“I’m counting on you, officer Fulton. Do you hear me? We need our unit to fall in line on this.” Chief Flegenheimer’s voice was quiet enough not be noticed, but I happened to walk by at the right time. Stopping myself, I waited by the door and listened intently.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, sir.” I recognized that voice. It was Fulton’s, and this time, he wasn’t messing around. There was a grave tone to his voice.

“What about—”

“Not even him, chief. If you don’t mind me speaking freely, I think we’ve got this in the bag. You were right all along. Marcus was perfect for this,” he said.

Was I the perfect man for the narcotics case? A smile fell across my face. Finally, I was being recognized for my hard work. Two days prior, I was the worst shot Fulton had ever seen. But on this day, in particular, everything had apparently changed for the better.

“Just make sure to keep an eye on him,” the chief said. “If all goes well, you’re both looking at a decently sized promotion.”

A jolt of energy ran through me. As I closed my eyes to savor the moment, I could see the proud look on my father’s face. His words of encouragement were lush and full of honor.

“I want you to remember one thing, Fulton. We can’t let them win. If we do, all of this is over,” chief Flegenheimer said.

As soon as I heard him reply with a harsh “Yes, sir,” I started to walk down the hall. Pouring into the files from the case, I saw the picture of a man staring back at me.

Jim Garish. Known as ‘East Side Jimmy.’ Born and raised near Delancey. Has a knack for flipping things fast. Arrested over twenty-three times: Attempted murder of a police officer, assault, drug charges. The usual. Main suspect in the Opioid Kingpin Case.

“Who are you connected to?” I asked myself.

The chief might have been celebrating, but something wasn’t right about the case. I knew all about East Side Jimmy. He was a lowlife criminal with some hefty charges. Once the media got ahold of his information, they ate the story up. Now, everyone wanted the guy to pay.

Had Jimmy dealt with some of the product? No doubt. He had been responsible for trafficking at least one-third of the product. Was he the brains of the whole operation? Fuck no. Once I could prove that with some hard evidence, the chief would have no choice but to promote me.

“Marcus! There you are.” Derrick Fulton. The guy made me feel queasy. Running up behind me, he curled his hand around my shoulder and pulled me back.

Keeping my head in the files, I muttered, “Digging into the case. I can’t wrap my head around this East Side Jimmy.”

“East Side Jimmy? What’s there to wrap your head around? He’s one of the bad guys,” Derrick said.

Closing the file, I placed the folder in my armpit and sighed. “I know who he is, Derrick. David and I were the cops that shut his operation down,” I said. “But I can’t understand it? Where does he get the product? Why are none of the dealers saying this guy’s name?”

Laughing, Derrick shook his head. “How long have you been in the force, Marcus?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” I said.

On our list of things to do was convince Jimmy to take the plea deal and admit to his crimes. So far, he hadn’t budged an inch. We kept walking.

“They’re covering for him, Marcus. Isn’t that obvious?” Derrick said.

Biting the edge of my lip, I tried to make the connection inside my head. It was possible that Jimmy could have helped with the significant details behind the deals. He wasn’t the brightest guy I had ever taken down, but he was capable of some crazy shit.

“You see, I’m not too sure about all of that. Why would they cover for Jimmy after they were offered the plea deals of the century? None of this is adding up, Derrick,” I said.

Stopping, I leaned against the wall. Derrick looked to his left before lowering his voice. “Let’s talk in the car. There’s more to this case than you know.”

In my six years of policing the city, I had seen some shit, but none of that had led me to anything conclusive. This case felt different. Once we busted this wide open, the city could finally rid itself of the opioid crises.

Once we were in the car, Derrick started to drive. Silently eyeing the roads, he made his way into Brooklyn where we could pull off to the side of the road and talk. There was concern written all over him, and for the first time since we partnered up, I felt like we could connect over something.

“I’m not too sure about this Jimmy thing either,” Derrick said.

Swallowing, I grabbed the files and opened it to his page. “Look at how many times this perp has gotten busted,” I said.

“Twenty-three in total,” Derrick said. “What are you thinking?”

“No kingpin would allow himself to get caught like a rat,” I said.

“Rat. That’s an interesting choice of words, Marcus. What are you trying to say?” Derrick asked.

Looking straight into his eyes, I felt confident about my hunch. Soon enough, we’d test my theory, but at this moment, I just needed Derrick to believe me enough to look into it.

“He ratted on four different men. Four different dealers who were stashing massive quantities of drugs in their shipping facilities,” I said.

Shrugging, Derrick took a sip of his coffee and eyed the sheets of paper in my hands. “So what? It makes sense that he would throw his guys under the table.”

“He’s representing himself,” I argued.

Derrick sighed and shook his head. I could tell that the more delicate details of this case were giving him too much of a headache for him to keep following along.

“Let me get this straight. You don’t think he’s the main guy in this case. You don’t think a kingpin would rat on his men, even though plenty of kingpins throughout history have ratted. Now that that’s squared away, where’s your proof? Evidence, Marcus. We need evidence.”

Derrick was moving too fast in the other direction. “I don’t think he’s the main guy in this case because he’s not, Derrick. There must be multiple people. An operation of this size would require it,” I said.

My partner scoffed, but he wasn’t taking the car out of park yet. I still had a few seconds to make my case. “Look, Derrick. He has no team of lawyers. He’s waved his right to a trial, pleading guilty to most of the charges. He’s ratted on a few lower level dealers. I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right. None of this does.”

“Bullshit,” Derrick muttered under his breath.

If he didn’t back me on this, we’d never solve the case. He would drag me down. Eventually, we’d get pulled, and another hotshot team would take the prize. Fuck that.

“Bullshit? When David and I first got him to talk, he claimed the operation was bigger than we thought. Multiple people, spanning multiple county lines. Before we cuffed him, he told us, ‘they walk in plain sight.’ What the hell does that mean, Derrick?”

I couldn’t keep my adrenaline at bay. I began frantically digging through the sheets of paper, trying to find anything that might back up my theory. Of course, I found nothing, and Derrick lost the thread.

Placing the car in drive, Derrick laughed at my theory. “You’re watching too much True Crime,” he said. “When you arrested him, he had rails of oxy coursing through his system. That beautiful poetry he uttered was nothing more than a drugged-out line from a junkie.”

A kingpin junkie? Right. Unfortunately, I couldn’t argue with him because right when he pulled out from our parking space, the radio blared: “Heads up. Twelve code five.”

Quicker than I’ve ever seen him react, Derrick grabbed the radio. “Twelve, code five, go ahead.”

“I’m looking for a missing Caucasian juvenile. Hair is sandy-blonde, eyes are blue, height is five nine. Unarmed and not dangerous. Last seen in the Bushwick area.”

“Copy that. We’re on the way.”

“Copy. Oh, and guys. The juvenile has a pair of headphones, and a purple backpack.”

“Copy that, Ronda. We’ll find him,” Derrick said.

Turning our siren on, we sped through the light and made our way to the Bushwick area. Derrick was silent until I looked at him. “Don’t start getting into conspiracy theories,” Derrick said. “Just follow your orders, and you’ll be rewarded. That’s the way of the police.”

“Maybe,” I said. Derrick laughed and shook his head. “Why’d you take that call, anyway? We should be getting back to the station,” I said.

Taking another right, Derrick had his eyes peeled. “Why should we have another boring day at the office?”

“Because we need to talk about this Jimmy guy some more and go over this case,” I said. “I think the chief needs to know about my theory.”

Derrick wasn’t listening to me anymore. He kept his eyes open for the missing kid. “Watch. We’ll find him,” Derrick whispered. “We always find them.”

“The kid can wait, Derrick,” I said.

As soon as we circled enough blocks, however, we saw him. The kid in question was sitting on a park bench with a purple backpack in his hands. Around his neck was a pair of headphones.

“Told you we’d find him,” Derrick muttered under his breath with a smile on his face.

The paperwork for this was going to be a huge hassle. Rolling my eyes, I followed my partner toward the juvenile in question. “Hey, kid. What are you doing here by yourself?” I called out.

The kid quickly zipped up his bag and stood up. Derrick lowered his hand toward his belt in alarm, but I grabbed his wrist. “Stand down, officer. Let me take care of this,” I whispered.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you,” Derrick said. I watched as the kid’s eyes darted toward a bike path in the park. There was nowhere to run, but I could tell that my partner’s words only frightened him further.

“You’re alright. You’re not under arrest. We just want to talk. Can you show us any identification?” I asked.

Derrick took one step forward, and I saw the kid’s hands tighten around the strap of the backpack. As soon as I grabbed my partner’s shoulder to pull him back, the kid bolted into the park.

“Hey!” I cried out.

“Police!” Derrick screamed with fury. The chase was on.

Running with fury, the kid crossed over onto a new path in the park. I knew what move he was going to make next. He’d lead us to the edge of the park, only to double down and hop into one of the nearby alleyways. I decided to take a risk.

Watching Derrick run straight after him, I chose to make a quick right turn on a separate path that led to the streets. Heart racing, I ran across the street, holding my badge in front of me.

Nearly getting run over by a bicyclist, I ducked out of the way and ran to the alleyway. When he turned the corner, he crashed into my body, falling back on the pavement. The kid didn’t know what hit him.

“Why the hell did you have to run?” I asked him, bending down with the cuffs out.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said. But the kid didn’t resist so there was no reason to come at him with any toughness. “Are you the missing juvenile they’ve been talking about?” I asked him.

“…maybe,” he muttered under his breath. “Maybe not. Maybe you’re wasting your time.” I picked him up and searched his pockets. Taking his wallet, I glanced at his identification.

“Fine with me. We get paid to waste our time,” I said. Keeping my eye on his identification, I read his name allowed, “Matthew McKinnon. Where have I heard that name before?” I dragged him toward my winded partner, who was now puking in a bush.

“Look, just let me go, Marcus. My parents won’t give a shit if I come home or not,” he said.

I stopped walking toward Derrick. Turning Matthew to face me, I looked him in the eye and whispered, “How the hell do you know my first name?”

Matthew laughed, but the determined fire in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

“Sawyer. You’re Sawyer’s brother,” I muttered.

“I’m coming!” Derrick’s aging body was still slumped over the bush. He was finishing up. I had to act fast.

“Why have you been looking for me? What do you want?” My mind started to race, but there were no obvious answers.

“There’s a bottle of pills in my bag. I want you to keep them safe for me. Then, when I’m allowed back into my parents’ loving arms, I want you to give them back,” Matthew said.

“And why the fuck would I do that? You just admitted to committing a federal crime,” I said.

Derrick was walking toward us now. I knew I only had a few seconds left. “Better hurry, officer,” Matthew whispered.

“I don’t make deals with criminals,” I said.

Matthew opened his backpack, pointing at the small bottle of pills. “Well, you better listen to this criminal. If you don’t, I’ll make sure your partner knows all about you and my brother, and your weird rope stuff,” he said.

Without thinking, I reached into the bag and grabbed the bottle of pills. Before I slipped it into my pocket, I saw the tag. OxyContin. “This isn’t over,” I whispered.

Matthew straightened his back and looked me in the eye without any fear. “No shit. My brother’s going to have to pick me up now. This is far from over.”

Unable to speak, I let go of him and took a step back. Derrick finally crossed the street and took hold of Matthew’s arm. Reporting the score to the station, Derrick took a proud stance.

“Welcome to the family,” Matthew whispered. I felt my heart sink with despair.