Page 77 of Shadows of Justice

“This is a very delicate situation, officer. With misconduct such as this, we would almost certainly remove someone from their position. But, given that your direct superior was working against you and was exposed through your actions, it makes us second guess jumping to that decision.”

I just nod, because I don’t want to open my mouth and say something stupid.

“We’ve decided to back you on this, Schaeffer,” Captain Reynolds says, and I feel my eyes go wide. “The media has been circus about this, and they want a hero. You’re lucky as shit that no one innocent got killed, because if they had, it’d probably be a different story. But, pending physical and mental clearance, you will be allowed to return to your patrol shifts.”

What the fuck?

My gaze flicks to my dad who’s watching me warily, like I’ll do something insane and embarrass him. You’d think that he wouldn’t even be surprised at this point.

“I’m . . . Are you sure?” I ask, my mind whirling. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but that was not what I was expecting.

“We are. We’ll just need you to give a statement to the press, one that we’ll work closely with you on, and things will blow over,” the commissioner says. My eyes narrow. This smells like shit. Or even worse—like a publicity campaign.

“I’m not a hero. What I did wasn’t—” my voice breaks as I glance at my father’s wheelchair, its presence like a giant, dancing elephant in the room. “It wasn’t heroic.”

“Be that as it may, your actions exposed a massive oversight on our part. For years, there was an enemy in our midst. The public needs to feel safe, not like their police captain is taking payouts from the local street gang and getting away with it, all of those around him none the wiser.”

“I don’t think I’m comfortable with this,” I say, starting to get hot. I fan my face with the envelope sitting on the table in front of me. I can now assume it holds my carefully constructed hero speech.

“Viv,” my father begins, his tone a warning. It doesn’t instill fear in me anymore, but it does still piss me off.

“No, Dad, stop.” I rise from my chair. “I’m not making any speech or pretending like I was a part of some inside operation that brought down Jennings. No one knew about him, and that’s just the reality. He fooled us all!” I raise my arms in exasperation. “I’m sorry, I really appreciate the opportunity to remain an officer, but I’m not living anymore lies. If this is the requirement then, I quit.”

Reynolds and Gallagher’s mouths gape open in shock and my father rolls his eyes to the ceiling, cursing under his breath. I turn to go, and I hear him calling after me. I stop outside the meeting room, not about to force a crippled man to chase me down.

I’m not that heartless.

He wheels his chair up to me, his expression filled with irritation. He’s been a lot calmer since the incident. Before, a stunt like this would have had him red-faced and spitting, but he’s turned over a new leaf, same as me.

The bullet entered his back at his L-3 vertebrae, as he was bent over to help me during The Roost raid. He hasn’t stopped apologizing since I woke up from my coma, even though I’m the one that got him shot. I guess that’s what almost losing your daughter will do to a man. We’ve been better since the chaos has calmed. We’re still dysfunctional, but at least we spend time together every Friday night now—TV dinners, Budweisers, and Cops re-runs.

“You know what I had to do to get you that offer?” he asks me, his mouth twisting with contempt.

“Don’t tell me—a three-legged race?” My distasteful joke earns me a small smile.

“Cute.” He rolls his eyes again. “What are you going to do?”

I sigh, leaning against the wall to relieve the aching in my hip. “I don’t know. I was thinking about getting a dog.” He looks at me like I’m nuts.

“A fucking dog? I meant about a job.”

“I don’t know, Dad. I’ll figure it out. All I know is that’s not it. Not anymore.” I lean down and kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll see you Friday.”

Once back in my car, I do what Dr. Halliard would recommend and take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I just ended my career as a police officer. I expected it to be done for me when I walked inside that building an hour ago, but it feels different—as my own decision.

It feels oddly empowering.

I take out my phone and dial my favorite assistant director.

“Vivvie,” Justine croons in my ear, her voice like a smile. “How are you, babe?”

“I’m great,” I answer. “I was wondering . . . feel free to say no—no hard feelings—but, you think we could schedule an interview?”

Chapter Twenty-Five - Sweet Baby Jesus

Sunday, August 23rd

Istand in front of my multicolored windows, the afternoon sun shining into my apartment in a rainbow of hues. The rays gleam on my fancy new FBI-dude badge, and I slowly rotate my hand to watch it catch all of the light.

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