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Jack allowed himself a slight smile instead of the whoops of joy he wanted to perform.
“I’m glad they got him,” he said evenly.
“The son of a bitch was selling information. Nothing too overt, just enough over the years to keep some really powerful players out of prison.”
Jack ground his teeth.
“I figured as much,” was all he said.
“He’s also an investor.” Malcolm ran his fingers through thick grey hair. “Silent partner in two brothels, one smuggling set-up and a protection racket. It’s the tip of the iceberg. This has been going on for years.”
Jack didn’t say anything. He’d never known the extent of the Chief’s dealings, but he’d known enough to guess that his net spread wide.
Malcolm cleared his throat.
“The department owes you an apology, son,” he said at last.
Funnily enough, it didn’t feel as good as Jack thought it would feel. There was nothing good about being the one to expose a dirty cop. One bad apple and the whole barrel was tainted. Jack included.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” Malcolm said. “Maybe we should have looked into it a bit more before we jumped to conclusions.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have decked the son of a bitch,” Jack conceded.
Malcolm grinned.
“Yeah, that didn’t help your cause. But I bet it felt good.”
Jack grinned back.
“Anyway,” Malcolm said. “Your job is there if you want it.”
There was a pause. Jack waited to feel a rush of exhilaration. He’d gone over those words in his head and the scene had always ended with him doing the happy dance. It wasn’t going as planned. There was no overwhelming sense of joy. In fact, he didn’t feel much of anything at all.
“Well?” Malcolm prompted.
“I’ll need to think about it,” Jack said.
He didn’t know who was more shocked at the answer, him or his boss.
“You take all the time you need,” Malcolm said at last. “It’s there when you’re ready.” He paused, awkwardly. Jack knew there was more to come. “You’re not worried about coming back because we didn’t believe you, are you? You know everyone was behind you, Jack. It’s just our hands were tied.”
Jack doubted that was completely true, but he appreciated the sentiment.
“No, it’s not that.” He looked around the room hoping the answer was written on the wall somewhere because it sure as hell wasn’t in his head. “I’ve got some things to deal with,” he said at last.
“Okay.” Malcolm wasn’t convinced.
Jack stood. Suddenly he was in as much of a rush to get out the building as he had been to get in.
“Does this mean I can quit therapy?”
“Good try, son. No. It doesn’t mean you can quit. You hit another cop.”
“A dirty cop.”
“We didn’t know that then.”
