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“It’d be a start.”
“Then I’m sorry.” She leaned forward in her chair, shifted her weight to the balls of her feet. She could spring up at any second. Always at the ready. “I am, but you’re right. I would do it all over again. Just to look him in the eyes. He knows something, Chief. I know he does.”
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but we have to play this smart. He gave up Gibson too quickly.” Clementine huffed. “The man gave one of the most detailed confessions I’ve ever seen in my life. And all we had to do was give him a pen and some paper.”
“Then Aguilar wants Gibson in jail. Why?”
“Could be to deliver a message,” Clementine said. “But he’s got more convenient ways to do that.”
“Unless it’s the type of message that needs to be delivered by someone like Gibson.” Harris teetered for a moment and then leaned back in her chair again. “Or Gibson is rallying the troops.”
“Either way, we don’t have any hard proof.” Clementine glared at her. “And now Aguilar knows you’re onto him.”
Harris waved the comment away, trying to ignore the way the Chief’s piercing gaze made her heart beat faster. “He already knew that.”
“But now he’s looking directly at you.” Clementine pounded her fist on the desk. “Jesus, Adelaide. We could’ve used you to get close to him. Especially if what he said was true about David. You went in there hotheaded, ready to fight all of them single-handedly. You think he’s
going to believe you had a change of heart if you try to approach him down the line?”
For the first time since Harris left the restaurant, doubt creeped in. Clementine was telling the truth. Harris had wanted to go toe-to-toe with all of them, starting with Gibson and ending with Aguilar. She’d made sure he knew what kind of cop she was. No fear. No remorse. No bullshit.
Harris hung her head. “So, what now?”
“You’re suspended.”
Harris’ head snapped up. “What?”
“You heard me.” Clementine pointed at her desk. “Hand over your badge and your gun. Two weeks.”
“You’re joking.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” Clementine raised a single eyebrow, as if daring Harris to question her again. “Badge and gun. Now.”
Harris stood. She unclipped her badge. Set it on the desk. Pulled out her gun. Set it on the desk. She stood there, arms hanging at her side, feeling small and stupid and helpless. What was she if she wasn’t a cop? What was she if she couldn’t solve David’s murder?
“What am I supposed to do now?”
Clementine’s mouth was still a hard line, but her eyes softened. “Take a break. Go on vacation. Read a book. Find some inner peace, Adelaide. This is temporary. I need you back at peak performance. When we’re ready to take down Aguilar—if we can pin this on him—then I want you there to cuff him yourself.”
Harris’ phone buzzed. She pulled it out. Unknown number. She stuck it back in her pocket. Looked up at Clementine. She didn’t know what to say.
“Deal?” Clementine asked.
Harris knew she was right. She’d let her anger get the best of her. Now Aguilar knew she’d stop at nothing to pin him. She was safer if she was out of the limelight. She was safer if she wasn’t on duty. Otherwise, she might end up like Officer Steve Warren. Or Detective David Klein.
“Deal.”
“Good.” Clementine pulled Harris’ badge and gun toward her and dropped them in a desk drawer. She didn’t look up again. “Dismissed.”
Harris walked out of the room feeling more lost than when she’d entered. As she pulled the door shut, her phone buzzed again. It was the same unknown number. She thought about declining it again. Probably just spam.
She hit answer instead.
“Harris.”
“Detective Harris?” The man’s voice was high and panicked. “It’s Randall.”
Harris paused. It took her a moment to place the name. Randall Sherman. The witness they’d been planning to meet with the night David died. He was potentially the last one to see David alive. “Randall?” She was still processing. “I thought you might be dead.”
