Page 34 of Shadows of Justice

Chapter Eleven - To Keep a Dead Guy Awake

Saturday, July 18th

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” Captain Jennings scoffs at me, shaking his head with disdain. “I told you to stay in your lane—to keep your head down and fly straight. Now you’re telling me you’ve been looking into an ‘anonymous tip’ about a San Fernando case?”

I shift my feet, my need to fidget nearly unbearable.

“I told you, Cap, I’m not taking company time to look into this. I’m focused on patrol, I swear,” I say, my tone pleading. I hope he can’t detect the wobbling in my throat but I hate pissing him off, and it’s making me feel lower than dirt.

“Come on, Schaeffer,” he says, leveling me with a look that says bullshit.

“I told you what I know, and I’m doing what protocol says I should do,” I say. “I’m bringing the information to my superior—information that could be critical in stopping an act of gang violence.”

“It’s all very convenient,” he bites out, his anger disarming me. Why is he so pissed? I expected frustration, but . . . he’s turning red.

“With all due respect, sir, that’s not my fault,” I say, terrified at how that sounds coming out of my mouth, but determined to make my point. “What would you do in my situation? This is serious, sir. The last time the Valley Dogs retaliated against a rival gang they nearly blew up an elementary school. Now, a whole neighborhood in Koreatown has been targeted.”

Jennings regards me for a minute, his eyes slightly narrowed. I pick at the skin on my thumb, desperately wanting to sink my teeth into it and gnaw until he speaks again, but I school my features into calmness and wait. He leans forward, his fingers steepled together on his desk.

“If you think for one minute, that I believe you didn’t uncover this yourself, without a fucking anonymous tip, or maybe, from a source that you just can’t provide—you’re out of your mind.”

I swallow, again, not allowing my face to give away anything that I’m feeling. “Does it really matter, if we have the information necessary to possibly stop an act of terrorism?”

“Stop turning this around on me, Schaeffer!” Jennings pounds the top of his desk loudly. “You’re out of line, and you’re lying to a superior officer—again. This behavior is means for suspension! For investigation! Your reports could be called in front of a judge and looked into for legitimacy if I deemed this worth reporting. And, maybe I do.”

I tell him an entire two-square-mile radius of densely populated city is going to be blasted to smithereens, and the first thing out of his mouth is about my reports?

“You’re threatening me with bureaucratic red tape right now? People could die!” I yell. “How is that not the most important fucking thing? Who gives a shit how we figured it out, but that we stopped it?”

Before he gets a chance to respond—and, probably fire me for yelling at him—we both turn our heads toward the hall where we hear men’s voices shouting. Two forms come down the hallway, their identities concealed by the privacy glass at the front of Jennings’s office. Without knocking, the men open the door and burst into the room, still arguing loudly like a couple of hyenas.

I didn’t think that I could sink any lower in my chair, but I somehow manage to. Jennings stands, but my legs have left the building.

“Chief . . . and, Gavin? What are you doing here?” I force out.

Gavin looks at me with surprise in his devastatingly blue eyes. He’s still all jawline and military cut, his chin dimple and perfect suit rounding out his “don’t fuck with me—I’m government” vibe.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well, I guess we didn’t have to look very long. Here she is,” my father says, forcing me to rip my gaze off of the first man I ever loved and give attention to everyone that’s now in the room.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Jennings asks, his arms crossed. Gavin’s breathing picks up he stares at me, but blinks at the question and clears his throat, his composure returning in an instant.

“I’m here to ask Gen—Officer Schaeffer, some questions,” he stammers. His hands go to his hips, revealing his shoulder-holstered gun and his fancy FBI-dude badge.

If you didn’t know him, you’d think he was calm and collected. But I know Gavin. His left middle finger rhythmically taps on his belt—his only tell. He’s nervous.

I also don’t miss the diamond-encrusted gray metal band around the fourth finger on his left hand. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead at the sight of it. Suddenly, I’m nauseous.

“Questions regarding what? I need to be briefed before you address my staff, Special Agent . . .”

“Montgomery,” Gavin and I both say, in unison. I shut my eyes, my jaw clenching hard enough to crack fillings.

Wasn’t talking to you, Viv.

“Apologies, captain,” my father says. “We were coming here to do just that. We didn’t expect Officer Schaeffer to already be here.” He turns his piercing gaze on me. “Why is she here, anyway? Not more trouble, I hope?”

“No, sir,” Jennings answers, and I have the brains to keep my mouth shut this time. “Just handing in a report. She was just leaving. You’re dismissed, Schaeffer.”

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