Beck stared at the text on her phone and blinked. Get in here now. She didn’t recognize the number, but she only knew one person who summoned her so abruptly on a regular basis, though she usually did so via the office intercom. She stood and walked to Mendoza’s door.
“Come in.” Mendoza barked the words, and her tone was as gruff as the expression on her face. It had already been a long day. Councilwoman Villa had been here for much of it, pulling random files and asking her questions. She didn’t mind the work—it had been nice to have someone in the file room to interact with, someone who seemed to care about these forgotten cases—but she’d had to miss the opportunity to have lunch with Macy because of it. You’ll see her in a few hours. She smiled at the thought.
“Sit down and stop smiling. I need to ask you some questions.”
Beck sat but stayed on the edge of the seat, sensing she needed to be on guard.
“When did you decide it was okay to feed information to a reporter?”
It took every ounce of self-control she had not to react to the question, but on the inside she started to panic, wondering what Mendoza knew and how she knew it. She could play this two ways. She could lie and say she didn’t know what Mendoza was talking about or she could confess she’d shared information about the pending investigations and cold cases with Macy. While she sorted out which path she should take, she came up with a third approach. Stall. “Are you talking about the interview I gave to the Dallas Gazette? Because, other than personal background information that is mine to share, I didn’t say anything to them that I didn’t say in open court.”
Mendoza scowled. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.” She placed both hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Let me tell you what I think happened. You’ve been spending all this time with Villa and she’s gotten in your head, so you decide you’re going to play detective and start trying to solve some of these old cases on your own. Which I’ve already told you is pointless. But you’re not content to settle for digging up ancient crimes. No, you’re a real big shot, so you start looking at current cases and feeding information to Macy Moran whose only mission is to embarrass this department. Tell me I’m wrong.”
She wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t entirely right either, but Mendoza’s growl said she wasn’t interested in parsing the details. But Beck did have questions, and if she was in trouble anyway, she may as well risk more of Mendoza’s wrath by asking them. “What makes you think Macy Moran wants to embarrass the department?”
“Because that’s exactly what she’s doing. She showed up at Claire Hanlon’s office this morning spouting some crap about all of these cases, past and present, being the work of a cop. She even named names.”
She kept talking, but her voice was a dull buzz against the noise in Beck’s head. Macy had used the information she’d given her, not to investigate on her own, but to try to shame the department? She even named names. Who did she accuse? And if she thought she knew who committed these crimes, why hadn’t she shared that information with her? After all she’d done to help, at great risk to herself, she expected more. Had Macy been playing her all along?
“…suspended. Effective immediately.”
She tuned back in as Mendoza dropped the proclamation like a hammer, and it took her a second to comprehend what was happening. “What?”
“Give me your shield and your service weapon and get the fuck out.” Mendoza smirked. “Have fun explaining to ADA Neely why his star witness has a big fat blemish on her record.”
She was reeling from the attack as she left Mendoza’s office. Foster wasn’t at his desk, and she wondered if he’d been released back to active duty. At least she wouldn’t have to work with Mendoza without him as a buffer. But her relief was short-lived when she realized she wouldn’t be working at all for the foreseeable future. And Jack’s case. Had she just tanked it by putting her own credibility into question?
Within minutes, she was in her Jeep on the road, barely conscious of her destination until she pulled into Macy’s driveway. She didn’t have any recollection about making the choice to come here, but she knew it was where she needed to be. She couldn’t fix anything else about her crumbling life until she confronted Macy and found out if she had done what Mendoza said. Macy’s car was nowhere in sight, so she didn’t bother ringing the bell. Instead, she sat in the front porch swing and waited, praying this was all a big misunderstanding.
* * *
Macy spotted Beck’s Jeep in her driveway from down the street, and for a brief second, she contemplated turning around and driving in the opposite direction.
Maybe she doesn’t know.
But Macy knew in her gut that Beck already knew, and if she didn’t face her now, they would never get past it. They might never get past it anyway, but Beck was the kind of woman worth fighting for. She hoped Beck thought the same about her.
She parked her car next to Beck’s and walked to the front door. Beck was sitting in the porch swing, leaning back with her eyes shut. Macy walked softly toward her, not wanting to wake her if she was indeed sleeping, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Beck spoke.
“Surprised to see me here?”
There was an edge to Beck’s tone she’d never heard before. It was sharper than when she’d first confronted Beck outside of Jack Staples’s hearing and she knew this time it was a deeper cut because it was directed at her personally instead of at her profession. “Pleasantly surprised, yes. I mean, I was hoping to see you later tonight, but earlier is better.”
“Not when earlier means I’ve been fired.”
Macy sank into onto the bench across from the swing. “Oh no, Beck.”
“Suspended, indefinitely. And I think you know why.”
“I really don’t.” She didn’t mean to sound disingenuous, but it wasn’t possible Claire had connected the dots and pegged Beck for the leak so quickly. Was it?
“You went to see Claire Hanlon this morning.”
It wasn’t a question, but she knew Beck expected an answer. “True.”
“And you told her you believe the Parks and Rec Killer and whoever killed Jody Nelson and Marisol Garza is a cop.”
“I did.”
“Who?”
Macy was confused for a second until she realized Beck was asking for the name. She owed her that much. “I think it was Bruce Kehler, the lead detective on the Parks and Rec cases.”
“Based on information I shared with you.”
“Yes.”
“Yet, you didn’t feel compelled to share your theory with me?”
Not the angle she’d been expecting, and Macy felt anger of her own start to bubble to the surface in the face of Beck’s indignation. “Is that why you’re angry? That I didn’t tell you my theory? What would you have said exactly if I’d told you who I thought the killer was, make that is a cop, let alone that it was one who’d conducted the investigation?”
She watched the struggle play out on Beck’s face, but she wasn’t inclined to help her along. Maybe the consequences of turning in her partner had caused Beck to swing 180 degrees in the other direction, and she was no longer willing to accept her brothers and sisters in blue could do any wrong. But the woman she’d come to know wasn’t like that. She’d risked giving her information without any qualification about where it led, but she’d had a right to expect Macy wouldn’t share what she’d told her without the courtesy of checking with her first. It was a matter of respect, and she was in the wrong. Admitting it was the only way she’d have a chance at diffusing this situation.
“I was wrong to tell Hanlon the things you told me. I didn’t tell her the info came from you, but I should’ve anticipated she would figure it out.”
“I’m the one that broke the rules,” Beck replied, her voice slightly softer. “I never should’ve…”
“Trusted me?” Macy finished her sentence and tried not to get riled. “Respectfully, you’re wrong about that. Who else is going to look at things objectively? You’re sitting here right now in denial that the killer could be one of your own. Claire Hanlon practically threw me out of her office when I suggested it. I’m the only one who isn’t looking at these cases with an agenda other than to find the killer, whoever it is.” She reached out and put her hand on Beck’s knee. “I only want the truth and I want to find it with you. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help you get your job back if that’s what you want. You can trust me on that.”
She watched Beck’s expression start to soften and she prayed she hadn’t completely blown it. Beck was the best thing that had happened to her in a long time, and she couldn’t bear the idea she’d caused her so much pain.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s fair,” Macy said. “While you think about it, why don’t you come inside, and I’ll order us some dinner?”
Beck nodded and Macy extended her hand and helped her to her feet. As she started to put her arm around Beck’s waist, her phone buzzed in her other hand and she fumbled to silence it, dropping it on the wood planks of the porch where it skittered under the porch swing. Beck bent down to retrieve and it and started to hand it to her, but then pulled it close to her face.
Macy watched her eyes widen and a knot formed in her stomach. “What is it?”
Beck handed her the phone like it was a poisonous snake. “You tell me.”
Macy took the phone from her hand and read the message on the screen. It was from Jerry, and it was short and simple. Need your profile on Jack by noon tomorrow. Make it good.
Damn it, Jerry. She hadn’t interviewed Jack and had no intention of writing the piece, but Jerry was under pressure from Holt Baxter and his way of dealing with it was to apply his own pressure to her.
“Is that you being objective? You’re going to tell Jack’s side of the story and let the readers figure out the truth?”
She looked up into Beck’s eyes and was struck by the disappointment she saw reflected there, and she was desperate to make it disappear. “Beck, you have to believe me—”
Beck held up her palm. “Just stop.” She waved a hand between them. “This was a mistake, and it’s over.”
She turned and walked away. Macy scrambled to say something to get Beck to turn around and change her mind, but for the first time in her life, she couldn’t find the right words. She was sorry she’d hurt Beck, but she stood by her quest to find the truth. In the face of what she viewed as betrayal, Beck would never believe she hadn’t planned to tell Jack’s side, and if Beck didn’t trust her, they’d probably never make it anyway. She’d been alone most of her life. Why should things be any different now?
Because going back to her solitary life now was worse than if she’d never had a taste of what it would be like to be with a woman who understood her. If only she hadn’t been wrong.