by Jayne Blue
“Fuck you, Lew.” He was right though. Castration. That’s exactly what it fucking felt like. I never thought I would miss my badge and gun until they took it away from me for something I didn’t do.
“Right. Fuck me. Except you know there’s nobody left to give you a chance. Whether your brother’s club is legit doesn’t matter. People believe what they want about him and about you.”
I dug my fingers into my palm until I drew blood. Dammit, he was right and he knew it. I was fucked the minute they sewed that patch on my brother’s cut. Lincolnshire had its own problems. A corrupt mayor and dirty cops all the way up the line. I pissed the wrong one off and Stan was right. I gave my soul to this job and now I had nothing left.
Stan slammed his fist against the table. “Look, I’m not here to bust your balls about family business. I’m here because I’ve run out of options. But so have you. And I can give you something you’ve never had before. A fresh start. Free rein. I mean it. This case is yours. One hundred percent. Whatever you need. I’ve got some money tucked away they don’t know about. This operation will be off book, but fully funded.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a fat brown envelope, then he tossed it to me, hitting me square in the chest.
“That’s your first month’s salary. Fifteen grand. You’re not gonna get rich working for me, but we’re gonna win. We’re gonna take that son of a bitch out and get that shit off my streets. And when it’s over, I don’t figure your life is going to be that much different than it is now. They aren’t going to pin any medals on either one of us. If I’m lucky, I’ll get phased retirement. And if I’m real lucky, I’ll still get my pension. You probably won’t get much more than a few more envelopes like that. But that’s not why either of us became cops, is it?”
I gripped the envelope but didn’t put it in my pocket. God, it was tempting. He did know just what to say to pique my interest. My investigation. No interference. Bringing down a scumbag who was killing kids.
“Tell me what happened last night,” he said.
I bit my lip then let out a breath. I hadn’t said yes yet, but my blood thrummed as I replayed last night’s events in my mind. It was right there. I had an in. I was already starting to get to know the players. God, the idea of it fired me up just like the fucking drugs he wanted me to get off the street.
Stan let out a low laugh. “You’ve already started. Tell me.”
“I don’t know. There was a girl. A waitress. She damn near OD’d right in front of me. The shit’s in that bar, you’re right about that. With enough time, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out who’s moving it.”
Stan nodded. “So the fucker’s using his own bar to distribute, maybe. It means he’s getting bolder.”
“I don’t know. I never saw him. The woman, Devin Marsh, she runs the place. What is she, his daughter?”
“Must be a niece or something. I’ll find out. I swear I had no idea about her. See, you’re already getting us ahead of the game. And you’re in. You took the job.”
I wouldn’t say yes. Something held me back. I still didn’t know if I could trust him. Every instinct in my body told me I could. I sure as shit wanted to. But I just wasn’t there yet. Was it worth it to put my whole life on hold for this town? This guy?
“What’s your gut tell you?” Stan said. For a second I thought he was reading my mind. “The girl,” he said. “Devin Marsh. You think she’s running product for Cyrus?”
I shrugged. Something made me feel protective of Devin, at least for now. In my mind’s eye, I saw her round ass in those tight leggings. That sexy chip on her shoulder that just begged to be knocked off. God. That right there should have been a reason to get up and walk out of there. Head down to Florida maybe and get a job on a charter fishing boat. But I wanted to see her again. Loved the little thrill I got from the thought of getting to be a cop again. Maybe not the way I’d planned, but it could be good, solid work.
Stan’s eyes narrowed. Movement to my left caught my eye as double doors at the front of the building slid open. A nurse walked toward us pushing a wheelchair in front of her. Its occupant was a young girl wearing jeans and a tee shirt, her hands folded in her lap as she slumped a bit to the side. As she got closer, I thought she might have been pretty once. Beautiful even. She still was in a way, but her head lolled to the side and her mouth hung open. Her vacant eyes tore at me a little. Her blonde hair, once lush maybe, hung in limp strands around her face.
“Come on,” Stan said. “There’s one last thing you need to know. I want you to meet someone.”
I cocked my head to the side and slowly rose.
“Good morning, Chief!” The nurse practically sang it as she got closer. The girl in the chair struggled to lift her head. Her thin arms curled up, and crooked beneath her chin. She tried to smile, but the left side of her face hung slack. She made a joyful sound. A squeal. But she couldn’t form words.
The nurse gave me an odd smile, then pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders. “I’ll give you guys some time. Be back in ten.”
“Thanks, Laura,” Stan said. He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and brought the girl to our table.
“Rachel, this is my friend, Jase.”
Rachel struggled to focus. I leaned forward and closed a hand around hers. I couldn’t shake it, her rigid muscles held her arm pinned against her chest. So I leaned down and kissed the top of her hand. Rachel laughed, then her head lolled to the side as she tried to focus on Stan.
“Glad to meet you, Rachel,” I said.
“She was a swimmer,” Stan said. “She held the state record for the 100 fly. Headed for the Olympic trials, my girl.”
My heart froze. My guts churned as bile rose in my throat. Slowly, I sank back onto one of the benches. Stan gently combed Rachel’s hair with his fingers and caressed her cheek.
“Your daughter?” I said past a dry throat.
Stan’s eyes glistened as he nodded. “Baby of the family. She had a full ride to U of M. Can you believe that? That’s the last trip we took together before this happened. Checked out the campus. Looked at her dorm. She went to a party after Nationals. She had a boyfriend who, let’s just say, didn’t have her best interests at heart. She made a bad fucking decision, Jase. And we were the lucky ones. Her boyfriend? The one that shot her up? He’s dead. OD’d that same night. Hotshot. That fucking shit. By all accounts it was the first time either of them tried it. The kids she was with got scared and ran. The doctors think if they’d called 911 maybe they could have gotten to her in time. She stopped breathing, see. Lack of oxygen to her brain. She’s still in there though. At least, sometimes. I don’t think she remembers anything about the way things were … you know … before. But she knows who she is. She knows who I am. And that’s all that really matters.”
My heart broke into a million pieces, then remade itself in steel. She was in there, Rachel. You could see glimpses of her. And I knew that’s what had to tear Stan Lewandowski apart the most.
He looked up at me as tears rolled down his cheeks. He said his next words through gritted teeth. “They let that bastard go. We had him. Iron fucking clad. The feds swore it up and down. I swear to God, Jase. If it’s the last thing I do on this earth, help me bring Cyrus Marsh down. Help me stop him from hurting kids like Rachel. Can I count on you?”
I swallowed hard and held out my hand. Stan clenched his jaw as he took it.
“Yeah, Stan. You can count on me. Let’s take that mother fucker out.”
* * *
To Be Continued in
Vice
By Jayne Blue
; -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share