Chapter Thirty-Eight - Molly
“Who the fuck is that guy?” Chief asks me, pointing to Lincoln.
“My boyfriend. He just wanted to see where I work.”
“Hmmm,” he says, fingering a panel on the wall. The shades begin to lower and I have a moment of panic that I’m in serious trouble. Did he see that anarchy patch on Lincoln’s jacket? Does he realize I know more about the suicide cases and I haven’t even bothered to write up a report? “Since when do you have a man?”
I grunt out disgust. “What business is that of yours?” I like how I was all paranoid about breaking the law by helping a serial killer one moment, and offended by this misogynist asshole the next. I’m flexible like that.
“No need to get lippy, sweetheart. We had an incident last night.”
I glare at him, still pissed off about his question and even more angry about his derogatory term.
“Someone tried to kill Alastair Montgomery around three AM.”
“Who?” Jesus, thank God Lincoln was with me all night. I know this one wasn’t him.
“His son.”
“Atticus? What the hell? Why?”
“Apparently Junior went into his office and shot at him.”
“Did he kill him?” I have a wave of panic.
“No, but he tried. Missed, and then security came and took him down. I’m not clear on the rest of the details. They didn’t call us, instead Montgomery checked his son into Cathedral City Asylum.”
“Why would Alastair do that?” God, just hearing that name gives me the shivers. “That’s attempted murder. Atticus needs to be formally charged and booked.”
“Apparently Junior has a history of mental illness and this is not the first time it’s happened. He’s under the treatment of a psychiatrist and he was admitted as an inpatient. Judge Livingston signed off on the order, so we’re sitting this one out. But Montgomery senior wants your pretty ass over there ASAP to talk details.”
I mull that over for a minute, ignoring the fact that he once again sexually harassed me. “Why would I need to sort out anything? If Livingston signed off, then we’re done for now. I should be working on—”
“You should be working on whatever I tell you, Masters. So get out of my office, get in your car, and don’t come back until it’s sorted. You do whatever Montgomery wants you to do.”
“Since when do I work for him? You know, I’m sick and tired of the way this department is all buddy-buddy with Blue Corp. Did it ever occur to you that something strange is going on? I mean, four suicides in less than a month and now Atticus Montgomery, who seemed perfectly lucid the last time I saw him, is locked away in an insane asylum for trying to murder his father? This just doesn’t add up. I think you have answers, and I want you to fill me in right now.”
“Is that so?” Chief asks, throwing a thick file folder down on his desk with a heavy thump. “Well, maybe you’re not cut out for this job, Masters. Maybe you need to find something to do that you’re actually good at. I hired you because Blue Corp recommended you. And now you’re trying to get all high and mighty and pretend you didn’t get this job as a favor to them?”
“What the hell are you talking about? I thought—”
“You thought,” he sneers. “You thought what? That you got this job based on merit? No, honey. You’re just as guilty of cronyism as the rest of us.”
“Crony—I don’t even know those people! I just met them. I didn’t get this job based on my secret connections with Blue Corp.”
“Well,” Chief says, laughing to himself as he takes a seat behind his desk, “you’re mistaken. They know all about you.”
My heart skips a beat. What the fuck does that mean?
“Now get out of here. And you better make old man Montgomery happy when you get up there or he’ll cut you loose and you can go on back to your depressing life as the only surviving member of the Masters family. Motorcycle tricks.” Chief laughs. “What a fucking joke. No wonder they’re all dead. Bunch of loser—”
Before I even know what I’m doing, I’m on his desk grabbing his collar and pulling him over the top. He looks up at me with surprised eyes, but before he can get another word out or even yell for help, I’ve slapped him across the face.
“I can fight like a girl if you want, Chief. But I’m warning you, this girl fights dirty.” I push him back and then step away. “I told you not to talk to me that way. And if you do it again, I’ll show you just what those bunch of losers taught me to do all growing up.” I glare at him as he straightens his shirt, which came untucked during the scuffle. “And as far as Blue Corp goes, the first three deaths were declared suicides by the coroner yesterday, and I’m expecting the fourth to be as well. If Alastair Montgomery wants to file a report, he can put his nasty ass in a car and come down here to do it himself.”
I fold my arms across my chest and wait for his bellow, but he’s eerily calm.
“You’re gonna regret that.”
“So fire me,” I challenge him back.
But he stays silent. So I take that as my cue to leave. I walk towards the door and just when I reach for the handle, Chief says, “You don’t want to fuck with the Blue Boar.”
Blue Boar. They call these corporate guys swine around here. A rip-off of the word pig used for dirty cops. I guess Montgomery’s blue blood goes with the nickname. “Well, whenever that Blue Boar is ready, he knows where to find me. I don’t need to be told how to investigate and if you think I’m going to let you push me around, just be warned, I push back. I’ve been documenting your insults and I will sue this department like a motherfucker if you make things difficult for me.”
I pull the door open, walk out, and slam it closed behind me.
The whole precinct turns to look at me, and then I spy Lincoln leaning up against the wall near the exit. He starts walking towards me looking like he’s as eager to get out of here as I am.
“Everything OK?” he asks.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, taking a moment to straighten my shirt. “Nothing I can’t handle. But I’m real busy, Lincoln. Lots of stuff going on today.”
“Meet me for dinner?” he asks.
“I can do that. Where at?”
“I gotta be in town tonight, so how about I pick you up at eight?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders and standing on my toes to give him a kiss. We walk towards the door, but he stops. “I’m gonna take a piss real fast.” He leans in to kiss me again and then turns, saying, “See you at eight.”
I walk off towards my desk, looking over my shoulder to wave as Lincoln watches me go.
Funny how quickly life changes.