Thanks again to lastman for help with the editing. Sorry for how delayed this one was. Work.
-Trixie Kirkpatrick-
Monday - May 3, 2021
The Keurig finished the final spurt of freshly brewed coffee as I read a news article on my phone. The usual kind of news. The world is steadily falling apart. Without taking my eyes away from the phone, I reach for my cup and curl my fingers around the handle. I bring it to my lips but before I sip, I hear footsteps enter the kitchen.
My son Alex looks so much like his father it pisses it me off sometimes. Same shaggy hair he'll cut this summer. He was taller than me a year ago and is still growing. He'll probably be the same height as his dad when he stops. Nearly six and a half feet. Simon towered over me when we first met. I had a thing for tall guys. I still do, but now I know height isn't a viable replacement for a personality.
My weekend with him is over, so he's on his way back to his dad. His bag is on his shoulder, and he's looking for something to eat before his dad shows up. It was a hard decision for me to make, but I work too much. His dad is a phycologist who works mostly from home, and he's honestly a better parent, as difficult as that is to admit. My primary skill set makes my parenting style lacking in compassion. People tend to default to what they know, and what I know is hostility.
I met Simon on accident. When I was a sergeant on the beat, one of my junior officers had to discharge his weapon. Policy required him to see a therapist, and that therapist was Simon. I stopped by his office to make sure he was meeting his appointments, and I talked to Simon while he was between patients. He was tall and handsome, and I was a sucker for that.
Simon was also married when we met, but he neglected to tell me that. I only found out after I was pregnant. I don't know why, but his wife forgave him. I couldn't.
A knock from the door echoes into the house. I finally sip my coffee, because there is no way I can deal with Simon before I do. I hear Alex open the door, and see Simon enter the living room. Alex doesn't hug or kiss me as he leaves for the car. He's at that age, but it still stings a little.
"How was he?" Simon asks.
"Fine. Mostly ignored me," I say.
"Teenager," he says, and I kind of shrug. "You okay?"
"Work," I say, and he nods.
This is how most of our conversations have gone for the last thirteen years. Comment, gesture, followed by comment.
"Hard case?" he asks, and I nod. "Want to talk about it?"
"Not with you, doctor," I say, and he sighs. Our son is the only reason we even pretend to have anything resembling a relationship. "I don't need your psychobabble in my house."
"You should talk to someone," he says, and I look at my phone. "You still good for the summer?"
"Don't worry, your vacation with your wife will not be interrupted by your love child."
"Trix..."
"...get the fuck out of my house," I interrupt without looking up.
Simon surrenders, and I hear the door close behind him. To make sure he's gone, I go to the window and watch his car pull out of the driveway. Alex is on his phone and doesn't look up at me as they drive down the street. That was him this entire weekend. Just locked in his room pretending that I didn't exist. I know it's a phase, but I would have appreciated him at least trying.
--
I filed a report to IA about Miles last week, and they're finally sitting down with me. It didn't take long for the department to know what I did, and I'm already experiencing the cold shoulders. Blue wall of death. God forbid you turn in a dirty cop. Cops treat you worse than a leper after you do that. I can handle the cold.
"You think he tampered with evidence?" the agent asks, and I explain that I think he went into the evidence room and swapped the bullets from another case. And that I can prove he was in a sexual relationship with Jodie Potter when the murder took place. "So, he covered up a murder for his girlfriend?"
"That's what I believe," I say.
"How long were you partners for?"
"About six years," I reply. Six fucking years, and I never assumed he was capable of something like this. What else did I miss? What other cases has he messed with? Did I help him without knowing it?
"Anything else he might have done?"
"Not that I can think of."
"Does this have anything to do with why he had his eyes on Lady Smith?"
"I honestly don't know. We had some circumstantial on her, but nothing good enough for warrants let alone an arrest. He was unusually gung-ho to get her."
"We'll call you if we need anything else," the agent says, and leaves the room. We conducted the interview in a small office on the first floor. I start making my way back to my office, ignoring the glances of the officers who know why I was in that room.
"Squeak," I hear as I pass by a uniformed officer, and I stop in place.
"What was that?" I ask, and turn around. "You got something to say officer."
"Sorry, I don't speak snitch," he says, and turns away from me. He starts chatting it up with a different officer. Because of our height I have to jump a little, but I manage a clean downward slap to the back his head. The officer turns quickly, mouth open to say something, but he grunts when I grab him by the balls and walk him backwards into the wall. He grabs my wrist, but I tighten my grip, and he's putty.
"I'm surprised this even works, because I doubted the fact you even had balls," I say, pressing him against the wall with my forearm. The officer he was talking to watches in stunned silence. "This is the part where you threaten to report me, and wouldn't that be hypocritical, huh?"
His face twists into knots and turns red from holding his breath.
"If I ever hear that shit again, I'm not giving them back, and we'll find out who's really the squeaky one. Understand?" I ask, and he nods.
I let him go and he crumbles to the floor. Normal color returns to his face, and I step over him like he's a puddle.
The rest of the trip to my office is uneventful, and I arrive at my desk. The board is just where I left it. Lady Smith still looks like she doesn't belong.
"Kirkpatrick," Ronda says from the door of her office. I turn and see her gesture me inside. I put my bag on my chair and join her. She's walking around her desk as she tells me to shut the door.
"Ma'am?" I ask.
"What's your progress with Ms. Smith?" she asks. She's suddenly interested again.
"Another few weeks and I'm pretty confident I can flip her," I explain. I do believe that. She's right on the cusp of letting it all out.
"I'm giving you two days," she says, and I flinch back in shock. She picks up a folder on her desk and extends it out to me. I take one glance and look up at her.
"Already?" I ask. Federal warrants to freeze the accounts we've linked to the Legion.
"Mr. Pewter was worth the money. We sat on that parking garage all month, and it panned out. Their receipts don't add up. We know where the drops are, and who does them. The second unit followed a cash mule who made stops at several locations Mr. Pewter pegged as laundering businesses. Two days, those warrants are exercised. FBI and the Treasury wants their piece of the pie, so we're working on a bigger task force to take them all. The moment the money freezes, they start turning on each other."
"I need more time with her..."
"...you don't have it, and quite frankly we don't need her for the bust. If you want to get this girl out of the line of fire, you gotta do it fast, but on our terms."
"Full immunity," I say, and Ronda puts her elbows on the top of her desk. "She will never talk without that."
"I'll talk to the DA, see what they're willing to give her based on what she can give them. It better be good, otherwise she's doing some time."
Lady Smith has no guarantees. I can get her to talk, but if she's got less than I think she does, the only thing she's doing is incriminating herself.
"I'll try," I say, and she dismisses me. I immediately return to my desk and snatch my purse so I can find her before it's too late.
--
-Lady Smith-
Vanya is the friend I don't deserve to have. She can never know we met under false pretenses. That I was her boyfriend's paid escort. It's a shame, because I really do like her. I don't like having our friendship permanently scarred by an invisible asterisk.
Vanya asked me to lunch, which I reluctantly accepted. Not because it's her, but because it's me. We meet up at the Queen of Hearts - where else - and I'm disappointed I don't get my favorite seat. I have to sit on the four of hearts and put my purse on the five to save her seat. Dinah seems to still be taking a break, because I haven't seen her since last week.
"Hey," Vanya says as one of the cooks is pouring my coffee. Short staffed, so everyone is pitching in. "Coffee for me as well." He places a cup down on a small plate and pours her a cup as well. "How's it going?"
"Well enough," I say.
"You come here often?"
"Part of my religion," I say, and she gives me a beautiful smile. "How's it going with Dylan?"
"Great," she says. "We're finally together, without caring about who cares."
"Must be nice."
"You and Lucas?"
"Nah," I say, shaking my head. She tilts her head curiously, begging me to say more. I've never had many friends, so girl talk is like a different language to me. "He's my boss, it's weird."
"Not weird enough to avoid getting arrested for fucking in a car," Vanya teases. Figured she'd know about that.
"At least we finished," I say, and she laughs. "Remember when you said, you two were all physical, and never kid yourselves? Same thing."
"That's a shame, I liked the idea of you guys."
