“You’re sure I can’t have him killed?” Zico asked for the third time in an hour. “It would be so easy. I know so many people who wouldn’t even question it.”
I smiled because, despite the fact that I knew he wasn’t lying and he did know people who would very willingly kill someone, he was saying it all because he cared about me.
“I’m absolutely sure,” I said.
He groaned and leaned forward to kiss my cheek. “I just can’t believe he touched you. I can’t believe he cornered you in a bathroom. What a creep.”
“To be fair, we were on a date.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“That you were on a date. That was not a date. That was a… a cover, at best. You were trying to keep his suspicions low so he wouldn’t suspect you of setting him up. There’s a huge difference.”
“Fine,” I said, cuddling into his side, glad to be in my house and out of the cocktail dress. “To be fair, he thought we were on a date, and he stopped when I told him to.”
Zico rolled his eyes. “I’d still feel better if you let me kill him.”
“How about I let you kill the next guy who grabs me against my will? Would that make you feel better?”
He shrugged one shoulder, his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Maybe a little bit.”
I laughed and rolled over, so I was straddling him on the couch, my legs on either side of his hips. “I thought you said earlier that you were going to help me forget my worries.”
Immediately, he grabbed my waist, my thin pajama shirt riding up to expose a strip of skin above my waistband. “Are you sure you’re in the mood?” he asked. “After that creep, I thought maybe—”
I leaned forward and kissed him, sucking his lower lip into my mouth, tangling my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck. I ground my hips against his until he released a low moan. I pulled away from him and bit my lip.
“You said you’d help me forget my worries, and now I have more worries than ever.”
Zico’s green eyes had gone dark, hungry. He ran his hands up and down my side like a tiger pacing the edges of a cage, eager to be released. “Then I suppose we better get started.”
He flipped me back onto the couch and crawled over me, ensuring he kept his promise. Not even a minute later, my head was emptied of every thought except for Zico.
# # #
Going back to work on Monday was a struggle. I wanted to stay home more than anything. Not only because of the incredibly awkward “date” I’d been on with Gary on Saturday, but because it was also the third of the month. This normally would have meant nothing, but since Zico and I had begun setting our plan into motion, the third was one of the three possible dates that we would set Gary up. I, of course, was not allowed to know which of the dates would be chosen, so that provided yet another layer of anxiety. I hated surprised.
Once, my mom had thrown me a surprise My Little Pony birthday party when I was thirteen, and it was a nightmare. Not only did I hate having people sing me happy birthday and watch me open gifts, but it was a deeply guarded secret that I still enjoyed My Little Pony, despite being a teenager.
My mom had outed me to all of my friends, and I was teased mercilessly at school for a week. Of course, this surprise would be nothing like a birthday party. Instead of teenagers and pony-shaped birthday cake, there would be police officers and firearms.
The only thing I knew about the plan is that Zico was taking care of it. He had guys ready to orchestrate the entire set-up, and I was just supposed to act as though I was shocked and, most importantly, very unaware of what Gary was up to. At the time when Zico and I were discussing the plan, the idea of pretending to know nothing about Gary’s mafia ties had seemed easy. I’d always considered myself a pretty adept liar. However, as the time drew closer, I became more and more anxious.
I was no doubt going to be questioned by hardened detectives—men and women who had been in the field for a very long time and were probably very tuned in to the common ticks of lying. I thought I was a good liar, but I’d never tested this theory against professionals who were trained to know when someone was lying.
What if they sniffed me out? What if they got me to confess that I’d set my partner up? What if they discovered I’d set up my partner with the help of Zico Brancati?
For the third time that morning, I had to place my hand on my stomach, and take deep breaths to keep from throwing up. I just wanted to call in sick and stay home. Unfortunately, I had the task of texting Zico to let him know whether or not Gary and I would be headed to the East Side to do the drop-off.
So, knowing a large portion of the plan rested on my shoulders, I grabbed my badge and my coat and rushed out the door before I could change my mind.
Gary wasn’t in the office yet when I arrived, and I was grateful. Something about being there before he was made me feel more powerful, more in control. He would have to walk into my territory. Though, technically, it was both of our territory since we shared the office. But still, it felt like a power move.
When Gary walked in, though, I felt anything but powerful. My face immediately flamed red, and I focused intensely on my computer screen, pretending to be in the middle of reading something very important. Gary must have believed the ruse because he didn’t say anything to me for several minutes until I leaned back in my chair, my eyes strained and watering from staring at the screen for so long.
“Good morning,” he said. His voice was more formal than I’d expected, especially considering the rather intimate position we’d found ourselves in on Saturday night.
“Morning,” I replied, turning to smile at him.
His face was red, too, his skin blushing from chin to forehead. That night in the bar’s bathroom, he’d seemed so cool, so confident. In the stark light of day, though, he seemed even more nervous than I was. He didn’t seem willing to be quite as bold as he’d been in the bathroom, and I was relieved. The last thing I needed, on top of worrying about when Zico and I’s plan would take effect, was to be fending off non-stop sexual advances from Gary.
“I had a nice time Saturday,” he said, staring at his computer screen, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile.
“Oh, yeah. So did I.” I hoped I sounded convincing rather than nauseous, which was how I felt.
“We’ll have to do it again soon.” And then he looked at me out of the corner of his eye, his eyebrows raising. “Very soon.”
A shiver ran down my spine, and I readjusted in my seat to hide it. “Yeah, definitely.”
Thankfully, Gary seemed to have a lot of work to do, so our conversation was minimal, and when we did talk, it was about paperwork and cases.
Then, mid-morning, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’m ready to get out of this office. What do you say we drive our route?”
Nervous energy tingled in my legs and sent electric currents down my arms and into my fingers. “Sure thing. Sounds good.”
“Great. Then maybe we can grab lunch somewhere?” he asked.
Gary had never once asked me to lunch with him. Did it count as a date if it was during work hours?
“I actually packed a sack today,” I said, holding up my floral lunch bag, which I’d filled with a salad, some fruit, and, like a child, a chocolate bar.
Gary waved his hand, dismissing me. “Forget that. It’s my treat. We’re going to lunch. I’ll have to make a stop on the East Side first, if that’s okay?”
I wanted to turn him down, but he hadn’t really afforded me the opportunity. Plus, if I were lucky, Gary would be in handcuffs by lunch, so none of it would matter. “Sure, that’s fine.”
As I followed Gary down the hallway towards the elevator that led to the parking garage, I pulled out my phone and texted Zico.
A: It’s go time.
Z: It’s go time? Seriously? Do you think we’re in an Oceans 11 movie or something?
A: Shutup.
Z: The chicken is laying the egg.
A: Lol you’re annoying.
Z: (;
I hid my smile, not wanting Gary to misinterpret my happiness as being because of, or for, him in any way. I didn’t have to work too hard to hide my smile, though, when I thought about what the next hour or two of my life could be like. I hated not knowing whether the plan was going to happen today or not. I hated that, if the plan didn’t get carried out today, I’d have to make it through another ten days of working with Gary, fending off his advances while also trying not to raise any suspicions. It was all too stressful. I could literally feel myself aging more quickly.
The walk through the parking garage to the squad car felt like walking to my own execution. Sitting in the office with Gary had been torture, and we hadn’t been within arm’s reach of one another like we would be in the squad car. I’d be close enough for him to reach over and touch, and the idea made me sick to my stomach.
Thankfully, however, Gary didn’t try anything when we got in the car. He just pulled out of the garage and began our route like normal. He was a touch more chatty than normal—talking about music on the radio and how he preferred vinyl to CDs—but he never ventured into any highly personal territory, and the change was almost nice. I wished he had been this sociable from the very beginning. It would have made my time at work a lot more enjoyable. Of course, it also would have made it a lot harder to turn him in for his illegal side business, so perhaps it was for the best that he’d been so surly and rude.
Gary stopped at all of his usual places, smiling at me as he walked in front of the car to enter the pizzeria and the laundromat and the diner. I wondered what Gary thought of me? He clearly felt comfortable with me knowing where he had business. So, did he think I didn’t care that he was breaking the law? And, if he did think that, did he still think I was a good cop? Or, did he actually think I was too weak to ever do anything about it? Maybe more than feeling comfortable with me, Gary felt powerful. Perhaps he felt untouchable.
Suddenly, my nerves vanished. I wasn’t afraid of seeing Gary arrested. Of watching him be caught in the act. I was anxious. I hoped it would happen today. I was ready for it to be over. Ready for Gary to get what was coming to him.
Then, I remembered Zico. What would we be to one another after this? We wouldn’t be able to make up excuses about why we were hanging out anymore. Until now, we could always meet under the pretense of planning Gary’s capture, but from this point on there wouldn’t be any excuses. We would be getting together because we wanted to. Because we liked each other. And wouldn’t that make me just as dirty as Gary?
In the back of my mind, I heard Zico’s voice cracking a joke about exactly how dirty I was, and despite myself, I smiled. Then, I shook my head, trying to clear it. Zico had embedded himself in my life. He was one of the only friends I had in the city—if our relationship could be classified as anything even resembling friendship. If today really was “go time,” I was about to lose my partner and Zico. The only two people I’d had any regular sort of contact with since moving to the city. And both of them had ties to the mafia. What did that say about the kind of people I was hanging around with?
Gary slid back into the car and turned to me. “Well, one more stop before lunch. Any idea where you want to eat?”
“I’ll leave it up to you,” I said.
It seemed fair to let Gary decide, especially since, even if today wasn’t the day Gary would be arrested, the day was quickly approaching, and who could say how many more times he’d be able to go out to eat.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll make it a surprise. I love a good surprise.”
“Sounds great,” I replied, genuinely smiling for the first time all day. Gary had no idea the surprise he could be in for.
# # #
We drove through the East Side of the city, past all of the buildings and stores I recognized, until we reached the industrial sector. The air seemed smoggier, the brick buildings coated over with grime and grease and dirt, and even the sky, which had been bright blue that morning, had taken on a dusty gray color.
Though there were cars parked along the street and filling every parking lot, I didn’t see a single other person. Everyone seemed to be in the massive warehouses. It felt like we’d been dropped into a Charles Dickens novel.
Finally, after driving past so many identical warehouses that I began to feel dizzy and disoriented, Gary turned off into a large, empty parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse, a bleak view of the ocean on the other side.
“I just have to do a quick drop-off,” Gary said. “No big deal. Just lock the doors and wait in the car. I’ll be back.”
I nodded without looking at him, my nerves getting the best of me. I couldn’t look at him knowing what he could be walking into, knowing that it could be a trap. Gary shut his door, grabbed a black duffel bag from the trunk, and began walking to the center of the parking lot. To anyone unfamiliar with what was going on, he would have looked bizarre. The parking lot seemed entirely empty.
However, no sooner had he reached the center of the lot than a massive black SUV pulled around the other side of the building and parked a good distance away. Three men got out of it and moved towards Gary, their eyes shifty, darting around the lot looking for any sign of anyone else.
As they drew nearer to Gary, I saw one of them start talking. He gestured to the bag, and Gary sat it on the ground between his feet like a dog with a bone who didn’t want to share. I wished I could hear what they were saying. Based on what Zico had been able to gather about the Marino family’s business with Gary, it had something to do with weapons. So, I assumed Gary was providing them with illegal firearms, and they were providing him with a hefty sum of cash.
Though Zico wouldn’t tell me when the arrest would go down, he had told me a loose version of the plan. Basically, Zico had a guy who would tip-off the police about an illegal gun delivery at the warehouse. The police would stake out the location, wait for the hand off to happen, and capture them all red-handed. It seemed easy enough, but now that I was actually in the parking lot, looking at the men Gary was talking with, I realized there was no way they weren’t already armed.
If the police surprised them, there could be a shoot-out, and I was by no means far enough away from the action to be considered safe. Would I be shot? Would my name be listed in the police report as an innocent bystander? If I died, would it be assumed that I had been in on Gary’s scheme? That I was helping him with these deals? I would never be able to defend myself, to claim innocence. Suddenly, the air in the car felt stifling, and I reached over to turn up the air conditioning.
I tried to take deep, calming breaths as Zico and one of the three men moved towards one another slowly, each of them wary of the other. Then, they each handed the other a bag at the same time, neither letting go of their own until they had a firm hand around the other. Then, once the exchange had been made, they stepped away from one another.
My heart was hammering in my chest, and I felt sweat gathering on my lower back. I looked around the parking lot, but I didn’t see anybody. No sign of any other cars, let alone a whole mess of police officers ready to pounce. Perhaps today wasn’t the day. I groaned. I was actually going to have to go to lunch with Gary. I was going to have to wait at least another ten days before he was captured, and it was almost a guarantee that he would ask me out on another date. Could I refuse him? Surely not. I’d made it pretty clear that night at the bar, and earlier that very morning, that I was interested in another date with him. It had all been a lie, of course, but Gary didn’t know that, and I couldn’t let him know that.
Just as I was sinking into my seat, disappointment washing over me, I heard the crunch of car tires on gravel. My head shot up, and I saw in my peripherals that Gary’s did, too. He and the three men he was with were looking around furiously, and the men began to shout. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but based on the accusatory fingers they were pointing, they thought Gary had ratted them out.
The car rounded the corner of the building, and Gary whipped out his gun and aimed it at the car. However, then he noticed the blue flashing light on top. It was an unmarked police car. Gary lowered his weapon and looked over at me. I prayed there was enough sunlight reflecting off the windshield that he couldn’t see me because I had no idea what my face looked like at that moment.
All at once, excitement and relief and shock and nervousness were tearing through my system. It had actually happened. Gary had been caught. For so long, the idea of Gary being caught had been an event that would occur far into the future. Something that would happen, but not right now. However, it had just happened. In fact, it was happening. Right. Now. I couldn’t believe it.
The three men backed away from Gary, one of them dropping the bag he’d delivered on the ground and putting his hands up as if to say he’d never seen the bag before in his life. The other two men moved their hands towards their waistbands as if to grab weapons, but then they seemed to think better of it as a second and then a third unmarked police car rounded the corner. They were outnumbered, and resisting would only make things worse.
As an officer, I felt like I should step out of the car and help, but I was also frozen in place. Partly in fear, but mostly in actual shock. Though I’d known this would be happening eventually, I hadn’t imagined how it would all play out. It felt like I was watching a movie, nothing more than a third-party observer.
“Hands in the air!” one of the officers shouted, opening his car door and leveling a gun at the group of men. Four other officers followed suit.
Once again, Gary looked over at me, but I couldn’t tell whether he was asking for my help or whether he was simply embarrassed to have been caught. Either way, I looked away, focusing instead on the arresting officers.
Once all of the men had their hands in the air, the officers moved forward, their knees slightly bent, ready to run or dive or fall back. When they reached the four men, they were all immediately handcuffed.
It was at this point—when the criminals were cuffed, and there was no chance of resistance or violence—that I got out of the car and began walking towards the action. As I neared, I heard the three men claiming that they didn’t know what was in the bag. They had no idea who Gary was. That this was all a big misunderstanding. Gary, on the other hand, said nothing.
Every head turned towards me, and the officers seemed as if they were trying to determine whether to arrest me or not.
Trying my best to appear dumbfounded, I turned to Gary. “What’s going on?”
“Who are you, ma’am?” a young officer with a shaved head asked.
I pulled my badge out of my waistband and held it out. “I’m this man’s partner,” I said, pointing to Gary. “What is all of this about?”
“You tell us,” another officer said, his voice a snarl. He had a thick mustache, and I couldn’t help but think he looked like a police officer from an eighties cop drama.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. My partner said he needed to drop something off, and asked me to wait in the car, so I did. And then all of you showed up.”
“You expect us to believe you didn’t know what was going on here today?” the bald officer asked.
“She’s new.”A black female officer stepped forward, and I recognized her. She wasn’t in my precinct, but I’d met her briefly while I was signing paperwork in the human resources office my first week on the job.
“She’s only been here a few weeks,” she added. “This racket has been going on for way longer than that.”
I tipped my head slightly to her, thanking her for defending me, but she quickly turned away and back to her fellow officers.
“This is ridiculous,” Gary said.
His voice startled me, and I turned, chancing a look at him. His face was red and splotchy. His forehead was creased in anger, his eyebrows furrowing together.
“How did you even—” His voice cut off mid-sentence as if he’d been punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of him. He turned to me, his eyes narrowed. I saw him working something out; saw a series of lightbulbs going off in his head.
“You,” he said.
A shiver ran down my spine. All I could think to do was shake my head, but it didn’t seem to matter.
“Let me guess,” Gary said, addressing the officers. “You got an anonymous call about a deal going down today?”
“That’s enough,” the mustached officer said, pushing Gary towards the car.
“You bitch!” he shouted, twisting around the officer to scream at me, all the veins in his neck standing at attention. “You double-crossing bitch!”
I looked away from him, out towards the water. The view was still dingy and dripping in pollution, but it was better than seeing Gary led away in cuffs. Though this is what I’d wanted, and was still what I wanted, I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to be a witness to Gary Unwin’s most embarrassing moment.
For the first time, I thought about his family. What would his parents think? They were probably proud of their officer. Did they have a photo of him in his uniform framed on their living room wall? Would they take it down when they found out? Suddenly, I felt sick. I knew I’d done the right thing, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“If I find out you were behind this, I’ll kill you,” he said. “I’ll kill you!”
His words echoed in my ears long after he was gone. I talked with several of the officers—answering questions about Gary’s comings and goings, his route, whether I ever noticed anything suspicious. Just as Zico had instructed, I played dumb. I insisted Gary never told me anything about his side business—which, in truth, he hadn’t—and I explained to them that I had never worked in a big city before.
When Gary told me part of the job was to stop and check in with local businesses, make sure nothing nefarious was going on in the area, I believed him. I’m sure they all thought I was beyond naïve, but they seemed to buy it, and I was free to go within fifteen minutes.