Violet Darger (Book 4): Bad Blood

by Vargus, L. T.

  Chapter 38

  Darger entered the conference room and took a seat next to Loshak, who seemed in good spirits. He smiled at her.

  “What up doe?” he said.

  Darger just stared at him, blinking a few times.

  “You heard that one?” he said. “Popular greeting native to Detroit according to Price. I keep hearing it around town.”

  “I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”

  She scanned the room as the other members of the task force filtered in. Something felt off. A little tense. The group seemed somehow smaller.

  “Couple of stragglers today,” Loshak said. “We’re waiting on Detective Blankenship and Deputy Huettemann at the moment. Everyone else is accounted for, milling around drinking coffee and whatever.”

  Darger’s stomach clenched like a fist. Huettemann wasn’t here yet? She realized that she’d zoned out, that Loshak had asked her a question she hadn’t heard.

  “What?” she said.

  “I said, ‘You happen upon any interesting local quirks?’ Like slang or whatever?”

  “What?” Darger said. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

  She was distracted. She’d had a restless night of sleep, worrying that Huettemann would drop the ball with the solo stake-out detail and let Jaworski slip away.

  The first thing she’d done after crawling out of the crappy motel bed was dial Huettemann. There was no answer.

  Fuck. This was why running surveillance on your own was a bad idea. It was too easy to get lax. To get drowsy and nod off without even realizing it. She knew from experience.

  She’d left a voicemail message and then sent a text as well.

  That had been over an hour ago now, and he hadn’t gotten back to her. Other worries had crept into Darger’s mind in that time. What if something bad had happened to the deputy?

  But no. The secrecy was making her paranoid. She couldn’t let herself think the worst. There were plenty of explanations. His phone had died overnight. He’d turned the ringer off. He was in the shower, after running home for a quick change of clothes before this morning’s meeting.

  Detective Blankenship entered, looking a little ruffled. He glanced around the room and took a seat. That left just one empty seat at the table.

  Agent Price coughed into his hankie, straightened a stack of papers, and the meeting got underway at last.

  “Before we get started today, has anyone seen Huettemann this morning?” Price said. “He was supposed to check in with his CO, but they haven’t heard from him since yesterday afternoon.”

  Darger’s stomach clenched tighter. This was not good. She glanced over at Luck, who was making one of his patented “oh crap” looks. His mustache twitched rapid-fire like a squirrel’s tail. She could tell he was about to spill the fucking beans, and then the mole would have the upper hand again. And as concerned as she was to find out what had become of the deputy, they gained nothing by letting the bad guy know they were onto him.

  Before Luck could open his dumb trap, Darger piped up.

  “I ran into him yesterday evening. He had a lead he was checking up on, but I couldn’t tell you the specifics. It sounded like he was planning on a late night, so maybe he got caught up in something and he’s sleeping it off now.”

  Price smiled approvingly.

  “Quite the diligent task force I’ve got here. Well, if you or anyone else crosses paths with the deputy today, tell him to give his CO a ring. And me as well.”

  Darger nodded, smiled a little, pretended that a wave of guilt hadn’t just crashed into her with each syllable she spoke. Lying to her superiors, she could handle the fall-out from that. But what if Huettemann had gotten into trouble? Detroit was a rough enough place before one started bashing their way around the organized crime wasp’s nest with an aluminum baseball bat.

  “Probably had to rescue a cat from a tree,” Costello joked. “Or whatever it is they do up there in the suburbs. Give speeding tickets to old ladies. Harass minorities. You know, serious police work.”

  Darger gritted her teeth to keep herself from spewing an endless litany of curse words at him. Why was that guy such an asshole?

  Price spoke then, interrupting her fantasy visions of throttling the old fart with her bare hands.

  “Not to jump the gun, but is there any concern that he got in over his head with whatever lead he was following?” Loshak said. “Agent Costello was joking, but Huettemann is a little green when it comes homicide investigation, let alone poking around the mob.

  Price sighed. Shrugged.

  “Back in the old days, the mafia didn’t kill police, if that’s what you’re asking. Even when they found undercover officers among their ranks, they’d rough ‘em up, but they didn’t whack ‘em. Not ever. It was one of their rules.”

  “Some of the stuff we’ve seen, it’s hard to believe they even have rules,” Blankenship said.

  “It was part virtue, part pragmatic, I think,” Price said. “Law enforcement still serves a purpose in the community after all, even from a mafia perspective. They still protect the public, keep the streets safe, keep business going. And it’s also a lot of heat to kill a cop. If you take out a cop, you can be sure every other guy wearing a badge is going to double down to avenge the death. To set that wrong just a little bit right. Killing a law enforcement officer could spur police action that ultimately takes down a whole crew’s operation. That’s a lot to risk. So yeah, it was probably mostly pragmatism in the end.”

  The room went quiet for a beat.

  Luck broke the silence, and Darger thought she could hear a little waver in his voice.

  “You said ‘was.’ They don’t follow that rule anymore?”

  Price shook his head.

  “Used to be they’d just beat on a cop a little. Kick the shit out of an undercover guy. But the new leadership is more aggressive. More violent. Guys like Rocco Battaglia… they’re a lot less respectful of the rules and traditions.”

  The senior agent sucked his teeth before he finished his thought.

  “When you get right down to it, this new generation is pretty damn savage.”

  Darger swallowed and closed her eyes. Images of the deputy flashed in her head. The smiling goofball, his eyes going wide in comical surprise when she suggested there could be a mole. Christ, she hoped he was OK.

  Chapter 39

  The meeting left Darger feeling like she had a belly full of winged insects. She downed a cup of coffee, hoping the hot brew would kill the creepy-crawly sensation, though she knew it would more than likely only make it worse.

  Luck waited in the hallway, pouncing as soon as she exited the room.

  “We need to talk. Now.”

  They moved further away from the conference room where they were less likely to be overheard.

  “That was smooth,” Luck said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Darger assumed he was referring to what she’d told Price about Huettemann.

  “Thanks.”

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “This is bad, Violet. Holding information back temporarily is one thing. But lying?”

  “We don’t know for certain that anything happened to Huettemann. So it wasn’t technically lying. And if something did happen to him, it would be more reason to keep our mouths shut. If we blab what we know about Jaworski and it gets back to the Battaglia’s, they’ll make him disappear. We’ll lose him for good.”

  Darger glanced at a clock mounted in the hallway.

  “Look, I know you said you’d give me 24 hours for this whole thing, and it’s almost up. But I’d appreciate if you gave me another day or two. I think we’re close.”

  “You want to go back to Jaworski’s?” He shook his head. “No way. Not with Huettemann missing.”

  “For all we know he’s still sitting there, waiting for us to show up.”

  “Then why isn’t he answering his phone?”

  She shrugged.
“Because his battery died. I don’t know.”

  He didn’t seem convinced.

  “I understand if you want to bow out, OK? Just give me some more time before you tell Price. And like I said before, it’s on me if this all goes wrong.”

  The hard look of concern on Luck’s face softened as he thought it over. She figured he was focusing on the last part. The more she ran around on her own, the deeper she was digging herself. Easier for the blame to fall solely on her.

  “I don’t like this,” he said.

  “I don’t either. But I still feel like Jaworski is the key.”

  “I’m going to have to tell Price at some point.”

  “I know,” she said with a nod. “I have one more teensy favor to ask.”

  She held her thumb and index finger a quarter inch apart to show just how teensy she was talking.

  “What is it?”

  “Can I take your car?”

  “My car? Why?”

  “Because I want to use something Jaworski couldn’t have possibly seen before. He might recognize my rental, but your Lexus would be unknown to him.”

  Luck’s eyes rolled to the ceiling in annoyance, but his hand fished into his pocket and retrieved the keys. He handed them over.

  “Thanks.”

  “I guess this means I’m flying solo on the assignment that Price gave us?”

  She patted his arm.

  “Yep. But you can handle it.”

  She forced herself to smile and sound cheerful when she said it, but she still hadn’t shaken the anxious feeling in her gut.

  Chapter 40

  Darger noticed two things as soon as she turned onto Jaworski’s street. The first was that Kyle Huettemann’s car was nowhere in sight. The second was that Jaworski’s SUV was parked in his driveway. A decent sign that he was home, but it told her little else.

  She parked the Lexus on the opposite end of the street and further away than where she’d previously watched and cut the engine.

  Her gaze wandered repeatedly to a dented mailbox with the words “M GO BLUE” painted on the side. When she’d last seen Huettemann, he’d been parked just in front of that mailbox.

  She’d been half-worried on the drive that she’d come upon his car still sitting in the same spot but empty. No trace of the deputy, as if he’d vanished. So the fact that his car was gone could be a good thing. Maybe he really had gone home to sleep. Or maybe he’d gotten in touch with his CO finally and been called back to home base.

  Just then Darger sensed movement in Jaworski’s house. A slight twitch of the drapes in one of the front windows. It was so quick, she easily could have missed it. She held her breath, waiting for something else to happen. For Jaworski’s bulk to come out the front door, maybe stroll down to water his tomato plants.

  She waited, but nothing happened. There was no additional movement inside the house. She relaxed a little, settling into her seat and eyeballing the paper grocery bag beside her. Her stake-out supplies. She’d ended up with a bottle each of water and iced tea and a few random snacks: peanut-butter filled pretzels, dried mango, and a bag of something called “White Cheddar Corn Puffs.”

  She studied the label on that last item suspiciously. Corn puffs? Just looking at the little pale yellow nuggets, she could imagine how tasteless they were going to be. But that had been part of her logic in buying them. If they were as bland and unsatisfying as she thought they’d be, she wouldn’t be tempted to gorge herself on them. She’d made that mistake before on stake-outs, having once eaten almost an entire jumbo container of pizza flavored Goldfish crackers and regretting it bitterly later.

  Might as well sample the goods, she thought. Plastic crinkled as she tore open the bag of corn puffs and tossed a few in her mouth. Crunchy, vaguely cheddary, and not nearly as bland as she’d been expecting. Sort of Cheeto-esque, sans the toxic waste orange coloring. They weren’t too salty, which was good, because she needed to limit herself when it came to the beverages. She couldn’t risk leaving for a bathroom break and having Jaworski slip away.

  It felt too quiet in the car by herself, with the only sound being the crunch of corn puffs being ground to powder between her teeth. She turned the radio on and tuned it to a station playing classical music. She left the volume low, only really loud enough to provide some noise other than her own thoughts.

  As the hours ticked slowly by, her headache crept up on her again, though this one hadn’t turned nasty yet. It was a mild throbbing behind her right eye. Tolerable, for the most part. But still annoying. And frustrating. She realized now how much she’d taken her health for granted before. To have the vast majority of her days pain-free had been a blessing she’d never truly appreciated.

  She thought of the bottle of Norco stuffed in her suitcase back in her motel room and felt a flash of anger. It was infuriating to have this dependence on a drug, and she hated herself a little more every time she caved and took one of the pills. She felt powerless and vaguely pathetic, and as she sat and listened to the low trill of violins trickle out of the car speakers, she made a decision. Those pills were getting flushed. As soon as she got back to her room tonight, they were going right down the toilet.

  A little surge of excitement ran through her. She almost wished she could run back and do it now. Because mixed with the enthusiasm for the plan was a tiny bit of fear. What if she got rid of the pills and then desperately needed them?

  But no. She couldn’t listen to that voice. It was the same voice that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

  Hey, I’m not the one that got us shot in the head, the voice retorted. You did that all on your own.

  “Shut up,” Darger said out loud.

  Half-amused with herself, she continued speaking into the stillness of the car. “By the way, this is why everyone thinks solo stake-outs are a terrible idea. You get loopy. You start talking to yourself.”

  Her eyes seemed drawn to the beat-up mailbox again, and an uncomfortable wormy feeling in her gut made her shift in her seat.

  Too many puffs, she told herself, pushing the bag so that the open end tilted away from her. Deep down, though, she knew the sensation was the result of thinking about Huettemann. She couldn’t deny it any longer: his absence was starting to worry her.

  Her eyes slid over to the peach-colored house again. Could Jaworski have spotted him? Done something to him?

  She remembered seeing the enormous man lumber out to his car. Would the deputy know how to handle himself if he’d found himself face-to-face with Dominik Jaworski?

  No. Probably not.

  A cold feeling came over her as she considered that possibility in earnest.

  In the afternoon, her phone rang, and seeing Owen’s name on the screen flooded her with relief. It was a welcome distraction from her anxious thoughts.

  Her relief didn’t last long.

  “Hey, you never gave me your new flight details, and I wanted to make sure I had everything before I head out in the morning.”

  “Oh… shit.”

  “You forgot to change your flight, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a long pause, and Darger practically squirmed in her seat. She was the worst.

  Finally he said, “Do you have a minute now? We can look over the available flights together and figure it out.”

  “That’s the thing… it’s gotten a bit more complicated here. I don’t think I can leave.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “It’s not like that. It’s just…” She contemplated the idea of leaving while Huettemann was missing. There was no way. She’d started this. She had to finish it. “There are some unanswered questions right now, and I kind of feel responsible for finding the answers.”

  “Come on, Violet. You’re not even supposed to be there. Let Loshak find the answers.”

  “I can’t just leave in the middle of a case.”

  No response. Silence.

  “Hello?”

  “Wh
y does it feel like you did this on purpose?” There was exasperation in his tone.

  “Did what?”

  “Took on this case right before we were supposed to go off together.”

  The accusation stung like an open-handed slap.

  “That’s bullshit, Owen.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “Long distance relationships are hard enough, Violet. But it’s damn near impossible if only one of us is making an effort.”

  She knew the one of us he was talking about was himself.

  “That’s not fair,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “It just feels like everything else in your life tends to come in second to your job.”

  “Because it does.”

  She waited out the pause this time.

  “Are you being serious right now?” Owen asked.

  “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “So our relationship takes a back seat to work? It’s that easy?”

  “I mean… yeah. I don’t see what the problem is.”

  He let out a long sigh. “OK. Wow.”

  “Why are you being so touchy about this?”

  “God, I don’t know, Violet. It’s almost like I’d prefer not being set aside at the whims of your job.”

  “You’re not being fair,” she said, feeling defensive again. “I’m not setting anyone aside.”

  “No? We had a whole trip planned and now you’re backing out at the last damn minute.”

  “For the record, we didn’t have a trip planned. You did.”

  He was incredulous now. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “I told you how I felt about boats. That I get seasick. You didn’t care.”

  “Ah, so I’m the selfish one now.”

  Darger couldn’t help but scoff at the implication. “Your words.”

  “If you didn’t want to go out on the boat so bad, you could have said so. I just wanted you to try it. Thought I could share something I enjoy with you. And if it made you miserable, we’d put in and spend all our time on the beach. I don’t give a shit about the boat, Violet. See, the difference is that all I really want is to be with you. But you’ve made it clear that you don’t feel the same way about me.”