“Let her go, assholes.”
“Fuck you.”
He flashed his badge. “Let her go.”
The man held on a moment longer before letting go and walking away. The other man had already disappeared into the crowd and melted with the group. Harlow went after the one that had grabbed the woman. He stepped in front of him and the man stared into his eyes.
“I’m not going to arrest you,” Harlow said. “What I’m going to do is take all the drugs you got on you and I’m going to throw them away. Then I’m going to take that wad of cash I see lumping your pocket and I’m going to keep it. And then I’m going to let you go.”
Fear showed across the man’s face and his eyes were wide. If he were arrested, he would bail out in an hour. If his money and drugs disappeared, he would have to answer to someone. And that someone would not believe that a police officer threw the drugs away and took the cash without arresting him.
“What’chyu want?”
“I just spent a hundred thirty bucks on lunch. I want you to pay for it.”
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash. He counted out six twenties and handed them over. Harlow kept his hand out and the man saw he didn’t have any tens. He gave over another twenty. Harlow smiled and went back to his car.
The woman had already walked away but would glance back to see what was happening. Harlow saw the line of cars behind him and climbed into his Mercedes and got onto the Interstate. It was too bad she didn’t stick around, he thought. He could’ve given her a ride home and had a date for later tonight. After all, who would turn down someone that just saved them?
He listened to a Talking Heads CD on the way back to the office. When he got there he pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead and looked over his car to make sure there were no fresh scratches or dings, a habit he had developed when he bought his first luxury car, a BMW, two years ago. He remembered his shock when he found that he would park and people would purposely ding his car with their doors.
When he was satisfied there was nothing there he went into the building and up to the fifth floor. Before he even sat down at his desk his phone buzzed.
“Yeah?”
“Chief, can I get a few minutes?” Ho said.
“Chin you’re two doors down. You don’t have to call me. Just come over.”
A few minutes later Ho walked into his office. Harlow motioned for him to sit down. He offered him a bottled water and Ho turned it down. He wasn’t looking him in the eyes and Harlow could tell he was trying to figure out how best to phrase something.
“I wanted to talk about the bust, Chief.”
“What about it?”
“It could be nothing.”
“If it was nothing you wouldn’t be sitting here. What is it?”
“Jessica was having a good conversation. Jon didn’t seem like he was nervous at all. And then out of nowhere he started looking around the restaurant and spotted me. Then he took off.”
“That was my fault. I shouldn’t have stationed you inside. And I should’ve wired her.”
“Well, maybe. But I think there was something else too. Jessica wrote on her napkin. She threw it away so I didn’t look at it, but now that I think about it I think she tipped him.”
“That’s a big accusation, you sure about this?”
“No, not at all. She may have been doodling for all I know. But it’s an odd coincidence if he ran right after she started doodling.”
“I don’t want to cast doubt on people just yet. Lemme talk to her and see what she says.”
“You’re the boss. But I think she may have tipped him. Just to be safe, I don’t think we should have her on the task force looking for him.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
Harlow waited until Ho left the office and then he put his feet up on his desk. He tried not to feel moments like this, moments of glee and superiority, but it was difficult not to in this situation. Everything had gone well. He had placed Ho inside and knew Stanton wasn’t stupid enough not to spot him. The plainclothes and cruisers were placed far enough away that he could escape but it wouldn’t be obvious; it would seem like a tactical error. Stanton was almost no good to him caught. But a fugitive from justice? When he was eventually caught, who would believe anything he says?
Outside the office, he saw Tommy supervising maintenance as they drilled plaques near the front lobby and hung large glossy photos of the unit. Chin, Jessica, Nathan, and Philip were all up. Two new detectives, Henry Foringer and Alberto Cabellero, were also up. There was one empty plaque on the end.
“Tommy, take that empty plaque down.”
“It’s already drilled. We’ll have another detective here soon and then I can just-”
“Just do as I say.”
Tommy shrugged. “Your call, I guess.”
35
Melissa answered the door in jeans and a t-shirt torn a few places in the back. Stanton could tell it was done on purpose at the store and it took him back a little. She was plain and adorable when he had been with her. Now, it was something different. Her nails were long and her skin fake tanned. She had new piercings in her ears and her hair had blond highlights.
She led him to the living room and then went to get two drinks. He sat down on the leather sofa. One of the boys’ toys was out on the living room floor and he stared at it a long time. It was always an odd feeling for him to be in someone else’s home. Like seeing a side of them they didn’t allow others to see. But the familiarity of the toys and the photos of his two sons up on the mantle gave it a sense of home that confused him and made it uncomfortable. He wondered if coming here was a mistake.
Melissa returned with two orange juices and placed one on a coaster in front of him. The coffee table was an old, worn out wicker stand and looked hand-woven. He took a sip of his orange juice and they sat quietly awhile, the wind blowing through some trees in the backyard. The sliding glass door was open but the screen was closed. He could see several tall trees and a doghouse.
“I didn’t know you got a dog.”
“Lance bought it for the boys. All it seems to do is poop and bark but the boys love it.”
“What kind of dog is it?”
“I don’t know, some purebred he paid three thousand dollars for.”
“I was planning on buying a dog for them sometime soon. I’m glad they have it.” He placed his juice down. It was bitter and had a taste of mint. He figured it must be some sort of import, like the coffee table. “Do you go to church anymore?”
“No.”
“Do you at least take the boys?”
“No.”
Stanton was about to say something, but didn’t. There would be no point. Everything that needed to be said between them had already been said.
“Lance’ll be home in a couple of hours and I can’t have you here. It wouldn’t look right. So what is it you want, Jon?”
Stanton opened his mouth, and it seemed as if the words were pulled from the air. He told her about Harlow and the blackmail, about Jessica, about Hernandez, about Young. He had always found it easy to speak to her and was glad that that hadn’t changed. But there was something different. Very subtle, but it was there. Just a little lower inflection in her voice. A few more glances away as he was speaking. She was caring about him less and less.
When he was done she crossed her legs and played with her hair. It was something he had seen her do when she was thinking. He had always found it adorable but now thought it insignificant, like watching the idiosyncrasies of a stranger.
“I’ll talk to Michael,” she finally said. “He listens to me. Or he’ll at least listen to Lance.”
“Not on this. He’s played his hand. I have too much information on him and he’ll do everything he can to discredit me and keep me away.”