Page 107 of What's Left of Us

But not before I hear the softest whisper in the night that sounds awfully like Georgia’s voice. “One day, I hope to deserve your love.”

When I wake up early the next morning, there’s a note from Georgia saying she went to work to cover somebody’s shift.

The sheets are cold.

The flowers are still on the nightstand.

And there’s something in the air that makes it hard to fall back asleep.

*

Georgia acts offthe next few weeks, but asking what’s wrong gets me nowhere. So I stop asking and wait for the day the smile returns on her face, hoping it’s not me who somehow knocked it down.

On my way out the door, Sergeant Anderson calls out to me from the breakroom, where he’s pouring himself a cup of coffee. “You have a minute, Hawk?”

Glancing at my watch, I cringe at the time. “I need to get going, sarge. Trying to avoid being part of those divorce statistics they tell us about in the academy.”

He lifts the mug to his lips before gesturing for me to follow him to his office. “It’ll only be a minute. I wanted to talk to you about your interview.”

Aw, Christ.If it’s about the interview I did with the BCI, I don’t know if it’s going to be good. I’d been nervous leading up to it and was working with four hours of sleep the morning I went in. I was pretty sure I nailed the questions, but I knew it took more than that to be considered for a spot. My file was thick when they pulled it out, and I was fairly certain it was to gauge my reaction.

I’m a damn good cop, and that’s what I told them. Any other reaction was held back while they started the questioning. I was honest, blunt, and to the point. As far as I could tell, they were intrigued. Maybe even a little impressed. But this is the first time anybody has brought it up in a month since it happened.

“I spoke to Rigley,” he says of the senior investigator who has one foot out the door into early retirement. “He seemed impressed by you. Asked what I thought about your time as a trooper.”

“I’m sure you sang my praises,” I muse, unsure of what Anderson might have said. We’ve gotten along, but I know I get on his nerves sometimes with my stubbornness. I think it makes me good at my job. He thinks it makes me risky. I wonder what Rigley’s opinion is.

Anderson chuckles. “Like Mary Poppins.”

His mood loosens some of the coiled stress in my back. “Who doesn’t love Mary Poppins?”

The zone sergeant, who’s leaving in three weeks, leans his arms against the edge of the desk. “I told him that you were driven to do the right thing for the people, and it makes you good at your job. Truthfully, I haven’t seen somebody willing to stay so many days in overtime since I was on the road.”

As much as staying late sucks, it’s nice to be recognized for it. “I appreciate that, sir.”

“I was being honest,” he says with a shrug, grabbing his coffee. “But what impressed him the most was your connections.”

My connections? “What connections was he referring to?”

He sips his coffee. “You never told me you knew Captain Chamberlin. The man basically endorsed you to Rigley. Having those kinds of friends in high places will get you far.”

Captain Chamberlin spoke to Rigley aboutme? I haven’t even met the man before.

My teeth grind, knowing there’s only one person who could be behind that. But why the hell would Nikolas Del Rossi do me any favors? “He encouraged the promotion?”

Anderson’s eyebrow pops up. “Of course he did. He seemed to know you well. Said you were dedicated to cleaning up the streets and making this patrol area safe again. You’ve been leading the station with DUI arrests for the past two years, and your record shows that. It’s about time someone noticed outside of your peers here in the troop. You’re a shoo-in for the position now. Rigley would be an idiot not to accept your application with someone like Chamberlin endorsing you.”

It takes everything in me not to let my eye twitch. I’ve wanted to become an investigator since my first year on the job, and the desire has only grown as I’ve worked with detectives on interdiction cases tied to organized crime in the city. The CSU guys working undercover to get high-priority dealers have gathered a list of names that have been affiliated with the bigbosses. Del Rossi’s name hasn’t been dropped, but I wonder if they’re close to finding him out.

Why else would he ask Chamberlin to move me off the road where I can’t make the same number of arrests as before? And what is the captain getting out of putting a good word in for me? Because I highly doubt a man I’ve never met before would help me get promoted without some sort of benefit in his favor.

“Most people would look happier right now,” he notes skeptically.

I have to look away and collect myself, not willing to show my cards so easily. “I prefer getting jobs on my own. Influences like Chamberlin don’t make it feel as rewarding.”

Especially because it seems like there’s a price tag attached to this little gesture.

Maybe Del Rossi realized I was determined to come after everything he had, regardless of the setups he tried organizing. If they didn’t work, he needed to try something else. Using the captain is a genius move on his part. If Del Rossi can’t change the playing field, the captain can. And with me off the road, it keeps the dealers suspected of work for him in business. Does he get a cut of that? Is that where the money is coming from?

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