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It only takes a single phone call from the front desk to get permission to see the commissioner in his office. Martin must have made arrangements ahead of time.
A part of me aches for the man he could have been.Thisman, the one who does the right thing and holds even his own people accountable. Under the right circumstances, we might have been able to be something together. Do something together.
But the scratch marks on my arm remind me that no one changes that easily. And it’s foolish to stick around waiting for them to try.
Commissioner Jackson meets us at the door to his office with a grim smile and a firm handshake. “Come in, please. I wish I could welcome you under different circumstances, but let’s make do with what we have.”
We follow him to his desk and settle into the chairs he offers us. Martin subtly shifts his to be closer to me, so I scootch mine to move away from him. He shoots me a quick little glower, but even he knows not to gamble with the sensitive situation we’re currently in.
“So, tell me more about your concerns with Detective Everett,” Jackson says with a heavy sigh. He leans back in his own chair and glances between us. “I have to say, the fact that you’re here, Miss Everett, does not inspire confidence in his favor.”
“I—”
“I’ve been made aware of his underhanded dealings,” Martin interrupts. “As much as it pains me to say, there’s solid evidence indicating Greg is a dirty cop.”
I wait for either one of them to continue. I’d rather get permission to speak than constantly be interrupted and overridden by Martin’s ego. When Jackson gestures for me to contribute, I nod my agreement. “I can’t call myself blameless, sir. I wasn’t complicit, either, but I can’t help feeling I should have reported him sooner.”
Jackson shrugs a shoulder. “You’re his daughter. You want to protect him. I understand.”
No, clearly, you don’t.I bite back what I want to say and instead offer up a sheepish little smile. “Thank you. I… I only want to do what’s right.”
“You two have evidence?”
Martin nods and reaches into his jacket pocket for a folder. “I’ve got police logs here?—”
I quietly pull out my phone, find the recording file, and set it on the commissioner’s desk.
“Shit. I didn’t think it would ever get out.”
Jackson stills. So does Martin.
The only sound in the office is Dad’s voice spilling every sordid detail of the cover-up he did that sent an innocent man to prison.
“… I found that wolf shit growing in his windowsill. After the autopsy, I mean…”
“… The minute I saw that report, I knew the spotlight would turn on me. It didn’t matter if I killed him or not, Internal Affairs would start combing through my shit and my personal life…”
“… It was like the universe just wanted me to get away without breaking a sweat…”
By the time the recording is finished playing, both men are beyond pissed. Martin’s red in the face, while Jackson hides his glare behind a balled fist pressed to his mouth.
“That’s all I have as far as a confession.” I take my phone back and check to make sure the recording is still there. After all that’s happened, I can never be too sure about the little things.
Jackson nods. “Send it to me.”
I do as he says. A moment later, the damning evidence pings in his inbox and pulls up on his laptop screen.
He continues to glare into nothingness. Then, after a deep breath, he leans back and presses a button on his desk phone. “Caroline? Reschedule my meetings for today. And get me Kowalski, Brenner, Shanti, and Smith. Tell them it’s urgent.”
I swallow hard and glance over at Martin. He’s still livid, still that shade of tomato red, but he looks at me and reaches over to squeeze my hand.
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.
When the four Internal Affairs detectives arrive, we’re separated into different interrogation rooms and questioned for hours. Shanti and Brenner are the two who sit down with me to take my testimony. They’re also the two who make sure to send someone out to check on Princess after it’s been a while longer than I initially planned.
I expected this to be a process of questions and answers, circling through the same trains of thought over and over again until they fully understand what’s going on. It’s unbelievable that their top detective would be so incredibly dirty, but I have the evidence and names of witnesses to verify everything. I expected to give them that much.
What I didn’t expect was for the floodgates to open. For me to tell them everything, and I meaneverything, about the hell my father subjected me to since infancy.
