Page 15 of Nightshade

“In this outfit, no. I’ll just wait on the reports from you. Get them to me by, let’s say, tomorrow morning at eight.”

“Not a problem.”

Stilwell was not going to let Ahearn get under his skin. He’d learned a lot since that Sunday morning at the homicide bureau. He looked over at Lampley, who was sitting at his desk acting like he was looking at something on his computer screen. Mercy was doing the same thing at her desk.

He turned his eyes back to Ahearn.

“Where’s your partner?”

“Waiting at the Port of Long Beach, but you don’t need to worry about that. This is not your case, Stillborn. You know that, right?”

“Once you make an ID—if you do actually make an ID—you’ll need eyes and ears out here. There’s no need to hold grudges, Ahearn. You won. You kept your job and I got shipped out here. Let’s just put it behind us and do the work.”

“Fuck you, man. Your complaint is still in my jacket. It’s not going anywhere and I’ll never get promoted. I’ll never have my own squad. All because you got your head up your ass about a case that nobody ever gave a shit about.”

“Except for me.”

“Yeah, boo-hoo and fuck you. I’m out of here, and I’m telling you now, don’t get any ideas. I find out you’re working my case, and this time it won’t be a transfer you get. It’ll be sayonara, baby.”

Stilwell raised his arms, palms out, in a hands-off gesture.

“I don’t work homicide anymore,” he said.

“That’s right,” Ahearn said. “You’re the sheriff of shit town and it’s going to stay that way for a long time.”

“When you need something from out here, I’d prefer it if you let Sampedro make the call. It will work best that way, for both of us.”

“With pleasure.”

He lifted a plastic trash bag off a table. Stilwell guessed that it contained his clothes and shoes.

“How are you getting back?” Stilwell asked.

“The chopper’s on its way,” Ahearn said. “Maybe you can get Lampshade here to ride me over there in one of your little go-carts.”

“We call them UTVs—utility task vehicles.”

“And I call that pathetic.”

“Maybe. Lampley, take him where he wants to go.”

Lampley got up from his desk to carry out the mission. Stilwell said nothing as Ahearn headed for the door.

“Fuck you very much, Stillborn,” he said over his shoulder.

Once Ahearn was out, Stilwell looked over at Mercy, who had been silent and unmoving behind her desk.

“So, what do you think, Mercy?” he asked.

“I think he’s an asshole,” she said. “He’s the one who’s pathetic.”

“You know how to read ’em.”

“What happened between you two?”

“That’s a long story. We had a difference of opinion on a case and it didn’t go well after that.”

“That’s too bad.”

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