by Kylie Dodson
Contents
HARD CASE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
Other Titles
HARD CASE
By
Kylie Dodson
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
No part, section or chapter from this book may be reproduced in any capacity outside of the original work without author’s written consent except where brief quotes are used for review.
Copyright © 2019 Kylie Dodson
CHAPTER 1
Her heavy steps scraped at the concrete as Detective Jennifer Case walked slowly and deliberately toward her quarry. She was in no particular hurry. She glanced over her shoulder. Her chestnut brown eyes shifted left then right, staying alert for any passersby that might disturb her one-on-one time with the man who sat, back against the rear driver side tire of his burning car.
His eyes blinked as the fire on the hood of the car flickered, growing brighter then dimming again. "You can't do that," he said, trying to hide his fear with defiance.
Jennifer knelt down in front of the man and flashed her badge. The gold and silver detective shield reflected the fire light. "You see this? Do you know what it means?"
The man looked back at the fire as it grew.
"Hey, Tony," Jennifer said, snapping her fingers. "My eyes are over here."
Tony looked back at her. The piercing in his bottom lip shook as his lip quivered slightly.
"Do you know what this little piece of metal means?" she asked. "It means I can do whatever I want. Now, are you going to tell me what I already know? Or are we going to sit here till your rundown, little--" She glanced at the desert tan colored car. "What is this? An eighty-three? Tony, you better get with the times. Though I do have to give you credit for keeping this old Buick running. Still, I'd say it's seen better days." She looked back at the growing fire on the hood of the car.
"I'm not talking to any dirty cop," Tony said, maintaining his faux defiance.
Jennifer's jaw clenched. "I'm not a dirty cop." She raised a hand to shield her face from the growing heat. "I'm just more efficient than most cops."
Tony's eyes shifted behind her, searching for a way out. To his right was a concrete wall. To his left was an iron fence. His back was against a burning car and right in front of him was Detective Jennifer Case, who came complete with standard issue nine-millimeter Glock. He was boxed in and he knew it. Still, he kept silent.
"Have it your way," Jennifer said. "But you should know, that bottle of rum I poured on your car hood? Highly flammable, as you can see. And I hope you weren't drinking while driving. Having an open container in the car is illegal."
The windshield glass cracked from the heat of the fire on the car hood. Tony flinched at the sound, his defiance fading fast.
"Look," Jennifer said. "I'll make this easy on you. I already know about the aggravated assault. I already know about the credit union robbery--you're lucky you only wounded that security guard. And now I've got you resisting arrest. The only thing left is for you to just come out and admit to all of it."
Tony's jaw quivered. She knew she had him. It was just a matter of time before he gave himself up along with everything else. But how long could he hold out? Even Jennifer had to admit, the heat from the car fire was getting more intense. And she wasn't entirely sure that she could keep up her bluff for much longer. She knew enough about car fires to know that the vehicles didn't suddenly explode just because they were set alight like they did in the movies. But her human instincts had her in a minor state of doubt. After-all, she wasn't used to being this close to a burning vehicle.
"You're crazy," Tony said.
"I guess we'll find out," Jennifer replied, holding her position.
Suddenly, the glass from the windshield shattered. It was quickly followed by a whoosh as the fire ate the oxygen that was in the car. Jennifer flinched but Tony jumped.
"OK!" he yelled. "OK. I did it. I held up that couple in the park. And I robbed the union. But I didn't shoot the guard."
"What happened, there?" Jennifer demanded as beads of sweat began to form on her brow. She wanted all of the information but had little desire to be anywhere near the fire anymore.
Fire engine sirens sounded in the distance.
"The guard tried to pull his gun. But he shot himself in the leg," Tony said.
"You willing to sign that confession?"
"Yes!" he yelled. "Just get me away from this thing."
Jennifer stood, grabbing Tony by his designer-ripped denim jacket and lifted him off the gravel.
***
There was a single outside window in Captain Shaun McGhee's office. And the blinds were closed, making the overhead fluorescents the only light source in the room. It wasn't a big office and the closed blinds made it feel even smaller. Captain McGhee could open them at any time. But he kept them closed by design, keeping those inside just a little more uneasy.
Not that his tactic ever unnerved Jennifer Case.
"Do you know why I called you in here, Detective?" Captain McGhee asked.
"My penchant for engaging conversation?" Jennifer replied.
It was clear that she was testing his patience. He grabbed the top of his flat screen computer monitor and spun it to face her. Her eyes dropped to the video of a rather handsome man in a navy blazer and powder blue Oxford shirt. The top button was open, giving him a sophisticated but still sexy appeal. Though she would ever say so out loud.
Jennifer looked back up at Captain McGhee. "You know watching this guy will rot your brain, right, Captain?"
"Keep smiling, Case," he told her as he slapped a newspaper on the edge of his desk, right in front of her.
Jennifer glanced at the headline, [Not So Hero Cop?] Her eyes flickered to the byline, [Blake Rivers]. "I agree," she said. "Print is dead."
Captain McGhee pulled out his phone, shaking his head at the attitude she was giving him. He scrolled through the phone until satisfied with the object of his search. Then he set the phone down on top of the newspaper. Jennifer stared at another image of the journalist, Blake Rivers, on the phone screen, just above another online article titled, [Off The Case].
Captain McGhee gestured toward the three articles in front of Jennifer. "Well?"
Jennifer took a calm breath and crossed one leg over the other, as if unfazed by the pieces of media that faced her. "Have you seen Rain about this, Captain? Because I think this is what she would call an unhealthy obsession."
"I don't think it's me who's obsessed, Detective. Do you notice anything different about these pieces of media?"
"Well one of them is a cell phone, and the others are--"
"This is not a joke, Case." Captain Shaun McGhee's temper flared.
"This is three different news pieces about you. All from the same guy."
"Why are you even putting stock in what this guy says or writes?"
McGhee slammed his hands on the desktop. "Because hundreds of thousands of others in this city do put stock in what Blake Rivers says or writes. And for the last year, nearly seventy percent of his reporting has been about you."
"OK, so he's the one with the unhealthy obsession--"
"If he wants to tell stories about you during your personal time, that's fine. But he writes about you as a cop. And that reflects on this precinct."
/> "What exactly is reflecting on the precinct?"
"The way you do your job!" McGhee shouted.
On instinct Jennifer turned to look out the internal office windows--the only windows in the office whose blinds were open--that looked over the bullpen of the precinct. Several officers quickly averted their attention from the windows, trying to pretend they didn't hear the captain chewing her out.
"You coerced a confession by setting your suspect's car on fire, this afternoon," McGhee continued. He pointed at his computer monitor.
"And Rivers reported on you putting someone in the hospital, citing police brutality."
"That one was self-defense."
McGhee's hands shot to the top of his head, clawing and pulling at the few hairs he had left. "You got in a fist fight with your suspect inside of an antique store, causing thousands of dollars in property damage."
"Was I supposed to shoot him in a store full of people?"
"You're supposed to do things by the book!" McGhee shouted, slinging his hands down by his sides. "It's why we have a book. You read it in the academy."
"Red tape just makes--"
"It makes it so suspects don't file lawsuits against the department. It makes it so guys like Blake Rivers don't have anything but nice words to write about you. And it makes it so the police chief isn't breathing down my neck because the mayor is breathing down his about Detective Jennifer Case and her unorthodox methods of police work."
"The mayor watches Rivers?"
"Everyone who has any type of connection to this department watches or reads what this guy says." McGhee's fingers flicked the newspaper.
Jennifer sat in silence, trying to come up with some kind of defense for herself. But no stroke of brilliance popped up in her mind. Just a simple go-to that she'd used before. One that she knew Captain McGhee couldn't refute. "I get the job done and I get the bad guys off the street."
McGhee's hands went up to this nose, both of them pinching the bridge of it, almost like he was expecting a sneeze. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, sucking in the air through clenched teeth. "I swear, you're going to force me to take medication. There's a heart-attack in my future. I know it." His hands dropped to his hips."Yes. You do get the job done and catch the bad guys. But--"
A knock on the glass door of the captain's office interrupted him. McGhee waved the new guest in and Jennifer turned as the door opened.
"Sorry for the interruption. I know I'm early," the man entering the office said.
The captain extended his hand. "It's fine. I appreciate you coming at all, Mr. Rivers."
Jennifer's years of training as a police officer allowed her to keep her tells close to the vest. It was easier to do police work when staying calm and objective. But seeing Blake Rivers surprised her so much that she couldn't help furrowing her brow.
Blake extended his hand to her. "Detective Jennifer Case. Wow. It is really great to meet you."
She stared at his outstretched hand as her upper lip started to curl back. And not in a smile.
"I've tried to get an interview so many times," Blake continued, lowering his hand without taking obvious offense. "But--well, a law officer's job is pretty busy, I'd guess. Not much time for interviews. But I've got to say, this idea is so much better than any interview."
Jennifer's demeanor turned icy as she slowly turned back to the captain. "What idea? Why is he here?"
"Mr. Rivers is doing a special story on you," McGhee said.
"I don't have time for an interview."
"Well, I don't know if you can call a ride-along an interview," Blake said.
Detective Jennifer Case bolted up from her chair. "A ride-along?"
CHAPTER 2
"I'm pretty excited about this idea. A ride-along with Detective Jennifer Case," Blake said with a grin.
The Internet personality and newspaper journalist wore a rather expensive blue summer suit with a grid pattern and a bubble gum pink tie. It was enough to make Jennifer gag.
A ride-along. The notion was ridiculous. This pretty-boy writer wouldn't last five minutes following her on cases. And his fancy attire would last even less time.
Her eyes dropped to his dress shoes. Even from above she could tell the soles of his footwear were made of wood. She'd dealt with enough gang-bangers and pimps to recognize the expensive feature.
She spun to the Captain. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Not even a little. Mr. Rivers, here--"
"You can both call me Blake."
Captain McGhee gave only the slightest hint of acknowledgment before he continued, taking Blake up on his offer. "Blake, here, is going to join you to see, up close and personal, how you operate. No more reporting after the fact."
"I don't need a chaperone," Jennifer said.
"Oh, no, I don't plan on chaperoning--" Blake made air quotes as he said the word. "--you. I don't want my presence to change anything about how you do your job."
She pointed at the newspaper. "You mean the job you continuously berate me for?"
Blake looked down at the newspaper headline, [Not So Hero Cop?]. His lips made a thin line as his eyes narrowed. "I can promise that I did not come up with that headline. I would never come up with a headline as pedestrian as that. You can thank my editor for that one. "
"But I can thank you for the article?"
"If you want to." He grinned mischievously. "But no thanks are necessary."
"Because I'm sure, judging by your designer clothes, that your ridiculous pay is thanks enough."
"Look at that," Captain McGhee said. "You two are getting along like best friends already."
"What is this, Captain?" Jennifer asked.
"This is you compensating for making the department look bad. Blake Rivers is going to tail you while you do your job."
"He can't handle what I do."
"Did. What you did."
"What?" Jennifer asked, already not liking the inference.
"He's going to tail you while you work low-profile cases. Corner store burglaries, domestic disputes--If an old lady needs to know where her cat went, Jennifer Case is on it."
Jennifer's head twisted left, the start of her protest against being assigned soft cases.
Captain McGhee nodded faster than she could fully shake her head. "I don't want to hear it. This is your new detail. And in return--assuming you do a good job--Mr. Rivers is going to write a lovely little piece that absolves the department and gets the chief off my back."
"Captain--"
McGhee smiled. It was the kind of smile that said he knew he won but that the topic was not over. "And I know that I can't wait to read--"
"I'll probably do a video expose on this one," Blake said.
"Then I can't wait to watch it," McGhee finished. "For now, though, Detective Case will drive you around and go over the day to day of her job. Think of it as an orientation."
***
Jennifer winced as the hinges of her Impala groaned. It was a sound she had stopped noticing a long time ago. But with Blake Rivers present, it only made her think that the police car was protesting his appearance as much as she did. It also made her think it was the start of what would undoubtedly be negative reporting from Blake.
Blake shut his door at the same time she did. It was annoying, or maybe she was already annoyed at his presence. Both were highly possible, although the latter made the most sense.
"Do you eat take-out most days or just on stake-outs?" he asked.
"If you have a problem with the smell, the door opens from the inside, too."
Blake leaned forward and reached down in the passenger side floorboard. When he came back up, it was with a Styrofoam container. "I didn't mean the smell."
He opened the container and even Jennifer grimaced at the sight of something no longer edible. The dried-up leftovers had lost all recognition. Whatever it was, it didn't belong in her car.
Blake glanced around the interior, taking in the rest of the messy car.
"I hope your apartment doesn't look like this."
"Too bad you'll never know." She smiled sarcastically at him.
***
The streets of downtown were uncharacteristically light on traffic. Usually the mid-day lunch rush had plenty of cars passing through and cars stopped at traffic lights, everyone impatiently waiting as their lunch hour ticked away. Such bustle and business was something Jennifer didn't have to worry too much about. That was one of the aspects of her job that Jennifer appreciated. That, and not being stuck at a desk. Sure, she had logged in plenty of desk time over the years. Paperwork, and even working some cases, couldn't all be done in the field. But she never had to rush for lunch. And never had to be stuck in the rat race with everyone else. Of course, eating in the car wasn't one of her better habits. As witnessed by Blake Rivers.
She let her eyes fall on civilians walking on the sidewalks and crossing the street. There were so many jaywalkers. It made her recall her time as a beat cop. She'd given a few citations to people not using the crosswalk. It was something she always felt bad for doing. As far as Jennifer Case was concerned, if there were no cars coming, a person should be OK to cross the street wherever they like. There was no reason to ticket them for it. She'd even let a few red-light-runners get away with it at certain times of night. People didn't need their hands held when they weren't endangering anyone else. And neither did she.
"Detective?" Blake asked. "Detective Case?"
"What?" She asked, annoyed at his interruption of her thoughts.
"I asked if you had anyone special in your life. I imagine that would be difficult in your line of work."
"Why, you looking to fill someone's shoes?"
Jennifer wasn't sure if she should have been insulted by Blake's following laugh. As if the notion of him and her being an item was comical.
"No. Not looking to fill any shoes," he said before looking at her. His eyes widened suddenly, as if he'd seen remorse in hers. "Oh, I'm sorry. No. I didn't mean it that way. I'm sure that you're...I just--I'm not looking, that's all. Not, that I'm not interested. I mean, I'm not. I--"