School of Fish

by Amy Lane

  Ellery gave a faint smile. God help him if he wasn’t, since Jackson had just captained the meeting with ease. But it was a good plan.

  “Ready if you are,” he said, picking up his highlighter.

  “Go,” Jackson said, taking a set and a file from Jade.

  Exactly two minutes of silence passed before Jackson said, “Motherfucker!” at the same time Ellery said, “Are we serious here?”

  They locked eyes, and Ellery nodded. “You saw it?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Anybody want to share with the class?” Galen asked, voice sandpaper dry.

  “For the record,” Jackson said, “the two incompetent and/or corrupt flatfoots on the Townsend case were the same potatoes who just tried to grill me downstairs.”

  “So which are they?” Henry asked. “Corrupt or incompetent?”

  “I’m guessing a little of both,” Jackson murmured thoughtfully.

  “We just watched them botch evidence,” Ellery said. “And that was for another cop. But they’d have no way of knowing they were helping someone they knew.” He took a breath, his eyes going to the police report. “Unlike this, where it’s so obviously a setup. I’m with Jackson here. Someone bought off a couple of low-level cops who weren’t getting promoted anyway.” He looked at Henry, who had been on Jackson’s computer scanning the prints. “By the way, have we gotten any hits?”

  “Still running,” Henry said. “We don’t have the giant server that they do at the FBI or the police office. It’s gonna take a while.”

  “Gotcha,” Ellery said. “I have no idea what you guys are doing. It’s like with Crystal back at Fingerling, Hamster, et al.” Everybody was so grim, he felt like he had to play that game too. Jackson gave him a wink to let him know he’d done okay. “Anyway, fingerprints could help, even if they won’t be under chain of evidence.”

  “I can’t believe they wouldn’t even look for a guy running down the street with a bloody goddamned knife,” Jackson muttered, then frowned again and uncapped his highlighter, hitting the page with unnecessary force.

  The whole table stopped and stared.

  “What?” he asked irritably.

  “C’mon, Rivers, share with the class,” Henry drawled, and Jackson blew out a breath.

  “Let me ask Ellery something first,” he said, and he bumped Ellery with his shoulder and pointed to Ellery’s note. Ziggy=Sergio Ivanov.

  Ellery looked at it and arched an eyebrow.

  Next to Ellery’s note, Jackson wrote, Description?

  Ellery frowned. Let me ask Ty.

  He pulled out his phone while everybody else read, and texted Ty Townsend, asked for a photo of Ziggy Ivanov, then put his phone away and resumed skimming the two files. After about ten minutes of silence, there was a general shift in the room, and Ellery looked up from his last page to see people making eye contact.

  He grabbed a legal pad from the center of the table, and everyone else followed suit.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s hear it. What do you have for me?”

  “Henry first,” Jackson prompted.

  Henry nodded, making quick notes on his own legal pad.

  “First thing, that Townsend kid was definitely a hit. There was nothing about that bust that was normal.”

  Ellery met people’s eyes and got a general nod.

  “I’d want to look into the drugs: Who was the distributor? Where did they come from? Who just shows up at a party with a backpack full of three-treat baggies and starts passing them out? Was this someone the whole school knew or just the guy who invited them?”

  “No Neck, the dead guy,” Jackson prompted, and Henry nodded again.

  “So that’s a place to start. No Neck’s parents, No Neck’s friends, the kid with the party favors—”

  “Ziggy Ivanov,” Ellery supplied, meeting Jackson’s eyes. They were still waiting on Ty’s return text.

  “Yeah, those guys.”

  “But let’s start with someone friendly,” Jackson said. “Nate Klein. He’s in the file as Ty’s buddy who tried to tell the cops that everybody had a baggy and the bust was no fair. Nobody listened to him, and he’s not mentioned in the police report, but Ellery mentioned him after the interview with the kid.”

  “Ooh,” Henry said, making his lips do the pursing thing. “Good catch. Make him a priority?”

  Jackson nodded, still studying the sheet in front of him. “Yeah.”

  “Solid.”

  “Okay, the cops,” Jackson said. He grimaced and looked at one of the files in front of him. “Not the two cops on the Dobrevk case. The two cops on the Dobrevk case were not excited about arresting this kid—you can tell. And they called forensics in and are processing the entire scene in spite of the kid’s apparent willingness to go down for the crime.”

  “So they know something’s hinky?” Henry asked.

  “They do,” Jackson said, then grimaced. “And this is where we’d need a department contact to get hold of them for an interview.” He looked up at Henry. “Nobody knows you yet. Maybe you should take that one, over the phone first. Ellery, do we have an interview with the Dobrevk kid lined up?”

  “End of the day,” Ellery said. “You owe Jade something really awesome, by the way.”

  Jackson gave his sister-of-the-heart a smile. “We might get a new kitten. Want to help us pick it out?”

  Jade grimaced. “No. No. And no. And don’t ask Mike to come with you either. You two go into a shelter and the shelter will walk out with you. You’ll have cats, he’ll have dogs, the world will be pandemonium.”

  Jackson gave her a fond smile. “Okay, well, I’ll think of something. Thanks for getting that interview, sweetheart.”

  “He’s a baby, and he’s in jail,” she said simply.

  “Yeah, but you’re still made of awesome.”

  She gave him a pert grin, and he winked at her.

  “So,” Ellery said, interrupting their byplay because that interview was looming near. “Jade, any impressions?”

  “Mm, they singled Ty out because he was Black, but not because he was Black.”

  Ellery’s brain popped. “Excuse me?”

  “Okay, so, you invite a party full of white people and one Black person. Why?”

  “I’ve got nothing,” Jackson said. “Ellery? You talked to this kid.”

  “He said that usually the school was much more diverse than that party,” Ellery said. “Why?”

  “It’s like they invited one Black kid so the police could arrest the one Black kid. It didn’t matter which Black kid. They just wanted the cops there to take care of that.”

  Ellery tried to wrap his brain around the idea, and then Jackson put it into perspective.

  “Like the whole setup was a diversion?” he asked, one eyebrow up.

  “Yes!” Ellery said, finally seeing it. “Like… like they wanted those cops there, instead of where they would normally be.”

  Jackson nodded slowly. “That is a theory.” He looked at Henry. “Okay, Henry, put that on your list of things when talking to the police. Where would those two officers normally have been? What duty did they get pulled off of to make that bust?”

  “Okay.” Henry chewed his lower lip. “How about you guys go to the jail and I’ll make some phone calls. Then you and me go to the police department this evening.”

  “Was gonna go visit Kryzynski,” Jackson said. “They took him to Med Center. I texted Dave and Alex to buzz me when they know anything.”

  “The morning, then,” Henry said firmly. “Jackson, I don’t know the department. I know they may hate your bisexual ass, but at least they know you. Some of them have got to have a soft spot for you there, you think?”

  Jackson shrugged. “I don’t know. They seemed pretty impressed with what we did on the Sampson case, but that may have been Jade’s driving.”

  There was general laughter around the table, and Ellery took charge of the meeting again.

  “So, Galen—wait! Hold on a minute
.”

  Galen rolled his eyes but allowed Ellery to check his phone. Ellery looked at the picture of a kid. Well, mostly a kid. He could have been anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five. His size and the delicacy of his features said teenager, but his eyes, hard and narrow, said hard-boiled ex-con. He showed the picture to Jackson, and the effect was electric.

  Jackson sucked in a breath, and his jaw clenched and eyes flashed. “Fuck. Me. New plan. Henry and I drive to the police station now, and we question every cop we can find who dealt with either case. Then we meet Ellery at the jail, and then we go see Kryzynski. We need to give the cops that kid’s name, ’cause he’s the one who stabbed our favorite detective and gave Ty Townsend party favors just to lure two incompetent flatfoots away from whatever they were supposed to be doing.”

  “Oh damn!” Jade said, and Ellery gaped.

  “Do you think he was after the Townsend file?” Ellery asked, trying to make a picture.

  “No,” Galen said, and Ellery remembered he hadn’t had a chance to contribute.

  “What are you seeing?” he asked. Galen had a sharp mind. Although his focus was on corporate law, he tended to see larger patterns that might be helpful here.

  “Remember, this kid was at the party of the kid killed in the other case. Lots of white kids at that party where Ty was arrested, and that’s small potatoes next to cold-blooded murder. I’m betting this is all about the Dobrevk case. In fact, if you want to do your friend Tyson a favor, maybe keep him out of it. If they know we’ve tied him to the Dobrevk case, he just became a witness—”

  “And he’s in more danger than before,” Ellery said, glad AJ had moved the kid across town.

  “That’s what I’m seeing,” Galen said. He eyed Jackson and Henry. “So maybe don’t mention Ty Townsend while you’re talking to the police either. The Dobrevk cops seem to be straight shooters. We should maybe only talk to them about the Dobrevk case.”

  “What about getting Ty off?” Ellery asked. “Kid’s future is at stake.”

  “Can you get him off just by being a stellar lawyer?” Jackson asked, batting his eyes.

  “Can you maybe ask Nate Klein some questions that will help me?” Ellery retorted.

  Jackson nodded. “We can do that. Nate goes on tomorrow’s list, first thing. Henry and I have to leave about thirty seconds ago if we want to do our thing at the police station in time to meet you at the jail.” He frowned. “Jade, darlin’, we have to take you home tonight, don’t we?”

  “If AJ does not get his ass back with my SUV, then yes,” she said. “Did Ty make it home?”

  Ellery nodded because that had been in the text. “Yes. He said he, his mom, and his dog were settling in with his sister. They got there a few minutes ago. I guess traffic was sort of a nightmare.”

  Jade rolled her eyes. “Fine. Jackson, Henry, you two take the Town Car. We’ll figure out vehicular bingo while you’re gone.”

  Jackson grunted. “You know, maybe I could buy another car.”

  “No!” Jade and Ellery both shouted, and he grimaced. He actually had a car—a supersonically tricked-out SUV with bulletproof panels and a stripped-down interior that could bring urban assault to the finest war zones in the nation. It was not, however, fuel efficient, nor, being painted a bright pearlescent oyster color, was it inconspicuous. But Ellery couldn’t help it. Jackson hadn’t had a lot of luck with vehicles in the past year. The Tank, as they’d nicknamed it, was Ellery’s last try at buying him an SUV that he couldn’t destroy. It actually had been destroyed—and then rebuilt—and Jackson didn’t get any more cars for a while.

  Besides being an expensive hobby for Ellery, it was also hard on his heart.

  “Or I could continue to bum rides from everybody else,” Jackson said blandly.

  Ellery regarded him with narrowed eyes. “That sounds like a fantastic idea. Doesn’t that sound like a fantastic idea, Jade?”

  “Yes, Ellery. That idea sounds like it could save the universe. Henry, do you mind giving Jackson rides around town?”

  Henry hadn’t been there when Jackson’s old car had been shot up, or the replacement vehicle wrecked, or the second replacement also shot up, or the Tank’s original version blown up. But apparently he still got the gist.

  “Nope,” he said, giving Jackson an evil grin. “Not even a little.”

  Jackson rolled his eyes. “You all suck,” he said. “Just remember, not one of those cars was actually destroyed in a car wreck when I was driving.”

  “Yeah, baby,” Jade told him. “That’s the takeaway from all of that.”

  Jackson sobered and stood, taking the top sheet of his legal pad and a pen. “Okay. So this one’s complicated, and there’s a lot of angles. We may have to have one of these sit-downs tomorrow. Galen, I know you’ve got your own shit, but—”

  “Your Detective Kryzynski is a friend,” he said, nodding. “And we have young people in danger.” He gave a thin smile. “Honestly, this is so much more exciting than corporate takeovers in Miami. I had no idea.”

  Jackson nodded, and before Ellery could give a more elaborate thank-you, he said, “’Preciate it,” in that terse, hypermasculine way that seemed to mean more.

  “Jackson, a moment, please?” Ellery said, standing. “Galen, Jade, I’ll be right back.”

  Galen allowed one of those bland Southern smiles that told Ellery he was fooling nobody, but Ellery didn’t have any other way to do this. He ushered Jackson down the hallway and into his office and closed the door behind him. He didn’t even need to turn around before he felt Jackson’s heat, pushing him into the door.

  “I don’t need to say it, do I?” Ellery asked, leaning into Jackson’s body anyway. A little more substantial than he’d felt in June. He’d put on maybe fifteen pounds, maybe even a teeny bit of healthy fat. His color—lightly tanned face, slight pink to his cheeks—was good. But Ellery only had to close his eyes to see the bluish tinge to his lips from eight weeks ago. He only had to feel under Jackson’s shirt to count his many, many scars.

  “I like it when you do,” Jackson said softly, kissing the corner of Ellery’s mouth.

  Ellery opened his eyes in surprise. “Really?” A year they’d been doing this. A year since Jackson had first hit on Ellery and had then retreated because Ellery wasn’t a one-night stand. A year since Ellery had first held Jackson in bed as he’d screamed through the nightmares that would probably haunt him forever.

  A year since Ellery had decided that, whether Jackson knew it or not, Ellery’s job, the thing he’d really been born to do, was to take care of Jackson.

  Ellery hadn’t realized how desperate he’d been to know Jackson appreciated that until right now.

  “Yeah, really,” Jackson said, kissing the other corner of his mouth. He leaned close enough to whisper in Ellery’s ear, and Ellery splayed his hands across the hard definition of his chest. “Every now and then, knowing you want me to be careful is what gets me home.”

  Ellery closed his eyes against the times it almost hadn’t and for a moment opened his heart to the fact that Jackson was here, now, and he was willing to be careful, just for Ellery.

  “I want you home tonight,” Ellery said.

  “Every night,” Jackson promised. This time, he took Ellery’s mouth for real, and Ellery allowed himself to be soothed, allowed Jackson to convince him that he was strong, that he was capable of making decisions in his own best interest and not kill himself being a hero.

  He moaned a little, shaking, and when Jackson wrapped strong arms around his shoulders, they released the kiss, and he rested his head on Jackson’s shoulder.

  “Hey, Counselor,” Jackson whispered. “What’s wrong?”

  “I saw the blood,” Ellery said roughly, the memory surging of Jackson standing in the breezeway, staring at the EMTs with dazed eyes. “I saw the blood, and… I just….”

  “Mm.” Jackson squeezed him tighter, and although Ellery was not a small man, he felt cared for. “I know. I wish I could tell y
ou I wouldn’t trade places with him.”

  “Jackson!” Ellery pulled away, alarm in his eyes, but Jackson wouldn’t back down.

  “I don’t want people hurt in my place,” Jackson said, unyielding. “I keep playing it in my head. The kid vaulting the railing, me calling that he had a knife. Kryzynski’s not stupid, but the kid had some momentum, and I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t block him, I couldn’t help Sean and… and I hated it. I hated the blood and the way he was afraid and there wasn’t anything I could do.”

  He took a deep breath, and Ellery tried to still the hammering of his heart. He should have known. Ellery was afraid because it could have been Jackson. Jackson was shaking because he thought it should have been.

  “There was nothing you could do,” Ellery said. “Jackson, there was nothing you could do. I know you’d switch places. I hate it,” he added passionately, “but that’s the man I love. Please believe me—believe yourself—there’s nothing you could do.”

  Jackson nodded, gave a hard shudder, and held Ellery tight again. “I’ll meet you at the jail,” he said, his voice under control again. “I’ll text you as soon as Dave or Alex send me word.”

  Dave and Alex were his friends from UCD Med Center, and Ellery was grateful for them. Jackson would have worried himself sick if he hadn’t had a way to know about Kryzynski.

  “Play nice with the policemen,” Ellery said, trying to smile.

  Jackson leaned back and regarded him with sober green eyes. “I’ll try not to worry you any more than I have to,” he said, and then he kissed Ellery again, quick and hard, like he was trying to warm Ellery’s soul.

  Ellery let him, thinking of all the times he’d blown off the concern, tried to cajole Ellery out of the worry, pretended like he didn’t court danger with every step.

  The acknowledgment was new, and it was hopeful. That he knew Ellery worried, that he’d try not to worry him more, was considerate in ways Jackson had been learning to be throughout the last year.

  He’d taken to the new wardrobe, he’d let the car thing slide, he’d been taking care of himself because he knew he was important.

  If Ellery was honest, there had been times this last year when he’d thought he’d never see Jackson Rivers be this much of a grown-up, and he’d learned enough in that time to take the win.