silence dragged on. Not that the silence surprised Jill; she had her suspicions that Officer Carter would clam up once he realized the nature of her questions. It still annoyed her, but it wasn't that surprising.
“Officer Carter,” she cautioned, “you can answer the question in here, or in Interrogation.”
“Sig P230,” Carter spat.
“And are you familiar with Devin Buckner?”
“Never met the kid in my life.”
Jill pulled out a head shot of the victim, one the family had provided. “What about now?”
“We're done here.” Carter pushed himself out of his chair and yanked the door to the conference room open. “You wanna harass me again, Detective, make sure you go through my captain first. Or better yet, keep your nose out of shit that doesn't concern you before someone comes for your badge.”
CHAPTER 13
It wasn't unusual for Jeff Downs to still be in his office long after the sun had set for the night. As one of the Baltimore Police Department's highest-ranking officials, he often worked long hours, even if his hours were far steadier than most officers and detectives. Still, Downs had gone the last two days without seeing his wife awake; he had spent the better part of the past day stuck in meetings: poring over crime stats, closure rates, budget reports... another round of potential layoffs and a hiring freeze thanks to yet another funding slash courtesy of Annapolis.
One meeting even touched on the subject of the vigilante Bounty, but no one in the Bishop -- the nickname given to the BPD's overall headquarters downtown -- seemed to think that was a priority. Normally, Downs would've disagreed, but once news broke of the teenager who was killed just north of downtown and details began trickling in, Downs knew something more important had come. And if his worst fears were right, this had a chance to send the entire city into a tailspin once more.
But to this point, there was nothing more that could be done. Captain Richards had given him the personal assurance that his Homicide team had it covered, and if half of what Downs had heard about Detective Andersen was true, then the investigation was in fine hands. The local media didn't know much at this point outside of the fact that Devin Buckner had been murdered, and since he was a minor, they weren't giving much out to the public. That was a ticking time bomb, though, and Downs wouldn't be at all surprised if he woke up the next morning to find it splashed across the front page of the Sun , above the fold.
But that was a matter for another day. Annie was expecting him for dinner, and he had best be on his way.
“Detective,” Downs said with a smile, his phone cradled against his ear. “Colonel Downs. We met earlier this afternoon in Captain Richards' office? Listen, just... putting this out there for you, but we have an opening for the Sergeant's exam two weeks from now. Are you interested?”
A beat.
“No, I understand. You've got a lot on your plate at the moment.”
Another beat.
“Well, take some time, think it over. I'll keep the spot open until you decide. Have a good night, Detective.”
He couldn't hide the smile on his face as he hung up the phone; Richards had spent the last three-plus years waxing poetic about Detective Andersen, and by all accounts, she was a credit to the force and the city. If half of what the captain had told Downs over countless drinks and even more hands of poker was true, the colonel looked forward to the day she could use her influence for bigger and better things -- like perhaps re-shaping department policies.
As Downs slipped his arms into his suit coat, he turned to see a woman standing in the doorway to his office. She was concealed in shadows, but Downs could clearly see the handgun she had pointed directly at his chest. He fixed the lapels on his coat before slowly raising his arms. It was far from the first time he had been held at gunpoint, but Downs didn't find it any easier with
“Officer Carter,” she cautioned, “you can answer the question in here, or in Interrogation.”
“Sig P230,” Carter spat.
“And are you familiar with Devin Buckner?”
“Never met the kid in my life.”
Jill pulled out a head shot of the victim, one the family had provided. “What about now?”
“We're done here.” Carter pushed himself out of his chair and yanked the door to the conference room open. “You wanna harass me again, Detective, make sure you go through my captain first. Or better yet, keep your nose out of shit that doesn't concern you before someone comes for your badge.”
CHAPTER 13
It wasn't unusual for Jeff Downs to still be in his office long after the sun had set for the night. As one of the Baltimore Police Department's highest-ranking officials, he often worked long hours, even if his hours were far steadier than most officers and detectives. Still, Downs had gone the last two days without seeing his wife awake; he had spent the better part of the past day stuck in meetings: poring over crime stats, closure rates, budget reports... another round of potential layoffs and a hiring freeze thanks to yet another funding slash courtesy of Annapolis.
One meeting even touched on the subject of the vigilante Bounty, but no one in the Bishop -- the nickname given to the BPD's overall headquarters downtown -- seemed to think that was a priority. Normally, Downs would've disagreed, but once news broke of the teenager who was killed just north of downtown and details began trickling in, Downs knew something more important had come. And if his worst fears were right, this had a chance to send the entire city into a tailspin once more.
But to this point, there was nothing more that could be done. Captain Richards had given him the personal assurance that his Homicide team had it covered, and if half of what Downs had heard about Detective Andersen was true, then the investigation was in fine hands. The local media didn't know much at this point outside of the fact that Devin Buckner had been murdered, and since he was a minor, they weren't giving much out to the public. That was a ticking time bomb, though, and Downs wouldn't be at all surprised if he woke up the next morning to find it splashed across the front page of the Sun , above the fold.
But that was a matter for another day. Annie was expecting him for dinner, and he had best be on his way.
“Detective,” Downs said with a smile, his phone cradled against his ear. “Colonel Downs. We met earlier this afternoon in Captain Richards' office? Listen, just... putting this out there for you, but we have an opening for the Sergeant's exam two weeks from now. Are you interested?”
A beat.
“No, I understand. You've got a lot on your plate at the moment.”
Another beat.
“Well, take some time, think it over. I'll keep the spot open until you decide. Have a good night, Detective.”
He couldn't hide the smile on his face as he hung up the phone; Richards had spent the last three-plus years waxing poetic about Detective Andersen, and by all accounts, she was a credit to the force and the city. If half of what the captain had told Downs over countless drinks and even more hands of poker was true, the colonel looked forward to the day she could use her influence for bigger and better things -- like perhaps re-shaping department policies.
As Downs slipped his arms into his suit coat, he turned to see a woman standing in the doorway to his office. She was concealed in shadows, but Downs could clearly see the handgun she had pointed directly at his chest. He fixed the lapels on his coat before slowly raising his arms. It was far from the first time he had been held at gunpoint, but Downs didn't find it any easier with
Similar Books
