Page 129 of Dancing in the Dark

“My detectives stand up under scrutiny,” Bower grits out. “There are three separate departments, not including City Hall, involved in this investigation. How do we know the leak didn’t come directly from yours?”

“Mine?” Blackwell stabs his chest with his own thumb. “You accuse the Port Authority of compromising a homicide investigation?”

“I don’t accuse. I merely suggest that the only secret ever kept a secret is one known only by a single man. My detectives, specifically, and my department as a whole, have a proven record for solid work, tight lips, and solve rates most others are envious of. Blaming my detectives for leaking intel to the media does not make it true.”

“So then, who?” Anderson counters. “If it wasn’t us, and it wasn’t the police, that leaves the medical examiner’s office.”

Justin’s eyes narrow to slits. “I have complete faith in Chief Mayet and the team she leads. I suggest you remain very careful, Deputy Legal Counsel Markum, and not make allegations about someone who is neither present, nor able to defend themselves.”

“No, I-I—” He swallows and swings back around. “I’m sorry, Mayor. That’s not what I meant. I simply⁠—”

“You simply nothing. You called this meeting, and insisted on bringing your supervisor along so he could speak for you. I suggest you allow him to do so.” Justin cuts fiery eyes across to Blackwell. “It boggles my mind that, as a man who has already raised his children to adulthood, I still find most of my time is spent mediating squabbles amongst departments. Until you have verifiable proof as to the identity of Miranda London’s informant, I suggest you focus more on your job and less on dictating to Captain Bower how he should do his.” He looks to Bower next. “Do you have reason to suspect someone on your squad leaked confidential information to the media?”

Captain Bower stands taller. Broader. Firmer. “No, Mr. Mayor. Not only do I not suspect anyone under my command, but my confidence remains as absolute as always. I do not deny there is a leak, considering the information Ms. London has aired, but I deny wholeheartedly that it came from within my department.”

“Excellent. Where is the investigation up to? Why has it not been closed?”

“Currently, I understand formal requests have been sitting on Deputy Legal Counsel Markum’s desk. They await approval.”

Justin draws his attention to Anderson, then up to Blackwell. “Is there a reason your office is bottlenecking this investigation, William?”

“Sir? If I could?” Anderson sits taller in his seat. “I received paperwork from the detectives shortly before nine o’clock last night. It is barely after nine a.m. now. I’d hardly consider that a bottleneck, when poor time management on the detectives’ part would be a more accurate description. I assure you, as soon as I return to my desk, I’ll deal with Detective Malone and Detective Fletcher’s correspondence.”

“See that you do.” He sits back in his chair, his elbows on the armrests, and his fingertips meeting in the middle. “Additionally, I’m aware of the significant and multiple concerning reports you’ve made about Detectives Malone and Fletcher’s professional conduct throughout this investigation. Reports that have ultimately sparked an inquiry within the Department of Internal Affairs. Care to elaborate?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.” I don’t know if Anderson consciously means to mirror Justin’s posture, or if it’s simply his way of feeling like an equal, but he sits back and sets his elbows on the armrests. “It pains me to do it, but this case has been rife with mismanagement from the outset. It’s our duty, as city officials, to hold our police force to the highest standards.”

“I concur. I’d even go further by saying we must all be held to such standards.” Justin’s fiery stare makes Anderson squirm. “Could you please clarify your thoughts with specifics? What misconduct do you accuse the detectives of?”

“H-honestly?” His Adam’s apple bobs with his nervous swallow. “While it’s not my place to steer IA or influence their investigation, my earlier grievances centered on their consistent non-compliance regarding the official requests they made of the Port Authority. Incomplete paperwork, outdated statements, error-filled applications. At first, I thought it was laziness.”

“At first?” Justin presses. “You no longer hold that opinion, Deputy Legal Counsel?”

“I suggest we all step away,” Blackwell glowers. “We’re not in the business of speaking out of turn. Markum, let’s go⁠—”

“Not yet.” Justin’s voice comes out in a snapped growl. “I demand immediate clarification.” He looks up to Blackwell. “It was you who wished to speak freely. So,” back to Anderson, “speak freely.”

“Sir. M-Mr. Mayor.” Anderson crosses one leg over the other. Unfolds it. Repeats on the other side. “I don’t think Detectives Malone and Fletcher are as incompetent as they first appeared. The opposite, in fact. I think it is imperative IA keep a sharp eye on the pair. Malone, especially.”

Bristling, Bower stomps around to stand by Justin’s desk. To stare down into Anderson’s eyes. “I, too, require clarity on why you think this, Deputy Legal Counsel.”

“Well… It’s no secret the Malones have a rich, dark history in Copeland City. At the dockyards, specifically.” Dropping his foot, he sits taller and puffs his chest wide. “It concerns me that the detectives may be intentionally botching their paperwork and doing all they can to extend the duration and complexity of the bay investigation.” He blinks… swallows… looks to Bower. “Captain. Let’s not bury our heads in the sand or pretend the Malone crime family never laid claim several decades ago. I have it on good authority that Archer Malone, Timothy Malone the Third, and Cato Malone have traveled extensively between Copeland City and New York over the last several months. Add in that their spouses—prominent city employees themselves, including Chief Medical Examiner Minka Mayet, and Doctor Aubree Emeri—traveled too, and that leaves us in a precarious position where fear of disrupting a hornet’s nest shouldn’t be the reason it’s allowed to remain and prosper.” Finally, he meets Justin’s hard stare. “We may not like it, but the facts are right there, and it’s our duty to pay attention to them. Intentionally mishandling a homicide investigation as a way of encouraging Ambassador Zhao to back out of our deal seems on par with what I know about that family.”

“That’s a significant allegation.” Justin’s silver-gray eyes flicker momentarily across to mine. It’s fast. It’s fleeting. And then it’s gone. “You would stand up and say these things in the future if a judge requested it?”

“Yes, sir. I would.” He glances down at his lap. “If Detective Malone, and by extension, Detective Fletcher, are as above reproach as Captain Bower believes, then no harm will come of an investigation.”

“Except for the stress resulting from such indictments,” Bower snarls. “Not to mention the psychological damage they’ll endure throughout an investigation that will, ultimately, leave two damn good detectives with no doubt the city they defend doesn’t have their backs.”

“So it shall be.” Anderson brings his eyes up again. “If this reaches a point where a judge and courtroom are involved, then we already know initiating an investigation in the first place was the correct choice. We work for this city, Mayor Lawrence. We represent Copeland. Not two individuals who are, at this present moment, botching an investigation that should’ve been an easy solve.”

More than an hour after walking into the mayor’s office, I stride out again and hurry to the bank of elevators, stepping inside the next available one and selecting the button for the lobby floor. Determination and rage spur me on as I follow the man I once thought I would marry straight through the front doors of City Hall and into a particularly brutal gust of wind that whips my hair around my face. The man I once carried a baby for, if only for a short while.

I bring my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun, then I look left and right in search. “Anderson?” I find him with one hand on the door of a bright yellow cab. One foot already in. “Markum!”

He spins, the back of his suit jacket flapping in the wind.

“Sera?” He closes the cab door again, his brows furrowing and his left hand gripped firmly around the handle of his briefcase. I bought that for him. “Hi.” He glances around, patiently waiting as I descend the stairs and come to a stop in front of him. “Are you okay?”