by B. B. Hamel
She nods eagerly. “Anything.”
“Okay then. Tell us what happened to Atticus.”
She groans. “I don’t know.”
“You’re lying,” I say softly.
She snaps her eyes over to me. “What do you know, bitch?”
“She’s right,” Wyatt says. “You are lying.”
She looks back to him. “Please, just give me my stuff.”
“Tell us what happened.”
“Fuck you.” She leans back, arms crossed, but I can see something in her face. I think it’s worry or…
No, it’s not worry. It’s fear.
She’s afraid of something.
The waitress comes with our food not long later. Kristi digs into her Lucky Charms with abandon, but I barely pick at my food. Wyatt keeps tossing me glances, but I’m lost in thought, trying to figure all this out.
Kristi’s afraid to talk about what happened to Atticus. She definitely knows something, but she’s not willing to say whatever it is. I think she’s afraid that whoever got Atticus will get her, too.
Which means she’s knows who it is, or at least she has an idea.
I wait a little bit before I start back in again. “Hey, Wyatt,” I say, breaking the silence. “You have arrest quotas to meet, right?”
He glances at me. “Sure.”
I make a big show of sighing and leaning back. “She’s not going to give you anything.”
“Probably.” He shrugs a little.
“So you might as well just arrest her. I mean, we already put in this much effort.”
Her jaw drops, but I keep my gaze passive.
He strokes his chin. “I see what you mean. Might as well get some use out of her, right?”
“Exactly. At least help out your bottom line. I mean, what’s it matter to her?”
“Hey, wait a minute—” she starts, but Wyatt interrupts her.
“I mean, I have her already. Could just take her down to the precinct right now, get a nice pat on the back from my sergeant. That’d be way easier than this.”
“I think it’s the best solution,” I say.
“Wait,” she says, sitting up straight. “Hold on, guys.”
“No, I think you’re done.”
“It was a drug deal.” The words tumble out of her mouth all at once, and she looks surprised at herself. I half expect her to put her hands over her mouth and sit back, but instead she just slouches forward, resigned.
“What was?” Wyatt asks, eyes narrowed.
“He got this shit, I know don’t know, some pills,” she says softly. “He was bragging about it for months to me. And then the night he said he was going to sell them…” She trails off.
I stare at her in horror. “He was selling pills?”
“Percocet or some shit,” she says. “You know, opioids.” She rolls her eyes. “All the fucking rich idiots want the pill shit, even though heroin is the same and cheaper.”
“Back up,” Wyatt says. “He was killed during a drug deal?”
“That’s right,” she says. “Shit, I mean, I told him not to go.”
“Who was buying?”
She shakes her head. “He didn’t tell me.”
“Really?” I ask her. “He bragged about it, but didn’t tell you the buyer?”
She glares at me. “He didn’t fucking trust me, okay?”
Wyatt glances in my direction. “Why not?”
She sighs. “Because I’m a fucking junkie and he was afraid I’d try to fuck things up.” She looks defiantly at him. “Is that enough?”
He watches her for a second. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but that’s a lot of new information, and I’m still trying to process it all.
I didn’t know Atticus sold drugs. I mean, I figured that’s what he did for the Niners, but I didn’t know for sure. I certainly didn’t know he was selling enough drugs to get killed. It explains a lot though, a drug deal gone wrong. He got robbed for his drugs, and maybe he put up a fight, which is how he got stabbed and shot so many times. Maybe he was trying to make his life better, and this was his way out, and it all went bad.
I can imagine my brother in total fear but still fighting for his life. And he was left there alone in that alleyway to die.
“That’s enough,” Wyatt says softly. “You did a good job, Kristi.”
“And now I can have my shit?”
Wyatt laughs. “Fuck no. You can go the fuck home and pray I don’t bust your ass.”
She looks shocked. “You fucking piece of shit,” she says. “What I just told you could get me killed, you know that? Those people are still out there.”
“You’re lucky I don’t arrest you, stupid junkie,” he says to her, all menace and anger. It surprises me how quickly he turns it on. “You need to shut your fucking mouth, go home, and stay there. If I have to hunt you down again, things won’t be easier.”
She stares at him, clearly surprised. She quickly gets herself together. “You don’t scare me.”
“I should.” He stares at her. “Now go the fuck home before I change my mind and drag you by the hair to jail.”
She watches him for a second before sliding out of the booth. She’s about to leave, but before she does, she turns to me. “I’m sorry about him, okay?” she says to me. “He was a nice person. Didn’t deserve what he got.”
“Thanks,” I say, surprised.
She nods and quickly walks away.
Wyatt and I sit next to each other in silence. I sip my coffee, mind running in circles. Wyatt doesn’t really move, he’s just staring at the wall, clearly thinking about something.
“I don’t believe her,” he says finally, turning to me.
I look at him, surprised. “What?”
“I don’t believe her,” he says again. “I mean, I believe what she said, but I think there’s more she’s not saying.”
I nod slowly. “The buyer.”
“She has to know who it is,” he says. “You saw how afraid she was when she finally blurted that out, right? And she left without putting up much of a fight, which isn’t really like a fucking junkie.” He sighs, shaking his head.
“We’re far from done,” I say softly.
“Yeah, we are.” He looks at me then suddenly wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him. I lean up against his chest and for a second, I let my façade slip.
I let the weakness, the anger, the sorrow that I’ve been hiding slowly leak out. Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t sob and I don’t make a noise. This man knew my brother way back when, and now we know why Atticus died. Maybe we don’t know who, but at least we know why.
I blink and the tears drop. I pull away from Wyatt and wipe my face with a napkin. “God, I need to go home,” I say.
He nods. “Okay. We’ll get going.”
I slide out of the booth and he doesn’t say anything about my crying. He puts some money on the table and we head out, back toward Mason and the mystery that’s driving us forward.
16
Wyatt
“You should be back by now.” Captain Lattimer’s voice is steady and soft, which may be a bad thing.
“I know, sir,” I say. “I got caught up in an investigation here.”
“Investigation?” His voice tightens. “You’re not authorized to conduct any investigations out there, son.”
“I know that, sir,” I say. “It was a friend of mine from school, murdered in an apparent drug deal. The cops here aren’t too interested in finding the killer of a junkie, but he was my friend.”
Captain Lattimer goes silent for a second. If there’s anything the captain will respond to, it’s friendship. He’s an old-school guy, the sort of cop that believes building relationships is paramount to community safety.
“You’re off the clock,” he says finally. “If you want to do this, you’re doing it on your own dime. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” I say, relieved.
“And I’m docking your pay for today.”
I grimace. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Check in soon. You have a week.”
He hangs up the phone and I sigh. I glance down at the time before slipping my phone back into my pocket. It’s night and getting a little chilly, but I don’t really feel it. My mind is still on Cora and this damn case.
I feel like I’m missing something. I don’t understand this place anymore, and I definitely don’t have a relationship with the community anymore. Cora is the only connection I have left, now that Atticus is gone. Sure, I have old friends from school, but I barely know them.
Which is why I’m here. The Great American is starting to get crowded, though I’m still lingering in the parking lot. Mitch went inside a few minutes ago, and I know he’ll be drinking and waiting for me to show.
I don’t feel like going in. I’d rather go to Cora’s place right now and kiss those lips again. I keep thinking about our night together, how fucking good it felt, sunk deep between her legs. She ground herself against my cock, not holding anything back, and the way she came… it was like goddamn magic. It drove me insane. It’s still driving me insane.
I can’t stop thinking about it. I need more, I absolutely have to have more, and I want it right now.
But I have to be patient. There’s still something dark inside of her, a sorrow that’s driving her forward. I could see it in her back at that casino, right after Kristi left. I wanted to kiss her then, tell her it would all be okay, but I don’t know if it really will be.
Truth is, we may never find the asshole that did this to Atticus. I feel like this town has too many fucking secrets, and I’m just trying to scratch at the surface. It’s a goddamn losing battle, but I know I can’t give up.
My captain gave me a week. I need to use this time wisely. And that means I need more information.
I head inside and spot Mitch sitting at the end of the bar again. I join him and he wordlessly nods at me.
I order a beer. “How’s it going?” I ask him.
He sighs. “Had a hell of a shitshow earlier. So this is much needed.” He grins and raises his glass.
“What happened?”
“You know, the usual domestic bullshit.” He sips his drink.
I know he wants me to ask. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, it was a normal call, came over the radio. My partner and I were the closest, so we respond and head over. It’s in the trailer park, you know the one over on Rose, near the Giant supermarket.”
I nod. “I know the one. A little bit nicer.”
“That’s what I thought too.” He rolls his eyes. “So we show up, and there’s this woman, drunk as can be, right? Yelling her fucking head off about something her boyfriend did, and there’s this guy, kinda standing off to the side.”
“The boyfriend?”
He nods. “Right you are. He’s a scrawny dude, totally sober. So we roll up, and my partner goes to calm the lady, and I go to talk to the boyfriend. You know what he says to me?”
I shake my head. I’ve heard stories like this a million times, but it’s still probably the best part of being a cop. “What’d he say?”
“He said, ‘Officer, I’m glad you’re here. My girl’s tits are out and she won’t put them away.’” He leans back in his chair, cracking up. “The whole time, she’s fucking topless! Tits flopping in the wind!”
I can’t help but grin at that. “So what happened?”
“We calmed her down, got a top on her. Apparently the boyfriend asked her to put a shirt on while she was outside and that set her off. Anyway, that shit took an hour and a half, but man, that was funny.”
I grin at him and we clink glasses. He launches into another story about another crazy local asshole, and I’m only half listening. I’ve heard all these stories and worse back in the city.
After about an hour of swapping stories, Mitch is looking a little drunk. He’s on beer number three and showing no sign of stopping, which is fine by me, I’m not judgmental. But I do need to know what I came here to find out, so I can’t wait anymore, in case he gets too wasted.
“Listen, Mitch,” I say to him, just after finishing one of my own good stories, the one about the priest and the rotten fish in his car. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“What’s up?” he asks, wiping his eyes from laughing so hard.
“I’ve been hanging around town now, and something’s bugging me. You all talk about that gang, the Niners, but you guys never say much about them. What’s the deal there?”
He sighs a little. “Who fucking knows, man. Whenever we make an arrest, ten guys step in to replace the cockroach.”
“But what are they even doing here?” I ask him. “I mean, Mason is pretty small.”
“That’s what we were wondering. Turns out, there’s a ton of addicts in Mason and the surrounding counties. The forest reserve down south is huge, and apparently they camp out there in little mobile meth labs.”
“No shit?” I ask him.
“Sure,” he says. “We try and stamp them out, but you know how big that place is.”
He’s not kidding. The nature reserve is absolutely massive, the biggest in the state.
“But they’re not violent?”
He makes a face. “Well…”
I sigh. “Well?”
“They are. I may have mislead you a little bit before.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
“You’re a damn outside cop poking around our shit. A fucking homicide cop, no less. I didn’t trust you.”
I nod, not surprised. Cops protect their own, and if someone might threaten the reputation of the station, they’ll do what they have to do to stop it.
“I’m not here to fuck with your shit, Mitch,” I say.
“I get it. I know you’re poking around the Lewis murder, and shit, nobody cares. If you wanna work it, then work it. We won’t stop you.”
I nod, feeling genuinely grateful. “Thanks, man.”
“Sure. Just, we make the arrest.”
“Of course,” I say. “Honestly, I don’t care about that.”
“Then I’m an open book.” He grins at me. “What do you want to know?”
“Jaxson Moyer,” I say to him.
He grins at me. “Jaxson, huh?”
“What do you know about him?”
He sighs. “First, you remember him from school?”
“Sure.”
“He was a loser even back then.” Mitch takes a long drink. “The guy thinks he’s a real badass. You know the type. Talks a lot, has some minor arrests, but he’s a nobody.”
“Minor arrests?” I ask.
“Sure. I got him for a drunk and disorderly once. He’s got possession, burglary once, a few other shit charges. Did some minor time, a few months, I think. He’s practically a regular at the precinct.”
I frown at him, thinking. “So he’s minor in the Niners?”
“Very,” Mitch confirms.
“Tell me more about their operations.”
He launches into a detailed rundown, but after a couple minutes I start to tune him out. I quickly realize that it’s not relevant to our case, but what he said about Jaxson keeps coming back to me.
He’s a nobody. I got the sense that he was important that night he threatened us, but it turns out that was just a lie. So Jaxson’s the kind of guy to inflate his own importance, make himself look tougher. He probably thinks his minor arrests are fucking cool or some shit.
I just don’t see the connections yet. Atticus dies in a drug deal, Jaxson’s pissed we’re investigating, he’s involved somehow, but he’s just a minor guy in this gang. He’s got an ego, that’s for sure. He and Atticus used to know each other, but I don’t know how close they were before the murder.
I have another beer with Mitch and I leave not long later, still full of questions, but I don’t think he has my answers. There are only a couple of people that know the truth, and I doubt they’ll just come out and tell me at this point. I burned my bri
dges with Kristi, and Jaxson’s going to get more and more aggressive as this thing drags out.
I’m frustrated. I can’t see it, can’t see how it all lines up. Normally I can figure out a murder like a jigsaw puzzle, all the little pieces falling into place, but this one is still all jumbled. Maybe it’s because I’m too close to be objective, I just don’t know.
Sleeping with Cora was definitely a mistake, but it was the kind of mistake I want to make again. I want to keep on making it, over and over, and I know that’s going to cloud my judgment. Still, I can’t help myself. I want everything, and I’m going to take it, sooner or later.
17
Cora
I’m just about to eat dinner when there’s a knock at my door.
It makes me jump. I’m not expecting anyone, and fear spikes through me. Normally I wouldn’t react like this, but now I’m on edge. I know people are watching me, calling my cell phone, coming around my house, going through my trash. They want to hurt me, get me to back off. And I don’t know if they’re above coming into my home like this and making me bleed.
I pick up my phone and have Wyatt’s number ready to dial. I walk over to the front window and peek out, trying to see who’s parked out front… and instantly I relax.
I go over to the door and pull it open. My mom glowers at me as she steps inside, not waiting to be invited.
“What took you so long?” she grumbles at me. “You got any wine?”
I smile to myself. “There’s an open bottle—” I start, but she’s already heading over to it. She pours herself a nice, healthy glass, and turns to me.
“What’s up?” I ask her.
She stares at me and drinks down half the wine. “Guess what happened to me today.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Marcie said something again about your back yard?”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Fuck Marcie. And fuck my back yard. Honey, what are you involved with?”
I stare at her, surprised. “What are you talking about?”
“I got a phone call,” she says, “from a very unhappy man that claims you’re poking around where you shouldn’t. What are you doing, Cora?”