CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

Monday – April 5

 

Jack stood with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, staring out the window to the bustling intersection below but not really seeing it. His mind spun.

Li Zihao still hadn’t called, which made Jack more nervous with each passing day. That nervousness gave birth to all the questions he didn’t have answers to.

If Li accepted Jack’s drug order, how the hell was he going to pay for it? With the quantities he'd told Li he wanted, Jack knew it could cost him at least a cool quarter million. He didn't have that kind of money. Even with the price of real estate in the city, the current available equity of his house was worth nowhere near that amount. Not that anyone would want to buy a house with that kind of history.

What was he going to do with the drugs once he had them? If he turned them over to the department, Haniford would know Jack was still in the thick of the Rybak investigation. Even though right now, the only tie the department had to the Jade Dragons was Armstrong.

Could he take the drugs over to the house and burn them in the tiny fireplace? Maybe he’d just dump it all in the living room and set fire to the house. Since no one would want to buy it, and he didn’t see Ray doing anything with it, burning it down and releasing all the spirits living within the walls was probably the best option.

And if Li rejected his proposal, how would he find Leah?

He couldn’t think about any of it. He had to stay positive. It would all work out. It had to work out.

If he'd been thinking straight, he would’ve called Ray to organize a drug sting, despite his former lieutenant making it clear Jack needed to shit or get off the pot—get back on the job and take full advantage of the department resources, or stay away. The fence Jack had been sitting on had been torn down and a wall had been erected in its place.

As much as Jack knew the reality of it for a long time, Ray had been right about Jack never being a cop again. That part of his life was over. It had been since the night he lost his family, but there was some relief in admitting it to himself, even knowing how his end game would play out. Admitting it to himself would make it easier admitting it to others. Why string them along with false hopes?

As much as he hated admitting it, he was in over his head with Li. He'd been so angry last week he ignored all the warnings and jumped into the fire with both feet. This wasn't like him. He was never this reckless. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He was behaving like a petulant five-year-old saying, You can't tell me what to do.

A text notification drew his attention to his phone. He turned to the desk and saw the screen light up—Ray. Jack clicked on the message: Where are you?

He pulled out the chair and dropped into it before setting his mug on the desk. The Beretta pressed against the small of his back. He’d started carrying again since meeting with Li. Since he was on his own, he couldn’t be too careful. He could only afford to drop his guard once he found out where Leah was.

He pulled his to-do list in front of him and winced at the first line—background checks. He now needed to run those himself. They were a normal part of private investigating, but Ray could do a much deeper dive in department files.

Jack put his elbows on the desk and leaned his head into the palms of his hands, pushing hard on his forehead to relieve the tension.

Nick, he sighed to himself.

Jack wished his friend was still up at St. Frank’s. He needed someone to talk with, about Haniford and to some degree Ray too, and this case and what had happened to his family.

The text notification sounded again. Don't make me ping your phone again.

He groaned as he grabbed his phone off the charger. I disabled GPS, he lied. What do you want?

A moment later, the phone vibrated. He'd turned off the ringer last night. The quiet was nice while it lasted.

"Hey," Jack said on answering.

"You're one hard ese to reach these days."

"I'm here now. What's up?"

"I got back some of those background checks you suggested. I wanted to go over them with you."

"I'm off the case, brother."

"What do you mean you're off the case? We're in the middle of it. You can't just quit, hombre." The tone of Ray’s voice told Jack his friend was definitely annoyed. He was sure Ray hadn't been prepared for the way the conversation was heading.

"Talk to Haniford. He doesn't want me getting involved in department cases anymore. You were right. I'm not going back on the job. Honestly, I don't think I ever was. I've wasted too much of everyone's time letting you all live with false hopes. Especially you. I'm sorry."

"Jack—"

"Haniford was right too about me always calling in favors. I can't keep doing that. It's made me lazy, and it's not fair to you. I'm sorry about that too."

"I'll email over the reports, and you can have a look anyway."

"Don't do it. Despite Rybak killing himself in my house, Haniford made it absolutely clear this is a department issue; I'm not allowed anywhere near it. My hands are tied."

Ray was quiet on the other end of the line. Jack waited for him to say something. Then, "Where are you?"

"Look, Ray. I'll call you this evening when you're home. We both have a lot of work on today."

"We need to talk. I don't want to do it on the phone," Ray insisted.

Jack didn't want to shut Ray out, but if he kept pushing him away, he was bound to get suspicious. "Fine. I'll come to you. Where are you?"

Jack’s door swung open. "At your place."

"What the fuck, Navarro?" Jack said in a raised voice.

Ray cut to the point. "I tried reaching you all weekend, but I kept getting voicemail."

"I was busy."

"Too busy to check messages?"

"I checked them. Nothing sounded urgent. Just a bunch of call me’s which I was going to get to this afternoon." Jack sat back and folded his arms in front of him. "Was that all you needed, to look over the reports?"

Ray remained standing as he glared down at him. "I was going over to Armstrong's again to see if I could find him. I thought you’d want to tag along."

Jack shook his head. "I'm done tagging along, Ray. What did I just tell you about Haniford?"

"Yeah, I get it. I guess it's different when the shoe is on the other foot."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack’s anger rose. He really didn't want to fight with his best friend again, but things felt like they were edging in that direction.

"Every time you need help, it's Ray, run this name for me, and Ray, I need a file, and Ray—"

"Stop."

"Even when I tell you my job is on the line, you still con me into doing favors for you," Ray told him. "But you know what? Even when Haniford ripped my head off and explicitly told me to keep you out of this, I still showed up at your door to take you to the university with me. And over to Armstrong's. Now I need your help and it's all Haniford this and no-can-do that—"

"Ray, just stop," Jack insisted. His friend wasn't wrong about any of it. They'd been friends for so long, Jack knew how easy it was to get Ray on side. It wasn't always work related, but he had to admit, lately most of it had been.

"You're some kinda hipócrita."

Jack didn't care what Haniford did to him. Since he was no longer on the force, the worst his former LT could do was ban him from the department, which he'd effectively already done by disallowing the liberty of calling in some favors.

What he was concerned with was Ray. Jack didn't want to be the reason his friend didn't get his promotion. Yet as they both got deeper into the Rybak bullshit, the more they needed each other to work the case. Jack needed access to files from the department and Ray needed backup. He'd blown through so many new partners, Haniford finally conceded and now let Ray ride solo, which came at its own cost—not having a partner to back him up or bounce theories against.

Where Jack was concerned, Haniford had been clear . . . very clear. If he didn't back away from the case and stop asking Ray for favors, Ray would never see his promotion, and worse, if Ray didn’t stop encouraging Jack, Ray could find himself getting bumped back down to street patrol. Jack didn't want any of it on his conscience. How could he make Ray understand? Jack wasn't being a hypocrite. Far from it. He was protecting his friend.

"I'm sorry, Ray. Haniford—"

Ray was on a roll. All Jack could do was listen.

"Haniford, Haniford . . . blah, blah, blah. Since I couldn't reach you, this morning I went back to Armstrong's on my own. I thought if I caught him early enough, he wouldn't run, and I could interview him. Imagine my surprise when I find you've already been there and had a nice long chat with our boy."

"So?"

"So, ese, he didn't want to talk to me because he'd already told you everything. Said he had some kind of deal going with you and couldn't risk getting on your bad side." Ray removed his jacket—a sign Jack took his friend planned on staying a while—threw it onto the sofa then started pacing the small room. "What the fuck is that all about?"

"What did he tell you?" If that little shitbag had said anything about anything, he'd nail his scrawny burnout ass to the wall. "And sit down before you wear a hole in the floor."

Ray threw himself into the chair in front of the desk. "That's just it. He didn't tell me anything. All he said was, Talk to Jack." Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he demanded, "I'm here, homie, so talk."

"I think Armstrong is being overly dramatic, and so are you. Why couldn't we have talked about this on the phone?"

"Because I want you to look me in the eye when you lie to me."

"Lie to you?" Jack huffed. "About what?"

"Tell me what you've been doing behind my back." Ray suddenly didn't sound angry. He sounded hurt.

Quietly, Jack said, "Haniford pissed me off last week. When I left the department, I got on my bike with the intention of driving down the coast to clear my head. I had a lot to think about since Haniford kicked me out of the department. By the time I reached Skyline Boulevard, I reminded myself I'm a private investigator and can investigate on my own. So, I rode over to Geary to see if Armstrong was home. Long story short, he was there, and we talked." He wasn’t ready to tell Ray about what happened to his family. "We eventually came to an understanding, and he agreed to set up a meeting for me with his boss, Li Zihao."

Ray sank back in his chair. "The same Li Zihao who runs the Jade Dragons?" Jack nodded. Under his breath, Ray asked, "What are you doing, Jack? You can't go to this guy on your own."

"I didn't," Jack assured him.

"Wait, what?" Ray's voice hitched up an octave. "You've already gone over? When?"

"Saturday morning."

"And you didn't go alone. You're working with someone else now." It wasn't a question but an accusation.

"Don't get your tighty whities in a knot, Ray. I met Armstrong at the Dragon's Lair shop over at Portsmouth Square. Everything went fine."

"Don't bullshit me, Jack. I know what your fine means. You walked out alive."

"I'm sitting here with you. He didn't even threaten to shoot me. So yes, it went fine."

"What did you talk about?" Ray pressed. "I mean, you're an ex-cop and he's a gang leader. What could you possibly have that he wants?"

"I wasn't there as a cop."

"If not a cop, then what? You offering him private investigation services or something? You'll search for his enemies and tell him where they are so he can kill them?"

"You didn't just go there, did you?" Ray had never disparaged Jack's decision to become a private investigator. If he was going to start now, this conversation wasn't going to end well. Ray must have realized what he'd said because he instantly went quiet, but his gaze on Jack never wavered. "Maybe you'd better leave before this goes somewhere there's no coming back from."

"Or," Ray finally said, "we talk this out now, because, ese, you're not thinking straight." He tapped the side of his head.

"I'm thinking just fine," Jack assured him.

"I don't think you are. The background checks are just one thing we need to discuss."

"There's more?"

"The department cut."

Jack's stomach flipped over in his gut. "What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You wore it to the head shop, didn't you?"

Jack just looked at Ray for a long minute before asking in a lowered voice, "Does Haniford know?"

"What do you think? I heard your name when he started screaming in his office, so I logged into the system. When I saw what Haniford was screaming about, I came right over to give you a heads up."

"How did Haniford know?"

Ray shook his head. "You do know those cuts have GPS trackers on them, don't you?"

"So? The battery only lasts a couple years at best."

"I'm guessing yours has been sitting in the closet since you left the department. But the motion sensor switched it on, and it pinged at the department. It was tracked across the city and back on Saturday. Now that you've told me where you were, the cut certainly wasn't out for a joy ride on its own. Care to tell me why you were wearing the department cut at the head shop? You certainly didn't need it just to talk with Li." Ray resumed his position of leaning forward with elbows on his knees and waited for Jack's response.

"What do you want me to say? Yeah, I wore the cut to the meeting. I had to make it look like I was a gang member or how else could I justify a large buy? I had to show Li I was serious about making a deal with him. So what?"

"You really aren't thinking, are you?" Ray muttered.

"What?"

Ray growled as he shot out of his chair, stomped across the room then pivoted and glared at Jack. He ran his fingers through his hair before crossing the room again, slapped his palms on the desktop and leaned forward. Ray's posture didn't scare Jack, but it was a surprise. Ray was normally such a laid-back person. Now his Hispanic temper was showing as he raged at Jack, up one side and back down the other, in Spanish. They had been friends long enough that Jack picked up about every fourth or fifth word and got the gist of abuse being slung at him.

Just then, someone pounded on his door. Ray was here, his business sign was down so it couldn't be a prospective client, he didn't owe Tommy rent and he was sure if Li had found out who Jack really was, he would have sent thugs already.

Pounding again.

As Jack rose and went to the door, he slid the Beretta from the small of his back. Whoever it was, they weren't happy.

At the door, he glanced back at Ray who stood with his own weapon drawn.

"Who is it?" he asked through the door, holding the weapon at the ready.

"Your worst nightmare. Open the door or I'll shoot off the lock."

Haniford.

His former LT had never come here. Whenever he needed to meet in person, Jack had always gone to the department. Coming here, and the tone of his voice, told Jack some serious shit was about to hit the proverbial.

Looking at Ray, Jack asked, "What's he doing here?"

"I was just about to tell you Haniford’s on the war path."

After clicking on the weapon's safety, Jack tucked the Beretta into the waistband at his back. Ray had already holstered his weapon at his hip by the time Jack swung open the door.

Not waiting for an invitation, Haniford pushed past Jack and stopped in the center of the room when he saw Ray standing in front of the desk.

Jack shut the door and walked past both men to the opposite side of the desk. It felt safer than being on the other side between two men who looked like they both wanted to kill him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Lieutenant?" Jack stood with his legs wide and arms folded over his chest. He felt defensive as two of the three men he trusted most in the world glared angrily across the desk at him. The third man he trusted as much was Cutter, and Jack didn't think there was an angry bone in the man's body.

Haniford scowled at Ray for a long moment. "I'm not even going to ask why you're here, Ray. I'll deal with you later." Looking back at Jack, he continued, "I thought after our discussion last week you would have kept your nose out of department business."

"What are you talking about? I have been," Jack told him.

"It's true, LT. I came here asking Jack for some help with an interview and he refused. He said you told him to back off and that's what he's done," Ray said.

Haniford glared between the two men before settling on Jack. "Whatever you're doing, Jack, your shit is still raining down on my parade. Anything I tell either of you falls on deaf ears, or you pointedly ignore me. So, I'm here—"

"LT," Ray cut in. "I think you need to hear what Jack has to say."

The crease between Haniford's eyes deepened. "I have a feeling I need to sit down for this." He moved to the sofa and sank into the center cushion, then shot up quickly, a hand on his ass cheek. "Jesus!"

"Fuck, Jack, when are you going to get a new sofa?" Ray growled as he reseated himself in front of the desk.

His tone was full of sarcasm when he said, "Somehow a new sofa doesn't seem as important as finding out what happened to my family."