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DETECTIVE MICHALES
Grant Geyer and Samuel Millington’s names coming over the police scanner was like getting the perfect present on Christmas morning. I may be on administrative leave, but knowing the precinct is going to send two incompetent patrolmen to take a statement, nothing could stop me from heading over there.
Flipping on my car’s sirens, I waste no time crossing town and pulling into the emergency bay. When I climb from the car, I immediately recognize the expensive car parked beside me. Pressing my face to the glass to peer through the window, I take note of the blood-soaked passenger seat.
“Detective Michales.” I flash my badge at entry. “I’m here for the mugging—Mr. Geyer and Mr. Millington.”
I don’t for a second believe that this was a mugging.
The woman at the desk types on her keyboard and informs me, “Mr. Millington is still in surgery. I believe Mr. Geyer is in the waiting room.”
“Thank you.” I begin walking from the desk as I speak.
Seeing Mr. Geyer, I head straight over to him and take a seat beside him. Keeping my voice low, I ask, “What happened? Did one of them finally fight back?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shakes his head, denying my accusation. “We were leaving The Jellyfish after an early lunch to discuss some business matters, and a guy attacked us in the parking lot.”
“He’s in surgery, and you’re sitting here completely unscathed?”
“The kid.” I shake my head. “He’s fucking stupid sometimes. He put up a fight when the guy demanded his wallet. And then, it all just happened so fast.”
“And you brought him here? Instead of calling for an ambulance?”
“I didn’t think. I jus?—”
“Grant.” His words are cut short when a gorgeous blonde comes running into the waiting room. He stands from his seat, and she practically jumps into his arms. “Thank God you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” His hands slide along her face, cupping it as he leans down to kiss her.
“And Sam?” she asks the moment he pulls back. Mr. Geyer shakes his head, and she gasps, “Is he?”
“He’s in surgery, kitten,” he consoles her. “Did you get in touch with Cora?”
“I left a message, but?—”
“I’m going to need to get her number from you.” I interject myself into their conversation.
“Sure.” She reaches for her pocket. “I must’ve left it at home in my rush to get here.”
“I have your card at home. Plenty of them.” Mr. Geyer’s eyes dart toward me. “We’ll get it to you after we make sure our friend is okay. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
Taking his less-than-subtle hint, I stand from the uncomfortable waiting room chair and head toward the exit. I am apparently leaving in the nick of time as I pass the two patrol officers at the exit.
Making a beeline to my car, I flip open my notebook the moment I’m behind the wheel, quickly jotting down every detail of Mr. Geyer’s recount of the alleged events and the conversation I overheard between him and the blonde.
Finishing the details, I leave myself a few notes:
Mid-Day Mugging
—Fucking Bullshit!
It’s all too perfect.
Where is Cora Durant?
DEAD???
Closing the notebook, I toss it onto the passenger seat before pulling out my phone.
