Chapter 7
I walked into the office to find Mitch, Kurt, and Tony already there. I still couldn't help but grin at work, and of course they noticed. Kurt nodded smugly at me.
"You're awfully happy to be called into work on a Sunday night."
"You're last here," Tony added. "You're never the last one here."
I ignored them, and Mitch smiled at me. He said nothing. He knew there was a reason behind my smile, and for him that was enough. I guess he was just happy I was happy. I smiled back at him, leaning against the table next to him, waiting for Ross.
Our boss, Commanding Officer Ross Berkman,
walked in. He was a tall, well-built man with a gray military-style haircut and a no-nonsense stare that scared the shit out of the probationaries. He was a hard-ass, strict but fair. I liked him.
"Someone's taken over Tomic's cartel," he said, no introduction, no pleasantries. "The word on the street is as though Tomic never left. Just business as usual. Someone's picked up right where the slimebag left off."
I could feel that stab of instinct in my gut. It burned and twisted, and sent gooseflesh over up my arms.
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I knew something wasn't right with that case.
Mitch looked at me as though he could read my
mind, but before either one of us could say anything, Ross gave Tony and Kurt their orders. "Milic, Webber, see what you can find out in the light district." Then Ross looked at me and Mitch. "Elliott, Seaton, see what your snitch has to say."
"I don't need to remind you," Ross reminded us anyway, "Tomic's court case is in just over two months. We need this case watertight or the bastard will walk." The older man looked at the four of us and said, "Be careful,"
before walking out the door.
So we did what we always did. Kurt and Tony went in one direction, Mitch and me in the other, and when we were done, we'd meet up at HQ and trade information.
On our way to the wharves, Mitch kept looking at me and smiling.
"What?" I asked him.
"So," he said with a grin. "Gonna give me a name?"
"Ferret."
He snorted. "Not the snitch's name, smartass. The reason behind that smile."
My chest tightened, and my stomach knotted. I
rolled my eyes at him and decided looking out the window to the darkened streets was safer than answering.
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"Oh, come on," he said with a frustrated sigh.
"Jesus, Matt. I'm your fucking partner. The least you can do is give me a name."
So this was it. A sliver of information. I risked giving myself away if I did tell him, but I risked more by not giving him this. It was just a name. A name that most people associated with a woman, not a man. Surely this wouldn't out me…
I looked at Mitch and swallowed hard. I tried to speak, but I needed to push the air out to make the sound, and still nothing would come.
I looked back out the window. It was easier if I didn't look at him.
My voice was quiet, but he heard me just fine.
"Kira."
"Keira?" he repeated. "As in Keira Knightley?"
Then his eyes went huge, and he cried, "Oh fuck, it's not actually Keira Knightley, is it? Is that the reason for the secrecy?"
I chuckled, instantly relieved. "No, it's not Keira Knightley."
He laughed and nodded. Then he smiled at me.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
I finally breathed, but my heart was still
hammering. He had no idea just how hard that was. I
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smiled again, kinda glad to have gotten it out. Then he asked, "Does Keira have a last name?"
"Oh no," I said, shaking my head. "You're not running background checks, plate checks, credit checks, license checks—"
Mitch laughed. "I wouldn't do that."
I stared at him. He so fucking would.
He rolled his eyes petulantly. "Well, okay… maybe I would have." Then he was quiet for a minute as he concentrated on driving. "So," he started again with a smirk, "does your Keira look anything like Keira Knightley?"
I answered by rolling my eyes at him.
We pulled up along the poorly lit section of
industrial wharves, and I could count five human shadows scattered along the walls. I knew Mitch would have done the same, sizing up possible threats. As we got out of the car, we walked toward the lone streetlight, where two hookers were waiting.
It was obvious we were cops. We didn't try and hide it. But we weren't here for them, and they knew it. It wasn't the first time we'd been down there.
"Hello, ladies," I said pleasantly. "Seen Ferret around?"
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"What's it to you?" the first hooker asked. Even the dim streetlight didn't hide her tired face, her pallid skin marked by drugs, rough nights, and time.
These women talked two languages; sex and drugs.
So Mitch answered her, amused. "You know, Ferret's been doing us favors." He blatantly grabbed his crotch. "When the need arises."
I tried not to smile.
The second hooker spoke up. "You don't need Ferret for that, sugar. I could help you out right now.
Blowjobs are my specialty. Ten for one, fifteen for both."
I repressed a shudder.
Mitch wasn't so amused now. "Ferret? Where is he?"
The first hooker held out her hand, waiting. I handed her a ten, and she replied with a nod toward the end wharf. "He passed through before, 'bout an hour ago, I s'pose. Went that way."
"Wearin' a long brown coat," the second woman said. "'Bout two sizes too big for him. Musta borrowed it from some Joe."
I snorted at the likelihood of that. Yeah, borrowed.
Like he'd ever give something back.
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I handed the second woman another ten for her
troubles, and Mitch and I both headed toward the end wharf.
The old warehouses on these docks provided shelter for the homeless but were cesspools for drugs, hooking, and death wishes. The drug runners and dealers caught wind of us the second we pulled up and had disappeared, for now anyway. We passed a few other people, either too high to realize we were cops or long past the point of caring.
But we eventually found our man outside, along the far wall that faced the water, finalizing some deal with a guy who scurried off when we arrived.
Ferret was a small, scrawny guy with pointy,
pinched features whose nickname of Ferret described him perfectly. Just as the second hooker said, he was sporting a new brown coat, which made him look even more rodent-like.
Ferret was maybe in his early twenties and had been hooking since he was about sixteen. He was smart enough to have survived this long. He saw what went on, heard street-talk that rumbled underground, knew when to lay low, and knew when to run. He'd been our snitch, our eyes and ears on the streets, for over a year.
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"Gentlemen," he greeted us, nervously. "In your car tonight? Or shall I blow you both here?" he asked, loud enough for the listening ears to hear.
No doubt, someone was always listening.
Without answering, we turned, and he followed.
When we got back to the car, we sat on either side of him in the backseat. The windows were tinted enough, and we were far enough from the streetlight, prying eyes couldn't see what we were doing. To them, we might very well just be clients. In the darkened car, he might very well have been sucking our dicks.
He was all twitchy, adding to his ferret-like
features, and I wondered how much was drug-induced and how much was just him. He reeked. The smell was rank.
"Wassup?" he asked.
"Tomic," I answered, short and simple. "What's the word on the street?"
"You tell me!" the little man said. "He got hauled with all that ice, then twenty-four hours later, he's back out again!"
"What?" Mitch asked, as confused as me.
"All that money must have paid for some good lawyer," he said, still twitching, and his knees were bouncing.
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"Tomic isn't out," I explained. "He's still behind bars at County."
Ferret blinked twice, then twitched again. "I saw him," he said. Then he closed his eyes tight and shook his head. "I saw him."
I repressed a sigh. I wanted to ask him how many drugs he'd had today… or when the last time was he'd ate, or slept… or showered. Instead, I asked him, "Where did you see him?"
He scrubbed at his face. "Um…"
Mitch saw exactly what I saw. "Ferret, what day is it today?"
Ferret looked up at him sharply. "I dunno, man!" he cried. "How the fuck would I know? Don't exactly get the LA Times delivered round these parts."
"Ferret," I said his name slowly. "I can't pay you if you don't tell us anything—"
"Next block over," he said out of the blue. "Up on Fourth. That's where I saw him."
Mitch sighed, and even in the darkened car, I could see him roll his eyes, fed up. Now he was just telling us anything so we'd give him money. Ferret looked at me; his eyes were wide, glassy and empty. He licked his dry lips.
"Tomic's men are still workin'," he said with a shrug. "But I stay away from 'em. They come in, and I'm gone."
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"Was there someone working with Tomic?" I asked, though I'm not sure why. He was hardly making any sense, and I'd asked him this before.
He looked at me and blinked. His whole face
twitched. "I told ya, not that I ever saw. No word of anyone else. His men answered to Tomic. Everyone answered to Tomic. No one else."
"His men are still working?" I asked him, clarifying something he'd said before.
Ferret nodded hard. "Mean sons of bitches. I hide real good when they come 'round."
He started looking out the window, scouting his surroundings, and I knew our time was up. It'd be too suspicious if he were away too long.
I slipped a fifty out of my pocket and handed it to him. "Get something to eat," I told him, knowing damn well he wouldn't. Without another word, Mitch and I opened the doors and got out. Ferret scampered out after me, looked back at us, wiped his mouth for effect as though he just gave two blowjobs, and he was gone.
We headed back to HQ, not really any better off.
Kurt and Tony arrived not too long after us.
"Think he's losing it," Mitch told the others when we told them what Ferret had to say. "Drugs have got him."
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I sighed. "He's never let us down yet," I countered quietly. "But maybe there is some truth somewhere in his madness."
Mitch leaned back in his chair and frowned.
"Matt…"
I sighed again and nodded. Ferret was losing it, he was as high as a kite tonight and not making a great deal of sense. "I know. I know."
"What's the word on your side?" Mitch asked Kurt and Tony.
Both men exhaled at the same time. "Just what the boss said," Tony explained. "Business as usual."
Kurt agreed. "We take down one ring, and another just pops up in its place." He rubbed his hands over his face. "There's always another asshole wanting to make a name for himself as the kingpin."
"But not Tomic," I said with a sigh.
Mitch shook his head at me. "It's not Tomic. The bastard's behind bars, Matt." He was clearly sick of having this conversation with me. "Ferret doesn't even know what day it is."
"Right," our boss said with a finality that meant we were done with this for tonight. "It's two AM. Go home."
Mitch, Kurt, and Tony all stood up and when I
grabbed the file on my desk and opened it, Mitch sighed.
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"Let it go, Matt." He clapped his hand on my shoulder. "Go home. Go to Keira's."
Kurt and Tony stopped in their tracks and turned to look at me.
I stared at Mitch. "Nice, Partner. Real nice. So much for 'Partner's Code of Silence'."
"Keira?" Kurt said with wide eyes and a bewildered smile. "As in Keira Knightley?"
Mitch laughed. "Nah, apparently it's not."
Tony looked at Mitch. "Does she have an English accent? Because then we'd know for sure."
Mitch laughed. "No, I never spoke to her." Then my partner looks at me. "Is she English?"
I cleared my throat and shook my head. "Um, Japanese…" I stopped myself short on adding Spanish. I didn't know why I even told them that much.
All three men stared at me. Mitch grinned, then looked at Kurt and Tony. "This is new. I didn't know that before now."
"Didn't know what?" Berkman asked, walking in on the conversation.
Kurt was quick to spill. "Matt's new love, Keira, is Japanese."
Berkman looked at me for a long second, then
shrugged like he couldn't give a shit and kept walking.
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Kurt and Tony both joked with Mitch, and I could hear him explaining as they walked toward the elevator how he'd only got a first name and now he had a nationality. "I'll know who it is soon enough, boys."
I rolled my eyes, even though they didn't see it, picked up the Tomic case file, and started at the beginning.
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