Page 18 of Gunner

The silence between us stretched thin, and I almost broke it to apologize for being useless at the case I was overseeing. I held my tongue. Mason’s voice echoed inside my head to always seem confident, even when we had no clue what we were doing.

“It’s our duty to keep order,” Mason had said to me. “And sometimes that means giving false hopes and pretending everything will be fine and hope like hell that’s true.”

When we reached Mayor Getty’s car, a sleek, black sedan that stood out among the other cars, he turned to me. “Chief Witter, I understand these are trying times and you are under a lot of pressure from the people and the press to give them answers on the baby farming. No one wants to get those criminals responsible more than me. You understand this case might directly impact me being reelected for another term?”

“Yes, sir, I do, and I’m doing everything within my power to get to the bottom of this.”

“Do you have any evidence to suggest that the perpetrators have remained in Smoky Vale?”

“Nothing concrete.”

“Then maybe it’s best to focus on other solvable cases to boost the morale of the community. The more we lament the lack of closure on this case, the more critical the public becomes of us and our inability to solve crimes. Why don’t we highlight the different areas where we have shown our strengths?”

“I understand, Mr. Mayor. The departments have been working tirelessly on other cases. It’s just that we need to find these people. There’s no telling how many victims are out there. How many children have they already sold and what has become of them?”

“Hmm, this is a new position for you. I presume closing this case will mean a lot for your career, and I can appreciate this.” He gave me a nod. “By all means, spare no resources in finding those responsible. You have my full support on this. Frankly speaking, if you come out of this looking good, so do I.”

Relief coursed through me, and the tension eased from my shoulders. For a minute, I’d thought he would have insisted on me shoving the case to the bottom of our case pile and focusing on more easily solved crime so the department would look good. Our face in the community was important but not more so than solving these cases. The difficult ones needed attention too—even more so—despite the resources they took.

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Your support means a lot.”

He patted my shoulder, then got into his car. I waited for him to drive off before I went to my truck, my steps lighter. His approval had boosted my morale. Gunner had less than twelve hours to comply and give me his list. Filing charges against those three men who’d ousted me from the bar would show him how serious I was.

“Chief Witter.” A woman hurried up to me, battling her dress against the strong gust of wind. “I’m Janet with the Smoky Vale Star, and I have a few questions about the baby farm case.”

“When we have more information to share with the public, we’ll organize a press release,” I said in a clipped tone. “Have a nice day.”

She followed me, but I ignored her and got into my car. As I drove out of the parking lot, she was standing in the same spot, looking furious. Handling the press had been a part of my training before I took over this position after Mason died, but I loathed talking to them all the same. They had a way of twisting words and making it their own. I avoided the Smoky Vale Star unless it was necessary. Comparing Mason’s leadership and mine was a habit of theirs that annoyed me. Apparently, Chief Dehaney hadn’t been afraid to interact with the press and had given them more than I did.

On the way back to the police station, I stopped for a late breakfast. I’d been too queasy this morning to eat. With the paper bag of fries and double cheeseburger in hand and a large grape soda in the other, I walked through the doors of the police station, holding my tongue when the officer who preceded me let the door swing back, almost hitting me in the face.

The chatter quieted to a quiet hum, and heads lowered. How could I not sense how different everything was? When Mason had been chief, his very presence would fuel the conversations in the room. Strict as he was, he’d been well loved. His legacy now cast a shadow I didn’t seem capable of escaping.

Maybe I should resign.

With a sigh, I headed for my office—my sanctuary and the only place where I could breathe, think, and be myself within these walls. The rest of the building seemed to be forthem. I tried not to invade other areas so they wouldn’t feel uncomfortable at work, which meant I confined myself to my office. Probably not the best way to build a rapport with my staff, but I was never good with that easygoing banter Mason was known for.

When I’d just assumed the position, I’d organized mixers that only a handful of people attended. Happy hours were never truly happy, so I’d stopped.

The office door stood ajar. I frowned. Had someone entered without my permission?

As I pushed the door open, I froze. Casually sitting in my chair with a pair of well-worn black motorcycle boots propped up on the desk like he owned the place was the biker who was responsible for the faded bruises I still wore. He’d tilted the chair back and lowered it so he was in a reclining position, clutching the can of cashew nuts I kept on my desk for whenever I needed something to munch on. One cashew flew upward, missed his mouth, and landed somewhere on the floor.

“Fuck, I really suck at this.” He shook a handful of nuts into his hand and stuffed them into his mouth. “Do you know how expensive this shit is? Hope you don’t mind me taking some.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” I barked, slamming the door shut behind me.

“I told you I’d get in touch if I had something to share.” Bits of cashew nuts flew from his mouth. I might never have met a more disgusting man in my life. “So tread lightly, or I might not share at all.”

I inhaled deeply and let out the breath slowly.

“That’s it. Take deep breaths.”

Just like that my blood pressure spiked. “How did you get into my office?” I asked through gritted teeth.

I flew over to the desk, placed the bag and soda down, and scooped up the file I’d left out before I went to the meeting. Heart pounding in my chest, I held the file in my hand. Since I started in this police department, I’d created Operation Iron Circle. It contained all the information I’d gathered on the Grimm Reapers and the Blood Hounds. Had he snooped through it?

“Interesting stuff you have on the Grimm Reapers,” he said. “I thought you were close to the president’s boyfriend. Does he know you’re targeting his partner’s club?”

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