41

 

 

It was at least another half hour before the door opened again. In trooped Richie Matsuda, along with Cole, Dan-o, and another cop I didn’t know.

But I knew the last face that came in.

Katie MacLeod.

She looked almost the same as the last time I saw her. Her pretty features were masked with a professional blankness that almost hid her anger. I don’t think someone who hadn’t known her would have been able to see it seeping around the edges of her façade. But I had known her.

I had loved her, and she had loved me.

But that was a long time ago.

What happened to you?

Dan-o’s words rang in my ears, but it was Katie’s voice I heard.

There were enough chairs in the interview room for Matsuda, Katie, and the guy I didn’t know to sit down across from me. Dan-o hung back by the door, and Cole leaned against the wall behind the seated trio, crossing his arms and glaring at me.

I ignored them all, and looked at Katie.

I tried to find something in those eyes, some vestige of caring that might at least translate into a fair hearing. She reflected back a cold stoicism that I had no problem recognizing. It was the mask she showed the world. The one that said she was tough and nothing could hurt her. I suppose it’s a mask we all wear from time to time, but it seemed like she wore it more often than most.

There was no getting past it.

And the truth was, after the way I treated her, I didn’t deserve to get past it.

But those were memories I didn’t want to relive today.

I tore my gaze away from her and to the man I didn’t know. He had the air of a boss, and it didn’t take long to find out I was right about that.

“I’m Sergeant Kinkaid,” he said, his tone somehow both cold and sharp at the same time. “And you are taking up my time.”

I raised my hands in a futile gesture. “I didn’t ask to come here.”

“What were you doing at Marie Brassart’s house?”

“Exchanging banana bread recipes.”

Cole took a step forward, but Kinkaid held out his hand, stopping him. “You were warned not to interfere with this investigation, were you not?”

“I was.”

“But you did so anyway. Why?”

“I don’t see as how that’s any of your business.”

Kinkaid scowled. “Not my business, huh?” He leaned forward. “Do you understand what it is we do here? This is not some bike theft recovery unit. We investigate homicides. Murders. Do you get that?”

“Homicide, step aside,” I quoted. It was an old police maxim. “So what?”

“So, do you realize what the penalty is for interfering with a homicide investigation?”

I shook my head. “No. Do you know what the penalty is for an unlawful use of force under the color of authority?”

Confusion crept into his expression. “What are you talking about?”

I bobbed my head toward Cole. “When he took me into custody, he punched me in the kidney for no reason.”

“You fucking liar!” Cole barked.

I raised my eyebrows. “Liar?” I glanced over at Dan-o, then back to Kinkaid. “Ask Daniel. He was there.”

Kinkaid looked over at Dan-o.

Dan-o shifted from foot to foot, looking down at the floor, which was answer enough for everyone else in the room.

Kinkaid turned back to me. “You want to file a complaint, you go ahead.”

“You want to charge me,” I countered, “you go ahead.”

Kinkaid fell silent, contemplating me. “So that’s how it is?” he finally asked.

“That’s how it is.”

“It’s bullshit, Sarge,” Cole protested. He glanced nervously over at Dan-o, then at me. “He can’t prove shit.”

Kinkaid didn’t answer him. He continued to stare, his gaze boring into me, as if taking stock of everything he saw there. I put my own mask in place, but I was pretty sure the anger and sarcasm was spilling out around the edges way worse than Katie’s.

Finally, he said, “You do realize that by inserting yourself into this investigation, you’ve made yourself into a suspect?”

“I don’t care. I didn’t have anything to do with Henry Brassart’s death.”

“Perhaps not. But now we have to explore that possibility.”

“That’s your problem.”

He shook his head. “No, Mr. Kopriva, I assure you that it is not. It is very much your problem.”

I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Do your best. If you keep me here, I want to talk to my attorney. And Internal Affairs. Is Lieutenant Hart still running that show?”

Kinkaid didn’t rattle. “You can call IA on your own time. We’re not holding you.”

I pushed back from the table. “Good. Then give me my wallet and my keys, and I’ll be going.”

Kinkaid sat still for another moment or two, then he stood. “If you’re involved in this even in the slightest, I will bury you. If you obstruct my detectives in their investigation, I will charge you with that.”

“Sounds like you’re threatening me, Sergeant.”

“Add it to your list when you go to IA,” Kinkaid said coolly. He turned to leave. “Give him his property,” he told Dan-o on the way out.

Matsuda rose to follow, and Katie followed suit. I watched her, but she didn’t meet my eye at first. Then, before she turned away, she looked up. Her expression was flat and icy. “What happened to you?” she whispered.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have an answer.

It didn’t matter, because she didn’t wait for one, anyway. Matsuda left, and she followed. Cole stayed back for a few moments longer, trying his best to intimidate me with his hot glare. I ignored him, focusing on Dan-o. “My things?” I prompted him.

Dan-o reached into the cargo pocket of his pants and removed the plastic bag with my keys and wallet inside. He tossed them onto the table in front of me. Then he turned and joined the cop parade, leaving the room.

Cole stepped forward and put his hand down on the plastic bag. “You think you just won, don’t you?”

I stood up. “If you’re going to throw me a beating, get to it. I’ve got someplace to be.”

Cole’s hot stare drilled into me, but I didn’t care. I let it wash past me, and waited. I’d been bluffing about the IA complaint and the lawsuit, but if he came at me now, I’d have to rethink that particular stance.

He wasn’t that stupid, though. Instead, he settled for flicking the bag onto the floor before he turned and stalked from the room.

“Jesus,” I muttered as I leaned down to pick up my things. “What are you, in third grade?”

I removed my wallet and keys from the plastic bag and put them in my pockets. A moment later another shape appeared in the doorway.

Katie.

She stared at me for a long moment, and I stared back. Her expression was hard to read, and I’m sure mine was, too. Conflicting emotions surged through me – anger, guilt, regret, and bittersweet loss, all swirling around in my chest and gut.

“What do you want?” I finally asked her.

She closed the door behind herself but didn’t move any closer to me. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“This.” She swept her hand widely. “All of this…this bullshit.”

I blinked. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

Her eyes widened. “You want specifics? All right. How about this: why are you working for a scumbag defense attorney like Harrity?”

“He’s not a scumbag.”

“He gets guilty criminals off scot free. That sounds like a scumbag to me.”

“Maybe if cops like your partner Richie did their jobs halfway decent, that wouldn’t happen.”

She shook her head. “You can honestly stand there and say that to me? After you’ve done this job?”

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago. A lot has changed. I see the world differently.”

“Obviously.”

“Why are you in here, Katie?”

She stared at me, not answering.

“No, really,” I said. “The last time I saw you was over a year ago when you were having me arrested. You made it pretty clear you didn’t give a shit about me then. So why are we even having this conversation?”

Her jaw clenched, but I noticed a glassy sheen of tears appear in her eyes. In that moment, my anger dulled, and I remembered what it had been like to be with her. How passionately she loved, how completely. And how slow she’d always been to trust anyone.

“I loved you for a long time,” she said, her voice quiet but strong. Despite the tears, her voice did not shake. “I was there for you after Karl. I tried to be there for you after Amy Dugger.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper to match hers. “Well, I remember being there for you once or twice, too.”

She sniffed in disgust and wiped her eyes. “But you screwed that up, too, didn’t you? And you know why?”

“I don’t need you to tell me.”

She ignored my comment. “I’ll tell you why. Because it was always about how sorry you were feeling about yourself. Nothing else mattered in the world except poor Stef and –”

“What about you?” I interrupted. “Huh? Always worried about how people saw you, how they were judging you? Always career, career, career. There was no space in your life for anyone, Katie. Not me, not anyone.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really? Who are you with now?”

She didn’t reply right away, which was all the answer I needed. “That’s none of your bus—”

“No one,” I said. “You’re with no one, because there’s no room for anyone. There’s only room for your career. So if you want to blame me for throwing a pity party and ruining us, okay. But don’t act like you didn’t do your part.”

She took in my words, then shook her head. “I don’t give a shit about us. That was forever ago.”

“Then why even bring it up?”

“To show you how far you’ve fallen,” she snapped. “You used to be with me. You were a cop, and a damn good one. And now look at you. Running unlicensed investigations for defense attorneys. Committing, crimes, getting arrested. Getting beat up by thugs.”

I shrugged. “That’s my business, not yours.”

“Sometimes it’s mine.”

I didn’t reply. She had a point.

“Why are you even still in this city?” she asked. “Why don’t you just leave?”

“Because I don’t quit that easily.”

She gave me a half-smile, tight and joyless. Her expression brimmed with sarcasm. “Oh, really?”

Then she turned to the door, and walked out.