by K. C. Crowne
I sat in the interrogation room tapping my fist on the table, not believing that the interview had taken this unexpected turn. Everything I’d worked so hard for was going right down the tubes because the investigator on my case hated me because we’d fucked a million years ago, and someone out there was trying to frame me for a crime I didn’t commit.
It felt like an impossible situation, something I wasn’t used to being in. This woman had it out for me. She was going to crucify me in any way she could even though I was innocent. But I couldn’t prove it. Double fuck!
I had to find a way to bring her over to my side, to make her believe I wasn’t guilty of what I’d been accused. But she wasn’t willing to listen. She’d already made up her mind about everything that had to do with the case, and she’d only just started on it. It was like she couldn’t even see the good things in my file, or in my character.
I could tell, though, my touch still made her quiver, still made her muscles tense and her breathing increase. And as I thought about that, I decided I needed to flirt with her, maybe get her in my bed where I was sure she would fall right to my side, in more than one way. On top of that, she was hotter than hell, so it could only be a win-win situation for me. And I was sure she’d enjoy it. I’d had a lot of experience since our first night together. By the end of a night with me, she would be more willing to look at my point of view rather than killing my career.
But something else was at play here. She seemed like a no-nonsense kind of woman, not the type who would let a one-night stand thirteen years ago bother her. Was there something else? Another reason for her to hate me? Fuck if I know.
I put my hands on the table and stopped for a second, feeling a pang of guilt blowing through me. Could I really use her to clear my name? It would be a fucked up thing to do, but judging by her anger, there were still feelings there. I really didn’t want to play on them.
But what other choice did I have? What was I supposed to do if I couldn’t get her to listen?
“You asked for it,” I said to the empty room, feeling resolve, anger, and desire mix in my guts.
Rene
It was Friday, and I was back at the station hoping I would be able to take the weekend off. Jenny and I had spent every night this week packing the rest of our belongings, except what we needed on a day-to-day basis. I’d spoken with the office at her school and unenrolled her, planning to re-enroll her on Monday at the new one. We were ready to move, ready to be in our new home instead of the shitty apartment. But work was killing me.
The case was emotionally exhausting, and I was ready for it to be over. Martin had requested that our next meeting happen before the weekend, so I was there to meet him and his lawyer for another round of questioning.
What he didn’t realize was I didn’t give two shits if his attorney was there or not. It wouldn’t affect how I questioned him in the least. He wasn’t the only one who needed to be interrogated, though. If I had my way, I would pick up every piece of information on him that I could before making a decision on the case. As it was, my time was relatively limited, so after I interviewed him, I was moving on to his partner, Detective Lopez.
The two were close, and I didn’t expect to get anything from her except rainbows and bullshit. Nonetheless, I had to put her through a line of questioning and hope she screwed up somewhere along the way. If he’s guilty, I reminded myself. My research had garnered exactly what was in his file: he was a good cop who crossed the line a time or three, but he’d never committed any actual crimes that anyone was aware of.
My bias against him had eased somewhat, but time would tell.
I sat in my office for a minute, gathering my things and trying to decide if I really needed to lug all the files down to the interrogation room. I’d gone over them a million times, trying to decide whether I should believe his alibi, even though it seemed to check out. He had friends in all kinds of places, which meant nailing down a lead in the case would be difficult. There were too many cops out there who were just dirty enough to lie for a fellow cop without really thinking about what he’d done and who it had hurt.
Not to mention, a quick look into his financials showed he still maintained a modest investment portfolio from his very short baseball career. He wasn’t rich, but he didn’t need a handful of cash from the evidence locker either.
Maybe someone dared him to take it, I thought to myself bitterly.
I walked to the stairs and headed down, my fingers twirling my necklace, making sure I was still wearing it. My mother’s wedding ring hung on the gold chain, and I wore it almost every day. It was my good luck charm, my peace of mind knowing my mother was still close to me. She’d died when I was young, and my dad had raised me on his own. He’d given me her ring when I’d turned sixteen, and I’d worn it ever since.
I scanned my ID badge over the keypad and buzzed open the door to the back. The sound of phones and police talk hit me, and I felt like I was back on duty in the pit again. I walked past the captain’s office, but he wasn’t there, so I headed to the interrogation area. As soon as I caught sight of Ferrel and Lopez, all nostalgia about being back on the force left me. They were sitting outside of the interrogation room with their backs pressed against the wall, talking about God knows what. Neither one of them saw me, so I stood several yards away for a moment, watching their chemistry.
They really did look like they were so close they could be brother and sister. They were chatting, cracking jokes with each other, and discussing a plan to find whoever Ferrel thought was setting him up. If it hadn’t been for the way they reacted when they saw me, I would have thought they were speaking about the case for show.
However, as I stepped forward, my heels clicking on the floor, both shut their mouths and looked at each other. Lopez shook her head and cleared her throat, looking up at me. Why did it not surprise me that Ferrel had a woman close to him on his team? The thought irritated me, but I shook it off, glad the two weren’t giving me hell yet.
If they refused to speak to me, it would be fine with me. It wasn’t like I could take either of their testimonies at face value. She was loyal to him and him to her, just like partners were supposed to be. Especially ones that moved from narcotics to homicide together. I could see in Lopez’s eyes that she didn’t plan to make the interview an easy one, but I didn’t care. I was ready for her and Ferrel's bullshit. I walked past and unlocked the interrogation room and looked down at the two of them.
“Detective Lopez,” I announced. “You’re up.”
“Wonderful,” she mumbled with irritation, rising and walking into the room in front of me. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, showing off her high cheekbones and full lips. She was a lovely woman with a hard glint in her eyes. She had cop eyes. “Just what I love to do. Stop trying to catch murderers to talk to IA about an innocent man and their unbelievable incompetence.”
“Well, you know how we love to keep murderers on the street,” I responded cheerfully, matching her sarcasm. I unpacked my bag and set up the tape recorder. “We’re on the same team here. I’m not a stranger to the work you do.”
“Right,” she scoffed, sitting down in the chair across from me and staring balefully at the wall behind me.
Times like this, I’m glad I never bring my daughter to work with me, even on the designated days. She doesn’t need to know how many cops out there act like salty teenagers the moment their actions are questioned.
She crossed her arms in front of her and sat back in the chair, an antagonistic look on her face. She wouldn’t even look me in the eye, much less pay me a modicum of respect. I didn’t need her respect; I just needed her information, and knowing she was Martin’s partner, she was sure to have more than enough information. If she would talk. I assumed if he were really innocent, as he claimed, she would talk, but some cops thought saying anything at all was saying too much.
She would have his back one hundred percent, like most of the other cops in that unit. I expecte
d that when I walked in; no one liked IA. Hell, I gave them more than one eye roll when I was out with my unit. But wanting more than my position as an officer could give me and my daughter had pushed me into the IA training program. Now most of the guys from my unit barely talked to me anymore. The truth was, I didn’t blame them for all the hate. We policed the police, after all, and a lot of them wanted to pretend they were above any questioning or consequences even if they weren’t actually bad cops.
Pausing my internal monologue, I pushed the button on the recorder and pulled out Lopez’s record, opening it on the desk. I readied my pen and pad of paper and let out a deep breath. “Please state your name and rank for the record.”
“Detective Jordan Lopez, Unit 33, Homicide.”
“You’ve been on the force for five years,” I stated. “Same basic record as Detective Ferrel. Dinged up more than just a little.”
“You do what you have to do,” she said sullenly. Her sour expression reminded me of my daughter’s when she was caught trying to skip homework.
“Right. So I’ve heard from your partner,” I commented, waving my hand about as if commiserating with her. “Bend the rules to save lives, I believe, is his motto.”
“Makes sense,” she said with an insolent shrug.
“Alright, what do you know about the theft of the money from the evidence room?” I braced myself for a retelling of the same story.
“Somebody stole almost ten thousand from the drug money confiscated during a murder investigation,” she stated. “And planted it on Detective Ferrel.”
“And where was your partner when all of this happened?”
“We already went over all of this.” She smiled smugly. “It’s right there in front of you in the file— his alibi and how I was able to corroborate that story. I’m not exactly sure why you want me to answer the same questions over and over again.”
She was standoffish but didn’t seem charmed by Martin. She truly seemed to trust him. She believed whole-heartedly that he was innocent, and it wasn’t because he was charming. I tilted my head, thinking. I had expected something different. I had expected her to be a lovesick little puppy, her emotions flowing over in protection. He had a way of collecting love-sick girls, and I knew because I had been one of them years ago. His charm was undeniably strong, and when you didn’t know any better, you could quickly get caught up in it. This woman, though, she was tough, trusting, loyal to Martin like a best friend would be. She wasn’t the girl trailing after him, trying to get his attention and approval.
Maybe he was different now. I had a hard time believing it, but what had happened to me had happened thirteen years ago, when we’d still been kids in high school. None of us girls had known any better. The typical high schooler had no idea how to spot an asshole in our midst. We all fell for the same smile, the same head nod, and the same persona that he wanted to carry on the outside. None of us realized it was all an act until after the fact.
But I’d changed a lot since then. I was no longer the naïve girl I’d been; perhaps he wasn’t the asshole he’d been. And I couldn’t let the fact that he was Jenny’s father cloud my judgment. That was really unfair, not to mention unprofessional. He didn’t even know she existed, was blameless in that particular area.
My anger was still there, but it had faded some. I looked at Lopez and returned my focus to the interview. “Because questions need to be answered during an investigation, regardless of how many times they’re asked.”
“Look I know you people at Internal Affairs are looking to pin this on someone,” she practically accused. “You guys deal with the politics, and the commissioner is out for blood on this case. It’s a big surprise that Martin is being blamed, but I will say it again, just like he’s said a million times. He didn’t take the money.” She knocked on the table with each word. “Someone out there is trying to pin this bullshit on him, someone from the inside with higher ties than just IA brass.”
A thought that hadn’t crossed my mind. It would be easy for a person high up in the chain to blame a lower officer. Choosing one with a somewhat sketchy record would make it even easier. I watched Lopez closely as she spoke.
She continued when I didn’t speak, her voice even and sure. “Martin has been a thorn in the side of this department since he got here. They either praise him for making the big cases, or they beat him up for how he did it. It all depends on what leaks to the media. He was the perfect guy to pin this on. Don’t act like you can’t see that.”
“Your partner has a history of stepping over the line with suspects.” I somehow managed to maintain my calm voice and demeanor. “Perhaps that makes him a convenient scapegoat, or perhaps it speaks to his general character and makes him an even more convincing suspect.” At her glare, I forced a smile. “You may be shocked to learn that I’m here to get at the truth, not just to get at Martin.”
She snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”
I fought the desire to roll my eyes and maintained my professional outer appearance. “Do you have any actual leads in this case? You know, that might lead IA to look at someone else as the suspect? Because again, what I want is that damn thief out of the department. If it isn’t your partner, who is it?”
She hesitated, surprised that I was taking this idea of a frame-up even half-seriously. But her expression closed again. “No. No, I don’t. I just know someone else has to be responsible.” She put her hands on the table and pushed to her feet, clearly finished with the interview. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do, and that’s all I’m gonna say about this matter.”
Well, fuck you too, then. “Thank you, Detective Lopez,” I said aloud, shutting off the recorder. “If I have any more questions, I’ll reach out to you.”
“I’ll be holding my breath,” she remarked tonelessly, walking toward the door.
“Detective Lopez,” I called, turning toward her.
“Yeah?” Her scowl softened just a little, one eyebrow lifting as she looked at me over her shoulder.
“I’m quite serious about being open to new leads. If your partner didn’t do it, then I want to know who did.”
“If I knew that, you could go back upstairs to your cushy office and leave us the hell alone,” she said, shaking her head and walking out.
I sat there for a moment, looking down at her statement, finding it a dead match with Ferrel's. They hadn’t even had time to talk before he’d been initially hauled in. Yet they had managed to tell the same story from different points of view. Had he coached her? Or was that story the truth? I got up from the table and poked my head around the corner.
“Alight, Detective Ferrel, you’re up.”
I pulled out some legal documents, a new recorder for attorney purposes, and my legal notebook, on which I had jotted down reminders of what was and wasn’t allowed during an interrogation with an attorney present. I didn’t want to screw myself by saying the wrong thing or making accusations I couldn’t back up.
I’d been disappointed he had asked for his lawyer. I’d spent a long, almost sleepless night preparing for this interview. I didn’t know the local union attorneys in this district, so I couldn’t pull any strings during the interviews. I would play it by the book, assuming I wouldn’t get much more out of him than what he’d already put in his statement.
I looked up as he strode through the door and shut it behind him. He was alone again, but he had a smile in his eyes, his charm in overdrive. I may have been ready for an attorney, but I wasn’t prepared for that. He looked like he had a plan, and a mischievous one at that.
Oh boy. Red flag. I braced myself for a torrent of bullshit. “Where’s your lawyer?”
“Decided I didn’t want one after all.” He grinned broadly, his handsome face hard to look away from. “Just you and me, hashing out the details.”
“I think you should seek counsel before we go any further,” I said, putting the legal paperwork back in my bag. “You could be facing some major jail time here. Unless, of
course, you can actually provide me some leads on who you think is framing you.”
He hesitated for a moment, startled that I would give his assertions any consideration at all. But the disturbingly seductive grin returned quickly. “I have nothing to hide,” he said, sitting down and crossing his legs. “I’m ready for you this time, Rene. Let’s get to work.”
Fuck. What are you up to?
Martin
I’d chosen not to bring my lawyer to the meeting. After a lot of thought, I realized bringing in a lawyer was the wrong move. I had nothing to hide, absolutely nothing, and I was more than happy to help put all the pieces together if Rene would actually listen.
So, I showed up for the interview with my paperwork showing where I was when the money went missing. I knew she had to make sure my alibi was airtight. Not only was the whole thing a pain, and I was on suspension without pay, but I was also pissed that this crime was still being pinned on me when I had clear evidence to prove where I was at the time of the incident.
Weirdly, though, she didn’t look like she was there to hound me. Most of the tension on her face, the anger and shock at having to face me again, was gone. She was calm, methodical. Either she thought she had me dead to rights, or she was actually trying to be impartial. Or she’d developed the best poker face ever.
I sat at the table watching her look through her notes, clearly confused since I’d decided against the lawyer. I liked throwing her off kilter. Her face reddened as she stared at the papers in my hand. I hid my smile as her eyes lifted to mine.
“What’s all that?” she asked, pointing at my papers.
“It’s my alibi,” I said, handing her the papers, my fingers lingering for a moment on hers, sparks blowing through my veins. I suspected she felt it too and watched her face carefully.