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“Out, Brody, and enough with the first name shit. It’s Captain to you. No one ever uses my first name, ever.”
“Yes, Captain.” He holsters his gun, giving me a final murderous glance before walking out.
The Captain comes over to me. “I need you to come to an interrogation room with me.”
“You’re the boss.”
“I suppose I am.”
I follow her out of the cell and past the cops huddled together outside. Brody is nowhere to be seen.
We turn a corner and then up a flight of stairs, and then I’m shown into an interrogation room I’ve not seen before. “No mirror on the wall?” I ask, feeling a little nervous. “No tape recorder? You here to shoot me after all?”
“Nope,” she replies, closing the door and locking it with a key on a chain. She turns around to face me. “Take a seat.”
“Chairs not bolted down? Is this the good cop, bad cop routine? Because I’m still not talking.”
“Shut up, Hunter. You can cut the cocky bullshit with me.”
“You can’t have bad cop, worse cop. The dynamic is all off.”
She sits opposite me, bringing out a pack of menthol cigarettes. “You want one?” she asks, lighting her own.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“I’ve been watching you for a while,” she says. “Been watching Brody too.”
“Yeah?”
“Two minutes, I’m going to unlock that door and get myself a coffee. I’m going to forget to lock it again because I’ve got a memory like a sieve. You go down the end of the corridor, and gosh, if I didn’t leave that door unlocked too. The other side is a fire escape that’ll take you down to the street. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Yeah, right. And I suppose I get shot trying to escape, so all the paperwork looks right?”
“I’m offering you an out. You’d be wise to take it.”
“And why should I trust you?”
“You got any choice?”
“Why would you help me?”
She smiles, but it’s a sad smile. “I’ve worked in this city a long time and know what you do. You fill in the gaps where we haven’t got the budget. Your family helps keep order, has done for years. You protect people from the worst elements in the gutter. Your brother is one of those elements. I’ve had enough run-ins with him to know what he would do if he took over the show once your father’s gone.
“I don’t want him in charge. Him and Brody are already running drugs together. There’d be chaos if they had free rein over the city. I worked vice. I know what drugs do to hookers. I know what they do to kids. I know what they did to your wife.”
She looks wistful for a moment. “I was there the night she OD’d. That week before the wedding, I was in St. Mary’s after one of my cops got shot. I saw her when they wheeled her in. I saw the state she was in and the effect on you. I doubt you saw me, but I saw you. I saw the pain in your eyes. You hate drugs as much as I do.
“I’m no noble knight, Hunter. I want you in because it helps keep the city from falling deeper into the filth, not because I give a shit about you. Getting Brody and Ernesto is my priority, and I think you can help with that. So take the out I’m giving you and speak to your father. He’s waiting for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He’s at Wrigley Field right now, taking in a game. Go to gate fifteen. You’ll find him.”
She gets to her feet and walks over to the door. “Black, two sugars, right?” She unlocks the door, pulling it open. “I’ll be back with the coffee in two minutes. Don’t go anywhere, will you?”
She pulls the door closed. I listen for the key in the lock, but it doesn’t happen. Is she one of the cops on my father’s payroll? You’d think I would know her name if she was.
I don’t waste any time. Doubt gets you nowhere in life. I march over to the door and pull it open. No one in sight. I follow her directions, and I’m walking down the fire escape in the fall sunshine in thirty seconds. Sun is high. Got to be around noon.
