"Freeman?"
It was a man's voice.
"Who's this?"
"It's O'Shea, Freeman."
I registered the Philly accent and recalled I'd given O'Shea my card at Archie's.
"Yeah, Colin. What's up?"
"I don't want to say you dropped a dime on me, Freeman. So tell me it isn't true," he said, biting off the ends of accusatory sentences.
"Well, you just said it, O'Shea," I answered, my head quickly clearing. "So tell me what the hell you're talking about."
"The sheriff's office just executed a search warrant on my apartment."
I was recalling Richards's squeeze plan.
"Did they arrest you?"
"Not yet. But I would like to know how the fuck they put me with you when your two muggers tried to take you off the other night and I saved your ass, again, brother."
I felt my anger mix with an unexpected whiff of guilt which tempered my response.
"I didn't tell them you were with me, O'Shea. But you're also not dealing with some dumb-ass detective with Richards," I said. "She was the one who put me onto you at your local hangout and a description by those two assholes and your patented boot work wouldn't be hard to put together. Your IAD file back home isn't exactly vague on the excessive-force complaints, either."
There was nothing but an empty electronic buzz on the other end of the line for several long beats.
"I'm gonna need a lawyer if this goes any further, Max," he finally said. "How's this guy Manchester you work for?"
Billy was brilliant, but the idea of him acting as a criminal defense attorney for a guy like O'Shea gave me more than a few seconds of doubt. I still couldn't say why I was walking a line with him. But guilty or not, he was going to need a good lawyer.
"Give me a number where I can reach you," I said.
CHAPTER 15
He followed her home, shaking his head and exhaling a little shot of disgust each time she put on a correct blinker or came to a full stop at an intersection. Marci and her proper driving etiquette. This girl gotta loosen up, he thought. But then, maybe she was doing everything correctly in her little blue Honda because he was behind her, toeing the line in front of the cop like all the other lemmings on the road. He liked that idea. Maybe some night he would pull her over. They could do it in her backseat with the lights flashing. She'd love it. But shit, wouldn't that just be asking to get caught? The thought flashed his mind back on the topic of the night. What the fuck was that BSO detective bitch Richards doing in Kim's earlier? He'd seen her come struttin' in all tight-assed like she owned the place. He split and was sure she never got a look at him. When he called Marci later behind the bar she said the woman and that big rangy-looking guy were together, that they were talking with her boss. He called her again an hour later and she said the manager, Laurie, told her they were community-watch cops just checking in to make sure the girls were safe at night and that there hadn't been any incidents.
My ass, he thought. He knew Richards. He'd had one of his friends point her out at a crime scene once. The grapevine had it that she was still rattling the cages about missing girls, even when nobody paid any attention. It's what happened when you let these broads get a little power, twist you with their fucking rank. He didn't know who Mr. Tan Man was. He'd watched him come in, take a sniff of Laurie and then checked out Marci's ass for a while. He had the look of a cop, too. But even an off-duty guy wouldn't dress like that and who has time to work the job and get out in the sun like that guy? At least the guy had good taste in beer. He'd be worth watching out for.
Marci pulled into the lot of her apartment building and he parked the cruiser across the street. Best thing about this department was that they let you take your patrol car home when you were off. They said it bolstered the perception of more cops on the streets. He liked it fine. It kept people out of his way and made them nervous when he was around. Marci waited at her car door until he joined her.
"Hi."
"Hi? That's it? Hi?" she said, pissed. He liked her pissed sometimes.
"Hi. How are you?" he said, playing with it.
"Jesus, Kyle. What was that all about today? You go flying out of the bar without a word and those people are there and you tell me Laurie's lying to me. What's going on?"
"Whoa, whoa. Easy, babe," he said and put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed her back. These girls get so emotional. You gotta calm them down a little. They're like wild fillies when you're trying to break them.
"Come on, let's go upstairs and I'll explain. I'm sorry I was so vague, babe. I didn't mean to scare you," he said.
"I'm not fucking scared. I just don't like not knowing what's going on," she said, stepping away from him. He let her lead the way to her second-floor apartment. When she got to her door he watched her unlock it and walk in, tossing the ring of keys in that little basket on top of the stereo speaker.
He watched her kick off her shoes and go into the kitchen and stand in the light of the open refrigerator staring while she pulled the tie out of her hair and shook her curls loose like she always did. Then she reached in for her bottled water and brought him a beer like she always did. She flopped into the corner of the couch and he joined her.
"All right," she said. "I'm taking it easy. Give."
It sounded like an order, but he let it pass.
"You know that I don't like people in the bar to know I'm a cop. That's all it was."
"Laurie said they were just community watch," she said. "But that big guy didn't look like community watch to me."
"Well, Laurie was right," he said. "But you meet these people when you're a real cop. You give them instruction and show them around the beat so if they see anything that needs to be checked out, they can call an officer to take care of it."
He watched her take a drink of the water, knew she was thinking.
"So you knew the blonde?"
"Yeah. I've seen her around. And I didn't want to take the chance she'd see me and spoil it. My privacy, you know, my place."
"Oh, so now it's your place," she said, and the grin was sneaking back onto her face.
"Ours," he said. "Our place, our secret."
He knew they liked that sharing shit. She was quiet a few moments, watching his eyes with that look like she knew him better than she really did.
"Let's go for a ride," he said, the thought coming on to him, bringing it up just like that, surprising even himself. He saw the winch in her face, like, pained, not scared, not like she knew.
"Come on," he said, putting his hand on her leg. "Mix up some whiskey sours that you like and we'll burn out to alligator alley, see how fast the cruiser can really cruise." He made his voice sound excited. Hell, it was excited, the thought of doing it again.
"Kyle," she whined, but that smile was again behind her eyes. "You scared the shit out of me last time with that. God, when you turned the headlights off I was freaking." She couldn't hide that glimmer of the wild girl. He did that Groucho Marx thing with his eyebrows.
"Yeah? Come on."
He moved and the leather of the couch squeaked. But she resisted.
"No, come on, Kyle. I'm really tired, babe. That shift was really long. My feet are aching. Can't we just stay here and watch a movie?"
She put her hand over his on her thigh. He didn't like to let her win. But this time, maybe. Shit, wasn't it always this way? You're nice to them, take 'em out, give 'em all this attention, but you just can't ever trust them. They're finally going to turn on you and try to dominate your ass. They're gonna push and push and push the line until, fuck it, they go over it. Then you gotta end it. Can't just let 'em walk off thinking they won.
Afterward, after they'd had sex with the blue glow of one of his favorite movies flashing and shimmering off her skin, she lay quiet with her head on his chest. This was all he wanted, so why did they always have to go and screw it up by trying to take over?