Page 25 of Mann Hunt
Charlie finally recognised him. He was the younger cop from the wrecking yard.
“Lucas Fraser,” he said. “But my friends call me Luke.”
“So, Constable Fraser, what can we do for you?” Declan was cool, but professional.
“For starters, you could let me apologise for my partner’s behaviour yesterday—to both of you. He’s a bit of a—”
“Jerk,” Declan interrupted.
“That’s one word for it. I could think of several others—asshole, bigot and homophobe might do for starters,” Luke offered.
“Well, we agree on something after all,” Declan said.
“I just want you to know that we’re not all like that.”
“Would you like a coffee?” Declan asked.
“Sure,” Luke said.
“Charlie, make it two cups.”
“Two cups it is,” Charlie replied.
“And then join us in my office.”
Charlie smiled.
* * * *
Declan took Luke into his office.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” Luke said. “A lot nicer than where I work. Although I probably don’t have to tell you that. Things probably haven’t changed much since you left the service. District 7, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“That fight of yours is legendary.”
“I try to forget it.”
“We never will—gay cops, that is. When I found out who you were, I wanted to come and apologise in person.”
Declan stared at him.
“Most of us are still flying under the radar,” Luke continued. “You’re kind of an unspoken hero to us.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” the detective said.
“Sometimes I’d like to fight back like you did.”
“Why don’t you? It might be the only thing that’ll bring about change.”
“Too scared to lose my job and pension, I guess. You’ve got bigger balls than any of us—and the pressure of having your old man in a power position in the force. Jesus, I can’t begin to imagine Christmas around your family table.”
Declan was happy when Charlie came in with the coffees.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I also brought cookies.” Charlie placed a plate on the desk, then shot Declan a glance. “Gwen made me! You might be good at saying no to her, but I’m new here.”
“These look great,” Luke said, helping himself to one. “Now, regarding the incident at the wrecking yard—and this is strictly on the QT—failing anything showing up from fingerprints from the car, the case’ll be closed. Everyone’s happy to believe it’s a case of mistaken identity—one that the accountant would sooner forget. It’s also possible that someone higher up the chain has a vested interest in keeping things quiet, but that’s above my pay grade.”
