Page 142 of Black Bird

There was a long pause on the other end.“Why, Brent?”It was the first time she’d sounded irritated throughout the whole conversation.

“My dad showed up at my place this morning. He more or less threatened me in my own home. And that wasafterhe slapped a restraining order against me. He wanted the bag back. Said my mother was going to die without it. Watch your backs. I don’t know what he could potentially do to get it from you. But I wanted to warn you about it.”

“So … are you warning me … asking me for it … or both?”A fair response.

“You know her, Sarah. My mom would never take a way out if someone out there had a better use for it. She’s ready to go. Just be careful… okay?”

“You’re a good lawyer, Brent. I hear you loud and clear. I’ll be careful.”

He smirked and nodded his head. “Alright.”

“Thank you, Stratford. I won’t forget this. We’ll see ya.”

“Yeah … see ya.”

Call ended.

CHAPTER 24

BLACK FRIDAY

The flag that was carefully folded into a triangle and taking its rest in a sleek mahogany box on the top of his floating shelf was slowly eating away at the nerves that remained in Malcolm Foley’s overtired body. His broad hands folded over his mouth as he sat, lost in memories he wished he could forget, in his office at the 12th. Small beads of sweat became a little bigger across his dark skin and his brown eyes peered over at what was left of the partner that should have still been alive …wouldbe alive … if he’d been a better cop. Sixteen years, today. Lindsey Trainor’s daughter had graduated high school this past spring. And she couldn’t be there to witness it. Foley had watched the pride as well as the pain flash over the face of her widowed husband when that young girl walked across the stage—as he stood hidden in the back of the graduation ceremony, hoping he wouldn’t be seen.

Black Friday was this nation’s excuse to spend money they didn’t have and forget all their morals to fight to the death over useless purchases in packed stores all over the country. But somehow … the important marks of a date on a calendar always went unnoticed when they were overshadowed by the human lust for money and material things. Foley’s throat bobbed and his concentration on painful memories banked when Agent Foster shouldered her way, uninvited, through his office door.

“You look like you’re gonna be sick,” she observed, leaning with her arms crossed against the doorway. “Not going after the new bike for little Jimmy today?”

“I’m single. No kids. And you’re getting way too comfortable poppin’ in and out of my personal space. Now what is it that I can help you with, Agent Foster?” Foley pinned her with an icy stare and the agent didn’t balk a bit.

“I meant no disrespect, Captain. I just figured that since you were in the office today, I’d let you know about the interesting things we found when we searched your detectives’ apartments. Did you know they lived right next door to one another?”

“Yes, I did. If I remember correctly that was how they met. Seemed fitting to partner them. They work extremely well together. And now that we’re discussing it, your APB was bullshit. You had no reason to do that, nor did you have any reason to invadetheirpersonal space. I couldn’t care less what it is you found. Kindly leave my office.”

Foster smirked. “That APB was completely necessary. The suspect is making herself scarce and—”

“Sarah St. James is not a criminal. You and I both know she didn’t kill anybody. I think your little power trip is making that head too big. YouFeds march in here with your tech and your swagger, but truthfully … you’ve got about as much as we do when it comes to answers about this case. Whatever this little game is that you’re playing? It’s gonna get somebody killed. And I’m gonna promise you this, Foster … if one of those somebodies is anybody at the 12th… there won’t be anywhere you can hide that I won’t find you.” Foley’s sweat dripped off his brow.

Foster glanced up to the flag he’d been staring at when she walked in. “I get it, Captain. It’s admirable that you wanna protect your own.” She stepped forward. “Between you and I?” She turned her face back towards him and callously shook her head. “I know St. James isn’t responsible for those murders. That doesn’t mean that she isn’t involved in them. And your detective knows more than he’s letting on. They both do, actually. They seem to be hiding a lot more than I suspected. Did you know that Detective Northwood enjoys sailing?”

Foley lowered his brows. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Hmm … it certainly appears that way. She at least owns a boat. Otherwise, why did we find a set of boat chains in her apartment? They certainly weren’t new. Very worn, actually. And did you know that she had an animal?”

“She doesn’t have that, either.”

“She does. Or … shedid. At one point or another. I’m no expert, but I feel pretty confident that I can distinguish claw marks from furniture scuffs. You don’t find that interesting?” She raised one eyebrow.

Everything that he had been suspecting about Kane, seemed preposterous. But what she’d just implied … not Northwood. It was strange that the most farfetched conclusions about those two … would also make the most sense. All the strangest cases that even their heavily-skilled detectives would pass off to them—and they always had an answer. The shifts that Kane would take for years, who only recently changed them—after he met their vic. Northwood’s very predictable time off every month. The fact that they worked so well together … because they were so different from everyone else … and alike in so many ways.

It couldn’t be true.

“I want you to leave. And I don’t want you under the impression that just because you’re working a case in this precinct, that you have any right to walk into my office without knocking on that damn door, and waiting for me to permit you in. I don’t care what rank you are, or what you think you know. This is my precinct. You’re a guest. You and your team will conduct yourselves as such. Our jobs don’t stop being important just because you’ve graced us with your unwelcome presence. Don’t let the door hit you, Agent Foster.”

She looked like she was about to say something else, but his personal cell started ringing. He didn’t reach in his pocket for it—for fear that it might be one of them and she’d know. She smirked again and nodded, turning and closing the door on her way out. Foley dug out his phone and a heavy relief set in when he saw Brent Stratford’s number on the screen. He plucked a tissue from the box on the corner of his desk and wiped his face down with it before answering.

“Mr. Stratford.”

“Morning, Captain. Is this a good time to talk?”

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