Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (22 page)

Matt studies me for a second. “That’s the closest thing we’ve gotten to a lead so far.”

I start furiously searching through receipts, pulling out every single one with the letter B as a first initial.

“What happens if he paid cash?”

“He didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. A rich prick like him is definitely using a card.”

Two hours later, we have gone through all the receipts and picked out over a dozen names with the first initial B, or ones that are so illegible we decide to search them, anyway. Matt hovers over his computer screen. The small precinct of Angelica can’t afford those brand new flat screen desktops, either. We are talking big, bulky, first ever created computers. Some didn’t even come with a mouse. Ours is one of those. Matt hits the ‘Enter’ key a few times, as I hover over his shoulder. Oh and did I mention, partners have to share.

He enters the password and a little hourglass pops up, spinning around and around.

“Come on,” I mutter.

“Dude, you’re not helping.”

“This thing is so slow.” I slap the side of the big monitor.

“Seriously, not helping.”

A box pops up in the center of the screen. ‘Error.’

“Error?”

“Let me try a few things,” Matt mutters, clicking a few keys, bringing up another screen.

“This is going to take forever.” I stalk away, wandering down the hall. I pass the interrogation rooms and find the chief’s door open. She’s reading something from an open file when I enter.

“Chief? You got a minute?”

“Sure.” She flips the file closed, “What’s on your mind?”

“These computers. We can’t get anything done when they run on technology older than me.”

She looks amused. “And what should I tell my boss when he asks me what we need them for? According to him, we aren’t doing anything but keeping the drunk tank warm and paying my salary with parking tickets.”

“Um…”

“Catch me some bad guys and I will get you new computers.”

“How am I supposed to catch anyone when they have better technology than us?”

“A detective would be able to figure it out,” she mutters, putting her glasses on and returning her attention back to a folder with a silent dismissal.

I return to Matt. He’s still tapping away at something. This entire thing is so messed up. I’m supposed to catch bad guys with a shitty car, shitty computer, and barely any leads. Every time I look at Becca in bed, I’m forced to come to terms with the fact it’s been two months or so and I’m no closer to finding these guys than I was when it first happened. I never should have let them run away. I should have given chase and beat the crap out of them.

“We have to call IT. It doesn’t look like we will be able to get in today.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get them tomorrow.”

Opening the bottom desk drawer, I toss the black bag over my shoulder and head out. There’s no point in being here anymore. Two hours of overtime wasted. I feel like I’m not doing anyone any good now. I’ve failed my Chief, I’ve failed Matt, and worst of all, I’ve failed Becca.

The ride home from the station seems endless; Becca’s investigation also endless. This is the town of a million questions and no answers. The receipts proved fruitless until we can get a working computer and the interviews turned up nothing. I promised Becca I would find these guys.

Turns out, I can’t even do
that
for her. Maybe I’m not the type of man she needs. Apparently, I’m not intelligent enough or rich enough. What the hell is she doing with me?

The night is dark, the darkest I’ve ever seen. Even my headlights barely make a difference.

“See, even the moon gave up on me,” I mutter to the voice on the radio.

By the time I pull into my space by the door of my apartment complex, that doubt has turned to anger. My boots clomp up the three flights of stairs and around the corner. I ram my key in the door and swing it open. All the lights are off. Instead of turning them on, I fumble with my boots and kick them to the side as I enter my bedroom.

Pulling my shirt overhead, I freeze with my arms still stuck in the sleeves. A tuft of blonde hair sticks out from under the blankets. She squirms. Becca must have stayed here all day. She’s done that a few times, says she enjoys the quiet of my apartment.

“Mm, John? Is that you?” Her voice softens me (well, most of me).

“Yes,” I whisper, removing the rest of my shirt and unbuckling my pants. She rolls over. The only light in the room is from the alarm clock beside my bed. It makes her blue eyes strangely luminescent in the dark. She silently watches me, as if sensing I don’t want to talk. When I finally climb into bed, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer.

Becca never asked why, never told me I was being too rough. She just let me turn all my anger into passion and allowed me to release all my pent up frustration on her. Even when it was over, she never asked why it sounded like I was sniffling. She only kissed my forehead and held me close until I fell asleep.

The next afternoon, we lay side by side in bed, still. I’ve never been the type to lounge around in bed all day. I always have to be doing something. There are no such things as days off. Now, as I lay here beside Becca I find there’s no place I’d rather be.

“So, how was work yesterday?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started.” I roll my eyes. It seems like spending time with Becca is the only time I don’t think about work.

She smiles. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“You wouldn’t sleep at night if I told you.”

“Try me.” Her eyes are alive, tempting.

“Okay.” I take a deep breath. “We arrested this guy once. He was obviously on something. His pupils were practically all black; he was sweating profusely, his hair a tangled heap on top of his head, his body twitched constantly. Of course, I had the honor of interrogating him. In the middle of it, he started freaking out, pulled himself up by his own collar, and threw himself across the room. His eyes looked scared, staring at the corner. But it was all in his head. The two of us were the only people in the room. He then began to scream he had opened the seventh gate to hell and demons were invading the Earth. He started frantically screaming that the Devil was here. The craziest part was the room did grow cold, my breath started to show, and the interrogation mirror began to frost. He screamed in agony for a few seconds before his body just went stiff. It was by far the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you think it was?”

“The tox-screen determined he was on drugs, but as to which one was inconclusive.”

“A new drug?”

“Maybe, it hasn’t presented itself since – but—” I hesitate.

“But what?”

I gnaw on my bottom lip. I don’t know if I should tell her. It’s not like they aren’t public knowledge. Oh, what the hell. Chief said she wanted fresh eyes. “There were disappearances in Angelica almost right after that incident.”

“Disappearances?”

“Like, way more than usual, and weird too.”

“Weird, how?”

“They just pick up and leave, with only the clothes on their backs. Women were leaving children at the park—Husbands never coming home from work. Shop owners just closing and never opening again. There are no leads, no footprints, no mysterious phone calls – they just disappear.”

“What do you think it is?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

I pause. “I have no idea. It keeps me up at night thinking about it. The only thing I have yet to solve.”

“That’s crazy.”

“It gives me the chills.” I shuffle out of the covers to show her the goose bumps that have sprouted along my arm.

“So, wait, what about the old coffee shop owner on The Ave? Was he one of them?” She shivers too.

“He was the very last one… I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It just didn’t feel like their burden.”

“And now it’s mine.” She shrugs, slightly awkward on her side.

“No, I just meant that I feel oddly comfortable with you. It’s hard to explain.” That’s the truth. Guys don’t talk like this. Sometimes, there’s no depth to our conversations at all. We don’t get emotional or deep. A guy’s company is for comfort or fun. Becca has something about her that makes me want to confide in her. She’s the best friend I’ve never had, the only one I’ve ever let in. That thought makes me slip out of bed and head for the shower. Maybe this could work. The water cascades down my face and through my hair. I could be the man Becca deserves. I just can’t let her go.

John dropped me off two days ago. He said he was busy with work, but I don’t know what to believe anymore. It seems like some days his feelings are clear, when others he has a hard shell around him. But when he texted me asking what my plans were for tonight, I obviously dropped everything to hang out with him. By everything, I only mean homework not due for another week. This beats watching the fireworks from my bedroom window completely alone.

Now, pushing the curtains of my little bedroom out of the way, I peer down at the football field below. Families and students have begun to filter in and congregate on blankets. The sun sets in the background behind the far trees.

“Can we start heading down soon? It’s getting pretty crowded.”

“We’ll be fine.” John is just starting to get dressed behind me. Things between us are explosive when he just sits around naked. We’ve found out the hard way. I blush, returning my gaze out the window.

“I’m telling you we aren’t going to find a seat. The bleachers are already full, and the far end of the field is filling up too.”

“Relax. We’ll get a spot.”

“Ugh.” I sigh. “Fine.”

He’s probably right; the football field is huge. But this is my first Fourth of July with
someone
, whatever we may be. I’m excited, anxious and above all – a planner. If it were up to me, we’d be already sitting in the front row.

When I turn around again he’s fully dressed and searching for his shoes. I make my way into the hallway, trying to take my mind off the increasing crowd below us.

I peek out the window once again. Darkness has spread its way across this sky. John is sitting on my couch now, glancing every once in a while at his watch.

“Can we go now?” I insist.

“Uh, yeah. It should be clear now.”

“Clear? You’re kidding, right? The entire field is like full.”

“You’ll see.” He points to the closet. “Grab a blanket.”

“Oh, yeah.” I open the door beside the bathroom, rolling a blanket into a ball between my hands, and rush him out of the dorm. “Lets go.”

He watches as I speed-walk down the hallway, and his voice calls from a few feet away. “Turn left.”

“Left? The emergency stairs?”

“Yup.”

“But these are empty.” I point to the main staircase leading down to the front door.

“Just do it,” he scolds playfully.

I shoot him a weird look but obey, opening the door to the emergency stairs. I half expected an alarm to sound, but it’s silent as the door creaks open. John slips past me; the smell of his fading cologne still lingers on him. I enjoy the intoxicating scent before he starts heading up the staircase.