by G. K. Parks
“Remember, you are still speaking to a federal agent. Any discussion relating to the commission of a crime is considered conspiracy.” Formality was my means of escape. He smirked and nodded his head to Tony, who laid my gun on the table in front of us, signifying the meeting was over.
“I’ll be in touch.” Vito’s words chilled me as I walked out of the bar. I just left the last remnant of my sanity inside. Things were going to get dark before the light could triumph.
* * *
What have I done? The words reverberated through my skull as the queasy feeling found a permanent spot in the pit of my stomach. Staring across the conference table at SAC Cooper, I tried to force myself to concentrate, but my mind wouldn’t cooperate. The room was suffocating, and the walls were encroaching. Pardoning myself, I left the conference room. There was no escape from my invisible shackles. Somehow, I ended up near my old desk on the OIO floor. Meandering back toward Mark’s empty office, I watched my replacement shuffle some files around and retrieve a folder from the drawer. In another place and time, that would have been me.
“Taking a break?” Director Kendall asked from outside Mark’s door.
“Sir,” I immediately stood up straight, “I’m just…I don’t even know.”
“You’re cleared for field work, and your bank account and credit cards should be working by now. The Marshal Service has approved a meeting between you and Harrigan, if you still want it.”
“Yes. Thank you, Director.”
“I’ll call you with the details, and maybe you ought to invest in a new phone since you’re no longer on our most wanted list.”
“I’ll get right on it.” Kendall gave me a second glance before continuing to his office.
Sitting down in Mark’s chair, I couldn’t bring myself to go back to work. Finally, when I couldn’t come up with any other excuse to stay away, I returned to the conference room and picked up the briefing notes and made copies to take home.
“Are you feeling okay?” Mark asked as I gathered everything together and headed for the exit. “If you’re worried about Marty, he’s under armed guard. No one’s going to mess with him.”
“I’m just feeling off today. I’m going to pick up a new cell phone and go home. At least you’ll be able to get in touch if something occurs.” He wasn’t buying it, but he had work to do. Cooper glanced in my direction, and Sullivan stopped me before I made it to the door.
“Parker,” she said, “maybe you’ve forgotten how this works, but it’s easier when we’re all up to speed.” She wasn’t fond of the special treatment I was getting. I wouldn’t have been fond of it either since there was a good chance I was acting like a prima donna.
“Fortunately for you, this is just an assignment. However, this is my life, so I might need some space in order to keep it together.” Without waiting for her snarky response, I left, stopped at the cell phone dealer to get a replacement, and taking the most convoluted route possible, drove to Martin’s.
Since his business trip had kept him away from the office for a week, and I had kept him away a few days before that, I didn’t expect to see him until late. In the quiet of his home, the anger and resentment over my own actions were eating away at me. After plugging in my new cell phone to charge, I changed into a sports bra and yoga pants and headed for the first floor home gym.
After recovering from shoulder surgery, Martin purchased a heavy bag, speed bag, and a boxing ring. The reason he needed all this equipment, particularly the ring itself, made no sense, but having an obscene amount of money led to some peculiar purchases. After I stretched, I cranked up the music and wrapped my hands.
The sweat poured from my face and soaked through my clothes as I continued to make the bag dance. Maneuvering around, I worked on a few combos of jabs, crosses, uppercuts, knees, elbows, and kicks. My heart was pounding, and my muscles were sore from the exertion. The bag ratcheted on the chain as I continued, ignoring my body’s protest. This was my way of beating myself up. Goddamn it, Parker, I internally chastised, you’re trying to identify a group of corrupt cops by becoming tainted yourself. What the hell is wrong with you? Hitting the bag with renewed frustration, I was surprised when the music suddenly stopped.
“Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy?” Martin asked from twenty feet away.
“This is easy. No one’s hitting back.” Stopping to catch my breath, I was certain I wouldn’t be able to lift my arms to continue. After chugging a bottle of water, I pulled at the hand wraps with my teeth.
“Did you eat?” His eyes continued to roam over my body appreciatively. “I sent Marcal to get take-out.”
“Maybe I’ll join you for a quick bite.” With the music off, I no longer had an outlet to escape my internal rage, and the self-loathing had returned. “I just need to get cleaned up first. I’m dripping sweat here.”
“It’s hot,” he teased. “Well, you’re hot.”
“You need to work on your A-game,” I retorted, retreating to the guestroom. “Oh, I left a check to cover the loan you gave me. It’s on the kitchen table. I’d be more than happy to reimburse you for staying here and using your car and what not if you give me a figure,” I called from the bedroom as I found some clean clothes to change into.
“This is more than enough. Honestly, I don’t–” I cut off his response by shutting the bathroom door and turning on the shower.
When I returned, I already felt sore. Being laid up for two weeks with an injury wasn’t conducive to an insanely difficult workout. Martin was in the living room with a couple of take-out containers sitting on the coffee table. He was on the phone with the R&D department, discussing the compatibility of a microchip with the functionality of a new product line. Tuning him out, I picked up a container of orange chicken and went to stare at the theory board I moved into his second floor office. Vito’s name taunted me from the center.
“What do you want?” I asked it.
Chewing thoughtfully, I leaned against the desk and picked up the briefing notes, but little useful information was gained. The updated theory was a small group, consisting of two to four men, was responsible for the recent string of thefts. Surveillance photos from the tails on Hoskins, Metz, and Fisher were included, but nothing conclusive was supplied. Perhaps they were too good to be caught in the act.
Martin’s home phone rang, and I went into the kitchen to see if it was for me. He was still on his cell phone, so I answered.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” O’Connell growled.
“Plenty. Do you want a list?”
“Parker,” his tone calmed slightly, “trying to get a cop to shoot you again isn’t the best way to work a case.” Obviously, he heard about my tactics with Hoskins earlier today.
“I told you I was going to do something. This is me doing something.”
“Heathcliff’s on administrative leave. Hoskins came down to major crimes, and they got into it.” Heathcliff was the most by the book detective I knew, so whatever Hoskins said must have been particularly offensive. Then again, with the way the men in major crimes acted sometimes, I had a feeling I knew what it was like to have brothers. Overly protective brothers. “On the bright side, Hoskins is on leave too while it gets sorted out. Maybe something will shake loose. In the meantime, the LT wants you as far from the precinct as possible. This place is a powder keg, and your sparky personality is enough to set the place ablaze.”
“I think you meant sparkling.” My voice grew quiet. “Nick, I’m sorry.” It felt like I was apologizing for things he didn’t even know about. “If you talk to Derek, please tell him that.” After disconnecting, I slumped against the kitchen counter. I needed a new approach, a clear head, and calm rationality.
Martin’s call ended, and when I turned around, he was sitting sideways on the sofa, studying me. Going to the fridge, I pulled out a bottle of water and joined him on the couch.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He wasn’t a huge fan of silence.
“Just
wishing I could start today over and do it differently.”
Twenty-two
The stakes were raised Saturday night. Even though Jones, aka Bruiser, was on twenty-four hour bodyguard duty and two vans full of federal agents were stationed outside the house, I was sleeping on the sofa with my nine millimeter only inches away on the end table. It never hurt to be prepared for the worst.
I was lying on my stomach, facing the backrest when Martin came down the steps for his early morning workout. He didn’t notice me, and I didn’t have the energy to move. My muscles were stiff, sore, and uncooperative, just like most things in my life. Thirty minutes later, on his return trip, he paused on the stairs, and I suspected I had been discovered. Forty-five minutes later, the outer edge of the cushion sunk in slightly.
“I wondered why you didn’t come to bed. Should I be jealous you picked the couch over me?”
“I do really like this sofa,” I muttered. “Plus, the heavy bag kicked my ass yesterday, and I didn’t think I’d make it up the stairs or back down.” My workout yesterday and the self-inflicted physical stress had aggravated my still healing side. Stupid doctors and their stupid medical advice. Why did they always have to be right?
“I thought you were taking it easy since the bag doesn’t hit back.”
“Bite me.”
After Martin left for work with Bruiser in tow, I dragged myself off the couch. Indulging in a hot bath, I already dreaded today. More than likely, I was going to dread all the days ahead until I was no longer indebted to the head of a crime family. However, depending on what the favor was, I might regret those actions for the rest of my life. Dumbass move, Parker.
My coffee cooled as I perused all the information from the briefing yesterday. It was time I got my shit together. Compartmentalize and get to work. There wasn’t anything else I could do until then. Maybe Vito wouldn’t have any evidence to provide, and I was worried for nothing.
“We received a special delivery this morning,” Sullivan said over the phone. “Is her highness planning to grace us with her presence or should we do this without you?”
“Sullivan,” I sighed, “I’m not trying to win a popularity contest. I’m sure you’re aware I’m not much of a team player, and when I walked off the job, I planned to stay gone. Regardless, I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“Then get your ass in here, Parker. We don’t have all day.” I heard the unfriendly click of the disconnect. Maybe I wasn’t going to win most popular, but she wasn’t going to win any congeniality awards either.
When I arrived at HQ, Cooper wasn’t in the conference room. Webster and Sullivan were working on a project, and Mark and Darli were reviewing security cam footage. As soon as Mark spotted me, he excused himself and hauled me by the elbow out of the room.
“Good morning to you, too,” I commented. We were at the end of the hallway, huddled in a corner.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I just got here.” Lying through my teeth was a necessity.
“Parker,” he wasn’t buying it, “how’d you get this other footage? None of the burglarized clubs had working cameras, but apparently there was hidden surveillance that caught the heists.”
“What footage?” I know nothing. “We received more footage from the shootout at Infinity?”
He narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Do I need to hook you to a polygraph?”
“What good would it do? You know I’ve been trained to pass those things.”
“Goddammit.” He stomped back to the conference room. We weren’t talking about this anymore.
Taking a deep breath, I plastered an indifferent expression on my face and resolutely decided to maintain it for the rest of the day. Today, I needed to be the sole female equivalent of the famous monkey trio, see, hear, and speak no evil. Quietly slinking into the conference room, we got to work. Vito’s newly supplied footage provided images of two masked men involved in the commission of a heist. Their clothing and appearance wouldn’t have seemed at all abnormal if it weren’t for the ski masks pulled over their faces.
Darli shifted the feed to the big screen, and we watched as the two men conducted the second robbery. They split up; one hit the bar while the other disappeared off camera. Money was taken from the register, and the second man returned with a hefty looking bag. The two exited without further incident.
“IT’s working on getting stats,” Sullivan supplied. “Hopefully, we’ll have height, weight, race, and maybe even eye color.”
“Is it the same team in all the robberies?” I asked
“IT will verify, but as far as we can tell, it is,” Webster added. “Where was the other guy at Infinity?” His tone was accusatory.
“There was only one inside.” My mind was elsewhere, dwelling on the possibilities. There had been so many theories thrown around I wasn’t sure which were outlandish. “Are there any other angles we can use to see what burglar number two is shoving in the bag?”
“It’s the cash from the safe,” Darli spouted without a moment’s hesitation.
“Can you back your claim up?” Mark asked, jumping to my rescue, even though he was still suspicious of how the footage came to be in our possession.
“We know the clubs were cleaned out, and the safes were hit. It’s how the burglaries were reported and a huge part of the investigation.” Darli was getting defensive, but his two FBI teammates weren’t jumping to his aid.
“Jablonsky, why would you think there was something besides money in the bag?” Webster asked.
“Assumptions are clouding this investigation. They’ve been hurting us since the beginning.”
“It doesn’t matter what’s in the bag,” I added; although, I didn’t believe my own conviction. “We’re here to identify a corrupt team of police personnel. Any additional angles or footage could lead to positive IDs.” I jerked my chin at the screen.
The implications were obvious; at least two corrupt cops were involved in knocking over mob-controlled clubs. My money was on Hoskins and one of his buddies from burglary.
Before we could consider the identities of the masked men, Cooper entered the conference room, flanked by Heathcliff and Thompson. Heathcliff took a seat, and Thompson stood near Cooper. Something happened, and we were about to be made aware of a new situation.
“People,” Cooper flipped off the screen and stood in front of it, “earlier this morning, our surveillance on Carl Hoskins noted him entering a bank and leaving with a briefcase. After pulling his financials, it’s clear he emptied his bank account. Currently, Detective Hoskins is on administrative leave.” Cooper paused briefly, letting the unspoken blame sink in. “We believe he’s going to run. It’s estimated his cut from the burglaries should be nearly half a million. He’s probably too afraid to spend it now, so he’ll need his own funds to get away from here. We’ve issued a BOLO for his arrest, but after the bank, he slipped the surveillance team.”
“IAD is up to speed, but the commissioner doesn’t want to risk further internal incidents. We’re hoping Hoskins can be brought in quickly and quietly,” Thompson added.
“If we can bring him in and get him to talk, maybe we can get a name for his partner or whoever else is involved and end this,” Cooper continued. “Right now, we have no idea where he might be. Agents are covering all the airports, train stations, and bus depots. The toll booths all have his photo and information on his vehicle, and we’re monitoring his financials. If he uses a credit card or even his Easy Pass to cross one of the bridges, we’ll know.”
“All of his associates, family, friends, even his CIs we’re keeping tabs on,” Thompson interjected. “With any luck, he’ll be in custody by tonight.”
Cooper gave the remaining agents in the room orders and dismissed them, leaving Heathcliff, Thompson, and I alone in the conference room. “Go back to your place, Parker,” Cooper ordered. “Detective Heathcliff has enlightened us on your less than professional antics yesterday, and I’m guessing if Hoskins can’t get o
ut of town, then he’ll come for you.”
“Great,” I replied sarcastically.
Heathcliff nudged my thigh with his knee under the table as a show of moral support. “I have some free time if you want back-up.”
“I’ll give you two a ride, pick up your double, and bring her back here,” Thompson offered.
“Keep radio silent since Hoskins knows our frequencies and tactics. If you need help or have something to report, phone in,” Cooper warned as we left the conference room.
* * *
Heathcliff took a seat at my kitchen counter and began working his way through a crossword puzzle. Calm, cool, and collected, all the things I aspired to be. I, on the other hand, couldn’t sit still. My body was still sore from yesterday’s workout, but it didn’t stop me from scouring every surface of my apartment. This was my home, and no one was going to stay here and impersonate me any longer. I was back on the job. By the time I sat down, Heathcliff had read the paper cover to cover, finished the crossword and Sudoku puzzles, and read the obits and comics twice.
“What did you do to get put on administrative leave?” I queried.
He folded the paper neatly and considered the question. “I didn’t care for Hoskins’ attitude.”
“Is this another one of my blunders?” I asked, getting up and pulling down a stack of clean plates to rewash.
“I’m not blaming you for this.” He remained silent for a few moments before asking, “Why are you rewashing the dishes?”
“How do I know they’re clean? I wasn’t here to see them get washed. Maybe they weren’t even used. Who knows?”
He tilted his head in thought before abruptly standing up. “How do you know they’re dirty then?” He wasn’t talking about the dishes. Something clicked, regarding the case, but I was too far gone to see any connection. “Do you mind if I borrow your computer?”