Page 126 of Power of the Mind

“I do. I prefer being my own boss.”

“You never did get along with authority. I never worked with a bigger pain in the ass in my life. You were such a jaded prick. I hardly knew what to do with you.”

“Yep. Haven’t changed.”

Vern howled, his booming voice echoing down the line. “No shit.”

We’d butted heads on more than one occasion. Vern was older by ten or eleven years, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t mold the rookie into a decent cop. I’d persistently bucked the rules and hadn’t learned to control my temper. At that time, the world had been out to get me, and I was still fighting back. I had been nothing more than a punk-ass kid, barely a year out of rehab, and still angry to my core.

Still was most days.

Regardless of the countless times Vern had reported my behavior to our superior, no matter that it was likely because of Vern that I’d been put on probation and moved to headquarters for desk duty a few short weeks before my disastrous sortie from the department, I’d never hated the guy.

“I need a favor,” I said again, cutting to the chase.

“Oh yeah? What’s it gonna cost me? Is it legal?”

“It’s notillegal.”

Vern chuckled. “That ain’t sayin’ much. Lay it on me.”

“A few guys from the old crew arrested a kid named Brodie Newall in York Cemetery last week. He was held overnight and released the next morning.”

“And how do you know that?”

“A little bird told me.”

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

“I’m curious if he left on his own the following morning or if someone picked him up.”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“Ask Anderson. Is he still at the front desk?”

“Yeah. That old fart will never leave. And if I ask him, then what?”

“If the kid was picked up by his mother or a woman in that age bracket, I was hoping you could send me a still from the security camera in the lobby.”

Vern whistled. “Wanna tell me why?”

“No.”

“I don’t hear from you for… What? Three, four years, and you aren’t even gonna invite me out for a beer in exchange for help? Don’t tell me you’ve been kicked out of all the bars in the city.”

“I quit drinking.”

“Since when?”

Since never, but Vern didn’t have to know that. The point was I didn’t want to drink. Going to a bar and having a cold one with my old partner risked taking me down a road I didn’t want to travel.

“Tell you what,” Vern said. “I’ll talk to Anderson. If I find something worth passing along, you owe me a steak dinner and conversation.”

“Deal.”

“When do you need it?”

“Yesterday.”

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