Code Four

by Colin Conway

  “Has anyone contacted you from SPD?”

  Yang frowned. “Why would they do that, ma’am?”

  “To alert you to our questions.”

  The younger woman slipped Durand’s business card off the table and stuffed it into a pocket of her uniform. “I don’t speak with anyone from SPD. Or about them, except for when you called and told me what our conversation was going to cover. I’m just glad I finally get to talk with somebody about it.”

  She was in her late twenties—twenty-seven to be exact—and wore no makeup. Durand decided she didn’t need it. Her brown eyes had only the smallest hint of crinkles at their edges while the rest of her face was blemish free. Jun Yang appeared to be an attractive, confident woman.

  “Is there something specific you would like to talk about?”

  Yang shrugged. “Not really, no. The whole thing was so fu—messed up.”

  Durand smiled. Even though she hated cursing, she said, “You can swear. It won’t offend me.”

  “I appreciate that, ma’am, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. I’ll answer any questions you have and provide as much detail as possible.”

  “Let’s start with this: why were you, a rookie, on the Anti-Crime Team? It would seem a group like that would need to be made up of experienced officers.”

  “I agree. I even asked that same thing. But Captain Farrell wanted an informant. Experience was secondary.”

  Durand was taken aback by how straightforward Yang made that assertion. “How do you know that?”

  “He told me.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Just like that.”

  “And he thought you would assume that role because…”

  “Of the incident at the academy. Are you aware of—”

  Durand nodded. “I’ve read your file.”

  During the academy, Jun Yang had exposed several students who were cheating on their exams. This led to their immediate expulsion from the academy. Durand could only imagine the level of blowback this caused the woman. Yang did not seem to be in any hurry to rehash that incident, so Durand decided to remain with the current line of questioning.

  “Why would Captain Farrell need an informant?”

  Yang inhaled deeply before saying, “He wanted me to watch the other guys on the team.”

  “Zielinski, Garrett, and Stone?”

  “No, ma’am, not Stone. I think Farrell had him pegged as an informant, too.”

  Durand tapped her upper lip with a fingernail. Stone was an informant, too? What was the captain worried about?

  Yang’s smile appeared apologetic. “I know this sounds crazy, but I’ve given it a lot of thought.”

  “I believe you,” Durand said slowly. “Did the captain say what he suspected Zielinski and Garrett of?”

  “He was very secretive about that.”

  “Secretive?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He skirted the issue, but he wanted me to keep an eye out for anything that looked inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate?”

  “You know, wrong. Illegal.”

  “To see if they, Zielinski or Garrett, were somehow corrupt?”

  “Or leaning that way. Yes, ma’am.”

  Durand fell silent for a moment while she considered what Yang had said. If it was true, then Captain Farrell suspected Ray Zielinski and Tyler Garrett of corruption or, at least, being susceptible to corruption.

  But Yang’s assertion didn’t make sense. Zielinski had a history of questionable decision-making. Why put a man like that on directed-enforcement team if there was further worry that he was capable of corruption? In reality, he proved those worries right by getting further into trouble.

  Which left only Tyler Garrett, whose record was exemplary going into the team and remained so coming out. The only blemishes, if they could be called such, were the officer-involved shootings he’d been a part of.

  And if Farrell had suspected either man of corruption, why wasn’t there a file on it? Why wasn’t Internal Affairs looking into it? Maybe they were and had kept it hidden from them? But they had been so agreeable to giving Danielle Watson the file on Zielinski. Was that Internal Affairs throwing up chaff?

  Durand refocused on Yang. “What’s your opinion of Ray Zielinski?”

  “He was…all right, I guess.”

  “Would it surprise you if I told you he was suspended?”

  Yang looked up to the ceiling and pushed her lips from side to side as she thought. When she refocused on Durand, she said, “I guess that would depend on what he did.”

  “I can’t tell you that because it’s still an open investigation.”

  “Then I would say yes. It does surprise me that he was suspended.”

  “But you said it would depend…”

  “Ray was a confusing person to be around. He’s a burned-out jerk who thinks the world revolves around him. He’s also a caring person about the people he likes. If he got suspended for something related to his ego or a person he cares for, well then, I can see it. One hundred percent. But corruption? I don’t see that.”

  “What about Tyler Garrett?”

  Her lip curled. “He was a different type of jerk.”

  “How so?”

  “Our first sergeant made us switch up partners. When we rode together, he sort of ignored me. When he drove, he didn’t talk. When I drove, he played on his phone. I figured he was more interested in cultivating what some of the guys called the CDI factor.”

  “CDI?”

  “The chicks dig it factor.”

  Durand smirked.

  “Garrett looked sharp, talked smooth, always hyped up his game. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  She did.

  “Anyway, that’s what I saw at first.”

  “Then later?”

  “He messed with Ray. A lot. Sort of twisted the guy up. I think Ray hated him because of it. And Garrett didn’t really follow the directions the replacement sergeant laid out. He more did his own thing. Gary loved him, though. When those two were together, it seemed like Garrett really played with Gary like a puppet master does his toys.”

  “That’s not a flattering portrayal of someone who’s supposed to be a good cop.”

  Yang shrugged. “No, ma’am, but it’s what I saw.”

  “Do you see him as being susceptible to corruption?”

  She paused before answering. Finally, she said, “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve seen guys get in trouble here—on the base. A lot of time people have no idea that they had it in them. Everyone kept telling me how great of a guy Tyler Garrett was, but he kept showing me a different person than I was led to expect.”

  “If you had to guess,” Durand said, “who were you supposed to be watching?”

  “As the team’s designated rat?”

  Durand nodded.

  “Again, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I think Farrell was worried about Garrett for something.”

  Durand leaned forward. “How so?”

  “I don’t know, but at the shooting, Gary Stone’s I mean, I caught Farrell watching Garrett. I didn’t think much of it then. I just figured it was partly because Garrett had shot Gary’s killer. But then I watched Ray talk with that detective—”

  “Marty Hill?”

  Yang shook her head. “The other one. The black detective.”

  “Wardell Clint?”

  “Yes, ma’am, him. They were huddled up watching Garrett, too. It looked like a couple thieves planning to rob a man.”

  “Could have been like you thought. Everyone was watching him because the man had just shot a cop killer.”

  “And it might have been had I not seen the same thing at the funeral. The entire department was there. You can’t imagine the turnout. Really big. Everybody was watching Stone’s casket. Except those three—Farrell, Zielinski, and…what’s his name?”

  “Clint.”

  “Farrell, Zielinski, and Clint. Those three kept a close watch on Garrett the w
hole time.”

  “And you don’t know why?”

  “No, ma’am, and I didn’t care to know why. After Gary’s death, I realized I made a mistake.”

  “How so?”

  Jun Yang shook her head. “I didn’t want to end up dead like Gary, or a burnout like Ray, or whatever Garrett is. I told Farrell the same thing when I out-processed.”

  “Whatever Garrett is? What’s that mean?”

  Her laugh was short and full of regret. “It means there’s something wrong with him. What that is, I don’t know. I didn’t want to stick around long enough to get any of it on me. I’m not saying he’s done anything bad. But he’s not a person I want to hang around with.”

  “And that’s why you left?”

  “Partly. They also stole my confidence. Here, in this uniform, I matter. Back there, on that team, in that department, I didn’t.”

  Durand studied her.

  “I could have stayed there and fought maybe to regain my self-worth. Struggled to find some significance. Or I could have returned to the thing that made me happy.” Yang smiled slightly. “It was an easy decision.”

  Chapter 40

  Farrell retrieved a cup of coffee from the Major Crimes bullpen. It was his fourth of the day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. He’d slept poorly and needed the caffeine, though he certainly didn’t need the jitters that came with it. On balance, though, the trade-off was worth it to stay sharp.

  Usually, he took advantage of the stroll through the workspace of his division to chat with a few detectives. The small talk kept him grounded, or so he believed. But today, his mind was whirring. The conversation with Baumgartner yesterday kept him spinning in circles and had burned in his thoughts all night. Even Karen had mentioned how he’d tossed and turned, using the comment to offer him another chance to come clean with whatever was bothering him. Instead, he made the general excuse of DOJ’s presence and left it at that. She grudgingly accepted the lie, and Farrell could see the hurt in her eyes. He knew that things would come to a head with her soon.

  Walking down the hallway, he passed a pair of detectives in nearly identical khakis and polo shirts. Each carried a single manila file folder under an arm. He wondered if there was anything in the files, or if they simply served as props to make the detectives look busy.

  Now I sound like DOJ.

  At Dana Hatcher’s doorway, he slowed and glanced inside, hoping to catch her eye so he could give her a friendly nod. Their relationship had suffered ever since the Anti-Crime Team debacle, and he hoped to someday repair it. But Hatcher’s light was off and her desk empty.

  Probably having coffee with Margaret Patterson, sharpening their knives.

  He momentarily chastised himself for his poor attitude. Sure, Hatcher and Patterson were friends, but that didn’t mean anything.

  He frowned.

  He should go around the corner to Crime Analysis and get his thinking checked if he really thought that was true. Patterson was pure politics, maybe even more so than the mayor, if that were possible. Anyone associating with her, Hatcher included, was sure to have some of that rub off.

  Farrell took a sip while walking but tipped the cup too far. Hot coffee spilled over his lip and dribbled down onto his shirt. He stopped short, cursing under his breath.

  “You all right, Captain?”

  Farrell glanced up to see Steve Curado stepping out of the Internal Affairs offices with several files tucked under his arm. He wondered immediately what the investigator wanted from those files. He doubted that he had them for show.

  He realized Curado was looking at him, awaiting a response. Farrell swiped at the liquid on his shirt, but it had already soaked in. “I’m fine,” he said. “Coffee’s hot, though.”

  “Only way to drink it.” Curado flashed an engaging grin, but Farrell thought he could see something devious in it. “Myself, I can’t chew gum and walk at the same time, so I’d never even attempt drinking coffee on the run.”

  Farrell managed a half-hearted smile. “What are you up to? Or am I allowed to ask?”

  “Sure, sure. No secrets here.” Curado’s smile never left his face. “I’m off to interview Detective Clint.”

  Tendrils of near panic shot through Farrell’s gut.

  Clint? What would he say? If it was the wrong thing, the entire house of cards he’d constructed could come crashing down around him.

  Farrell shifted from one leg to the other. “Uh, do you want me present?”

  Curado’s expression melted into mild confusion. “What for?”

  Farrell cleared his throat. He realized he’d been doing that a lot lately, a byproduct of his nervousness. “Detective Clint can be…a little difficult. Maybe having someone in authority there will help.”

  Curado’s pleasant mien reappeared. “Thanks, but I think I have all the authority I need. Besides, it’s best if we interview everyone individually.”

  “Sure,” Farrell said. “Of course.”

  Curado signaled the end of the conversation with a nod and took a step to leave.

  “Wait.” The words were out of his mouth before Farrell had time to think about them. He wondered if they sounded as frantic as he felt.

  Curado paused with an expectant look.

  Farrell cleared his throat again. “Uh, I was just wondering…this is the final day of your trip, right?”

  “It is.”

  “Besides Detective Clint, do you need any help arranging interviews?”

  Curado seemed to consider the question. “I don’t think so. Dani had a little trouble getting Ray Zielinski scheduled, but I’m pretty sure he came down for her.”

  “He’s here?” Another wash of cold panic flooded over Farrell. Zielinski knew far less than Clint, unless the notoriously untrusting detective had shared more with him than Farrell was aware of. Even so, he still knew enough to open a crack for DOJ to insert a crowbar into and start prying.

  “Is that a problem?” Curado eyed him curiously.

  “No, no,” Farrell said hurriedly. “I’m just a little surprised, is all. He’s on paid administrative leave.”

  “We know. But since this qualifies as official police business, it made sense to have him come to the station, don’t you agree?”

  “Definitely,” Farrell said. “It’s no problem.” He took a sip of his coffee. “What’s your boss up to today? A final discussion with the mayor or the chief?”

  “No,” Curado said. “She actually flew over to Seattle this morning.”

  “Seattle’s in trouble again?”

  An appeasing smile crossed Curado’s face. “No, she went over there to talk to a former employee. Jun Yang?”

  Shit. Farrell’s stomach fell. Outside of Clint, Jun Yang knew more about his true intentions in staffing the Anti-Crime Team than anyone else. She might not be entirely aware of the significance of her knowledge, but the very fact she had known she was the designated spy on the team, his spy, was enough to open another enormous crack for the DOJ investigators.

  “Captain? You okay?”

  Farrell stared back at Curado. Then he bobbed his head. “Yeah, yeah.” He put his hand on his belly. “Just fighting a bit of a bug. Don’t stand too close, it might be catching.”

  “Well, get healthy,” Curado said. He gave Farrell a final nod and headed down the hall to the Investigative Division.

  Farrell watch him go, his head spinning. When he realized what he was doing, standing in the middle of the hallway staring after the DOJ investigator, he gathered himself together and strode toward his office.

  Jun Yang, he thought as he walked. His plant on the Anti-Crime Team to spy on Garrett. Later, he’d tried to bring Stone on board, but that had failed miserably. Zielinski was there for his potential as a spy, too, but no information came from that source until after Stone’s murder, when Clint huddled together with the veteran officer. Yang was the only one to serve as Farrell’s primary means of keeping track of the team.

  Yang figured out her intended
role, and she hadn’t liked it. She called herself a rat, and rejected the job, rejected him, and when it came down to it, rejected the entire department.

  He put his coffee cup on his desk but didn’t walk around to his chair. Instead, he worked his way through the scenario.

  Did Yang know who she was there to watch? He didn’t think so, not initially. But what about at the end? When all was said and done, had she figured it out?

  Her last words to him before she quit the job rang in his ears.

  I don’t want to end up like the other three, Yang had said. She didn’t want to become a burnout like Zielinski or end up dead like Stone. And Garrett?

  What had she said to him about Garrett?

  I sure as hell don’t want to end up as whatever the fuck Garrett is.

  “Whatever the fuck Garrett is,” Farrell whispered.

  She had to suspect. Not just that something was off about Garrett, but that he knew it, too. After all, he’d put her in place to spy on the man, hadn’t he? Jun Yang may have been a police rookie, but she wasn’t a kid. She had some life experience, she was military police, and she was a smart woman. If she’d given any thought at all to this situation after she left, her opinion would only become more conclusive over time.

  And she was sharing all that with the Department of Justice.

  “It’s tumbling down,” Farrell murmured to the empty office. Two years of an off-book investigation that had yielded no definitive evidence. He wondered if DOJ would delve more deeply into Garrett, or if they would accept the mayor’s version of events and focus on his own actions instead. He saw the narrative the way they might—a corrupt, white police captain trying to frame a black police officer. No, a hero black police officer.

  He had to get ahead of this.

  He had to go to the chief.

  Farrell left his coffee on the desk and hurried from his office.

  Chapter 41

  Clint looked away from his Garrett file to glance at the small digital clock next to his desk phone. Ellis still had about six hours left. Clint didn’t think it was worth being nervous about until the deadline was within a half hour or so, but that intellectual knowledge didn’t entirely quell his concern. He’d gambled when he released the man. He still believed it was his best course of action. Not necessarily in the case against Ellis but to achieve his ultimate goal—bringing down Garrett.