Page 124 of Kings Don't Break
“Yes?”
“I’m here to see Captain Vargas.”
The man’s lips bend into a sardonic kind of smile. He doesn’t bother referencing his computer or picking up a phone to call the captain. He merely mocks me with his prolonged, dry-blinking stare, and then clears his throat.
“The captain’s unavailable,” he says. He furls the newspaper in his hands, then goes to return to his place in the article he’s reading.
I reach over and snatch it away before he can. “Did you hear me the first time? I need to see the captain.”
“He’s unavailable.”
Again, he makes no attempt to check. No effort to even pretend he respects my request. He half rises from his chair and steals his newspaper right back.
Frustration boils over inside me, melting away the last ounce of patience I have left. I spring forward without warning and slip past the information desk, through the waist-high door flap that leads into the rest of the station.
The desk clerk yells after me, but it’s too late—I’m darting fast between a maze of desks to the puzzled stares of several officers on shift. A few seem to recognize me, sharing glances among themselves. One stands up to intercept me.
Lieutenant Gillard holds out his arms to coral me away from my destination. “Korine, this is not the time for hysterics?—”
I duck under him and scurry the rest of the way to the door marked Captain Julian Vargas. When I try the knob and discover it’s locked, I bang a fist against the glass cut out in the door.
“I’m only going to tell you once more. Stop that or you’ll be arrested!” comes Gillard’s voice.
The door pops open. Captain Vargas is on the other end, vexed lines etched onto his face. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“We need to talk. Right now. I won’t take no for an answer.”
One of Vargas’s brows cocks higher than the other. “You don’t get to dictate that type of thing around here. You don’t get to dictate much of anything at all. Get out of here and we’ll pretend you never showed your face.”
“You’ll see me. Privately,” I say, undeterred. If anything, my tone’s grown more brazen. I’ve lifted my chin, meeting his gaze with fire burning in mine. I’m still sporting bruises on my face. Bruises his officer once again caused. “Unless you want everybody to find out what a dirty cop you are. Publicly.”
A tumult of a dozen different voices breaks out. All the officers under Vargas’s charge murmuring to each other about what I’ve said.
Their gossip, so sudden and unmistakable, forces his hand. He tugs at the collar of his button-up uniform shirt, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. If he weren’t so tan-skinned, something tells me he’d be flushing red right about now.
“Alright,” he grinds out. “Fine. Five minutes. Get inside.”
It’s only as I hurry past the threshold of his office that I notice I’m not alone—Sydney’s off a few feet to the side, having followed me into the station. I double back to grab hold of her arm and bring her along with me.
“I don’t think so. You said just the two of us,” Vargas immediately protests.
“She’s my backup. You’ll excuse me if I don’t exactly trust the Pulsboro PD after everything I’ve been through. Which is what we’re about to talk about.”
Vargas’s glare hardens. His grizzly white beard can’t disguise the way his jaw’s clenched up. He gestures at Sydney to shut the door and then at the seats across from his desk. Dropping into his own leather chair, he folds his arms over his Santa Claus belly.
“Spill,” he says. “What’s it that you want? Why’re you here?”
I inhale a quick breath to collect myself and then go for it. My hope and prayer that I’d mentioned to Sydney earlier in the truck.
“Blake Cash is being wrongfully held in police custody.”
“Blake Cash is detained and will be formally charged. He not only engaged in a dangerous high-speed chase, he brutally assaulted a police officer. That’s besides the other charges he has pending for driving under the influence. As we say where I come from, the cows have come home to roost.”
“He never drove under the influence. Ken and his partner, Coates, framed him.”
Captain Vargas rolls his eyes. “Conspiracy theories won’t be entertained.”
“Ken kidnapped me. He beat me. He pulled a gun on both me and Blake. Anything Blake did in retaliation was self-defense.”
