“What the hell is this, Sloane? Are you trying to open up a flower shop?” Dad asks when I reach around him to take the card from the clear little trident that holds it in place.
“Are you just now noticing these?” I ask in astonishment, looking up at him as I tear open the tiny envelope.
“I never come in here,” he defends.
“Wow, some detective you turned out to be,” I mumble teasingly.
It’s the first time in days I’ve felt like talking to anyone, much less teasing.
“Watch it, smart ass,” he says taking the card from my fingers. I lunge for it, but he holds it high above his head. Much too high for me to reach.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I was just playing, Dad. Now give me the card.”
“No. I want to know what’s going on. You’re like a damn vampire, sleeping all day. You won’t eat, you won’t talk to anybody and you keep getting flowers.”
“It’s nothing, Dad. Nothing I can’t handle.” I’m still fighting being the protected little girl, even though sometimes I’d give anything for my father to pull me into his arms and tell me everything will be fine.
“I’m not stupid, Sloane. I know there was more between you two than just friendship. And I know a betrayal like that is hard, if not damn near impossible to get over. But you should try to put yourself in his shoes. Think about what lengths you’d go to in order to protect one of your brothers. And God forbid something happen to one. You act like you’re not a Locke in some ways, like you don’t understand why we treat you the way that we do, but if someone hurt one of us, you’d be a damn bear to deal with.” I say nothing as I listen to him. He knows just enough of the situation to know Hemi’s roll in looking for a dirty cop. Beyond that, I gave him very few details, other than that some things he’d discovered pointed to Steven. “Well,” he continues when I say nothing, “I know I’ve always been hard on you, but I hope you know you can talk to me. I’m still your father and I love you more than anything.”
“I know, Dad. And I love you, too,” I reassure him. “And I’m fine. Really.”
“Slo-ane,” he warns.
“Da-ad.”
“Are you still worried about Steven?” he asks, making me sigh.
“Maybe a little.”
“You did what you had to do, what you thought was best in coming to me. He’ll see that one day. Especially when I tell him what I found out today.”
My ears perk up. “What? What did you find out today?”
As I wait for him to tell me, I notice the deep lines of worry etched into his forehead, the unhappy way his mouth is pulled at the corners. Whatever it is, it’s not good news.
“There were a few kilos of bad coke confiscated by homicide during one of their investigations. It was a joint Narcotics/Homicide kind of thing. It was around that time, so I started looking into the impounded drugs. Turns out there are a couple of kilos missing. From the very back of the shelf, where no one would notice unless they were specifically looking. I checked into the log to see who all came and went during the six months after that evidence was logged in.” He pauses, spreading the fingers of one hand over his forehead. “It shows Steven using his access card to go in. Half a dozen times.”
I gasp. “What?” My heart is pounding so hard, it feels like it might explode.
“Don’t get too excited now. This is your brother we’re talking about. I checked the physical log to see what was signed in or out. Someone signed Steven’s name as checking out an evidence file on a cold case he’d worked the year before. The thing is, it’s not Steven’s signature. I’ve kept this on the down low up until now, and I’m gonna try and keep it that way. I made a copy of the log sheet and I’m going to take it to one of the handwriting analysts the city uses for court cases. When I take this to Internal Affairs, I want the record to already show that the handwriting is forged. And then I’ll be on this thing like stink on shit until I find the bastard who framed my son.”
I can see fury emanating from him like steam. “Who would do this to him, Dad? And why?”
“Well, I have my suspicions.” He looks at me meaningfully and, after a few seconds, I realize why he is dreading telling Steven what, at first, seemed like only good news.
The timing—when Steven lived with Duncan on Tumblin Street. The coincidence—Duncan leaving late at night on what Steven thought were trysts. The facts—someone was able to get Steven’s access card, just long enough to use it to check out evidence from the lockers. And it would have to be a cop.
All things point to one person. My brother’s best friend. His most trusted ally. His partner.
“Oh frick,” I breathe. “Duncan.” I raise my eyes to my father’s and I see the sadness in them. I’m sure he feels betrayed by him, too. He loved Duncan like a son. He’s worked with Duncan’s father for years. Duncan’s father who works in Narcotics.
Finally, he gives me one curt nod. “But I have to have proof. And I’m going to need your brother’s help. And you know he’s not going to like it.”
“No, he won’t like it, but he’ll do it. Because it’s the right thing. It’s the Locke way,” I say, handing back to my father with a smile words I’ve heard all my life.
“Yeah, it’s the Locke way. We protect our own. At all costs.”
For some reason—for the millionth time—I think of Hemi.
CHAPTER FORTY - Hemi
Sloane still won’t answer my calls. I don’t know how else to reach her, how else to convince her to talk to me. To hear me out. Just one more time.
There are things I need to tell her, things I’ve just realized myself. Things that I can’t say on a voice mail or in a card, or with flowers.
Important things.
Truthful things.
Like I promised her.
One more time, I try her number. It rings and rings and rings. Finally, I hear her familiar voice click on with her familiar message. My gut twists up just listening to it, fearing that I really won’t ever be able to make this right, that she’ll never forgive me and I won’t ever be able to tell her what I need to say.
“Sloane, it’s me. There’s something I have to tell you. It’s important. Please, just give me five more minutes. Please.”
With a sigh, I hang up.
Again.
Now I just have to wait.