Page 39 of Finding Home with You

By the time I walk into the station, it’s late in the afternoon, I’m starving and nursing a killer headache. I’d practically murder someone for a hotdog, but I don’t have time, not with everything I still need to do.

First up on that list is to update the captain and Joe with everything I found out yesterday and this morning.

“Fuck,” I murmur as I walk into my office. I shrug off my jacket and throw it in the direction of my chair before picking up the case file and walking back out. “Joe,” I call out as I head in the direction of the captain’s office. “You got a sec?”

Joe looks up, nods once and is out of his chair and walking toward me. I rap once on the closed door before opening it, not bothering to wait for an invitation. The captain is on the phone and shoots us an annoyed look as he holds up a finger, signaling for us to wait.

“You okay?” Joe asks quietly.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair as I shake my head. Despite getting some answers from Erin last night, I’m far from okay. My detour to the prison this morning didn’t help things either. Interviewing Fitzgerald was about as productive as slamming my cock in a car door, which is exactly what I’d expected from him, smarmy little shit that he is. His visitor’s log didn’t offer up anything either. Just the usual routine of over-priced defense lawyers, the names of which I recognized as being connected to all the crime-ridden fuckwits that run riot in Boston.

There was no sign of Anthony Macklin on the visitor list, which I’d also expected. No sign of Fitzgerald’s wife either, or any other family member. I’m pretty sure Erin is an only child, but I guess I can’t be certain of anything about her family history anymore.

Erin Fitzgerald. God that’s not a name I’m never going to get used to.

“Summers, what can I do for you?”

I clear my throat, unsure how this new information is going to be received given the circumstances. On the one hand, we now had a shitload more information about the people involved in the gun deal we interrupted the other night. But on the other hand, my girlfriend and her mob-boss father are now connected to it all. This is not going to be pretty.

“There have been some developments, Sir,” I start, stepping forward and taking a seat, Joe immediately following my lead. “I need to let you both know about some new information regarding what went down in the warehouse the other night.”

“Okay,” the captain says, elbows on the desk as he leans forward.

I take a deep breath, pulling the photo from the case file. “Seems the whole thing is connected to Fitzgerald and his crew,” I say, sliding it across his desk. “This was found amongst the guns and shit that night. It’s an old family portrait. Fitzgerald, his wife, his 2IC and…” I pause, clearing my throat. “And his daughter.”

“His 2IC?” Joe chimes in.

“Yeah,” I nod, not looking at him. “Anthony Macklin is his name. Likely he was the one who dropped it that night. I have reports that this is the kind of shit he’d definitely be tied up in and given his now known links to Fitzgerald, this blows the whole case against him wide open. We’ll have to contact the DA.”

“Where has this information come from?” the captain asks, looking up from the photo.

I glance at Joe, before turning back to my boss. “Fitzgerald’s daughter,” I say, gesturing toward the picture. “Goes by the name of Erin Connelly these days.” My voice cracks as I say her name out loud, officially tying her to this shit storm.

“What?” Joe practically shouts.

“What?” the captain says. “What am I missing here?”

I take another deep breath, trying to remain calm as I look at him and say, “Erin Connelly. My girlfriend.”

A couple of hours later and Joe and I are finally walking out of the boss’ office. I’m trying to remain calm, but on the inside I’m fuming. It had taken everything I had in me to stay in control of my anger and frustrations as we worked through what would happen next. I’d half lost it when the captain tried to take me off the case citing a massive conflict of interest and possible impaired judgment.

And while I didn’t doubt that this was partly true, given my involvement with Erin, I also knew that I was going to keep working this case whether I was officially on it or not. Aside from Beck and Finn, there was no one else I trusted to look after Erin other than me. Besides, I had a feeling she wouldn’t be too keen on talking to anyone else either.

I got the feeling the captain had understood, so he’d agreed to let me stay on; for now, and with certain conditions attached.

“You wanna get a drink?” Joe asks. “I think you probably need one.”

I glance at my watch, and see it’s almost six. “Yeah,” I exhale. “That would be good. Just give me a couple of minutes to finish up some things and I’ll be good to go.”

Joe nods and wanders over to his desk. I walk into my office, flipping through the file for the contact details for the Cedar Junction facility. I want to call them and make sure they start sending me daily updates on who visits Fitzgerald. I’m pretty sure Macklin won’t risk it, but he may have a go-between. The biggest issue will be if the messages are being passed through the lawyers, because that’s one conversation I won’t be privy to, no matter how much I ask.

The sound of my door slamming distracts me and when I look up I’m surprised to see Erin standing in my office, arms folded across her chest and a pissed off expression on her face.

“Hey, babe, what are you doing here?” I ask, as I walk around my desk and move to hug her.

Erin steps backward, shaking her head a little. “You went to visit my father?” she says through clenched teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me you went to see him?”

“Okay, hold up,” I say, gently touching her elbow as I guide her toward a chair. Erin reluctantly sits and I do the same, pulling the chair around so we are facing each other. “Yes, Erin, I did go and see your father. This morning, after I left your place.”

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