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“I follow the evidence.” I shove him back again, because he’s intent on being in my space while the rest of my squad files in. They run closer, to protect me, maybe. Or to watch me get what’s owed to me. “I’ve named no names. Pointed no fingers at a singular person. But you know our vics, don’t you, Stohl? Same division once upon a time. Same C.O. Same cases, even.”
“You’re accusingme?” He roars and swings, balling his fist and slamming it down on my jaw until my lip damn near explodes and bells ring in my ears. Officer Clay jumps him, hugging Stohl’s arms to his chest and savingme a busted nose and a metric ton of paperwork. “You don’t come in here accusing me of killing a cop, you motherfucker!”
“You’re the one stepping up to me! I haven’t mentioned your name. Haven’t called you in to talk.” I bring my hand up and swipe the line of blood dribbling onto my chin. “Didn’t even invite you into my squad, because fuck knows you and I can’t work together.”
“Yeah, that would be pretty fucking awkward, seeing as how your daddy had mine shot. You know all about cop killers, don’t you?”
“I know all sorts of things.” I push him a third time, knocking Clay off balance and catching Fletch’s shoulder when he attempts to stand between us. “Don’t come at me unless you wanna hang,Stool. We can get a beer and really hash our shit out. But considering you’re a bigger fucking pussy than any other around here, I figure you lack the balls to sit down with me.”
“Sit down with a mafia brat?” He mock-scoffs, fixing his shirt and sneering up at me. “I know better than to associate with trash.”
“Let’s go.” Detective Taylor muscles between us, backing me up until Fletch gets a handle on my shoulders and holds me in place. Then he turns to his former squad member and points over his shoulder. “Go!”
“You hand your loyalty to a fucking traitor?”
“I hand my loyalty to the job! We have dead brothers, Stohl, apartments being shot up, and A.P. rounds out here scaring folks. Do the job, man! Save the drama for after we clock out.”
“Let’s go.” Fletch drags me around, almost lifting me off the ground when I’d rather plant my boot in Stohl’s weaselly face. My eyes burn daggers in the back of Taylor’s head, because he stands between me and a guy I should have dealt with a decade ago. “I said we’re moving!” He yanks me around and smacks the side of my jaw when I attempt to turn and stare over my shoulder. “You’re inside a police precinct, dipshit. Get it together before Lieutenant Fabian comes down to deal with you.”
“He’s just gonna call me out like that in front of the whole force?” Anger washes through my veins, pumping to the heavy staccato of my heartbeat. “Accusing my father of being a cop killer!”
“Your fatherwasa cop killer.” He claps his hand to the back of my neck, steering me toward the escalators as Clay jogs to catch up. “You knew what you were doing when you made that statement last night.”
“He—”
“You knew he’d be on the ground floor, waiting to come at you! You did that, Arch, fully aware of the fat lip you were gonna get. So now you reap what you sow.” He leads me off the escalator and through the doorway ofour war room. Not the large boardroom we’ve been working out of, but the smaller, more private room we prefer to be in. He shoves me toward the table and turns back to grab the door handle, but he doesn’t slam it shut until Clay dashes through, his eyes spinning with adrenaline and, maybe, a little too much excitement.
“He did it.” The moment the door shuts at his back, Clay presses his hands to his knees and practically pants. “He did exactly what you said he would!”
“A criminal knows how a criminal thinks, I suppose.” Rage still burns the tips of my nerves. Violence demands to be set free. But I push it all away and accept instead that our experiment worked. “I was born the son of a cop killer.Heis a cop killer. I guess that makes us brothers in a way.”
“Makes you smarter than him,” Fletch argues. “Not family.” He studies my face and shakes his head. “Hurt?”
Remembering, I reach up again and swipe my swelling lip. “That asshole. It’s not gonna go down before Minka gets home. So now we’ve gotta watch her tearStoola new asshole to shit out of.”
“Doctor Mayet scares me,” Clay murmurs quietly. Almost reverently. But when Fletch and I only stare in silence, the pressure in the room growing until it becomes a tangible thing, that’s when he realizes and his gaze snaps back up. “Um… respectfully, Sir.”
I choke out a laugh, finally releasing the tension that bubbles in my blood. “It’s okay, kid. She scares us all. Any decent person with common sense knows it. Anyone else is simply too stupid to know better. Get the squad into the boardroom for me, will you? It’s time we wrap this up.”
“Sure, Detective.” He grabs the door handle, twisting it blindly. But he doesn’t open it yet. He only stares.
“Is there something you wanna say?” I set my hands on my hips and ignore the throb of my fattening lip. “Swear to god, if you ask about my father, I’m gonna?—”
“No, Detective.” His eyes flick between mine, hesitant, and yet, entirely trusting. “I know about your father, Detective. I have no questions and figure, anything I don’t already know, you’ll tell me if you deem it important.”
“So, what’s the issue?” Fletch, being Fletch, steps in front of me. “You’re staring. It’s weird.”
“I just can’t believe that worked, is all. You had a hunch and nothing more. You have no proof, but you got our killer to admit what he’d done in front of the whole precinct.”
“It’s not enough to get us over the line yet. Pull the footage from security. It becomes evidence now. But we need more than an accidental admission. We need proof.”
“Yes, Detective.” He steps forward, bringing the door with him, and lopes out without another word. Then the door swings shut, hitting the frame with a slam that leaves the wood vibrating.
“You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you dead.” Frustrated, Fletch spins on his heels and hits me with a glare that calls me stupid, even if his words don’t. “He’s out here killing cops with no fucking remorse. He’s using weapons no respectable citizen should have, which adds a certain immorality to his character. And there you go, stepping in front of the gun and hoping he doesn’t get you.”
“He won’t shoot me. No way.”
“You seem so fucking sure!”
