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I probably won’t do it.
It’s not like I’m a professional or anything.
But what if?
What if I made it all the way to Seattle and earned money from my art? Dad would have to see me as someone with hopes and dreams and talent. Not some loser, lazy ass. Plus, if I made money, I could buy my own damn car with zero rules attached. If Gemma can make money “influencing,” then I can do it with my art.
That’s pretty enticing.
Ahh, fuck it. I’m doing it. There’s no harm in trying.
Sloane
The Ghirard case is closed.
Accidental explosion. No foul play.
I stare at my computer, confused as to how the case is done already. It’s literally the biggest thing to hit our police department in the fifteen years I’ve been here. There was evidence of an arsonist and several disgruntled employees went on the record about how much they hated the Ghirards. Yet, after a few weeks of investigation, it’s suddenly ruled out as an accident.
How?
I certainly don’t buy it.
Our detectives are clearly sleeping on the job around here.
“Did you see this?” I ask Aisha, who’s swiveling in her chair, waiting for me to get my ass moving this morning.
“If it involves work, probably not.” She laughs at her own joke, but it fizzles when she realizes I’m not in the mood. “Oh geez. What is it?”
“The Ghirard case,” I grumble, looking over the monitor to meet her stare. “It’s closed. Accident. No foul play.”
She smiles. “Ummm, that’s good, dork.”
But it’s not good. This case wasn’t something that should have been open and shut so quickly. It’s the same with most every case since Tanaka took office. What if he’s making all this happen to look good in his new position? That’s plausible.
I glance over at Tanaka, who’s on the phone in his office. His features are sharp and serious as he listens to whomever is speaking. Is it the mayor? Someone far more sinister like Harvey Ghirard?
“Come on,” Aisha says, leaning forward. “There were six people killed in the Ghirard explosion. It probably gives the families peace of mind knowing it wasn’t their boss responsible. Let it rest.”
Prickles of unease stab along every surface of my skin. I can’t let it rest. Something’s not right and I can feel it. I might let it rest if it were the only thing to have happened, but recently, there’re just too many “odd” things to count. I’m suspicious, that’s for damn sure.
Or maybe you’re looking for a distraction…
Thoughts of Dempsey infiltrate my mind and my gut sours. Ever since last week when me and Kaden went over there, I’ve been having these intrusive thoughts about him. It makes no sense because he’s just Dempsey. Jamie’s baby boy.
Maybe I should be the one investigated around here.
Ugh.
I need to get out of here. Stat.
“Whatever, I’m not going to worry about it any longer,” I lie as I stand. “Let me go tell Kaden bye and we can hit the road.”
Aisha playfully cheers. She hates desk work and suffers when I take my time doing it. While she gathers her stuff, I locate Kaden at Tara’s desk. She’s put him to work with a label maker and made him label files over the messy handwriting of certain officers. It’s a good job for him and will keep him busy for hours until I grab him for lunch.
“Where do you want to go eat when I get back?” I lean against Tara’s desk and peer down at him. “I can’t handle fast food again. My stomach hates me.”
He sniggers. “Your farts are worse than mine.”
