Page 46 of As the Rain Falls
The next shift has yet to come in, and the station feels emptier than usual. The room smells of paper ink and cold, stale coffee, with a kind of underlying scent of smoke added to the mixture.
Some drunk guys are dozing off behind the bars, their snores echoing just a bit louder than the sound of the old fan attached tothe ceiling. I snort when one of them lets out a particularly loud noise, reminding me a bit of Well napping while I work.
“I know it’s inconvenient, but keeping in touch is important,” Thomas explains. “Especially with a case like yours. It takes time, but we need to follow procedure.”
“Listen, Mr. Detective,” I clear my throat. “I don’t care about procedure. Let’s get this done quickly, okay? I had to come here straight from work, so I hope you don’t mind me dirtying your carpet. But I really need to go home and…”
Take a shower, for starters.
Thomas eyes my pants and boots, his face twisting with disgust. My jeans seem to have been dyed some strange red color from all the stains. A strange feeling of deep satisfaction washes over me. I love it when I become an inconvenience to people like him.
“It’s fine,” he says and opens the door to his office, inviting me to come inside.
Now, I’m usually not one to mind other people’s business, but the air feels heavier as soon as I step in. It absolutely reeks in here, and I wonder how the hell a guy like him manages to stay inside these four walls all the time, alone.
A few papers are plastered all over the surface of his desk. There’s a half-empty beer or two next to his computer and a pack of cigarettes poorly shoved behind a stack of files. Really, Leblanc’s office looks more like a dump for cases nobody seems to want.
I’m guessing he still has to pay his dues.Maybe taking care of my family’s case is just another way for him to get accepted on this new team.
“Please, close the door. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”
“Is it about Lucia?” I ask, getting more serious. “Did you find any leads?”
“Well…” Thomas trails off. “No.”
I push the chair and sit down, checking to see if there are any traces of mud on the ground. He hands me some papers. I read the first few sentences and try to fight the urge to flip my middle finger at him like a ten-year-old.
“Man.” I promptly slide the papers back to him. “I’m not… I’m not signing any of this.”
“Good thing we’re not asking you to.” Thomas slides the papers back to me again. “Your parents are the ones who have to come in to sign them.”
Son of a…
“Then, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for them to come in and sign them off, sir.” I slide the papers back to him one last time. “I find it hard to believe they will, at least not when you haven’t done your job.”
Thomas sighs, staring at the walls. When I don’t relent, he turns his attention to a stack of files sitting over his desk, showing me his side profile. His jaw works like he’s grinding his teeth, a vein popping near his temple.
I cross my arms over my chest, not looking away from him. He turns his back to me and starts organizing the files behind him. I recognize it as a self-soothing habit.My presence makes him deeply uncomfortable.
It’s almost too funny.
“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be, Beckett. I’m sure your parents will answer if you’re the one contacting them instead of me.”
Oh, great. He tried reaching out before calling me, but my parents ignored him.
I lean back against the chair, spreading my legs further apart, and imagine the kind of face my father must have made when Detective Leblanc tried to inconvenience him amidst his mid-forties crisis-induced vacation.
“As you may know,” I start sounding sarcastic. “My parents are out of the country.”
Thomas’s jaw tightens. “But they’ve been gone since your sister passed.”
Lucia died in August.
We’re in October now.
My smile widens. “I know that, sir.”
“How long until they come back?”
