The Partnership

by Dustin Stevens

  Still, he couldn’t allow that to sway how he handled an active murder investigation.

  “Do we even care?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The guard on the ground level of the KCBS building, a gleaming forty-five floor structure nestled right along the waterfront with views from the state capitol all the way to the Horseshoe on campus, was not impressed with Reed’s badge or the solid black dog by his side. In his early twenties with a budding paunch and a cheap rent-a-cop uniform, he gave off the air that he’d seen and heard everything before, as if the news station was routinely swarmed with people willing to make up any story to get inside.

  Not until Reed peeled back the hem of his coat to reveal the handcuffs affixed to one hip, his service weapon on the other, did the young man believe what he was being told.

  With wide eyes and a sheen of sweat on his forehead, he lifted the receiver from the phone perched beside him and called upstairs, rattling off a few terse phrases in a voice too low to be heard before hanging up and lacing his fingers in front of him.

  “They said to send you right up,” he said, his gaze locked straight ahead as he sat in his chair, putting his line of sight just past Reed’s waist. “Twentieth floor. Your boss is already up there.”

  Feeling his features twist just slightly, Reed almost made the mistake of questioning who his boss was referring to, knowing that Grimes was still seated in his office at the precinct. Just as fast he caught it though, not wanting to engage the young man any further, or even worse give the slightest reason to question who he was or why he was there.

  As a detective whose preferred manner of dress was jeans and sweatshirts, Reed was not unused to people occasionally assuming his profession was closer to a gym teacher than an officer of the law. Most of the time such thoughts were diffused once they saw Billie beside him, her stature and demeanor both demonstrating a high level of training.

  Only in the rarest of instances did anybody take it further.

  Agitation simmering just beneath the surface, Reed led Billie past the guard station and over to the bank of elevators, their silver exteriors polished free of even the slightest smudge. The closest one opened as they approached, activated by a motion sensor, the back end of it made of glass, staring out over the city.

  Ignoring the view entirely, Reed stood facing forward, watching the green numerals on the wall count off the floors as they ascended.

  Less than a minute after stepping inside they exited onto the twentieth floor, the décor having changed dramatically from the lobby below. Instead of polished marble floors and gleaming silver fixtures everything was done in carpets and woods, the color scheme trending toward red and green.

  Open and spacious, a wide hallway funneled them straight off the elevator to a set of glass doors standing open, a reception desk positioned a few feet back from it.

  Reed’s badge thumped lightly against his chest as he walked forward, the movement causing the chain it was on to swing slightly. With the short lead gripped tight, Billie stayed just a couple inches away from his left leg, every so often her body brushing against him, the feeling of striated muscle plain beneath her thick fur.

  Seated behind the desk was a thirty-something woman with dishwater blonde hair and a white blouse, a pair of tortoise shell glasses resting on the end of her nose. Hearing the bell of the elevator she had picked up Reed and Billie just a few steps out, tracking them expectantly as they grew closer.

  “Good afternoon,” she said, forcing a smile into place that looked more pained than pleasant. “Are you here for the meeting?”

  Having no idea what meeting she was referring to, or who his alleged boss was that had been alluded to by the guard downstairs, Reed gave the only obvious response.

  “Yes. Detectives Mattox and Billie, lead investigators on the case.”

  A moment of confusion passed over the woman’s face, lingering just long enough to make Reed think he might have overplayed his hand with the second statement, before the half-smile reappeared.

  “Certainly,” she said, rising from behind the desk, her height stopping just short of his shoulder. “Please, follow me.”

  Without turning back she led them down a side corridor, a series of cubicles filing by on either side. Resembling most office complexes Reed had been in, he could see people hunkered down in the workspaces, many of them surfing the internet, a few curious onlookers casting glances their way.

  Corporate America in its purest form.

  “Here we are,” the woman said, knocking once on a wooden conference room door before turning the handle and pushing it open, standing just off to the side. “Go right on in.”

  Feeling his stomach tense slightly, still not sure what he was about to find, Reed gripped the leash a bit tighter and walked forward. Beside him Billie seemed to sense the trepidation, her body pressing in against him, her weight pushing his path just a few inches to the side as they entered.

  The room was arranged the way Reed had anticipated, the door opening into a corner spread that was twenty foot on either end. Windows lined two sides of the space, plenty of light streaming through from outside despite the lack of a visible sun in the sky.

  In the center of the room was an oblong conference table, the edge of it black, the surface white. Around the outside were a handful of contraptions Reed guessed to be chairs, the latest in the ergonomic revolution that seemed to be gripping every employer in the nation.

  At the head of the table sat a man in a grey suit, the jacket buttoned closed over his stomach, the top half of a pink and black tie visible beneath it. Never before had Reed seen the man, his hair too thin, his face too unremarkable, to be used on air, most likely someone high in the corporate structure.

  Immediately to his left was Yasmin Leveritt, still wearing the lavender ensemble she’d been wearing in the newscast earlier. Her gaze flickered over Reed quickly as he first entered, returning a moment later as a bit of recognition set in, the two having crossed paths a few times several months before.

  Finishing things off on that side of the table was a young man that Reed would have guessed to be Korean, his features putting him somewhere around thirty. Wearing a Stars Wars t-shirt with a plain white long sleeve shirt beneath it, he gave the impression of being from the IT department.

  Sitting opposite them was a single person.

  Of everyone in the room, Oliver Dade was the only one that stood as Reed entered, his eyes growing large as he looked at Reed and down to Billie. Surprise, followed by horror and immediately replaced with just a flash of anger, all passed over his features in just a matter of moments as he took a step forward and thrust a hand out toward Reed.

  With the exception of horror, the same sequence of emotions passed through Reed as he met the shake, both sides squeezing a bit harder than necessary, a silent attempt to make a point without saying as much in front of the room.

  When the guard below had first alluded to a boss already being present Reed hadn’t known quite what he was getting at, though now as he stood looking at Dade, it made sense. The department’s first instinct, just as it always was, would be to get out in front of any potential local backlash.

  Only once they had mitigated any community ill will would they focus on the actual substance of the matter.

  “Mr. Dade,” Reed said, “thanks for coming down here so fast.” He forced a small smile into place as he said the words, placing just a hint of ice in them. “I know how crazy things can be down at headquarters with the year-end and all.”

  “My pleasure,” Dade replied, matching the tone. Just shy of sixty, his thinning grey hair was pushed to the side, the skin beneath his neck starting to sag. “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us, but always glad to have the detective working the case sit in.”

  “Appreciate it,” Reed said, releasing the shake and pulling up the chair beside Dade. Constructed of a round exercise ball with a plastic backing mounted to it, he tried wrestling it over a few inches at a time befor
e giving up and dropping down onto it where it sat.

  “Sorry for interrupting,” he said, aware that everyone was still staring his way. “Detective Reed Mattox, my partner Billie. We’re working the case that you folks reported on just a little bit ago.”

  At the head of the table the man nodded slightly, glancing to Dade before looking back to Reed.

  “No problem. My name is Les Dianason, VP of External Affairs here at KCBS. On the end there is Jeff Park, in charge of our cyber division, and as I’m sure you know, this lady beside me here-“

  “Yes,” Leveritt inserted, cutting him off, “the detective and I have worked together before. Nice to see you again.”

  “You as well,” Reed replied, nodding to Park before looking back to Dianason.

  “These folks and I were just discussing the case,” Dade said, raising his voice just a tiny bit in an effort to assume control of the floor, a position Reed figured he must have held before their arrival. “And that at this point we were allowing you some time to investigate before bringing anything to the press.”

  It was clear the statement was meant to bear some finality, perhaps even be a bit dismissive, allowing Reed to leave content that he was not being pressured.

  Reed had no such interest in letting things go so quickly.

  “Actually,” he said, pushing his voice upward to match Dade’s, “that’s why my partner and I made the trip down here. We wanted to speak with you about the images you displayed.”

  In his periphery he could see Dade’s head turn to stare at him. He didn’t bother matching the gaze, couldn’t quite see the expression that was in place, but could imagine it bore a sense of dread and foreboding.

  This was the sort of situation where Reed was supposed to let the seasoned media liaison smooth things out, buying everybody a bit of time, not go forcing his way forward.

  Still, given what Reed had seen on the screen a short time earlier, he was not about to let it go at that.

  “Hey,” Dianason said, spreading his hands wide before him, “those images came directly from you guys. We can’t be held liable in any way for broadcasting them.”

  Out of pure reflex Reed felt his brows come together. “Directly from what guys? Us?”

  For a moment silence hung in the air as Dianason looked at him before slowly lowering his hands back to his lap. “Well, yes. Right, Jeff?”

  “That’s right,” Park said, speaking for the first time since Reed entered. “It came in from a valid CPD email address, that’s how it got past our usual filters.”

  This time Reed allowed himself to glance over at Dade, the man’s focus aimed across the table at Park.

  “Whose name was on the address?”

  “I, uh,” Park began, glancing to his boss once before coming back to Reed. “I honestly don’t know. I can get it to you though as soon as we’re done here.”

  Reed wasn’t quite sure what he had expected upon entering, though this possibility hadn’t entered his mind.

  Of everything the station could have said to justify the report it did make the most sense, having seen a valid email come in from a real address. Once it cleared their filters, they would have assumed it was safe to run.

  While he had never been close enough to the media to warrant such an arrangement, he did know of at least a few precincts in the greater metro era with such standing.

  Still, while it might exonerate the station, it did present new problems on his own side of the table.

  Either there was a mole inside the department, something that seemed unlikely given how easy it would be to trace a work email address, or somebody had hacked into their servers.

  “Also,” Reed said, his mind racing to put things together, “if you could, please forward me the email along with any other information you might have. I’d like to have my expert take a look at it.”

  On the far end of the table a smile that waffled between paternal and condescending appeared on Dianason’s face. “Detective Mattox, I assure you that Jeff and his team here are the very best at what they do. They’ve even trained some of the personnel at CPD.

  “If there is anything to be found, I promise they will find it.”

  “I appreciate that,” Reed replied, making no effort to match the smile, “but my guy isn’t with the CPD, and I’m willing to bet he built the systems your team here employs.”

  Again Dianason opened his mouth to speak but no words passed from it before Park jumped in.

  “Who’s your guy?” he asked, his eyes narrowed just slightly, as if testing the qualifications of Reed’s alleged expert.

  “Derrick Chamberlain,” Reed replied, shifting his attention to Park, “though you might have heard of him as-“

  “Deek,” Park finished.

  The reaction was exactly as Reed had expected, even anticipated, it might be. To most people in the area the name would mean absolutely nothing, but in a community as inner-connected as the cyber security industry it would bear instant recognition.

  “That’s right,” Reed said, nodding slightly. “You know him?”

  “Of him,” Park replied. “How the hell do you-“

  This time it was Dianason’s turn to interrupt, waving a hand toward the end of the table. “Of course we’ll be glad to assist in any way possible.”

  From the manner of the statement, and the way his voice rose a tiny bit at the end, it was clear that there was more coming, Reed just having to wait for it.

  As to be expected, it took only a moment for the rest to come out.

  “And in exchange, I don’t think it would be too much to ask for exclusive coverage of this story?”

  A feeling similar to what Reed had felt meeting with Dani, and later Dr. Hope, prodded at his insides. Not five miles from where they sat a young girl was in the morgue, her remains rendered as-yet-unidentifiable, and still all people could think about were their own personal motives.

  A handful of nasty retorts on the tip of his tongue, Reed remained silent, deferring the floor to Dade. Already his unexpected arrival had thrown a wrench into things, would potentially bring some heat down on him and Grimes both.

  Climbing on to a moral soap box now would only make things worse.

  “Yes,” Dade said, seeing the tiny crack of an opening and jumping right into it, “of course. I mean, that would be the least we could do after you folks were so unwittingly drawn into this in the first place.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Merry Christmas.”

  Gripping the bottle of Maker’s Mark by the neck, feeling the texture of the red wax seal against his palm, Reed held the bottle at arm’s length. There it remained, the bottom of it hovering just over the top of a pair of computer monitors, before its intended target looked up and accepted the gift.

  “Aw, you shouldn’t have,” Deek replied, taking the bottle in both hands and pulling it down in front of him, using the illumination from his screens to examine the label.

  “Maker’s Mark this time? We keep this arrangement going much longer we’re going to work our way clear through the Bourbon Trail.”

  There was a time not long before when even the mere thought of doing so would have made Reed’s toes curl, every fiber in his body cringing in reaction. Much like his partnership with Billie though, this was a working relationship that had started begrudgingly and had paid both sides benefits in the ensuing months.

  Now, little by little, the two were forging their way into the status of considering one another colleagues, the prospect of maybe even eventually becoming friends not being that difficult to fathom.

  Reed’s first encounter with Derrick Chamberlain – or Deek, as he insisted on being called by anybody that knew him for longer than a millisecond – was more than a decade before. His initial impression had been one of distaste at best, disdain at worst, seeing the man as a hanger-on and nothing more.

  Through the mystery that was the collegiate housing process, Deek and Riley had been placed as neighbors in their fre
shman dorm. As different as two people that grew up within ten miles of each other could possibly be, they had become friends, a fact Reed attributed more to Riley’s superhuman ability to be liked by everybody she came in contact than anything Deek might have done to deserve it.

  Despite going their different directions after graduation the two had remained close, Riley joining the force while Deek returned home to live in the basement of his grandmother’s house, the very same basement Reed now found himself standing in.

  A computer science savant, the man had not once worked a day for anybody but himself, building his brand into one of the pre-eminent cyber sleuthing and security experts in the Midwest. Only once had Reed made the mistake of questioning Deek’s life choices, being corrected instantly by Riley, who pointed out the beacon of arrested development they occasionally called on for assistance made more in any three month stint than the two of them combined did annually.

  “But why do I have the impression that this visit isn’t just to drop off a year-end bonus?” Deek asked, placing the bottle down on the edge of his desk. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back, the entire length of his spindly body becoming visible.

  Dressed in gym shorts and a plain white t-shirt with wool socks pulled to mid-calf, he was adorned in the same general uniform regardless of the time of year, the basement having been painstakingly built into a timeless environment that served as a mecca to his work and first-person video games.

  To the right were his living quarters, a water bed and small kitchenette illuminated by a series of neon signs hanging on the walls. Opposite them was an entertainment system replete with an eighty inch television and a shelving unit containing every major video game console, oversized speakers and a subwoofer placed on the floor beside them.

  A pair of leather recliners was placed for optimal viewing, though never had Reed seen somebody use the second chair save Riley a time or two years before.

  Occupying the space between the two sides was the workstation that now separated them, a bank of monitors with the backs of their screen facing the stairwell leading down from the main floor. Stacked four across along the wall behind it was a system of circuit gadgetry Reed didn’t pretend to understand, a host of red and green lights flashing across them.