The Incident (Chase Barnes Series Book 1) (36 page)

              This was the first time in a long while that I was able to sit back and process the recent week’s events.  Ironically, my conscience had been relatively quiet lately.  I chalked it up to the fact that my brain was in overdrive; that it didn’t have time to scream at me and beat me down mentally.  Maybe that’s what I needed to do to overcome my overly aggressive conscience- be in a constant state of gun battles and car chases.  Over the last several months since Jake’s death my one goal in life was to find the man behind Jake’s drug use.  What the hell were the odds that I’d conquer that goal in the midst of my first case as a private detective? 

              The brain functions in mysterious ways- to me, at least.  It was interesting to me how the same brain- my brain- would react to death in such dramatically different ways.  Jake’s death beat me down and made me feel like I was incapable of future existence.  Whereas watching Source die by those same hands, the same bullets from the same gun that killed Jake, gave me a sense of relief.  Vindication almost.  The world seemed to be a much safer place.  At least my world was a bit more at peace.  At the same time, I was responsible for two people dying.  One was my own flesh and blood while the other was a bloodsucking drug dealer and kidnapper.  Death is still death and dying is still dying, isn’t it?  I used to be convinced of the answers but now I’m not so sure.

              There wasn’t much time at the moment to process an answer to such a philosophical question because I had just pulled up to the Paterson Police Department ready to have
the
conversation with Fitzgerald.  I knew it was now pushing eight o’clock but this had to be done and now was as good a time as any because it was on
my
watch.  The adrenaline level was still soaring.

              I kept thinking about what Drew said everyone was calling me, ‘The Kid Killer.’  It infuriated me at first because I thought I hated having my reputation tarnished but the more I thought about it, I didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about me. 

              This was the first time I walked through the department to Fitzgerald’s office and saw what must’ve felt like a thousand eyes fixated on me.  Did they do this the other times I had visited and I just hadn’t noticed?  Or did they know something else that I wasn’t privy to?  I saw Fitzgerald was on the phone and had someone sitting in a chair across from his desk but it wasn’t the time to worry about cordial interruptions.  I pushed the glass door open like a wild boar was chasing me and immediately faced a disturbed look from Fitzgerald. 

              He finished his call and dropped the phone back into the cradle.  I hadn’t even noticed that it was Drew who was sitting in the chair facing Fitzgerald.  I didn’t pay him any attention and held my gaze firmly on Fitzgerald.

              “Barnes, I left you a message.  Didn’t you get it?” Fitzgerald said. 

              “Nope,” I said.

              “Klein is in Interrogation Room Two and we’re hoping he’ll roll on anyone else that might be mixed up in his deal.  Garvey’s in Room One.  We also found the other boys that were missing with Esteban.  They were found down by the park in an abandoned stolen Jeep Cherokee.  Still bound at the wrists.”  I cut him off before he could ramble on any longer.  However, I was relieved to hear that the other boys were recovered safely. 

              “That’s great.  Glad to hear it,” I replied with a masked sense of sincerity.  Finally meeting Drew’s face, I could see he still carried that sense of edginess he had the other day when I met him at McDonald’s.  His left knee was bouncing up and down faster than the piston of a diesel engine.  He was also twiddling his thumbs at a rapid pace.  Was this how Drew always behaved and I just never picked up on it?  Was this just who he was- filled with nervous energy? “What’s he doing here?” I asked.

              Fitzgerald was surprised by my question.  “He’s here for a completely different matter,” he replied.

              “That’s exactly what I’m here for.”

NINETY EIGHT

Fitzgerald excused Drew and told him to come back a little later.  Drew got up and left without saying a word.  He wouldn’t meet my hard stare, not that I was angry with him by any means.  I waited until the glass door gently banged closed behind me before I took Drew’s seat.  From Fitzgerald’s facial expression, I couldn’t tell if he knew the reason for my visit or was just aggravated by my abrupt entrance. 

              “Great job on the case, Barnes,” he said, I think just to be saying something. 

              “Thanks.”  There was a long awkward pause.

              “So, now what do I owe this pleasant albeit disruptive visit?  Something tells me you’re not here to talk about Klein or Garvey or the missing kids.”

              “You got that right,” I said.  I didn’t want to throw Drew under the bus because he was ballsy enough to come out and tell me what was going on.  That, and he was a good cop and didn’t want to do anything to ruin his own rep.  I stood up.  “There’s been a lot of talk around here, I guess.”

              “Talk?  About what?” Fitzgerald said, maintaining his bewildered look.

              “Don’t give me that shit, Donald.  I think you know exactly what the talk is about.  Me.”

              “You?  What the hell’s been said about you?  And who did you hear it from?”

              “Don’t be coy with me, Donald.  I’ve heard the shit storm swirling around here about the real reason you sent me out on my own,” I said.  I paced around the open area near the door to the office.

              Bam!  There it was.  Either Fitzgerald was an Oscar- worthy actor or he genuinely didn’t know what I was talking about. 

              “Chase, I honestly don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”  He held out his palms in front of him to emphasize his bewilderment.  “It might help if you filled in the blanks for me,” he added.

              You know things get serious when cops refer to each other by their first names.  I studied Fitzgerald’s face to get a more accurate read.

              “You mean to tell me you don’t know what the hell Millburn had in mind when he met with you about my reinstatement?”

              Fitzgerald took a deep breath, held it, and then released it through his nose.  He laid his palms flat on his desk and made a gesture to stand up but didn’t.  I finally sat. 

              “Back up a second.  Millburn?  What’s Millburn gotta do with it?  Well, I know what he’s got to do with your reinstatement but please just tell me what the hell you’re talking about,” Fitzgerald pleaded.  It was my turn to take a deep breath.

              I started from the beginning.  I told him a very reliable source led me to believe that there was a lot of chatter going on around the department about the real reason why I was sent out on my own.  Fitzgerald watched intently and the more he gestured his astonishment and surprise the more I truly believed he wasn’t part of the hoax.

              He actually said, “Fucking bastard,” after I was through.  Fitzgerald then sat quietly for a few moments, appearing to process something in his mind. 

              “So, you really knew nothing about Millburn’s true intentions.  The politics behind bring me back?” I asked.

              “I’m telling you the truth.  The meeting I had with Millburn was a carbon copy of the same meeting I had with you a couple of weeks ago.  He only told me that he felt it was the best move for everyone involved.  I think he actually said, ‘it’s the best move for the department’ quite a few times.  I really had no idea that
that’s
what he was referring to.  Honest.  And now it all makes sense.”  Fitzgerald paused again to process.  He actually smiled to himself. 

              I tried to wait as patiently as I could for him to continue but patience wasn’t one of my strong suits at the moment.  “What is it, Fitz?” I asked.   Snapping him out of his concentration.  It looked as if something finally clicked in his mind.

              “I don’t know if you know this or not but Millburn is planning to boost his political career with a run at the mayoral position next year.  And I bet any amount of money that Millburn didn’t want to jeopardize that opportunity with the media backlash he would have to deal with bringing you back after, you know, your situation,” Fitzgerald said. 

              “My situation,” I said more to myself than to Fitzgerald.  I laughed under my breath.  “That son of a bitch.  Fucking politics,” I added.

              “And I’m sure if things didn’t go as well for you if you came back to work Millburn would see you as high risk and have to go a complete different route.”

              “He must really think I’m a fucking head case.”

              “You shouldn’t give a shit what Millburn thinks of you and you can tell those others out there,” Fitzgerald said pointing his finger through the glass windows of his office and out onto the floor crawling with uniforms and detectives, “to go fuck themselves.  I know and you know you’re a great cop and would do just fine back here on your beat until you bumped up to detective.  But honestly, Chase, it’s out of my hands.  I wish I had you back.  I really do.”

              “I know you do, Fitz.  I know you do.”

NINETY NINE

When I exited Fitzgerald’s office, Drew was sitting on a folding chair to the left of Fitzgerald’s office door.  He didn’t say anything but we exchanged confident nods and I kept walking.  A few phones were ringing and a few detectives were on various lines in what appeared to be intense conversations.  There were a few shouts from somewhere off in the distance.  I couldn’t see where they were coming from.  Fitzgerald told me which room Klein was in and I as much as I wanted to pop in and sit in on the interrogation, I knew it was out of my hands.  I’d probably be overstepping my boundaries and whoever had officially taken over the case wouldn’t be too pleased with my presence. 

              But there was nothing wrong with sneaking a peek through the window and watching from a distance.  Klein sat in a folding chair in the center of the room resting his handcuffed wrists on the table in front of him.  I saw he was taped and bandaged on various parts of his forehead and face.  There were two detectives, one standing near the mirror and one sitting in a folding chair across from Klein.  No one was speaking.  I wondered where what kind of shape Garvey was in.

              I hung around for another hour or so and watched the interrogation and the only new information I learned was that Klein’s apparent cell phone time bomb was a farce.  His home was still intact and the apparent bomb timer was just a workout app.  The investigative team sent to Klein’s house seized his entire arsenal and added a slew of drug trafficking and intent to distribute charges to his already extensive list.

The seated detective did most of the talking while the one standing in the corner was on the phone several times.  Chief Millburn was politicking his way around the floor when I was getting ready to leave.  I felt fire rage behind my eyeballs and if my face looked half as red and flushed as it felt I’d probably melt the paint off the walls around me.  Millburn shook the hands and patted the backs of any one of his subordinate soldiers.  I couldn’t decide if I wanted to punch him in the mouth, stab him in the temple with a pencil, or kick him in the balls.  Maybe none.  Probably all three.

              I pretended to be on my cell phone when he spotted me from the other side of the room.  Turning my back to his direction, I could still feel his presence approaching. 

              “Mr. Barnes,” I heard his raspy voice bellow. 

              My stomach tightened and I managed to catch all of my emotions in my throat.  He repeated my name a second time before I turned to face him.  I turned to face his extended hand; he expected me to embrace and shake it.  Despite my elevated emotions I managed to harness them in control- Dr. Sharper would be proud- and shook Millburn’s hand.  It felt like sticking my hand in a colander of wet spaghetti.  I flashed my best mock smile and held his eyes for as long as I could tolerate.  Millburn’s auburn eyes confidently stared at my face but I had to raise my eyes to look up at him as he was a couple of inches taller than me.  He was overweight but his large frame carried it well and had a loose thinning mop of brown hair on his head.