Page 11 of Desire

Chapter 8

Like hospitals,police stations have their own distinct smell. The scent of coffee, unwashed bodies, and even a slight hint of gunpowder, as though someone had just fired a gun, permeated the air. I stood inside the precinct and waited for Detective Daniel Webber to make an appearance. I dealt with the local authorities on occasion, but not frequently. The last time I, unfortunately, needed Webber’s assistance was one night a few months ago. I’d been working on a protection case for my friend Marcus. I continued to live with the guilt that, had I done my job better, someone close to Marcus would still be alive. It was just another burden to add to my already weighed down shoulders. A burden I took full responsibility for.

After a twenty-minute wait, Detective Webber sidled out of what I assumed was his office toward me. He was young, about my age, with tanned skin and shaggy, light brown hair that looked like it belonged on a surfer from California. He had taken off his suit jacket, and I recognized the edges of two half-sleeve tattoos on each of his muscular upper arms beneath his rolled up sleeves. Interesting that I hadn’t noticed them the last time we’d been in each other’s presence. Of course, I’d been too busy cleaning up one of his fuck-ups to pay attention.When he stood close enough to reach out and shake my hand, I couldn’t help the satisfaction I felt that I had to look slightly down my nose at him since he was shorter than my own six foot four frame.

“Mr. Black, I don’t see much of you around here. What can I do for you?” he greeted me.

I glanced around before questioning him. “Is there somewhere private we can talk?”

Webber motioned me to follow him as we headed into the same office he’d just exited. After he directed me to a chair on one side of his desk, he took a seat in the chair opposite me, put his hands behind his head, and reclined, striking a far too relaxed pose.

“Now, would you like to tell me what this is about?” he asked, seemingly uninterested. For some reason, his entire attitude seemed fake. He was trying for nonchalance and failing. I wondered what his angle was.

“I’d like to preface this conversation with a promise that it goes no further than you and me. It’s not my story to tell, and if she finds out I told you, she’s going to be even more pissed at me than she already is. Plus, I have no proof beyond speculation.” I began.

“She?” he queried.

“Do I have your word or not, Detective?” I snapped.

Webber sat forward in his chair, removing his hands from behind his head, only to hold them palm out toward me in a placating motion. “Okay, okay. Damn. Yes, only insofar as nothing you tell me breaks any laws or concerns breaking any laws. Now, talk.”

I shared with him exactly what Bridget had shared with me. I told him about the phone call, and I told him about my encounters with Alex, including finding the handprint bruise around the boy’s bicep, and the bullshit story he had tried to pass off on how he received it. I concluded with the information I had gathered during my reconnaissance about the regimental schedule Malcolm Shipman maintained and that something felt out of place. Then I sat there and waited as Webber digested the information.

After an eternity passed, he responded. “So, let me get this straight. Your girlfriend gives up a kid for adoption. He’s now calling her for help for a reason no one can figure out. You find a bruise on him that could have actually happened in the exact way he described, but because he’s your girlfriend’s kid and his uncle has a regimental schedule, you think he’s beating up on the boy? Do I have it right?”

I stood abruptly, almost knocking the chair backward in my haste. “Fuck you, Webber. I have a legitimate reason to believe Alex is being abused. Just because you can’t get your head out of your ass to see it, doesn’t make it false. If you aren’t going to help me figure out how to help this kid, then you can kiss my ass. I’ll do my job and yours. Thanks for wasting my time, asshole. I’ll see myself out.” I jerked an about-face and headed toward the door, understanding now why Bridget had come to me and not the police.

I had almost yanked the door off its hinges when a booming voice sounded behind me. “Black, get your ass back in here.”

The offended SOB in me had me flipping the fucker off and storming away because I didn’t follow commands, especially those given by some dickwad with a badge. The more rational part of my brain told me I needed to stop and turn around. I needed to play nice for Alex’s sake. Luckily for everyone, I listened to the rational side. I slowly turned, jaw clenched to hold back the big “fuck you”. It took all of my tightly held control to softly close the door behind me and walk back to the chair I had vacated seconds ago. I sat down and glared at the man across from me.

Webber sighed heavily. “Look, I didn’t say I didn’t believe you, but I can’t start harassing a guy because of a single bruise you saw on some boy, regardless of who his mother is to you. These are serious allegations you are bringing up, and they need to be handled with care. Based on what you described, my gut is saying exactly what yours is. But neither of us can go off half-cocked because of a gut feeling. I need to tread lightly. My ass is already under scrutiny with another case I’m working on. I don’t plan on getting fired because I fucked up again.”

I was still pissed and could feel the vein throbbing in my temple. “To be honest, I don’t give a shit about your ass. All I care about is this kid. You can either help me or not, but regardless, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that this abusive fuck is put away for a long time. Let this be fair warning to you, Detective. Tread lightly all you want, but I will destroy anyone who gets in my way of taking this motherfucker down. Are we clear?”

Webber stared at me for several minutes, neither of us breaking eye contact, before he finally answered. “Crystal. But let me be clear as well. What you do is your business, but it’ll become mine if you break the law. Do that, and I’ll be on your ass like flies on shit. Are we clear?”

With a nod, I stood as calmly as I could considering the anger I felt and walked out of his office making plans about what to do next.

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