laced his hands over his gut.
“And you come from a police family, too,” Breslin observed, his gaze on the paperwork in front of him. No doubt there was also information about the investigation in there.
“My father, uncle, and grandfather were all BPD.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting any of them,” Breslin said. Kyler didn’t respond, because the man’s expression said he had something on his mind. Finally, the commissioner nailed him with a dark stare. “Given your long service here as well as that of your family, you’re exactly the kind of officer we want on board. So I’d like you to tell me about the events that led up to your injuries this past May.”
Kyler gave a tight nod. “I was attending the funeral of a friend’s friend. The deceased was a criminal affiliated with the Church Gang, but I was there out of respect for his sister, who had only recently learned that. Some of the deceased’s associates showed up, and a gunfight broke out.” That was the shortest, sweetest version of the story Kyler could manage, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when it wasn’t enough. After all, you didn’t get to be a police commissioner without having a finely tuned barometer for BS.
“Uh huh. Now tell me the rest of the story.” The guy tilted his head, his expression calling bullshit on Vance’s whitewashed version.
Problem was, Kyler was hamstrung in what he could say for a lot of reasons. The longer version was that Nick Rixey and some of his former Army Special Forces teammates were friends of Kyler’s godfather, who’d been killed helping them investigate the conspiracies that’d gotten them ambushed in Afghanistan, ousted from the Army, and attacked by Baltimore’s Church Gang, who was working with a handful of dirty military officials to smuggle and sell Afghani heroin. When Miguel had been killed, Kyler and his father had promised their assistance to Nick’s team. It was what Miguel would’ve wanted. And Nick deserved the help, especially because the investigation he and Miguel had been running proved that the gang had a number of dirty cops in their pockets, too. But Kyler couldn’t say all that. He couldn’t admit that he’d essentially protected the team, hidden their investigation from the authorities, and helped cover up the real cause of the damage that had been done to the Rixeys’ building. Because it would violate the nondisclosure agreements they’d all signed with the CIA, who’d come in at the very end to assist Nick and his team.
It was a fucking complicated mess.
So he said what he could. “This is all in my statements, sir. My godfather, Miguel Olivero, who’d been my father’s partner, had called me in for some assistance with his private investigating business. Miguel was working a case that had something to do with the Church Gang and had gotten in over his head, especially when he identified some cops on the gang’s payroll. Problem was, they cut him down before I learned all the details. I was in the middle of trying to figure it all out when the gunfight at the cemetery happened.” This was the story Nick’s CIA contact had helped Kyler devise. And Miguel wouldn’t have minded one bit providing cover for Kyler this way. In fact, Ky could almost imagine Miguel chuckling up in Heaven and patting them all on the back for conceiving of such a good plan.
The thought set off a pang in Kyler’s chest. He missed the old man like hell, and he knew his father did, too. Miguel had been a constant presence in both of the Vance men’s lives. His loss left a big gaping hole that hadn’t begun to close—and maybe never would.
“I read the statements, but I wanted you to look me in the eye when you recounted the story in your own words,” Breslin said.
Damn, this guy was good. “And?”
“And…” The commissioner tilted his head, assessing him. “You’re not telling me everything, but you don’t strike me as dirty, either.”
“I’m not
“And you come from a police family, too,” Breslin observed, his gaze on the paperwork in front of him. No doubt there was also information about the investigation in there.
“My father, uncle, and grandfather were all BPD.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting any of them,” Breslin said. Kyler didn’t respond, because the man’s expression said he had something on his mind. Finally, the commissioner nailed him with a dark stare. “Given your long service here as well as that of your family, you’re exactly the kind of officer we want on board. So I’d like you to tell me about the events that led up to your injuries this past May.”
Kyler gave a tight nod. “I was attending the funeral of a friend’s friend. The deceased was a criminal affiliated with the Church Gang, but I was there out of respect for his sister, who had only recently learned that. Some of the deceased’s associates showed up, and a gunfight broke out.” That was the shortest, sweetest version of the story Kyler could manage, so he shouldn’t have been surprised when it wasn’t enough. After all, you didn’t get to be a police commissioner without having a finely tuned barometer for BS.
“Uh huh. Now tell me the rest of the story.” The guy tilted his head, his expression calling bullshit on Vance’s whitewashed version.
Problem was, Kyler was hamstrung in what he could say for a lot of reasons. The longer version was that Nick Rixey and some of his former Army Special Forces teammates were friends of Kyler’s godfather, who’d been killed helping them investigate the conspiracies that’d gotten them ambushed in Afghanistan, ousted from the Army, and attacked by Baltimore’s Church Gang, who was working with a handful of dirty military officials to smuggle and sell Afghani heroin. When Miguel had been killed, Kyler and his father had promised their assistance to Nick’s team. It was what Miguel would’ve wanted. And Nick deserved the help, especially because the investigation he and Miguel had been running proved that the gang had a number of dirty cops in their pockets, too. But Kyler couldn’t say all that. He couldn’t admit that he’d essentially protected the team, hidden their investigation from the authorities, and helped cover up the real cause of the damage that had been done to the Rixeys’ building. Because it would violate the nondisclosure agreements they’d all signed with the CIA, who’d come in at the very end to assist Nick and his team.
It was a fucking complicated mess.
So he said what he could. “This is all in my statements, sir. My godfather, Miguel Olivero, who’d been my father’s partner, had called me in for some assistance with his private investigating business. Miguel was working a case that had something to do with the Church Gang and had gotten in over his head, especially when he identified some cops on the gang’s payroll. Problem was, they cut him down before I learned all the details. I was in the middle of trying to figure it all out when the gunfight at the cemetery happened.” This was the story Nick’s CIA contact had helped Kyler devise. And Miguel wouldn’t have minded one bit providing cover for Kyler this way. In fact, Ky could almost imagine Miguel chuckling up in Heaven and patting them all on the back for conceiving of such a good plan.
The thought set off a pang in Kyler’s chest. He missed the old man like hell, and he knew his father did, too. Miguel had been a constant presence in both of the Vance men’s lives. His loss left a big gaping hole that hadn’t begun to close—and maybe never would.
“I read the statements, but I wanted you to look me in the eye when you recounted the story in your own words,” Breslin said.
Damn, this guy was good. “And?”
“And…” The commissioner tilted his head, assessing him. “You’re not telling me everything, but you don’t strike me as dirty, either.”
“I’m not
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