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She didn’t have to wait long. Two minutes later, Gina and the man left the building. They locked the door, had an intense conversation, then the man hugged her tightly and they stood close together, not talking. A few minutes later, an Uber pulled up. They both got in.
Kara followed.
“Maybe the detective intimidated them because they’re guilty,” Michael said.
“Of what?”
“Drugs?”
“Drugs are not going to get anyone jammed up. We’re not allowed to arrest anyone for using. They have to be selling some weight, or committing another felony while in possession, and the paperwork is a nightmare.” Michael knew as well as she did that most DAs didn’t prosecute drug-related crimes anymore.
“If they’re transitioning as you said, maybe they’re nervous because they’ll be kicked out of the program if they’re caught using.”
“Depends on the program,” Kara said. “I don’t think they were high, but I could be wrong.”
“You don’t think you are.”
“Nope.” Kara glanced at Michael. “Does this bother you?”
“What?”
“I don’t know. The conversation? Addicts? Drug use? You seem uncomfortable.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. That’s one of the many things she appreciated about Michael—he was thoughtful and rarely spoke off the cuff. Sometimes, she wished she had the same skill set.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “this all hits too close to home.”
Michael rarely talked about his childhood. Kara knew that he’d grown up very poor in Chicago. She didn’t know much—just that his father was out of the picture, his brother was killed in a drive-by shooting, and his mom died of a drug overdose before he turned eighteen. He’d been in foster care for a few years, which hadn’t been pretty. Michael had told Kara more than once that the Navy saved him—he enlisted the day he graduated from high school.
Kara couldn’t picture a desperate Michael—he was the epitome of the Great American Hero. Served his country with distinction. Went to college when he got out of the Navy, then joined the FBI. He’d always gone above and beyond, getting certified in SWAT, underwater rescue and more. He could be a flirt, and he dated quite a bit, but Kara had always thought that was because he was looking for “the one”—he valued his home, wanted a family. He didn’t say it in so many words, but a few things over the months she’d worked with him had given her that idea.
“I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “I had sucky parents, but I didn’t have a rough childhood.” Her parents were con artists and thieves, not violent or drug addicts.
“My experience has been most addicts don’t change. With the addiction comes theft, violence, destruction of everything and everyone around them.”
“It’s not easy, and I certainly have no answers. As a cop? I want to arrest them all to get them clean. But that’s neither viable nor realistic. They’re breaking the law, but we can’t arrest them except under very specific circumstances. The slippery slope of desperation where they are just looking for money to get more drugs, lose their friends, family, home... It’s depressing. But I’m sure there’s more to it than that. A lot of the vets Will helps suffer from PTSD and the VA is a bitch to work with to get help.”
“It’s a bureaucracy, but if you know how to work the system, you can get what you need,” Michael said.
“Because you see the benefit. You’re willing to do what it takes and fight for what you want. Other people see a mountain they can’t climb. Will helps make that journey easier. But not everyone wants help, and the laws being as they are, we can’t force them to do anything they don’t want to do. I just wish we didn’t make it so easy for them to continue down destructive paths.”
Kara tried to see things as they were, not better or worse. She tended to be cynical, but mostly, she was a realist.
She slowed as the Uber carrying Will’s two helpers stopped at the north end of Echo Park Lake. They got out and at first she thought she was wrong—that they were still using, in the park to buy drugs. There were dozens of homeless encampments along the semipermanent chain-link fencing the city had put up. She felt Michael tense next to her.
Then she saw Will Lattimer.
“Bingo,” she said. “The guy in the dark green shirt with the blue baseball cap? That’s Will.”
She pulled over, parked illegally and jumped out before anyone could skirt away. Michael followed, letting her take the lead.
As she approached, Will glanced over, looked straight at her. Then Gina saw her and said something to Will. He handed Gina something—keys, Kara realized—and Gina and her friend walked away.
“Kara,” Will said when she was within earshot. “If this isn’t a blast from the past.”
“You shouldn’t be so surprised,” she said. “I left you several messages.”
“I’ve been really busy. I’m sorry.” He turned to Michael, extended his hand. “Will Lattimer, director of First Contact.”
