CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Max said, his eyes welling up with tears, reaching out to squeeze Vanessa’s hand.
Maya wasn’t sure if he was crying because he was happy for Vanessa’s tour de force or sad that he was stuck in prison and couldn’t physically be present to see his daughter shine on the stage in Hello, Dolly!
They were back in the small windowless visiting room, Maya and Vanessa sitting opposite Max in those hard uncomfortable folding chairs. Several armed guards stood by stoically, keeping watch over things.
“She has an incredible singing voice,” Maya added.
“No surprise there,” Max said, grinning and winking at Vanessa. “She obviously gets that from me. Your mom can tell you, I used to kill at karaoke.”
Vanessa giggled. “She doesn’t have to. I remember when I was little, you used to come into my room and perform ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ I was like your captive audience.”
Max did his best Marlon Brando impression. “I coulda been somebody. I coulda been a contender.”
The reference was totally lost on Vanessa.
Maya noticed Max looked more tired and drawn than the last time they had visited. She wanted to ask what was going on, if he was dealing with stress on the inside—more than the usual rigors of fear and violence one had to cope with in prison—but she was afraid to ask in front of Vanessa because she didn’t want her daughter to hear about it if her father was being threatened. Word inevitably got around when a cop was forced to serve time, and revenge-seeking convicts were always eager to put a bull’s-eye on his back.
Maya reached into her bag and rummaged around for some loose bills. She handed a five to Vanessa. “Why don’t you go to the vending machine and get us a snack? I’m craving a bag of salt ’n’ vinegar chips.”
Vanessa eyed her suspiciously. “Are you trying to get rid of me so you can talk to Daddy in private?”
Max leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “That skill she has of reading people, that she gets from you.”
“Five minutes,” Maya said to Vanessa.
Vanessa held out her hand after pocketing the five. “I’m thirsty. I could use a Diet Coke too.”
Maya sighed, reached in for another five and slapped it in the palm of her daughter’s hand. “Don’t hurry back.”
Vanessa got up and ambled away.
Maya turned back to Max. “You don’t look too good, Max.”
He shrugged. “Typical stuff. There are a lot of bullies who like messing with me in the yard, but I can handle it.”
She noticed a Band-Aid on his arm. “Did someone attack you?”
“I wouldn’t call it an attack. I went for the last dinner roll in the cafeteria, and this dude decided he wanted it so he bit me on the arm before I could even open my mouth to take a bite. But it was no big deal. I jabbed him in the forehead with my fork to teach him a lesson.”
“You don’t call that an attack?”
“Not a real one. I’ve dealt with plenty of those. You should see the big scar on my torso from a shiv in the shower last March.”
Maya shuddered. “Oh, Max . . .”
They sat in silence for a few minutes. Max stared at the floor before finally looking up at Maya. “I want to get the hell out of here, babe . . .”
“I know. Just stay positive. Your parole is coming up in a few months.”
“Ten. Ten months. That’s almost a year.”
She didn’t know how to make him feel better, so she just resorted to more small talk about Frances’s due date, how Frances was finally moving in with Coach Vinnie, how she had been getting help with her case from a new friend, although she neglected to mention it was a U.S. senator’s wife. Max took it all in, happy for the distraction.
“Well, like I told you before, I still have a lot of connections on the outside, so if you need any help . . .”
“I appreciate it, Max, thank you,” she said, although she still had no intention of ever taking him up on the offer. However, she was curious. “So who do you still talk to?”
“My old partner, JC. He keeps me up to speed on everything that’s going on, all the dirt. Apparently there is a big internal-affairs investigation unfolding right now, and according to JC, a lot of officers are about to get caught up in it. The IA is casting a pretty wide net.”
“What kind of investigation?”
“Big corruption case. Racketeering and robbery. A bunch of guys have been targeted from my old division, both active duty and retired. Apparently they’ve been out of control, like thugs with badges, stealing cash, reselling seized narcotics, sticking illegal GPS trackers on the cars of their robbery targets, mostly drug dealers flush with cash, and lying under oath to cover their tracks.”
“Oh my god . . .”
“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. JC, one of the good ones by the way, is assisting IA in identifying the ringleader, but he’s conflicted because he feels like he’s snitching. I told him it was his duty to find the bad apples so they don’t destroy the credibility and reputation of the whole department. Ironic, right?”
Max laughed as he looked around at his surroundings.
Maya forced a smile, but she didn’t find any of this funny.
“Guess I’m trying to make up for my past sins,” Max muttered.
“Does JC know who the ringleader is?”
Max nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t know him personally. He started after I left, or I should say, after I was forced to leave,” he said with a trace of bitterness. “I hear he’s got a golden-boy reputation and a sledgehammer approach to his homicide cases.”
“So he’s a detective?”
“I’ve probably said too much already.”
“Max, who is it?”
“I really can’t tell you. I wouldn’t want the guy somehow getting tipped off or find out that it was JC who fingered him. Not until IA makes a move on him and he’s safely in custody.”
“Do I know him?” Maya asked, curious.
Max hesitated. “I don’t know. I think Frances might. She worked with him briefly when she was still on the force. But that’s all you get.”
“You just told me you want to help me out. Why are you holding back on me now?”
“Because this has nothing to do with any of your cases. This is some dirty, dangerous stuff that you don’t need to get involved in.”
A name popped into Maya’s head and she suddenly sat up straight. “Reyes? Is it Detective Mateo Reyes?”
Max didn’t have to answer her question.
She could tell from the tense, agitated expression on his face that she had just guessed correctly.
Mateo Reyes wasn’t just an acquaintance of Frances.
He was a close friend.
Close enough that Frances had gone to the trouble of setting Maya up with him on a date.
Frances had to be warned.