Hugh’s mouth went tight. He pulled a starched white handkerchief from his pocket, removed his glasses, and rubbed the lenses harder than necessary. “I just wanted a second opinion before I stuck my head in the noose. I’m getting close to retirement. Let’em fire my ass.” Hugh slid the photos back into the file and closed the manila cover, but Reed knew damned well the case was wide open.
But he wasn’t going to bite.
“I’d really appreciate some unofficial help on this, Reed. No one has to know if that’s the way you want it.” Hugh reached into his desk drawer and slid out a fat legal-size mailing envelope. “Copies.”
Reed crossed an ankle over his knee and contemplated the zigzag pattern in his boot treads. His conscience amplified guilt like a bullhorn. His gut didn’t need corroboration. It was screaming that the chief was right. This teenager had been murdered. It all added up to a no-win situation. If Reed agreed to help, he risked exposure. If he didn’t, a killer could evade justice, maybe even go after someone else—like Scott.
“You know what I went through, Hugh. I can’t afford any publicity.”
“I give you my word. This is just between you and me,” Hugh assured him. “Please. I’ve got some theories, but I don’t have your experience or the extra manpower for this. I can’t ask the state for help until the investigation is officially declared a homicide.”
“What about Doug Lang?”
“My lieutenant is vying for my job. He’s too busy kissing Nathan’s ass to run an investigation. Besides, I’d like to keep this quiet for now. Doug can’t keep his mouth shut.” Hugh reached across the desk and inched the envelope closer to Reed. “Just takethe file home and give it a look-through. Any ideas come to you, call me. That’s all I’m asking.”
Reed kept his eyes off the envelope. He’d moved his son fourteen hundred miles to get away from violence, death, and the media attention associated with both of those things. “Sorry, Hugh. I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Reed didn’t answer. His phone vibrated. Probably a text from Scott. Reed stood and turned away. He and Scott were going to cut their Christmas tree that afternoon.
Hugh’s gaze leveled him. “How old’s your boy?”
“Seventeen.”
Hugh reopened his file and tossed another color photo onto the desk. “That’s just one year younger than Zack Miller.”
Reed knew it was a mistake, but his eyes sought the image anyway. The gangly kid in the senior yearbook picture didn’t even look like he needed to shave. A familiar pang of anger and loss poked at Reed as the young face, full of promise and bursting with life, smiled up at him. Zack Miller wasn’t going to see another Christmas. How would his parents bear the upcoming holiday?
Reed moved toward the door. His boots felt heavier than they had on the way in. But Scott had to come first. Hadn’t his son already given up enough in the name of justice? Across the reception area, Doug Lang exited his office. Jealous anger gathered in his eyes as he spotted Reed coming out of Hugh’s office.
If Doug didn’t despise Reed for his friendship with the chief already, Reed had just skyrocketed to the top of the lieutenant’s shit list. Reed had managed to piss off both cops in a matter of minutes.
It had been that kind of day. It had been that kind of decade.
A quick look over his shoulder showed the chief stuffing the yearbook photo inside the envelope. The lines in his face looked deeper, his hair grayer, as if years had passed rather than minutes. Hugh’s disappointment in him was palpable in the stale air of the tiny office. “I’m sorry, Hugh. It’s complicated.”
Reed stepped over the threshold. The vise in his gut tightened as the chief’s voice followed him. “You know what’s complicated, Reed? Telling a couple of parents their son was murdered.”
With those words ringing in his ears, Reed made his escape. Outside on the
But he wasn’t going to bite.
“I’d really appreciate some unofficial help on this, Reed. No one has to know if that’s the way you want it.” Hugh reached into his desk drawer and slid out a fat legal-size mailing envelope. “Copies.”
Reed crossed an ankle over his knee and contemplated the zigzag pattern in his boot treads. His conscience amplified guilt like a bullhorn. His gut didn’t need corroboration. It was screaming that the chief was right. This teenager had been murdered. It all added up to a no-win situation. If Reed agreed to help, he risked exposure. If he didn’t, a killer could evade justice, maybe even go after someone else—like Scott.
“You know what I went through, Hugh. I can’t afford any publicity.”
“I give you my word. This is just between you and me,” Hugh assured him. “Please. I’ve got some theories, but I don’t have your experience or the extra manpower for this. I can’t ask the state for help until the investigation is officially declared a homicide.”
“What about Doug Lang?”
“My lieutenant is vying for my job. He’s too busy kissing Nathan’s ass to run an investigation. Besides, I’d like to keep this quiet for now. Doug can’t keep his mouth shut.” Hugh reached across the desk and inched the envelope closer to Reed. “Just takethe file home and give it a look-through. Any ideas come to you, call me. That’s all I’m asking.”
Reed kept his eyes off the envelope. He’d moved his son fourteen hundred miles to get away from violence, death, and the media attention associated with both of those things. “Sorry, Hugh. I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Reed didn’t answer. His phone vibrated. Probably a text from Scott. Reed stood and turned away. He and Scott were going to cut their Christmas tree that afternoon.
Hugh’s gaze leveled him. “How old’s your boy?”
“Seventeen.”
Hugh reopened his file and tossed another color photo onto the desk. “That’s just one year younger than Zack Miller.”
Reed knew it was a mistake, but his eyes sought the image anyway. The gangly kid in the senior yearbook picture didn’t even look like he needed to shave. A familiar pang of anger and loss poked at Reed as the young face, full of promise and bursting with life, smiled up at him. Zack Miller wasn’t going to see another Christmas. How would his parents bear the upcoming holiday?
Reed moved toward the door. His boots felt heavier than they had on the way in. But Scott had to come first. Hadn’t his son already given up enough in the name of justice? Across the reception area, Doug Lang exited his office. Jealous anger gathered in his eyes as he spotted Reed coming out of Hugh’s office.
If Doug didn’t despise Reed for his friendship with the chief already, Reed had just skyrocketed to the top of the lieutenant’s shit list. Reed had managed to piss off both cops in a matter of minutes.
It had been that kind of day. It had been that kind of decade.
A quick look over his shoulder showed the chief stuffing the yearbook photo inside the envelope. The lines in his face looked deeper, his hair grayer, as if years had passed rather than minutes. Hugh’s disappointment in him was palpable in the stale air of the tiny office. “I’m sorry, Hugh. It’s complicated.”
Reed stepped over the threshold. The vise in his gut tightened as the chief’s voice followed him. “You know what’s complicated, Reed? Telling a couple of parents their son was murdered.”
With those words ringing in his ears, Reed made his escape. Outside on the
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