Page 12 of Reclaiming his Honor
She smiled like a schoolgirl, but kept walking.
“I’ve still got a week!” he yelled.
She stifled a laugh and called over her shoulder. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“I’m not scared.”
A giddy happiness filled her as she made her way back. The man she’d married was going to try to win her back, and while she didn’t know if he would succeed, she was looking forward to him trying.
CHAPTER9
“None of this makes a goddamn bit of sense.”
Sloan Dvorak ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Moto had called him in at three AM to doublecheck what he’d found on Mike Turner, former police officer with the Mobile, Alabama PD.
Initially, Sloan had been pissed that Moto called him instead of contacting Mac directly, but now that he was here and they’d been going over the information for the past hour or more, he understood why. Turner’s records were a minefield of misinformation, from his hiring all the way through his discharge. Someone had been fucking with Turner’s personnel file, but good. It was difficult to figure out what—if anything—was true. “How in the hell could these be actual records from the Mobile PD?”
Moto hitched his hip onto the desk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they’re not. They’re obviously falsified.”
“Which part?” Sloan threw his hands up. “The part where he got the mayor’s commendation for bravery or the part where he was whitelisted by the FBI?”
“See? Like that,” said Moto. “I don’t even think that’s athing, being whitelisted by the FBI.”
“It’s like a kid making up details as he goes along,” said Sloan. “Do we have anybody with a connection to the Mobile PB?”
Moto shook his head. “Not in this office. Maybe in Atlanta.”
“I’ll call Cowboy.” The leader of HERO Force New York wasn’t bound to appreciate the early morning wake-up call any more than Sloan had, but it was necessary. Sloan took the bizarre file, walked into his office, and called Leo Wilson. “Cowboy, it’s Sloan Dvorak.”
“What the hell time is it?” Cowboy asked, his voice blurry
“Almost oh-four-hundred hours.”
“This had better be good.”
“Mac asked Moto for information on a detective Mike Turner with the Mobile, Alabama, PD. His file reads like a work of fiction. You got any contacts in the department who can check this out for me?”
It took Cowboy just a second to pull the info from the mental drive. “Flasher worked there before he enlisted, maybe ten years ago.”
“You got his number?”
Cowboy gave it to him and Sloan called Flasher, who was equally unhappy to be woken up. Although when Sloan posed his question, Flasher told him, “Detective Turner? Yeah, I knew him. Worked on the Godak case.”
Sloan furrowed his brows. “Arnold Godak, the guy who was just executed? That Godak?”
“That’s the one. About damn time they killed him, if you ask me.”
Sloan’s mind engaged as his eyes narrowed. There’d been a news story. Something had happened at Godak’s execution, though he hadn’t paid much attention at the time. He opened a browser window on his computer. “There was something about another murder. A letter he left the media.”
He Googled it, the results matching Flasher’s words as he spoke.
“He said ‘The murders don’t end with me. You and your loved ones will never be safe,’ with an X marked on a map. Then they found the sister of one of his victims floating in the Mississippi River right fucking there.”
“Son of a bitch,” Sloan said under his breath, images of the police at the site where the body was found filling his screen. “And this Turner guy worked the case?”
“He ran it. Him and some other guy, but Turner was in charge.”
In Sloan’s opinion, some of the best evidence wasn’t tangible, it was what you felt on a mission or working a case. “What did your gut tell you about Turner?”
