts down lower in her seat and closes her eyes. I figure the conversation is over and let her get some beauty rest, but after a few minutes she speaks up.
“When I first met you, I never would’ve guessed you were the type of guy to drop everything to come down to Dallas and help out a friend.”
“Nicolas isn’t just a friend. He’s a brother.” But I doubt she can understand that.
“Even still. I don’t agree with the way you go about things, but so far, you’re getting some results, and you’re risking a lot to do it.”
“In my line of work, you treat your people like kings. You take care of your family and you pay your debts. That’s always been how I live.”
“If you weren’t a criminal, that’d almost be noble.”
“Unfortunately, I’m scum.”
She cracks a smile and turns on the radio.
We get lucky. Cops all across the world tend to be the hard drinking type. It’s the sort of job that sticks with people, that really gets under the skin, under the nails, that’s like a grime under their tongue. Drinking softens some of the bad stuff. Makes some of it almost easy to manage. I’ve met sober cops, but I’ve never met a cop that doesn’t have at least one coping mechanism.
Detective Misty Vance exits the bar flanked by a big gentleman around eight. Only three hours, which is lucky. They pause out front, talk for a few minutes, then go in opposite directions. I’d guess partner, boyfriend, lover. Maybe all three. I nudge Sara and she startles awake.
“Now’s our chance,” I say and open the door. “You ready?”
“Ready,” she says and follows me outside.
Detective Vance’s car is a black Ford pickup. She’s parked at the far end of the lot, and as we approach, she puts her back to the vehicle and turns on us, one hand moving to the weapon at her hip. She’s pretty, short blonde hair, hard eyes, no makeup. Denim jacket over jeans. I give her my best smile, and maybe Sara does too, because the detective squints at us and doesn’t draw the gun.
“Can I help you two?” she asks.
“Detective,” Sara says. “My name is Sara Bray and this is my associate, Angelo. I work for the law firm Klein and Houndson.”
I try not to grin. I’m her associate now? It almost sounds like we both work for that fancy law firm, which was probably her intention.
Detective Vance’s eyebrows raise. “What can I do for you, Ms. Bray?”
“Sara,” she says and clears her throat. “Detective, I wanted to ask you about Wally Batt.”
Detective Vance’s entire demeanor changes the moment Sara mentions that name. Just like Wally back at the motel, her arms cross over her chest and she shuts down. She’s not going to run away like good old Wally did, but the expression on her face is harder than iron.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Bray, but I can’t discuss that.”
“You spoke with Wally, didn’t you?” Sara takes a step closer and Detective Vance flinches. “That’s what he told us, but there’s no record of your conversation.”
“If you have an issue with the files we released, you can take it up with the judge, or you can come down to the station during business hours. Surprising me on my night off isn’t going to get you anywhere, Ms. Bray.”
“What Sara’s trying to say is who wanted that interview to disappear, and why do you look like you’re ready to bolt?” I smile as sweetly as I can but Detective Vance looks like she tastes something sour.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. If you folks need something, go through official channels. I’m heading home.”
“Please, Detective,” Sara presses. “There are five dead bodies and an innocent guy’s going down for it. Why did your interview with Wally disappear?”
Vance stands with her hand on the handle of her truck, ready to yank it open, but she pauses. She stares straight ahead, not moving for a few seconds, and the night’s so filled with tension that I think it’s trying to shove its way down my throat. My heart’s going fast and I don’t know how the detective’s going to react to this line of questioning. Some part of me worries she’s about to lash out at Sara. Maybe I had it wrong and Vance really is part of the coverup after all.
But she looks down at the ground. “If I was interested in the truth, I’d find that interview. I conducted it and filed it through the proper channels, and if it’s missing, well, I don’t know who made it disappear.”
“Where should we look?” Sara asks.
But the detective only shakes her head. “Good luck to you two.” She opens her door, gets inside, and the engine roars to life.
We move out of the way as Detective Vance drives off and doesn’t look back.
“Well, that was interesting,” I say and steer Sara to the car.
“We need that file.”
“Problem is, where the hell can we find it?”
“Cops are half enforcers and half bureaucrats. They file, refile, and do everything in triplicate. It’ll be somewhere.”
I get back behind the wheel and Sara clicks her seatbelt on.
“You’re a scary woman, you know that?” I smirk as she glares at me. “Going toe to toe with that detective.”
“Take us back to the hotel, Angelo.”
“Yes, ma’am. It’ll be my pleasure.”
