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Internal Affairs Ch. 01

By: wolverine7009



(Revised)

GROSSE POINTE, MICHIGAN

The City of Detroit has gone through many changes over the past 10 years; in short, there are fewer residents and more crime. 

On this cold and windy November morning, Cathy O'Malley laid in bed wondering what her first day as one of the Department's newly-appointed Police Detectives would be like. Cathy is third generation Police Officer. Her Grandfather, Richard O'Malley, was a 35-year veteran who retired 14 years ago as the Assistant Commander to the Chief of Police. Her father, Don O'Malley, is a 27-year veteran currently in charge of the Mayor's Detail. And there's her older brother, Steven O'Malley, an 11-year veteran currently a sergeant with the Violent Crimes Bureau.

As you can imagine, 27-year-old Cathy felt the pressure from her family to be a good cop, and she was, despite the harsh treatment from the Academy Instructors because of the unmistakable pure beauty she poses. Cathy could have been a model with her 36-32-42-inch figure. She stands at 5'7", 150 pounds with red hair, blue eyes, and white porcelain skin that is flawless. She graduated in the top 5% of her Academy class, was Officer of the Month 3 times, and scored at the top of her class on the Detective's exam. The only thing Cathy had not been on top in was love. Her last real relationship ended over 2 years ago, and since then she has had a couple of lame dates that didn't even compare to how a warm bath with a glass of wine and a good book made her feel. Her last sexual encounters were 8 months ago. 

The thought of having a sexual encounter started to get Cathy a little wet, her pink nipples were slightly hard, before she realized it; she was massaging her clit. Throbbing deep inside her vaginal walls, the desire to be fucked was almost over-bearing. STOP! STOP! Cathy told herself; you don't have time for this.

What is that noise? Cathy thought to herself. Oh, it's the phone.

"Hello, Detective O'Malley speaking."

DOWNTOWN DETROIT (Westin Book Cadillac Residential Penthouse)

As the water continually poured out of the shower head and the steam rose in the porcelain-tiled bathroom, Cedric Johnson stood there under the water trying to get his thoughts together for the day's activities.

As he began to wash his chiseled body, he ran his hand across the scar on his chest. Flash, bang, smoke. "Officer Down! Officer Down! It's been 3 years since the shooting that put Detective Johnson in the I.C.U. for 7 months to recover from multiple gunshot wounds; however, it feels like it was just yesterday that it happened.

Even though the physical wounds have healed, the mental wounds are still fresh for this once semi-pro football player who dominated the gridiron. At 6'3, 235lbs., with a bald head and an almond skin tone, this brother looks like he stepped off the pages of Sports Illustrated.

But during his long recovery, Cedric lost the only thing more important to him than his job, his fiancé, Amber. She gave him unconditional love and the confidence to believe in himself. Amber was also very motivated herself. She was a top-graduate from the University of Michigan Law School as well as an up-and-coming young Assistant DA. After the shooting, Amber realized that a relationship with a cop was not what she wanted.

As Cedric continued to wash himself, he couldn't believe he was getting hard, thinking about Amber and how sexy she was. Amber had skills, her body was like a pure, sexy Porsche and Cedric drove it hard and fast. Cedric's manhood was at its full potential at 9 ½ inches long and 2 inches thick. His grip on the shaft got tighter, the strokes became faster. 

A tingling sensation started deep in his balls. Oh, how he loved plowing his dick deep inside Amber's always willing, always soaking-wet pussy. The way she used to clinch her vaginal walls around his dick was amazing, Cedric yells, "FUCK!!!" With one last stroke a jet stream of hot cum rockets from his dick, exploding against the shower tile followed by another stream of cum and slight tingle through Cedric's body. Damn, I needed that, thought Cedric.

Time to get ready for work. Detective Johnson is assigned to the Internal Affairs Division, and last week he got word that he would be getting a new partner. She was the newly-appointed Detective, Cathy O'Malley. Cedric knows her brother, Steven, well; he's from his old unit: Violent Crimes.

GROSSE POINTE, MICHIGAN 

Don exclaimed, "Wow! Listen to you, my baby girl, a Detective!"

Cathy responded, "Hi dad."

"I just wanted to say hi, and tell you how proud we are of you." Remember, there is no such thing as a bad department, only bad...cops." Cathy simultaneously finishes the sentence with her dad.

"I know, dad! Hey, I've got to go. Don't want to be late my first day."

"Okay, okay. Be safe out there. Love you!"

"Love you too, Dad. Bye!"

Cathy grabs her keys. Okay mental checklist...badge, gun, cuffs and brief. One last look in the mirror...GOD! Cathy thought to herself. Even in a light grey, Donna Karen two-piece pant-suit with a cream-colored turtle neck, her assets where hard to miss. Her firm, tight, meaty ass; her voluptuous 36C breasts; and her curvy hips. Most white boys didn't like the thickness, but the brothers gave her compliments all the time. And while Cathy never had a sexual encounter with a black man, she thought about it once or twice.

Detroit Police Plaza (Internal Affairs Division)

Lieutenant JC Williams (LT) "Hey, Johnson!"

Cedric replied, "Yeah, LT?"

"I just got a call from Headquarter Surveillance. They need some assistance on a stakeout for a priority-one case, #IA-2216, you and your new partner got pulled. Speaking of new partners, where is she at? Oh never mind, here she is. O'Malley, over here!"

"Yes, Lieutenant!"

As Cathy walked from the elevator toward Lieutenant JC William's office, Cedric stood up to see Steven O'Malley's little sister. WOW! Cedric could not believe his eyes. Immediately, he noticed that little Cathy O'Malley wasn't so little anymore. The faded picture of a young High School girl that Steven O'Malley was showing over the years was definitely dated.

That image had been replaced with this thick-ass, flawless runway model with fire-engine red hair. And to say Cedric wanted to fuck her was an understatement; he wanted to devour every last inch of her.

As Cathy walked towards Lieutenant JC Williams office from the elevator, her eyes couldn't pull away from the athletic, tall black man dressed in a custom navy-blue, pin-striped 4-button, single-breasted Italian suit, standing with the Lieutenant. This couldn't be Cedric Johnson, her new partner, could it? The closer she got to the office, the harder her heart started to pound.

This guy looked more like a star NFL football player than a cop. He was the most handsome man she had seen in her life. This can't be happening! Cathy thought. Her nipples were getting hard, and a slight throbbing had started inside her pussy. Damn it, Cathy! she told herself. Pull it together for God's sake! This could be your partner!

Cathy managed to speak, "Hello! I'm Cathy O'Malley."

"Hello! Cedric Johnson. Pleasure to meet you."

"Sounds like will be working together." 

Cedric immediately noticed a scent of cucumber melon coming from Cathy. He couldn't break eye contact with her; Cathy's deep blue eyes were breathtaking. Cathy, while composed, couldn't stop lusting over Cedric's athletic physique. He was the biggest piece of eye candy she had ever seen, and she wanted to lick every black inch of him.

After getting the assignment that the Lieutenant briefed them on, Cathy and Cedric agreed to meet at the location after stopping back at their homes to pick up some gear and change into some comfortable clothes. The Priority One case, #IA-2216, involved 4 dirty cops transporting narcotics out of a warehouse on the east-side of Detroit. The surveillance was being conducted out of an adjacent warehouse one block down the street. O'Malley and Cedric had the night shift from 11pm to 7am.

GUARDED LOCATION, EAST-SIDE OF DETROIT 

At 10:40PM, Cedric pulled up in the back of the surveillance location. Seven minutes later, Cathy pulled up. Cedric was wearing jogging pants with an Under Armor long-sleeve shirt and a leather jacket. Cathy had on a pair of blue jeans, a sweater, baseball cap, and a leather jacket.

They proceeded up to the 4th floor, where the surveillance was set up. Both Headquarter Surveillance officers were glad to see them. After a brief on the past 8 hours of activity, and a quick tour of their bathroom and sleeping quarters, the officers were gone. Cedric and Cathy were alone. Alone with their sexual thoughts. 

While Cathy went over the activity log, Cedric was looking at the target location through some binoculars.

"You know I worked with your brother in Violent Crimes," Cedric stated.

"Yes I know. Steven says you're a good cop."

"I'm okay. Steven is a machine. He has the highest arrest record, four years running."

Even with the small talk, Cedric couldn't stop looking at Cathy's breasts. Although they were only outside for a couple of minutes, it was cold out and Cathy's nipples was rock hard, poking through her knit sweater. With the sight of that, Cedric's dick started getting hard.

Cathy couldn't keep her concentration on the log; all she was thinking about is letting Cedric have his way with her. She knew her nipples were rock hard, and visible. She had become wet on the drive over, and now they were alone for the next 8 hours. 

Cedric, turned toward Cathy, who was sitting on a milk crate across the room still looking through the activity log book, and asked if she would like a Coke. "Yes! Sure," she responded. As Cathy was getting up to stretch from sitting on the milk crate, Cedric returned and was standing directly behind her, it startled Cathy a little bit. But what caught her eye more was the bulge that was showing inside Cedric's pants, before she could stop her mouth from saying the wrong thing, she blurted out, "I think you're the sexiest man I've ever seen, and I want to fuck you!"

Cedric was shocked, but he could see in Cathy's eyes a look of immediate worry, worry that she just destroyed her entire career with those few words. Cedric walked closer to Cathy, and said to her, "Funny you said that, I was thinking the same thing." 

And with those few words, Cedric started to kiss Cathy. The action was so unplanned it took both their breaths away. Now Cedric's dick was rock hard, and Cathy knew it. Without any hesitation, Cathy dropped down to her knees and pulled Cedric sweat pants down to his ankles. The sight of Cedric's 9 ½ inches of manhood, gave Cathy a throbbing sensation she had never experienced before. As she took Cedric's dick in her hand, Cathy looked directly into Cedric's eyes and said "I wanted to taste you the moment I saw you in the LT's office!"

The sight of Cathy on her knees, holding his dick was almost too much for Cedric, as he stroked Cathy's red hair she open her mouth taking almost all of him in.

Sucking Cedric's cock sent Cathy into an intoxicating state, her pussy was soaking wet, and throbbing uncontrollably. Cedric pulled his manhood from Cathy's mouth and told her to get naked. As she got up from her knees and began removing her clothes, Cathy could feel moisture from her pussy running down her inner thighs.

Watching Cathy remove her clothes and reveal her flawless, white porcelain skin, made Cedric's dick throb with a sexual pain he had never felt before. As Cathy's breasts were released from her bra into the night air, Cedric could see her thick fleshy red nipples that were rock hard. By now, Cedric was completely naked, as was Cathy. She was completely exposed to a man she had just met less than 24 hours ago. This is crazy! Cathy thought to herself. But she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was getting FUCKED.

Cedric, without a word, grabbed Cathy and spun her around so she was facing away from him. 

This excited Cathy. She exclaimed, "Yes babe! Fuck me from behind!" Cathy then completed the action by bending over and spreading her ass, allowing Cedric full view of her asshole and pussy. "Slam it in me, please!" Cathy screamed.

And with that request, an electrical shock surged through Cathy's body as she felt her vaginal walls stretching open from the force of Cedric 9 ½ inches. Cedric withdrew halfway from Cathy's pussy, then slammed himself back into her; this time until he felt his balls smack against her clit.

The force, in which Cedric was fucking Cathy, caused her body to shiver in pure ecstasy. Cathy felt her vaginal walls convulse uncontrollably. Cedric had got into a rhythm, slamming in and out of Cathy like a jack hammer breaking up concrete on a highway road. 

Cathy screamed, "Oh GOD! I'm Cumming! I'm Cumming!" Her orgasm was so strong. everything became blurred for a few seconds. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably and she couldn't keep her balance. 

While still experiencing small aftershocks of the orgasm, Cathy felt Cedric pull himself from inside her. She turned around, holding onto the edge of the desk for balance. 

Cedric, still rock hard, walked toward her. Cathy, sensing he wanted to continue, mustered just enough energy to get on top of the desk. She opened her legs allowing Cedric to re-enter her.

But Cedric knelt down in front of Cathy and began licking her pussy. Cathy let out a slight moan from the pleasure she was feeling. After a while Cedric stood up, and with no advanced warning, he reached under Cathy's thighs and started to lift her up off the desk. The action completely shocked Cathy; no one had ever done that! Cathy leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Cedric's neck, pressing her breasts into his chest. Cedric began slamming into Cathy's pussy with reckless abandonment. Cathy couldn't take the new sensation from the constant friction of Cedric's shaft rubbing on her clit; it felt like a thousand needles giving her a prick at the same time. Her vaginal walls started to convulse again. 

I'm Cumming again! Cathy thought to herself. But the sensation to relieve herself rushed into her at the same time.

Cedric began to feel a deep tingling sensation in the depth of his balls; he knew his orgasm was close, very close.

"Oh, FUCK!" Cedric yelled.

Cathy felt that Cedric was close to cumming and tried to control her urge to relieve herself. Without any hesitation, Cathy leaned into his ear, sucked his ear lobe, and whispered "Cum inside me babe! I want to feel every HOT drop of your cum inside me."  

Cedric, with two forceful pumps, let a massive hot lava stream of cum blast into Cathy's pussy. Before the first stream of cum fully cleared Cedric's dick, another massive load blasted inside Cathy. The sheer force, at which Cedric came inside her, triggered her second orgasm.

"Oh babe! Shit! I'm Cumming again!"

Her vaginal walls convulsed uncontrollably, and Cathy felt as if she was relieving herself. She tried to stop herself but the sensation was too powerful; it took her over.

A gush of clear liquid ran from her pussy; she was squirting. Cathy has never, in her entire sexual life, had someone make her squirt. As Cedric lowered Cathy down to the floor, she wanted to taste the man who sexually devoured her body. She got down on her knees and began licking his dick clean from the sexual cocktail of their juices. After Cathy was done, they both just lay next to each other in silence. 

A million things were running through Cathy's head What the fuck have I done!?! This is my partner! 

Cedric looked at Cathy and said, "You're amazing." 

TO BE CONTINUED

Internal Affairs Ch. 01



"You do know that he is coming back to work today," the lieutenant asked. 

"Yeah I know. Please don't tell me you are putting him in my platoon," The sergeant said.

"He isn't going back on patrol. He is going to be working with Internal Affairs," the lieutenant replied. "I'm giving you a heads up so that you can warn your men. I do not want any harassment."

"Couldn't they put him somewhere else?" the sergeant asked.

"We aren't that large of a department," the Lieutenant replied. "If he weren't a fucking hero, we could toss his ass out all together. You know how it would look, if we fired him now with or without cause."

"I guess the rat squad is the place for him, if we have to keep him. At least this time we will know he is a rat," the Sergeant said.

"Come on all the guys he took down needed it. They weren't just looking the other way, they were dealing," Lieutenant Billy said.

"Still he ratted out cops, that just ain't done," the sergeant said.

"Of course it is. People roll on cops all the time, we just find a way to make it go away. In his case, it stuck. He did his job," the lieutenant said.

"Then he's a fucking junkie," the sergeant said.

"He went to rehab and he has been declared fit for duty. He is coming back as part of the new internal affairs unit. The department of justice is going to be watching us. If we keep fucking up, we are all going to be out of a job," the lieutenant said. So like it or not he will be working here. He will be in your roll call and after that he will be supervised by the detective unit."

"So when does he start?" the sergeant asked.

"In about five minutes. So you need to work on a welcome back speech," the lieutenant replied.

While the meeting was happening in the Lieutenant's office, Roger Everhart entered the assembly room. When he entered the room all the conversations stopped. He had pretty much expected that reaction to his return to duty. A little of the cold reception was because he had been in rehab, but mostly it was because the other cops saw him as a traitor. 

It was bad enough that he had testified against several cops. Those who had sold dope from their squad cars were the worst of them. His return to duty was as a detective with the newly formed Internal Affairs department. The unit was formed in the hopes that a reorganization of the department could be done from within.

The department of justice was talking about coming in with a big broom, if the department couldn't clean its own house. Roger was pretty sure that it was the only reason he hadn't been fired. To the DOJ he was a hero, to the General Green police department he was a rat and always would be. Well to some of them he was a junkie rat. He got hooked on crack while getting recruited by the cop gang. He documented the police gang's activities while he was smoking crack. He tried not to get hooked, but his body betrayed him.

Roger spent three months in rehab while they were getting the plea deals worked out for the others. The men sitting on the jackpot gave a hell of a lot more information on the workings of the gang, than Roger did. The leaders of the cop gang also gave up a lot of names the Roger hadn't even known existed. Roger figured he was responsible for about a fourth of the cops going inside over the dope. The other three fourths were from one cop rolling up another cop.

So there was more than enough credit or blame to go around. Whether it was credit or blame was dependent upon who one was talking with at the time. It seemed all the cops on the street blamed Roger, but the brass approved, or so they said.

"Ladies and gentlemen welcome Roger Everhart. This is Rogers first day back from a medical leave and also his first day in the new internal Affairs bureau." Sergeant Graham said.

It was the coldest greeting Roger had ever seen in the squad room. Even rookies got a hi how are you. Roger got nothing, it was what he had expected. He knew there was no sense in trying to be a smart ass, so he just smiled and waved his hand at them. He knew it was going to be a long time before he was allowed back into the club. Hell it was possible that he never would be allow back in.

When the meeting ended, Roger went to find the office of internal affairs. He needed a place to sit and a telephone at the very least. He had wondered who the detective in charge would be. It turned out that his new partner was almost as much of a pariah.

"Good morning, my name is detective first class Hillary Bridges. I'm going to be your boss for a while," The overweight woman, hovering around forty years old, inform him. Her father had been a some kind of big deal cop back in the day. Everyone knew she had some departmental pull, but no one really knew where it came from or exactly how much juice she had. Since that was the case everyone steered clear of her as well. The two of them had most likely been the first choices for the first every internal affairs unit. They were the two people the brass most likely wanted hidden away. Go for the guys who were already hated, Alex thought.

"Okay Detective Bridges," Roger replied.

"Call me Hillary," she said.

"So Hillary, what do you want me to do first," Roger asked. He sure didn't want a long lecture from the detective in charge. He just wanted to go to work.

"I hope you get that this isn't an opinion job. We just gather facts then carry them to the Chief. He decides what to do with them." she said.

"I get it," Roger replied.

"I hope you do," she said. "We have a new CC."

"CC?" Roger asked.

"Civilian Complaint," Hillary explained. "One of our officers shot her dog last night. She says it was for no reason at all. Of course she said it in front of a TV camera."

"So what is our responsibility here?" Roger asked.

"We are going to do a psychological profile of the dog," Hillary said with a straight face.

Roger felt he was in for a total waste of at least the next two hours of his life. The first thing that they did was to interviewed the dog's owner. They found her in her small frame house one block off a major thoroughfare. 

"So Mrs Owens, could you tell me exactly what happened," Hillary asked.

"Where should I start?" the sixty plus year old lady asked.

"Let me start by asking, why the officer was on your property. The police report suggests he was at your door to investigate strange noises and smells coming from the house," the DIC suggested.

"I didn't know that when he knocked on the door. I tried to answer it. That's when Max ran past me. Max jumped up on the cop. The cop just shot him for no reason."

"How much does Max weight?" Roger asked.

"Vet said he weights sixty-five pounds," The DIC said.

"He was a full blooded pit bull, but he played fine with my grand kids and never hurt any of them." The homeowner said.

"I get that. I'm a dog lover, but you know he didn't see that officer as one of his puppies. You know that is how he would see your grand children. My guess is he went out that door snarling and showing his teeth." Roger said.

"Maybe," The complainant agreed. The interview, for all intents and purposes ended on that admission.

"Our job is not to try to convince the complainant that she is wrong. It's just to gather facts. We are going to talk to the neighbors." The boss said once they were in the yard.

Two of the three neighbors who were home, stated that they felt the dog was aggressive. The third one didn't even know the woman had a dog. "I mind my own business," the man said when asked about the woman.

"You know something isn't right don't you?" Roger asked.

"No I don't. The aggressive dog escaped her control and attacked the officer. The officer used good judgment, when he shot it. That is sad, but it does happen," she said. "That is what the facts show."

"There is more to it than that," Roger said.

"Like what," the boss asked.

"I don't know, but something," Roger said.

"I don't see that there is anything more about the complaint to investigated. We have closed the complaint there is nothing else to do except take the officer's statement. He will be in for the evening tour at 3pm. We can take his statement then." she said. "I will show you how to write the report showing our findings.

"Finished and home by five," Roger said.

"Exactly," she failed to understand why he acted like that was a bad thing.

Once they were back at the office, she had Roger put his fresh eyes on some open cases. "Things that are a little more serious than a dog attack," Hillary promised. "These complaints seemed to have been saved for us."

She had a dual purpose for showing him the complaint file. It was supposed to show him there were a lot of complaints laying around. Also there were things more important than the dog attack to deal with.

Even so Roger couldn't shake the uneasy feeling about the old lady and her house. From having spent a couple of years on the fringes of the drug culture, Roger knew that things were seldom what they seemed in that part of town. For instance Roger knew that most drug labs, or processing centers had a pit bull or two hanging around. The old woman didn't seem like a member of a drug gang, but things were never what they seemed.

Next door to the old lady's house sat an abandoned house. Abandoned houses were common in that neighborhood. Usually they were a condemned rent house, which had failed to meet code. Once they could no longer be rented, the owners just let them slip farther and farther down hill. The house next door to the old lady was like that.

Those houses were often used as dope houses. The way the cops got on to them was by the number of employees coming and going. Those visits made the house look suspicious rather than abandoned. A neighbor complained and the cops raided the house. They usually found a meth lab or a drug cutting lab.

"Roger had an idea the old lady might be helping to hide a drug operation in the house next door. Hide in plain sight was the term that came to mind. When Roger went back to the house after work, he walked around the outside. If anyone was cutting or cooking drugs, they were hiding it well. There was no physical evidence of it from the outside. The grass was high and the power meter was gone. There was also no noise coming from the house.

Roger went home to his tiny apartment. He tried to sleep that night but it was difficult. He had urges, he found difficult to fight off. It was old hat he fight them every night since he got clean. Finally he was exhausted enough to sleep.

Roger knew he couldn't do anything about the house from his new position, so he had to get some help. It was that or just let it slip through the cracks. Letting it go was not an option for him. He had let the drug trade ruin his career and almost his whole life. He was determined to fight the drug dealers where ever he found them. They made their living off human misery. He felt that drugs were as big a threat as any other form of terrorism.

He did not have a single friend on the department. There was no one in whom he could confide, so he did the next best thing. He found the most honest of the shady cops in vice. 

Roger knew he was going to be giving up all credit for the bust. The cop to whom he gave his information would get all the credit, if it panned out. He wanted to get ahead with the department, but getting the lab closed was more important to him. He was on a vendetta. 

The sergeant of the vice unit rushed by Roger at roll call the next morning. Roger slipped a note to him asking for a meeting. He wasn't at all sure that Mark would call.

He went through his routine day checking out complaints from citizen's imagining harassment by the police. There just didn't seem to be anything better to do. If there was, someone was for sure keeping him away from it.

"What the fuck do you want?" Mark from vice asked. It was not the ideal way to begin a phone conversation.

"Look, I know people lost their jobs because of my information, but it was the nature of the job. You know that," Roger said.

"Yeah we all know it, but I don't for minute believe that you didn't enjoy it. All those patrolmen you got busted, and let's not forget the dope and the girls. That had to be heady stuff for a junkie." he said.

"Mark, I didn't get you," Roger said. "We both know I could have."

"I might not be a Sergeant now if you had named me, but they wouldn't have fired me for looking the other way once for a friend. So don't even go there and I certainly didn't become a junkie snitch," Mark said.

"When you get through saying your piece, I got a tip for you. Considering the present lack of trust among my peers, I figured I needed someone else to make it happen. This has nothing to do with my last assignment." Roger said.

"Tell me what you have." Mark demanded on the burner cell. "If we are going to talk about it get yourself a disposable phone. The guys on the fifth floor are going to be tracking you." 

"This is a burner," Roger said hanging up on Mark after passing along his suspicions. He felt better after the call, but not a lot. He wasn't doing the investigation, but he hadn't sold out to the 'do nothing' mentality either.

Over the next two weeks he suffered the silent insults of his fellow officers with a silence of his own. Roger felt that he would have to find a new career eventually. It looked as though police work wasn't going to work out for him.

The detectives of all divisions used the same break room, so no one noticed a vice officer standing in line for coffee behind Roger. "Roger meet me in the park for lunch." Mark said.

Roger dug through the crap till lunch, when he left the office to met with Mark. "So what is happening on the tip?" he asked.

"Wanted to tell you that I put a couple of guys to check the house. About midnight a van pulled into the old lady's driveway. That van was a crew car for the 69th street crew."

"So there is an entrance to the house next door somewhere in the old lady's house," Roger suggested.

"I did a walk around it the evening after the dog shooting. There are those half basement windows in the rear, but there is no real slope in the lots there. I couldn't tell if the abandoned place has a basement or not." Roger said. "If it does they would only have to tunnel five feet. Those two houses are almost connected." 

"Yeah you have the concrete between the houses to hold the roof of a tunnel up so you wouldn't even need to brace it. So we look for a tunnel in the basement of the old ladies house. We are going to seal off all exits from both houses," Mark said.

"Good, so when do you go?" Roger asked.

"I'm leaving here and going back to the office to set up a raid for tomorrow. Mark said.

Roger got the call on his burner phone at 3pm that same day. "I'm standing here waiting to give the order to swoop in on them. Just about a minute from now the armored car should be driving up." Mark said.

"If I get there in two minutes, can I go in with you?" Roger asked.

"The guys are going to think you are there as a member of IA," Mark said. "I can't have that. What ever you do they are going to see it as somehow sinister. I'm sorry Roger, I know it's your bust, but I can't have you here."

"Okay," Roger said.

"Not to mention if there is a gunfight, I would have to worry about who would they guys shoot first," Mark said.

"Just do it right," Roger said. Rodger knew his life as a cop was over at that moment. It would only be a matter of time until he was killed, or forced out.



Internal Affairs Ch. 02



 Ch 2: Knee Deep

Corporal Hart moved into the next room, and took a seat in an obvious chair at the center of the otherwise bare room. Immediately after settling himself, he felt the cuffs and ankles of his suit lock down tight to the chair, as if magnetized. He tried to struggle against the restraint, but was powerless; he could only move his hips from the seat in fruitless effort. Doctor von Schwendi entered the room through a tinted glass door, and approached his seat with a sly grin upon her face.

"I trust you've enjoyed yourself so far, Corporal Hart?"

"Don't play games with me, just get down to the actual work, doctor!"

"Very well, I'll prepare you for resizing myself. This may feel...a bit strange."

A console rose up from the ground next to the chair, and von Schwendi entered a few quick keystrokes. The chair began to vibrate as a low hum filled the room. Hart felt himself being leaned back to look up at the ceiling as a panel slid aside and a large apparatus lowered slowly into position above his torso. It looked to Hart as something out of a science fiction story, a cliché laser aimed right at his chest. He struggle more, but couldn't look away as the point of the machine began to glow a bright blue and the humming sound intensified.

There was a blinding flash, and Hart shut his eyes. Von Schwendi, having donned a set of protective tinted goggles, looked on in excitement. Hart squirmed as the beam of light hit his chest, and his whole body began to glow a faint blue color. Slowly but surely, he began to shrink, though not at all smoothly. His body seemed to implode in places, crushing into compactness at random points until he was barely visible as anything but a speck in the center of the table. Von Schwendi shut off the device, and approached the table with a small eyedropper. She picked Hart's body up and observed as it floated in the glass tube, unconscious from the intense strain of the procedure. She carried it carefully into yet another plain white room, and emptied it into a small glass cup.

Hart regained consciousness, and immediately felt in danger. There was water all around him, as if her were submerged. The pressure was intense, though he could clearly see the surface only a few feet above his head. As he flailed around, he suddenly heard a voice in his head, echoing through clearly.

"Corporal Hart? It's von Schwendi. You'll need to engage your suit's SCIBA mechanism to breathe here. Just push that disc on your chest in, it'll do the work for you."

Desperate for air, Hart slammed a closed fist into the disc in the chest of his suit, and it responded immediately. It rose out from its position, and a thin plastic mask rose up over his nose and mouth, connected back into the suit by a thick hose. It forced out the water, and Hart could breathe clearly. He swore to himself under his breath as he began panting heavily.

"I heard that, Hart, as did your CO."

Hart looked around, and saw the room around him, though each wall seemed miles away. He felt something slam up to meet him as the glass was picked up, and looked up to the surface of the water as a dark red shape came into view.

"You'll be proceeding orally, Corporal Hart. Just try to relax while you're being swallowed," said von Schwendi nonchalantly.

"'Try to relax,' you say... Even if you say that, being swallowed is..."

The water all around him began to flow into the dark red shape in front of him, outlined top and bottom by rows of bright white. Hart guessed it must have been the test subject's mouth, and braced himself. He was pulled along with the water into darkness, and as he felt himself fall, presumably down the subject's throat, he lost consciousness once again.

***********************************************

Corporal hart lay face up in a small pool of clear liquid, in what appeared to be a large pink tunnel. His eyes fluttered under their lids, and a male technician's voice echoed from an internal speaker in the neck of the suit, reverberating through Hart's whole body.

"Hotel 6, this is Overwatch, give us a Sitrep. ... Hotel 6, respond."

The voice carried on repeating itself until Captain Hunter's voice overpowered it.

"You read the SOP, didn't you, Hart? Hotel 6 is you! Answer us, tell us what's going on."

Hart slowly opened his eyes, and looked around. He spoke, and was received by an internal microphone in the suit.

"I'm...inside the subject, I think."

"We lost contact with you for about ten minutes there."

"Yeah well, I think it must have been the near-drowning, or maybe the plummeting drop, but I was knocked out. But, I think I'm alright..."

He sat up to stand, but was greeted with a sharp pain in his right side. He gasped in surprise, and put his hand to his side; it seemed even breathing deeply hurt.

"The suit's telling us you've broken a rib. Hang on a minute, we'll get that sorted."

"You sending a medic in after me, Ma'am?"

"Something like that."

Hart felt a sharp pinprick in his side where the rib was broken, followed by a dulling of the pain, of all sensation in the area. Within a minute, the area was completely numb.

"I guess that crazy doctor thought of everything," he mused to himself as he finally stood. 

"Stimmt, but... just remember that it can't fix the problem, only dull the pain," von Schwendi replied.

He walked slowly over to the wall of the tunnel-like space he was in, and probed a cautionary hand into it. It was warm, slick, and yielding to the touch. As he looked around more intently, he realized that the whole tunnel was, in fact, seething up and down, as if breathing.

"Just where am I, in the subject?"

"The intestinal tract, actually."

Looking around him hurriedly, a feeling of dread took him. The intestines, he thought to himself... Talk about being in a world of shit...

"Have no fear, Corporal Hart," von Schwendi reassured him. "The subject has been fed intravenously for the past week, and has undergone seven enemas to prepare for your mission. You didn't think we'd have you crawling in feces, did you?"

"Yeah, well, maybe... What's the mission then?"

"Two objectives. First, we need you to collect a sample of intestinal tissue, then make your way to the lungs to run a test of oxygen processing capacity."

"Understood," he said with some conviction, "though it still seems a little ridiculous," he added under his breath.

By Hunter and von Schwendi's directions, Hart took a sample of tissue using a small cutter in the wrists of his suit. Placing the piece of flesh into a small compartment in the chest-set disc, he made his way back through, and prepared to enter the stomach on the way to the lungs.

"Corporal Hart, one caveat, before you head up there."

"Go ahead, Ma'am."

"Von Schwendi informs me that, while the acids in the stomach cannot cause you any damage nor erode your suit, they might impede your progress, should you stay too long. Please try to exercise restraint, alright?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

With that, Hart pulled open the valve-like muscle back into the stomach, and climbed through. Faltering in his steps, he fell face first into the cavernous pink chamber, and into a pool of slightly yellow liquid. Two things entered his mind simultaneously. The first being that he should get up and continue on his way, the second that his entire body felt as if it were tingling and tickling. He rolled onto his side, relishing in the feeling as the liquid seeped into his suit, and the sensation intensified.

Though his whole body felt stimulated, he couldn't help but feel how it affected his cock, which soon hardened under his suit. A technician worriedly informed Captain Hunter of this, who tried to talk Hart back to his senses.

"Hart, we need you to continue on your mission. That's the stomach acid we briefed you about, and while it's not corrosive--"

"Captain Hunter...please just let me...just once..."

Everyone in the sterile operations center became increasingly worried as Hart continued to disregard orders, stroking himself unabashedly as he lay face-down and shivering. The feelings were beginning to penetrate through his suit, and the direct stimulation was almost too much. He began to grunt and moan aloud, causing various technicians observing to blush heavily. As Captain Hunter tried fruitlessly to reason with him, doctor von Schwendi entered the room slowly, followed closely and shyly by Private Fournier.

"What seems to be the problem, Captain?"

"Hart's gotten distracted like we thought he would. I can't reach him, and at this rate..."

"At this rate he'll re-grow before leaving the subject? Unlikely. We've still got at least an hour to kill before that happens."

Captain Hunter clenched her fists, advanced on the doctor.

"I'm not willing to take that risk with him! It's not just the subject at risk, Hart's..."

"He's...what? Is there something you should be telling us? Bitte, just who is this man to you? A subordinate, or a--"

She was silenced by a smack from Hunter and recoiled, cradling her cheek in one hand.

"You civvies are all about results, aren't you? An Officer's job is to accomplish the mission, but never at the expense of her people! Hart's...my subordinate, and it's my duty to keep him safe. And yet now he's at risk of missing his exfil, exceeding his timeframe."

Private Fournier looked at the monitor observing Corporal Hart, fear in her eyes. She ran over to a nearby technician's desk, ripping the headset off his ears and speaking into it with a harried voice.

"Corporal Hart! You have to get up, or you and the subject are both gonna be in danger! Please, listen to your CO!"

Hart simply laid there, seemingly oblivious.

"Please, Corporal Hart, if you get up now...I'll give you something even better!"

His ears perked up, and his motions slowed as he replied.

"Fournier? You'll...what?"

"When you make it out, I'll give you something ten times better than that, but you have to get up right now!"

It came before his senses once more, the feelings of his last encounter with her. As good as this felt right now, it couldn't possibly compare to being with another person. Choosing the greater of two lusts after some difficulty, Hart staggered to his feet, and wiped himself off with disgust. In the control room, Captain Hunter instructed a technician to hail Hart.

"Hotel 6, this is Overwatch. Do you receive us?"

Shaking the liquid from his hands, Hart responded. "Hotel 6 receives you; send traffic."

"Hart, your next step is to get out of the stomach, proceed up the esophagus, and then transfer into the respiratory tract. Any questions," Captain Hunter asked.

"...uhh, yeah. How do I get all the way up there?"

Hart craned his neck as he spoke, looking above to the stomach's entrance. It looked about 70 feet up, and the walls of the stomach were completely smooth.

"So what is it, ma'am? ice picks, or grappling hooks?"



Internal Affairs Ch. 02



Hello everyone, this is part II of my story. I revised Part I, so please read before you read this one. Feedback is greatly appreciated.

No portion of this story may be reproduced for profit without the express, written permission of the author. . . .

This story is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. . . .




The clock on the desk was illuminated with the time of 4:15 AM when a squelch erupted over the Police radio. "Raven 24, we have the target vehicle approaching the location; copy!" It was the secondary Surveillance Team, 3 blocks away, disguised as a Comcast truck. "Raven 24, do you copy?" Cedric, while slightly blurred vision from just waking up, looked at the clock as if in a daze.

"What? What time is it? Oh SHIT!!! It's 4:15 AM." Cedric jumped up from his sleeping bag, realizing that he and Cathy had been sleeping for over 5 hours. 

Again the radio squelches, "Team 2, Raven 24, DID YOU COPY?"

Still completely nude, Cedric ran over and answered. "Yes. Yes, I copy"

"Is Everything okay?"

"Code 4, Partner. I just stepped out for some air."

"Copy that!" 

Cedric, now fully awake and getting his bearings, realized Cathy wasn't in the room. While getting dressed, Cedric heard footsteps coming from the stairwell. It was Cathy.

"Ha! Where did you go?"

Cathy held up a brown paper bag. We got too eat, right?" 

Cedric sensed she was upset. "What's wrong, Cathy?" 

She responded quickly. "Nothing."

Cedric could see she was upset, but she wasn't going to show it, not too him. She's a 3rd generation cop. In her eyes, it would be a sign of weakness.

"You don't regret what we did, do you?"

"No, no I just can't work like this, Cedric."

"Like what?"

Cathy really didn't want to talk about what happened. Although this was the best sex she's ever had, it was wrong. Cathy stood by the big warehouse window looking at the street light that was being distorted by the rain drops falling on the glass. "What happens now?"

"With what?" 

"With us, Cedric." Cathy's voice was low and steady. Cedric walked over to her and turned her around so that she was facing him. Cedric could tell from the slight redness and swelling around her eyes that she had been crying.

Cedric agreed, "Yes, it is wrong. Yes, we could lose our badges, but I still want you to be my partner. That hasn't changed." 

Cathy looked at him, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Okay" she said. Cedric leaned in to kiss her. Cathy wanted to turn away but she couldn't. As their lips touched, Cathy opened her mouth to receive Cedric's tongue. Cathy's nipples started to get hard immediately, and her pussy started to throb. Her mind was saying no, and as much as she wanted to resist, her body was saying yes in response to his touch. Cedric pressed his body up against Cathy's. While kissing her, he reached around and grabbed her ass. Cedric felt his dick getting rock hard. He stopped kissing her and demanded, "Tell me what you want, right now."

Cathy knew what she wanted but she tried to fight it. Cedric grabbed the waistband of her jeans, and shoved his hand down past her panties, and cupped her already wet pussy.

"Tell me what you want, right now."

Cathy couldn't help what she was feeling. With Cedric's hand holding her pussy, she looked up directly into his eyes and firmly replied, "I want you to fuck me."

Cedric removed his hand and unbuttoned Cathy's jeans, pulling them down just too her knees. He lifted her up onto the windowpane seat.

Because Cedric had only pulled her jeans down to her knees, Cathy couldn't see what he was doing when he lifted her legs up. The anticipation was killing her, and then she felt his warm tongue licking her ass. Cathy moaned with pleasure. Her vaginal walls contracted and a single stream of pussy juice escaped her lips. Cedric removed his pants exposing his fully-erect dick, and placed the tip of his dick right on Cathy's waiting pussy. Cedric turned Cathy's hips and legs to the right side of him so she would be in a semi-fetal position. Cathy's entire body waited with anticipation for Cedric to slide his dick inside her.

"Come on, babe! Fuck me!"

With that, Cedric slid his 9 ½ inches all the way inside Cathy's hungry snatch. Before he could get a good rhythm, Cathy yelled out, "Harder babe! FUCK ME harder!"

As he was pounding her relentlessly, Cedric placed one foot up on the ledge of the window so he could get leverage for getting his dick deeper inside Cathy's pussy. Cathy could feel her vaginal walls grabbing onto Cedric's dick. Cedric felt the deep burning in his balls; he was going to cum. 

"Oh babe, I'm getting ready to cum."

"Yes, babe, fill my pussy with that hot cum! PLEASE!"

After a few more minutes, Cedric grabbed onto Cathy's thigh and waist and let a massive load of hot cum explode into her pussy. Feeling Cedric's cum filling her pussy, Cathy shivered in pleasure as her own orgasm was again triggered by the force of Cedric cumming inside her. 

Cathy didn't want to admit what was going through her mind, because it was totally crazy. This was not how she wanted it to happen, but it did, and there was nothing she could do about it. I'm falling for him, she thought to herself. Cedric, still inside her, enjoying the warmth of her pussy, couldn't clear his mind of what he had known the minute he kissed Cathy. This is going to get complicated. The clock on the desk read 6:15 AM, the day shift team would be coming in shortly. They needed to clean up. Cathy, while cleaning herself up, looked a Cedric.

"If this is going to work, we can't do this here ever again, okay?"

Cedric knew she was right. They are Internal Affairs for crying out loud. If something like this got out, it would be a major scandal. Neither the city nor the Police Department needs that shit.

"Yes babe, I understand." Cathy walked over to Cedric, smiled, and gave him a kiss.

"Okay then, no fucking on the job."

They both started to laugh. Sounds came from downstairs, footsteps. The day-shift officers have arrived. 

"Raven 24, over" 

The Police dispatcher responded,"Go ahead."

"Yes ma'am, Raven 24 is 10-7"

"Roger that."

OTHER SIDE OF TOWN

It had been raining all night and was still misting into the morning. A sleek jet-black Jaguar XF was carving a path through traffic on I-94 heading toward downtown, specifically 36 District Court. Behind the wheel was Special Investigations Asst. D.A. Amber Larson. Amber was utilizing the on-board phone system to speak with Tom. "Look, Tom, we don't cut deals with corrupt cops."

"I know, I know. But the attorneys for both officers, would like to lessen the charge."

"It's not going to happen."

"Okay."

Amber looks at the on-board clock. 9:20 AM. She's going to be late. "Tom is there anything else?"

"Yes, case #IA2216, Headquarter Surveillance needs a warrant for a warehouse."

Amber knows if H.S. Units are involved, then I.A. will be too, and she wants her office too be on top of this investigation. "Who are the I.A officers assigned to this case?"

"Uh, let's see. Okay, here it is, Detective Cathy O'Malley and Detective 1st Grade, Cedric Johnson."

Hearing Cedric's name caused Amber to slightly hyperventilate. "Okay, thanks Tom."

The on-board phone goes dead. Only 15 minutes from her destination, Amber started to let her mind wonder. Cedric Johnson; she hadn't heard that name in over 3 years, and thinking about him brings an uncontrollable desire to fuck. "This can't be happening," Amber said out load. The Jaguar makes a hard right turn onto the Belle Isle Park Bridge. With one hand on the steering wheel, Amber starts to unbutton her Vera Wang silk blouse, revealing her 42C breasts neatly tucked away in her black Victoria Secret sheer bra. As the Jaguar rockets across the bridge toward the island park, Amber squeezes her rock hard nipples that was clearly poking through the sheer material of her bra.

As the Jaguar starts to slow down, Amber sees the spot. A grassy knoll hidden by pine trees just off the small road, divided by the nature trail. The Jaguar pulls in and comes to a stop; finally she can address the internal burn that was ignited the minute his name was said. Alone in the Jaguar, Amber pulls her skirt up to her waist, revealing thigh high black stockings and her shaved wet pussy. Amber doesn't wear panties.

Turning in her seat, allowing her leg to clear the center console to gain total access to her sex, Amber begins a feverish rubbing assault on her clit. "Oh, Cedric!" She moans, easily sliding two fingers into her pussy, she feels her asshole contract. Oh, how Amber loves anal sex. With her head tilted back totally consumed by the simultaneous attention she was giving her breasts and pussy, Amber thinks about the marathon fuck sessions Cedric and she use too have. "Oh babe, oh babe, how I miss you," she whispers. Her pussy is hungry, its craving more. Amber pulls her finger from her snatch and reaches into the net compartment on the back of her passenger seat and removes a 10" Mag Vibrator. After rubbing the base against her pussy's lips, allowing her juices to coat the tip, she arches her back and with one forceful thrust slams the flashlight deep into her pussy. Her action causes a mind blowing convulsion through her entire body; her 5'8 frame went into an uncontrollable shiver. She screams at the top of her lungs "OH MY GOD, I'M CUMMING!!!!!!" Her vaginal walls locked up against the base of the flashlight like a vice grip, preventing it from moving, then rapid contractions resulting in a river of pussy juice running down her snatch onto the leather seat. Out of breath and panting, Amber relishes in the glow of her orgasm. The on-board clock reads 10:10AM, very late.

GROSSE POINT, MICHIGAN

Beep, Beep, Beep, 

Cathy answers, "Hello?"

Don responds, "Wake up, sleepy head!"

"Hi, Daddy."

"Ha! Want to do a late lunch with your old man? I want to hear how your first day was!"

"Dad..." 

"I know you can't talk about cases."

"Okay, let's do our regular spot. Say 3:30PM?"

"Okay Sweetheart, see you then. Bye." 

"Okay, bye Dad."

Cathy rolled over in bed. It was 2:00pm. Okay, I've got an hour before I meet Dad for lunch Cathy thought to herself. She thought about what she was going to tell her dad about her first day as a detective. Well Dad, my day was great. Let's see, I FUCKED my new partner multiple times while on a high-priority detail. Oh, and he's a black guy, too. She knew that would kill him on the spot. Cathy's dad is an old school Irish Catholic; his daughter's behavior went against everything he stands for.

Cathy blocked this out of her mind. What's done is done; she would deal with it in due time. As she kicked off her covers revealing she was completely naked, the air in the room caused her nipples to swell and get hard. Cathy turned her face into her pillow, her long curly red hair falling over her entire face; she begins to squeeze her breasts and nipples causing goose bumps all over her porcelain white body to appear. As she opens her legs, the sunlight streamed through her bedroom window revealed the moisture on her outer lips. Cathy began to think about how good it was to be fucked by Cedric, and while rubbing her clit, she rolls over onto her stomach and lifts her meaty ass into the air. "Oh, Cedric!" she whispered as she rubs her clit harder and faster; her vaginal walls open revealing a wet and pink tunnel waiting to be penetrated. A shiver comes over her as she slides two fingers inside her; she feels her orgasm just moments away. I need you inside me Cathy thought to herself. The sensation to relieve herself came again. This time Cathy rolled back over on her back, with her legs wide open she let the sensation take over. "Oh My GOD! Yes!" Her vaginal walls contracted multiple times, followed by a rush of clear liquid jetting out of her pussy like a broken drinking fountain at the park. While still shaking from the orgasm, Cathy turned onto her side in a fetal position, pulling the comforter between her legs. Cedric, what have you done to me? Cathy thought to herself.

DOWNTOWN DETROIT (Westin Book Cadillac Residential Penthouse) 

As Cedric was getting ready for work, his phone started to beep.

"Hello? Detective Johnson."

"The warrant is ready at the D.A.'s Office. It just needs to be picked up."

"Okay, sounds good. I will stop by on my way into the office"

"All right, see you later."

Cedric called over to the 36th District Court. 

"Hello, District Attorney's Office. This is investigator Thomas, how may I help you?"

"Hello, this is Detective Johnson, Internal Affairs. I'm calling about a warrant for case #AI2216."

"Yes, yes Detective it's here."

"Can I pick it up tonight?"

"Sure, no problem. There's an Assistant D.A. in till 9:00PM."

"Great, thanks. Bye."

"Goodbye, Detective."

Cedric decides to stop and pick up the warrant before dinner. In living downtown, he is only 10 minutes from the 36th District Court Offices. 

While sitting at her desk, Amber started to day dream about how great it was being with Cedric. If not for the shooting, they surely would've been married by now. 

Knock, Knock.

Amber came back to reality. "Yes, come in."

Investigator Thomas opened the door. "Hey Amber, an I.A. Detective is stopping by to pick up a warrant."

Amber "Okay. Who?"

"Detective Cedric Johnson."

Amber's stomach quivered, her vaginal walls immediately started to secret her juices. "Okay, thanks."

36th District Court Office Towers

The time is 8:23PM. Cedric is walking on the 14th floor towards suite #300 of the D.A.'s Office. He notices that most, if not all, of the staff has gone home. It is the Thanksgiving Holiday and the court is closed till Monday. As Cedric turns the corner to the #300 Suite's large graphite-grey marble floor entrance with the double glass doors, he pushes the inter-com button and swipes his Police I.D. card through the reader.

Amber gets a beep signal indicating someone is at the office entrance. As she looks at the monitor in her office, she can hardly contain her excitement and fear. Cedric! she thought to herself. She pushes the button.

After a few seconds the magnetic lock clicks; releasing the glass door. Cedric walks into the office area and notices a woman walking down the hall toward him. But because it is dark with the low-level lighting and just a slight illumination from the exit door signs, it was hard to make out who she was. As she got closer, however, and the unmistakable perfume scent (Yves St Laurent's Opium) hit his nose, Cedric's heart started pounding through his chest. His 9 ½ inches of manhood started to stiffen up, and then it happened. Her voice pierced the calm office air.

"Cedric Johnson. Oh my GOD."

As Amber appeared into the light, a rush of feelings and memories flashed through Cedric like a freight train speeding past its stop.

"Hello, Amber."

    TO BE CONTINUED



Internal Affairs Ch. 02



The bust went down just as Roger expected. The vice unit rolled up on most of the gang before the word got out. They were processing the scene using the lab people, who had managed to avoid being tainted by Roger's investigation, so the evidence was solid. 

Mark had lied about the timing in order to keep the drug house raid a secret, even from Roger. Roger didn't mind.

"The word is out that you were Vice's secret weapon on that abandoned house," Hillary suggested.

"How did that happen," Roger asked.

"Mark put it in his request for a warrant," Hillary said with disapproval in her voice. "You should have told me of your suspicions."

"I told you something was wrong with the old lady's story, but you didn't want to hear it," Roger snapped. He might be leaving, but he would be damned if he went quietly, he thought

"I suppose it did sound that way to you. When you mentioned it to me, it was just a feeling you had. When you had the drug theory tied together with the house, you should have told me. I would have carried if forward, and I could have kept your name off the warrant. Mark used your past as leverage for the warrant." Hillary said. "And to cover his ass, if it went bad."

"Okay next time I will," Roger said. He most likely meant it. Mark could have left him hanging out to dry.

"Good, have you eaten," Hillary asked.

"Sure," Roger replied.

"What did you eat?" she asked.

"What is this?" Roger asked. "Like a dating profile?"

"You are too thin. You still look like a junkie," she said not all that kindly.

"Hillary it is none of your business, but I have only been out of rehab two weeks," Roger snapped. "I'm sorry, but I'm just tired of being reminded of my past. Some one is always bring it up somehow."

Hillery nodded because she didn't trust herself to speak. She walked back to her desk and began searching the file folders. 

Roger obviously made her very uncomfortable. He felt it but didn't have any idea what to do about it. So he sat at the desk across from Hillary and began to read files. 

His burner phone rang, "Hello," he said into it.

"Mark here, Everhart I'm sorry word is all over the station that you were the source of my information. I used you for the surveillance and the search warrant. I had to protect myself, since it was you." Mark said.

"Of course you did. God knows you couldn't trust me. Fuck you Mark." Roger knew his reaction was over the top even as he said it.

Hillary didn't raise her eyes even thought she must have heard. She continue to read her files. Suddenly out of the blue she said, "He was right you know. He was covering his ass. Everyone will do that, since you are a snitch and therefore not to be trusted. This whole department is an embarrassment to the whole damn state. You took down 22% of the department in that drug operation. It got so out of hand, not even your handlers will touch you now. You went to the DEA for your deal and didn't allow them the chance to cut their losses."

"I know all that, I was there remember. What's your point?" Roger asked.

"My point is they picked the wrong man for their undercover operations. It was a power struggle inside the department and they all lost. Roger no matter what they all say, you did the right thing." Hillary said with what passed as a smile from her.

"Yeah, I heard that a lot from the feds, but I still have to piss in a cup whenever they ask." Roger found that ironic, but he knew that it would help him stay clean.

The rehab program he had chosen wasn't one of those easy breezy celebrity warm and fussy things. It was one run by the military on a marine boot camp base. They had a drug problem bad enough to need a rehab for those soldiers worth saving. There were also DEA men coming out of deep cover. It was all very hush, hush and pretty damn harsh.

"He was forced to eat real food, even though he threw it up when he started to run. There were twenty of them in a group. Since they didn't exist they had no designation. The physical exercise was brutal on their wasted bodies, but only a couple gave up. Those were transferred to a civilian program based on the warm and fuzzy model.

Roger wanted to quit every time it came time for the run, or an exercise period. They had meetings that were psych evaluations every day as well. He was forced into mandatory counseling sessions. He resisted them at first but in the end he embraced the stress relief of meditation. He was trying to learn a new way of thinking that would require a radical change in his life style. In the end what he was trying to do was just survive the day without the crack pipe.

"You have been staring at the same page of that same file for five minutes, are you okay?" Hillary asked.

"Yes Ma'am. Just meditating," he replied. Roger had a uneasy feeling about Hillary. He didn't get any vibe from her and that was strange. Everyone had and aura, Hillary's was somehow just transparent as if it didn't exist. He had no idea what to make of her.

"If you aren't involved in anything else, let's go for a ride. We need to talk to a college kid," she said.

"That sounds like fun," Roger said. "What is the kid alleging?"

"Her statement suggests she was asked for sexual favors from an officer and when she refused he arrested her for driving while intoxicated. Her blood screen did show a high level of THC," Hillary advised.

"Is this a he said, she said?" Roger asked.

"We won't know till we interview everyone. I'm not sure the officer even knows he is being investigated." Hillary suggested.

Roger managed to get his stiff almost six foot frame from the too low office chair. Once on his feet he walked from the office to the unmarked car parked in the police parking lot. He hadn't been assigned a car because his driver's license had been revoked. It was for a drug arrest as part of building his cover story. He was awaiting a hearing by the department of motor vehicles.

Roger didn't mind all that much since Hillary was a good driver, but overly careful. He had purchased a fifty cc motor scooter to get around town while he waited. It was a mother when it rained, but that's what his taxi fund was for. He couldn't exactly call a fellow officer for a ride.

They found the college student at her family home. Hillary had called to set the interview, so she had her mother seated with her.

"I hope you don't mind my mother being here. She insisted that she be here," Alice informed them.

"Actually, we prefer it," Hillary said. "Let's start with the facts that we all can agree on, shall we. First of all Officer Gomez made a traffic stop on you the night of June 17th of this year, is that correct?" Hillary asked.

"Yes, I was on my way home from my fiends house," Alice volunteered.

"Would you give me her name please for the record," Hillary asked.

"Do I have to," Alice asked.

"I'm afraid so. If this goes to trial the lawyers will ask why we didn't do a thorough investigation," Hillary said.

"Tell her honey," the mother said.

Alice gave Hillary a name and address. She was beginning to look worried. Roger saw her aura go from yellow to red. He couldn't really see if of course but he could feel that she was lying, maybe about the friend.

"You and your friend were smoking pot," Hillary asked.

"It is legal to smoke Marijuana," the mother said.

"Of course it is, but it is also an intoxicant under the law. It's just a matter of how much your daughter smoked. It might be legal to use but it not legal to drive an automobile under the influence of even a legal drug." Hillary said. "So how much weed did you smoke?"

"Yes we shared a joint," Alice said.

"Just one?" Hillary asked the disbelief heavy in her voice.

"Is this about the officer's inappropriate conduct or the DUI charge. If you are investigating my daughter I think she should have a lawyer." The girl's mother said.

"Do you feel you need a lawyer Alice?" Hillary made it sound as though if she got a lawyer she was guilty of the DUI and of lying about the officer. Even though in theory one charge had nothing to do with the other. Except she implied he would not have charged her, if she had gone along.

"Well mom said even innocent people need lawyers," Alice replied and her mother nodded her head.

Before you ask for a lawyer let me ask you one questions. Do you feel that you were under the influence of THC?" Hillary asked.

"Now my daughter does need a lawyer," The woman with Alice suggested. 

"You want to stop for a milk shake," Hillary asked.

"No thanks Hillary, I'm trying to stay fit," Roger said. "You know Alice is guilty of the DUI. I'm sure she is trying to work a deal."

"Maybe, but being guilty of DUI does not mean the incident didn't happen just like she said." Hillary answered. "The truth is we don't know what her version is since nobody would admit to drunken flirting in front of her mother."

"You do have a point. Why don't we pull Gomez personnel record so we can see what kind of cop he is?" Roger suggested.

"I already have. He has no disciplinary actions but he has been transfered from one platoon to another twice in the last year. Something is going on with him," Hillary suggested.

"Why not ask him?" Roger asked.

"Because skinny Roger, a detective never asks a question unless he already has the answer," Hillary replied. "Or at least thinks she does."

"I thought that was a lawyer," Roger said.

"Same kind of shit. You just mix enough things to which you know the answer, with ones you don't know and hope to learn somethings valuable at the end of the day." Hillary said.

"So it's time we took a chance, we can do more background after the interview," Roger suggested.

"Officer Gomez, my name is officer Everhart. Is there anything you wish to say before we begin the official interview." Roger asked.

"Everybody knows who you are, so go ahead and crucify me," Gomez said.

Hillary turned on the tape recorder. "Present for the first interview with patrolman Gomez is officer Gomez, Detective First Class Hillary Bridges and Detective Everhart.

I am handing you a copy of the incident report for the arrest of Alice Belmont. Your report says that you were following Alice's car when you noticed she was having problems staying between the lines of her traffic lane, is that correct?" Roger asked.

"If that's what it says," Gomez replied.

"You know our report can be completed in a day, or it can drag on for weeks. The more cooperation we get the faster it ends," Hillary said.

"Yes Ma'am," Gomez looked across at Roger and asked, "Do you get off on this?"

"Are you asking if I get off helping cops in the jackpot climb out like I'm trying to do now. Maybe you are asking about the lying scum dope dealers, who happened to wear the same uniform I did. Which are you asking officer Gomez?" Roger had raised his voice.

"Roger a word," Hillary said as she stood. In the hall she asked, "Are you okay."

"Never better," Roger said taking deep breaths.

"Okay you want to go somewhere and meditate?" she asked sarcastically.

"When this is over," he said turning back for the door.

"Well Gomez, I under stand why you have had three parallel transfers in your three years," Hillary said. "I was going to ask, but it's obvious. You don't play well with others. Does that include the public."

"I have never had a citizen complaint until now," he said.

"Not bad, but most cops never get a citizen complaint. Let me suggest a scenario that seems highly plausible." Hillary suggested. "Alice came out of a known party pad. You followed her to her car, just to be sure no one bothered her, because she was alone. You weren't quite sure how high she was until she tried to drive.

She weaved and so you stopped her. She tried to flirt with you, asking you to let her go. You didn't respond and took her to jail. The proper procedure for a cop. She has to tell mommy something, so of course her story wanders to keep Mommy off her ass."

"Or," Roger said, "You did all the right things till she pulled over. When you went up to her you ranted and raved about drunk entitled college kids. Then calmed down and offered a trade for her release with a warning. You knew she was high so she probably wouldn't even remember. Alice said no, so you took her in and booked her."

"That does play just as well," Hillary said. "So only you and Alice were out there. Oh yes there was the body cam and the dash cam." Hillery tossed a screen grab on the table. It show Gomez leaning against the car shot from the dash cam. "That looks more like you are relaxed. The body cam is mysteriously off line." 

Roger said, "This frame shows what seems to be you in a heated discussion with Alice. So would you like to change your story?" Roger asked.

"Look you were a patrolman before you became a rat. You know how it is they flirt with you hoping a titty flash will keep them out of jail. She offered me sex to let her go. I said no and I guess I lost it on her. Point is nothing happened. I took her in."

"No, the point is, did you solicit sex from a perpetrator or did she offer you sex. Right now it looks pretty much like she is telling the truth. If she is, then she has grounds for a lawsuit. We want to clear you, but I can't without that body cam footage."

"It's all circumstantial. You got nothing," he said.

"When it comes to bad cops, Roger here is like a dog with a bone," Hilary said. "Do you really want him interviewing your friends and neighbors?" Hilary asked.

"I don't give a fuck who he talks to," Gomez said. "And I ain't answering no more questions without a union rep or a lawyer."

"You are entitled to either or both. This is not a criminal investigation, but it can be," Hillary said.

Back at their desks Roger was meditating trying to pull it back together. Hillary was reading the Gomez file, 

"He is guilty of something." she said.

"Sure being an arrogant asshole, but that's not a crime. You know if mommy didn't have to know, this the girl wouldn't have mentioned it at all. If she was really upset, she would have been shouting it at the booking officer at the time."

"Maybe she was," Hillary suggested. "Let's get the booking officer in for a chat."

"Why not catch him at work. It would be a lot easier," Roger said.

"And not nearly as intimidating," Hillary explained.

Roger made the call to the booking officer. He explained what it was about just to give him time to gather any information he had. Roger knew there were cameras in the booking room. They had been installed under the pretext that they were there for the officer's protection. It was like him peeing in the cup.

Roger had spent three months in rehab and two weeks at home trying to find a way to cope with the shit that was rolling down on him. 

Most recovering junkies asked for the shit they got, Roger hadn't. He had been a victim as much as any of the victims that came through the door. Unlike them, he didn't try to blame his current situation on anyone, he was just trying to cope with the fallout.

"Deputy Allan Watkins," Hillary greeted him. Roger sat quietly in his chair while Hillary explained the camera and tape recordings being made.

"You do know why you are here?" she asked.

"Yeah of course, I looked her up on the computer. I brought the footage along and a laptop to show you that no one touched her. I understand there is a sexual harassment claim pending. I can prove there were no irregularities in the booking."

"We are interested in her actions and demeanor while being booked," Hillary said. "Like did she make any accusations about the officer."

"We get that all the time. You know they come in with their boobs handing out and claim they have been harassed. She was a little worse than the usual, 'I'll have your badge' followed by some pretty colorful language. It's all on the tape. Is she saying a deputy harassed her while she was in our custody?"

"No, not at all," Roger said.

He stared at Roger. "Good cause nothing happened to her at the jail. I got minute by minute tapes of her."

On the way out he pulled Roger aside, "They say you are a junkie cop?" the deputy declared.

"So they do. I've been clean for months. I never had the addictive personality, but the drugs got to me anyway. It was the job," Roger said feeling the need to explain.

"They say once a junkie, always a junkie, I hope you prove them wrong," he said extending his hand.

"I'm issuing an inconclusive report. There is no direct evidence against him. I am going to have his duty captain review the tapes. He will probably be transfered again," Hillary said.

"Not too many places left for him to go," Roger said.

"School resource officer," she suggested.

"Oh yeah, if I had a kid, he is the kind of officer I would want at her school," Roger said.

"You do make a good point," Hillary said. "So they were pretty rough on you are you coping?"

"They are me and I am them," Roger said mysteriously.

"Shit," she said with a smile. "What does that mean?"

"Hating them, would be hating myself. I am trying not to hate myself," Roger said. "I am trying to understand myself, so that I can forgive myself. Understanding is the first step in forgiveness."

"That doesn't sound like one of the steps in the program," Hillary suggested.

"It is in my program. I can't see me asking forgiveness of the people I injured while I was using," Roger explained. "They were mostly dirty cops and drug dealers. From the street to the drug houses I hurt them all and have no regrets.

Hillary just nodded her understanding.



Internal Affairs Ch. 03



Hi everyone here is the third part of this series. I've started working on part IV, but will wait for feedback on parts I thru III. So let me know if you want more of this series, all feed back is appreciated. 

No portion of this story may be reproduced for profit without the express, written permission of the author. . . .

This story is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. . . . 

*

"That's it? Hello Amber?...You're not happy to see me?"

Cedric replied, "With all due respect, Counselor, I'm not here on a fucking social visit. Just hand me the warrant and I will be on my way."

(Laughter) 

"Come on, Cedric! REALLY? It's me, Amber. HELLO!"

"Yes, I know. The one who left me in ICU three years ago while I was knocking on deaths door. The one who walked out of my life as if I were a piece of trash. "I know exactly who the fuck you are. A cold-hearted, self-serving bitch!"

The sarcastic tone was gone from Amber's voice, tears swelling in her eyes. "Seeing you lying there, hooked up to all those machines, Cedric. I was confused, afraid. The thought of losing you was unbearable. I really couldn't handle it. I'm so sorry." 

To hear Amber give a reason why she abandoned him soothed the three-years of anger that had built-up inside of Cedric. His attention immediately turned to animal lust. He turned and faced Amber, looking into her eyes. As he walked towards her, she dropped the file containing the warrant and opened her arms to embrace him. The body contact was electrifying; the sheer force of their embrace caused Amber's hair clip to come loose releasing her long auburn brown hair from its bun. Her hair fell down over her face. Amber could feel Cedric's dick pressing against her.

Amber begged, "Please babe, I need you! FUCK ME!"

Cedric replied, "Show me." 

Amber pulled up her skirt revealing what Cedric already knew; she wasn't wearing any panties. Then, she squatted in front of him. Cedric unzipped his pants allowing his rock hard dick to be completely exposed. Seeing his dick, a small string of saliva fell from the corner of Amber's mouth. 

Amber instructed, "Stick it down my throat, Babe!"

Amber opened her mouth as Cedric pushed his dick deep inside her throat, causing her to gag. The force of Amber's sucking felt like a vacuum on Cedric's dick. 

Cedric moaned, "Oh shit, suck this dick, Babe." 

Cedric reached behind Amber's head and began to pull her face into his dick until he could feel his balls hitting her chin. Amber, feeling the crown of Cedric's dick smash against her throat, relaxed her muscles to allow his Dick free passage down her throat.

Cedric withdrew his dick from Amber's hungry mouth, and lifted her from the squatted position. Looking at her wet and saliva covered chin and mouth; he forcefully spun her around and bent her over an office desk. Grabbing hold of her "Donna Karen" skirt, Cedric ripped it completely off her with two forcefull pulls, revealing her fat, but firm, ass. With another swing of his arm, a crackling sound pierced the air as Cedric smacked her ass. Right then, a small jet of clear liquid shot from Amber's wet pussy. 

"You want this dick?" Cedric demanded.

"Oh, God YES!"

With one forceful thrust, Cedric's 9 ½ inches broke through Ambers outer lips and plunged into her dripping wet vaginal canal. Amber pushed back onto Cedric's manhood causing her to feel an electrical jolt through her entire body. As Cedric felt Ambers vaginal walls grabbing his dick with every stroke, Cedric licked his thumb and slid it into Amber's rose petal asshole. 

Amber screamed, "Oh, Babe! Please! I want it!"

Cedric withdrew his dick, completely covered with her sweet nectar, and watched Amber lift up from the desk, and go down on the carpet on all fours. She arched her back so her ass was up in the air. Amber looked back at Cedric; her hair still covering half of her face.

Amber yelled,"FUCK my ass, Babe!"

Cedric squatted behind her and started pushing the crown of his dick against her asshole. After a little more pressure, Amber's ass opened up; devouring Cedric's dick down to his balls. Amber was in total euphoria, as her body jerked uncontrollable sending her pussy into a spasm state, with a steady stream of clear liquids jetting out of her vaginal canal.

Leaning forward for better leverage, Cedric continued to slam his dick into Amber's ass. Feeling an enormous burn; deep within the depth of his balls, he knew it was near.

Cedric screamed in pleasure, "Oh fuck! Oh SHIT! I'm Cuming!"

Cedric pulled his dick out of her ass, and moved in front of Amber. Seeing what he wanted, Amber stood up and pulled her hair back. 

"Shoot-it in my face!"

With that request, Cedric pulled back on the shaft of his dick and watched the first massive load of thick hot cum blast into Ambers waiting mouth, the second hot load splashed onto her chin, the third hit her chest. The orgasm was even too strong for the semi-pro ball player; Cedric's legs couldn't bear his weight anymore and he fell to his knees. With his dick still erupting with cum, Amber reached over and placed her hand under his manhood catching the last drops of cum and began to rub it all over her clit. 

"Fuck, I needed that!" Amber gasped.

Cedric said nothing, because as mind-blowing as this moment was, his thoughts were somewhere else. Cathy. At that very moment he knew she was more important to him than he wanted to admit. 

Amber, now coming down from her sexual high, stood up realizing the magnitude of what had just taken place. She looked at Cedric while picking up her torn skirt, and walked back toward her office.

Amber casually commented, "Thanks for stopping by to pick-up the warrant. If you need anything else in the future, Detective, please call my office."

Cedric knew this was her way of not getting emotional over what had just taken place. 

It was 9:20 PM. Beep, beep, beep. There was an incoming text.

PRIORITY LEVEL I - [OFFICER INVOLVED SHOOTING/2 DEAD/HOMICIDE ON SCENE/I.A. REQUESTED TO MAKE SCENE/LOCATION: 567 NORTHLINE DR] 

Cedric knew that address for some reason, and if Homicide is requesting I.A then it's involving some type of misconduct with department personnel. The possibility of officer involvement is high. Cedric pressed his speed dial.

"Hey, it's me. Did you get the text?"

"Yes. I'm leaving the house right now. Will meet you at the scene."

"Ok."

567 NORTHLINE DR (HOMICIDE SCENE)

Blue flash, red flash, blue flash, red flash. The small, cobblestone house illuminated by the steady pattern of strobe lights from the police cars outside. Stretching across the entrance was yellow crime tape. Inside conducting the investigation were Homicide Lieutenant Linda Davenport and Homicide Detective Sgt. Josh Peoples. Lt. Davenport is a 12-year, no-nonsense veteran, with 42-36-42-inch measurements and a chocolate-brown complexion. She's a 5'1", 135lb. powerhouse. She was the fastest female officer to make Sergeant. While looking around, Lt. Davenport became agitated at the lack of crime scene protocol. Too many people in her crime scene, so in classic Lt. Davenport style she started clearing people out. 

"Excuse me people, may I have your attention please? If you haven't realized it yet, there are dead bodies in here, making this a homicide scene. If you're not from my unit or not the 1st. responding officers on scene, GET THE FUCK OUT, YOUR CONTAMINATING MY SCENE! Thank you. And can someone please fucking find out what the ETA is for the Evidence Technicians? 

With that, the uniformed and plain-clothed officers exited the residence, leaving it to the Homicide Unit and the uniformed officers who took the initial call. Inside the home, two people DOA, 1st was a male adult identified as 29-year-old Officer Tony Young, a 4-year veteran currently assigned to patrol. Second, was a female adult identified as 26-year-old Brooke Sage out of Nevada. Outside, two vehicles pulled up simultaneously. It was Cathy and Cedric. As they walked up to the scene, an Officer posted at the entrance with a clipboard asked for I.D and entered their information into a log. Lt. Davenport brought them up to speed upon entering the residence.

"This is a monumental cluster fuck. All we know so far is that we have an officer dead, and it appears to be a professional hit."

"You think this is a professional hit?" 

"Absolutely."

"We found $10K in the back room, all in $100 dollar bills."

"This shit stinks to high heaven." 

"We'll need the money tagged as evidence, and we'll start a preliminary look into Officer Young's financial records and personal dealings."

12:50 PM. Three hours into the investigation, both Homicide and Internal Affairs were wrapping up the crime scene. LEIN information identified the female victim's real name as Tatiana Deschenko, a Russian nationalist. Based on the information uncovered at this point, Lt. JC calls for a 10:00 AM conference at Internal Affairs. Cedric and Cathy leave the crime scene.

Cedric says, "I will see you tomorrow at 10am sharp."

Cathy responds, "Why can't I see you at 8am sharp, when I roll over in bed?"

(Laughter)

"Okay, lead the way."

GROSSE POINT, MICHIGAN

As the fireplace burned, it illuminated across the bedroom in an orange-red glow that made Cathy's body appear to be on fire; her porcelain skin mimicked the flames. Lying completely nude on her Victorian King bed, now in her own environment, Cathy was relaxed and enjoyed how her body responded to Cedric's touch. As Cedric was pushing his tongue past Cathy's outer pussy lips the smell of her sex made his cock throb in sexual pain. As Cathy's inner vaginal canal started to release her juices, Cedric licked feverishly not allowing a drop of her warm sex to hit the bed. Cedric was caught in a sexual cocktail of her juices, and Cathy loved every lick and suck of her clit.

"Oh babe, don't stop," she moaned.

Right then Cedric inserted two fingers into Cathy's pussy and started rubbing her g-spot. A tingle ran through her body, and the new sensation that Cedric had unlocked inside Cathy's body came. The urge to relieve herself. With Cedric simultaneously rubbing her g-spot and clit, the sensation was too much for Cathy. "Oh, Babe. YES! I'm Cumming!" Her vaginal walls started to contract and a warm rush of juices flooded her pussy, and ran right into Cedric's mouth. God, he loved how she tasted; it was like warm hazelnut. While still experiencing small aftershock spasms from her orgasm, Cathy reached between her legs holding Cedric's face with both hands. 

Cathy instructed, "I want to feel you inside me, Babe. Please."

While listening to Cathy's request, Cedric couldn't stop staring into what seemed to be glowing blue diamonds; Cathy's blue eyes seemed to glow the more she became aroused. As Cedric moved his silky black muscular body up between Cathy's legs, rubbing the base of his dick over her clit, Cathy let out a slight moan. Hearing that, Cedric got up on his knees, and started rubbing the base of his dick against Cathy's clit. As Cathy opened her legs more to receive his 9 ½ inches of throbbing manhood, Cedric placed the tip of his dick into her wet, pink opening. He leaned forward, pressing her legs back towards her chest, causing her pussy to open even more. His entire manhood disappeared inside her. The warmth and wetness of her pussy caused them both to release a moan of pleasure. 

"Fuck me! Fuck me hard, Babe!" Cathy whispered. 

Cedric now deep inside her, started grinding his shaft against the base of her vaginal wall; Cathy could feel every last inch of him deep into the core of her pussy. The sensation was numbness, tingling. Cedric grabbed her waist and began pounding her relentlessly. With every thrust, a shock wave of electricity shot through Cathy's entire body. 

"Oh yeah, Babe! Slam that dick into me!" 

Cedric started to grunt. Cathy knew he was close to exploding inside her. She started to squeeze her vaginal walls making her pussy feel like Cedric's dick was vacuum-sealed. It was too much for Cedric to handle. With two more forceful thrusts, Cedric screamed, "Oh, Babe! FUCK! Oh, FUCK, here it comes!" A thick hot load of cum blasted against Cathy's interior pussy wall. Cathy kept squeezing her walls, milking Cedric's dick of every last drop as he collapsed on top of her. 

She cradled his head next to her shoulder. "That's it, Babe. Give it all to me." 

Cedric pulled Cathy closer into him; their bodies sharing each other's heat. As the fireplace continued to crackle and illuminate the room, Cedric and Cathy gave in to their exhaustion and fell fast asleep. But not before Cedric remembered why that address was familiar. 567 Northline Drive used to be an Internal Affairs safe-house; it was used for high profile witnesses. Now it's a homicide scene with a dead cop.

TO BE CONTINUED... 



Internal Affairs Ch. 03



'Hillary I need a couple of hours off this morning," Roger said.

"Of course is everything alright?" she asked. It was obvious to Roger that over the course of the past month, she had developed a bond with Roger. A bond between the high school nerd, she had been a nerd without a doubt, and the kid nobody liked. They bonded from the necessity for human contact. They would have never been friends, if not for their mutual outsider status.

"My sister is going to be passing through town. It will be the first time I have seen her sober in a long time." Roger said.

"Oh where does she live?" Hillary asked.

"She and her husband live down in Capitol city. Last time I saw her it was about six months into the investigation, I was using and had pretty much given in to my emotions, but not in a good way," Roger said. "A lot of shit from our childhood came up in front of her husband."

"I see, so is she your older or younger sister?" Hillary asked.

"Older," Roger said. "She blamed herself for some of the constant arguments between us while I was using. It didn't help that I seriously threatened to kill her husband for shouting at her. I told him that I was a cop and could kill him and get away with it."

"I know he filed a complaint. It is in the box over there," Hillary said.

"How many complaints are in my file," Roger asked.

"Oh it was all expunged, but I'm a pack rat," She admitted.

"Anyway she is passing through with the kids, and I'm going to take them to lunch," Roger suggested.

"Why didn't you go into the witness protection program. I'm sure DOJ could make room for you." Hillary asked changing the subject.

"Nobody wants to bother with me. Everybody I got, was got good. Almost all of them flipped on everybody somebody else. Seems there is no honor among dopers. I always expected to come back to the job, but I'm rethinking that now." Roger admitted.

"Surely you knew better than to expect a brass band," she replied.

"I expected it to be rough at first, but it's been two months and it just goes on and on. I don't really mind, except that I haven't made any friends in the last two months, except you." He suddenly laughed, "I'm not even sure we are friends."

"I think we are, and if I had a daughter. To be honest I would discourage her from dating you." Hillary said.

"There is such a thing as too much honesty," Roger said.

"So are you taking her to lunch somewhere nice with all that drug money?" Hillary asked with a smile.

"I knew it Hilly, you have been dying to ask me, so go ahead," he demanded.

"You knew I would look into your finances. It's just what I do," she said.

"So ask," Roger said. "I have nothing to hide."

"I know where it comes from, I just don't know how much you have?" Hillary asked.

"Forty K a year from the PD. Another Fifty K gets deposited in my account by the DOJ. It comes from their drug asset recovery fund. It's like winning the lottery, they don't want me to take it all at once."

"Probably afraid you will go back into business for yourself," Hillary said.

"That is probably it. Anyway the reward program will pay out for the rest of my life. They wanted to be sure that I had the money to disappear, if it got too nasty," Roger admitted.

"The jackpot would temp you back, if you had that kind of money all at once. So how much is in the fund?" she asked.

"A lot is all I'm willing to say," Roger suggested.

"So why don't you buy a fancy sports car?" Hillary asked.

"The point of any vehicle is to take me from one place to another. It doesn't matter about the vehicle, the journey is the thing," he said.

"More of that Zen shit?" she asked sarcastically. Roger could never get used to her talking like that.

"My own version," Roger said.

"Since I'm admitting to snooping, what's up with that place where you live?" Hillary asked.

"When I came out of rehab, they told me to move. To get away from everyone I had known during my days using. I bought a house in the country where I could hide from my old self. Then realized I couldn't hide from my real enemy, because I carried him with me," Roger explained.

"Is there an end to this story," Hillary asked.

"Not a happy one, I'm afraid. I rented the three bedroom two bath house to some college professors, who had never heard of me. I moved into the storage building at the rear of the lot. I found that I don't need much space."

"So you have almost a hundred K a year income, and you live in a place no larger than my living room?" she asked.

"Well, when you say it like that," Roger said with a smile. "Part of my therapy was to avoid buying shit. In the end the shit just makes more shit. Things seemed to breed. You buy a new car, then you have to have a garage and so it goes. 

"So is your sister's husband coming," Hillary asked returning to the original discussion.

"No they are living apart for the next year. The separation leading to the divorce. I'm sure I was part of the strain on her marriage. She had to be worried about me constantly. After all I was her junkie kid brother."

"You weren't a junkie," Hillary corrected him.

"Sure I was," Roger said.

Lunch with Margaret was a disaster. She kept mentioning things about his junkie past, then apologizing for it. No matter how many times he told her it was fine, she kept on and on. Thankfully the time came when she had to leave.

She pecked him on the cheek climbed up into the seat of the Honda SUV and rode off into the midday sun. Roger had been gone only an hour longer than his ordinary lunch hour. It hardly seemed worth writing down, but he filled out the comp time forms. One hour of his accumulated comp time was taken up by the less than satisfying lunch.

When Roger returned from lunch, Hillary informed him he had a call from the Sheriff's department. She had taken a number since he didn't have his cell phone.

"Yes deputy Sykes please," he sat listening to elevator music for five minutes.

"Mr Everhart sorry to keep you waiting. I don't suppose anyone was able to reach you," Sykes asked.

"Reach me about what?" Roger asked.

"There has been a fire. The volunteer fire department responded but the house you house was a total loss," Sykes. "The fire department said there were signs of arson. You know I got to ask where were you at 11am today.

"I was at work till about 11:30 then I rode my scooter to Marco's Mexican restaurant where I sat listening to may sister bitch for about two hours. I'm sure the staff will remember us. I answered your question, so tell me is the family who are living in the house alright?" Roger asked.

'They are devastated. They lost everything . They were just lucky no one was home. The state fire department arson investigators think it might have been a firebomb through the window," Sykes added. "Do you know anyone who would do that?"

"No idea. If there is anything else just call me," Roger said.

"Roger did someone burn your house?" Hillary asked. She had been eavesdropping of course.

"That seems to be the case. They aren't sure about much, but somebody might have tossed a bottle of gasoline through the window," Roger explained.'

"Do they have any suspects? Hillary asked.

"You are kidding right?" Roger asked with a laugh.

"I guess you are right. "There are far too many people with motives. Anyone threaten you lately?" she asked.

"Not lately," Roger said almost as if it never happened.

"So what are you going to do," Hillary asked.

"I wasn't invested in the house. It was just a thing. Nobody got hurt, so it's not worth worrying about." Roger said. He tried hard to believe what he was saying.

"The family that rents it is pretty upset, I'm sure. I wonder if they had renter's insurance?" Hillary asked.

"I don't have any idea, I'll try to help them out, but they won't be coming back. I'm not going to rebuild. Somebody might get killed in the crossfire," Roger said.

"So you do plan to do something?" Hillary asked.

"Just to defend myself. It is a natural reaction to danger to fight back," Roger said.

"Only for some people. Some people would decide to move to Alaska," Hillary said. "So which one do you think?" 

"What?" Roger replied.

"Was it a warning or a revenge thing?" she asked.

"I don't know that we are working on anything that would warrant this kind of response," Roger said. "Unless you are running a secret investigation."

"You know I'm not the secretive type, besides this was on you," she replied.

"Hell boss, maybe the professor gave some kid a failing grade," Roger was trying to make light of it. "You know these rich college kids can be vindictive as well."

Roger used his desk phone to call the professor. He didn't answer, but his wife did. "You might have told us people were trying to kill you." 

"So the Sheriff's deputies have spoken with you?" Roger asked. 

"You son of a bitch, our dog Wendy died in that fire." She said.

"I am terribly sorry about Wendy. I wish there was something I could do." Roger paused a moment then asked, "Do you have anywhere to go?"

"We haven't talked about that yet," she said calmly.

"Let me know if you need anything. I will of course refund your deposit and the most recent rent payment. If there is anything else just let me know. I'm serious, I want to help."

"Thank you for that, but my husband is a big believer in insurance, so I'm sure we can manage," She said.

"Please relay the message to your husband and have him call me any time," Roger said. "And again, I'm sorry about Wendy."

"Son of a bitch," Roger said angrily after the call. 

Hillary noted that he hadn't been upset before the call, but he definitely was after. "What's the problem," she asked.

"They lost their dog. Fuck no, their dog was killed. She isn't missing." Roger said. "Are we going to look into this?"

"It isn't our jurisdiction," Hillary said.

"You know better, it's a crime against your partner," Roger said fighting to keep control.

"We have an ODW report to complete, before we can do anything. It can wait until tomorrow, since no one was hurt."

"What the fuck is an ODW?" Roger asked.

"Officer discharged weapon, and you need to meditate. You are working yourself into a state," Hillary said.

"When did it happen?" Roger asked.

"Early this morning," she said. "I have the report we just need to interview the officer. The detectives cut her loose since her shift had ended. We can go to her house. I'll call to arrange it, unless you want to see the damage to your house first."

"There is no need for that, the damage will still be there at five," Roger said. "Give me a few minutes to meditate then we can go."

Roger sat at his desk and tried to analyze how he felt and to cleanse his mind of those thoughts. All he managed to do was suppress his urge to kill someone. After three minutes he stood. "Let's do this thing."

They found officer Ellie Smith waiting for them at her apartment. Hillary introduced them while Roger meditated. He wasn't able to shake the urge to do someone harm.

"So what happened?" Hillary asked. "I know you are a cop and have been trying to work out the details with the detectives. I don't want that, I just want you to give me the facts as you know them. So lets start at the beginning."

"Yes Ma'am, I got a radio call at 0600. The dispatcher said that there was a unknown trouble call at an abandoned building. When I arrived someone took a shot at the cruiser. I returned fire. The shooter must have gotten away. I called for help and pretty much hid behind my car till help arrived. The patrol sergeant arrived and organized a search, They didn't find anything. I think they were going to search again now that the sun is up."

"Did you get a good look at the shooter," Hillary asked. 

"No I saw a figure standing outside a doorway. I'm just glad he was a terrible shot."

"Doesn't look as though you were any better," Roger said.

"I tried," she said almost in tears, but not quite.

While Hillary finished her interview Roger took stock of the twenty something slightly broad in the beam young woman. There were no obvious signs of her sexual preference, but he somehow got the vibe that she was at least bisexual, if not a pure lesbian. Not that it made any difference. She was a cop and there for felt she had to cut Roger a wide birth. At least she didn't seem openly hostile toward him." She obviously had been one of the new hires. Half the force seemed to have been hired since the investigation began. It hadn't been an instant thing. The house cleaning had been an on going thing," Once the DOJ got into it full scale, they held off for almost a year then brought them all down. It took almost a year longer to work out the details of all the deals. That whole time Roger was still in deep cover. When they went to trial he came out and got clean. They just hadn't needed his testimony after all. His handler at the DOJ explained it by saying, "Your testimony won't really help, after all you were a junkie at the time."

"How long you been a cop Ellie," Roger asked.

"Eight months, does that have anything to do with it?" she asked angrily.

"Not at all, I was just looking for answers. You know that the bullet went through the door right about where you would have been sitting, if you had been in the car, so you must have been out of the car."

"That is what I said weren't you listening," she said sarcastically.

"I must have missed it. So you arrive at an empty building expecting there to be trouble, but you leave your patrol car without having seen anything. Why would you do that. Don't you usually drive around the building and call for backup before you walk around it?"

"I was planning to rattle the door," she said.

"Ah that explains it. Why didn't you wait for backup?" Roger asked again.

"I thought it was a prank call," she said.

"A prank at 6am. Well you probably had some reason to think that," Roger said with doubt in his voice.

"Roger, why she got our of the car had nothing to do with the facts," Hillary said. 

Since Roger was already the bad guy, they had fallen into the habit of running the bad cop, good cop routine from the very beginning. 

"Why don't you wait in the car. I will finish up in here," Hillary suggested. While he sat in the care meditating. Hillary pried more information from Ellie Smith.

"She's Lying," Roger said when she returned to the driver's seat.

"I know, I'm just not sure about what or why," Hillary said.

"Simple, surely you haven't forgotten how boring midnight shift is?" Roger asked.

"Okay but someone has to call in the complaint. It was a man's voice," Hillary replied.

"She did it, If she was smart she did it with a throw down piece but she did it," Roger insisted.

"You don't trust cops much, do you?" she asked.

"They haven't given me much reason to trust them," Roger said. "Almost half the department has been on the job less than two years. They are still feeling their way along."

"Then we have to sort out who is who," she said. "We owe it to the people of this town."

"Yeah, we have fucked over them long enough," Roger agreed.

"You we got an hour and we are out of the office, you ready to see your house?" she asked.



Internal Affairs Ch. 04



They pulled into the drive which served both his rental house and his tiny house. Deeper into the two acre lot the storage building was located.

That building had been renovated into a Tiny studio apartment.

The House was in the condition previously described by Deputy Sykes. The roof had collapsed and the walls had crumbled. Since the house was occupied the ashes were typical. Things like the stove and refrigerator were lying there visible among the ruins of the kitchen cabinets. Dishes we covered in smoke residue but for the most part intact.

"Before you Bulldoze the remains you should set a date for the renters to come to sift through the ruins," Hillary suggested.

"You are right of course," Roger said. "The place is in ruins. It looks a lot like the pictures on TV of the houses in Gaza."

"Yeah a little," she agreed.

"I'm not going bulldoze it alright. I expect that the county turned off the water. I will have to get a plumber in again to isolate the house lines then turn the water back on."

I need to check the power to my apartment. You want to see where I live?" Roger asked.

"Sure," Hillary said.

"The place is going to be a mess," Roger said. "But just pull on down to the end of the drive.

A stand of pine trees surrounded the small barn type workshop. When Roger decided to move into it, he had it rehabilitated. 

The shell repairs and up grades had cost him almost 12k but it had been worth the money. The roof structure was good for a big wind and the roofing material was a fifty year metal roof. It might need painting and resealing sometime, but it should be good for many years of service. The two window opening, one each side, had been tripled in size. Then thermal pane windows had been installed. The two garage doors had been removed first then a sliding door filled the front space the rear opening simply been enclosed. 

The floor had been brick pavers for years, so nothing much had to be done to it. The tiny bathroom was all shower stall with a small toilet along the rear wall. There was two drains fitted into the floor. One drain was for the waste from the toilet and ran directly into the septic tank. All the other water was gray water and ran from the kitchen sink and shower directly into the sprinkler system which drained into the yard.

Roger explained it all to Hillary. "I see you have a full size kitchen even if it is compact."

Not really the refrigerator is an apartment size. It is about three times the size of a dorm refrigerator but still a third less space than a typical refrigerator. The sink is full sized, It is deep but not a double space hog sink. The counter beside it doubles as a two burner cook top and a small freezer underneath." Roger explained. 

Roger flipped the switch and discovered he had power. He wasn't surprised since his line was independent of the house's power lines.

"And the unmade bed?" Hillary asked taking him back to the tour.

"A sofa bed, with two tables built in for storage." Roger explained. "I didn't have time to turn it into a sofa before I left for work." 

"I guess if you don't have a lot of things, as you claim not to have, it would work," Hillary admitted.

"Yes now I have to spend more money on security," Roger said.

"I think that would be a wise investment," Hillary agreed. "Couple of CCTV cameras would go a long way to giving you peace of mind. Motion detectors inside a fence maybe."

"Something like that for sure. Anyway we need to get back to the office. It's past quitting time," Roger said.

"Yes it is," Hillary agreed.

They were on the drive back to the officer when Hillary said, "You know Roger, we get along well, I don't usually play nice with others," Hillary said.

"Yeah, that was the rumor around when we were both on patrol. Word was you were a bitch and stickler for the rules," Roger informed her. "No wonder you wound up in Internal Affairs."

"I suppose it was inevitable," Hillary agreed. "I do respect boundaries. I'm not sure you are the perfect partner for me. We for sure are not soul mates," she said stating the obvious.

"You mean all those rumors about sex in the office aren't true," Roger said.

"Not with you anyway," she said. "To change the subject, I saw a loft but no ladder and it appears empty."

"The ladder is stored the outside wall. The loft is supposed to be just a bed on the floor for guest. I probably will turn it into a secure storage area. I can put a bed up there if you ever need a place to crash."

"If I ever need a place to stay, I would expect you to be a gentleman and sleep in the loft and allow me to sleep in on the sofa bed," she replied.

"Fat chance," he said smiling at her.

Roger was on the scooter and headed home when he caught sight of the car in his mirrors. The car stayed on his tail most of the way home.

When he pulled into the drive the car pulled in behind him. Roger pulled the scooter off to the side, stopped, then walked back to the car.

"Something I can do for you?" he asked the very professional looking middle aged woman in the power suit.

"Can we talk, it is important?" she asked.

"Important to who," he asked.

"Whom," she said. 

"Damn, some burns my house, then they send a grammar Nazi to protect me. Isn't Hillary bad enough?" he asked.

"You are lucky I'm not the assassin, or you would be dead." she said.

"Death comes to us all. It's not how long we live ,it's how well we live." Roger said.

I heard you see yourself as some kind of philosopher," the bleached blond suggested.

"Not really, I just think out loud a lot. Makes me sound like I am trying to understand the universe," Roger said.

"Then what are you doing," the blond asked.

"Just trying to stay clean," Roger said. "So who are you DOJ, US Marshal, or CIA?" 

"None of the above, Acme security," she said. "I was told you might be looking for a system. I have been contracted to set up such a system."

"I am not buying it," Roger said. "I had a house fire in this morning, and you are here at 7PM. That's just way to much bullshit for anyone to swallow."

"I don't know who arranged for me to set up the system. I Just worked for Acme and I do plan to arrange a security system for you."

"And who pays for the service," Roger asked.

"The client of course and since you are not the client. Why should you worry about it." She asked.

"Because the client will have the keys to the back door," Roger said.

"Good point, can we at least go to your house to discuss it. I don't like discussing this kind of thing in the drive with the sun going down," she said.

"Sure why not," Roger said.

She drove down the drive leaving him to mount his scooter. When he arrived she was already out of the car and looking at the storage building. 

"You should have left the overhead doors. It wouldn't have been so obvious that it was being used as a house." she said.

"No sense crying over spilled milk," Roger suggested. 

"You should consider bullet proof glass in those doors and windows. You are highly susceptible to sniper attack," she said.

"So I need to worry about snipers, and fire bombers, great," Roger said. And the glass is coated to be reflective. Impossible to see through during the daylight hours.

"You knew you are still vulnerable at night," she said.

"Of course I do but so is the sniper. Anyway they are going to get me if they want to get me. I might want to take one or two with me though," he said.

"If that is what you want then that is what I will design for you," she said.

They had moved to the kitchen table for the conversation about security. He even had the instant brew coffee cooking. The coffee maker was a plastic mesh coffee holder which normally held enough coffee grounds for one cup. That evening it held enough for two cups. The coffee process was labor intensive, but he enjoyed looking out the window in a trance while it heated in the microwave. After three minutes in the small microwave it was coffee.

"Sorry I don't have any cream, I have some of that artificial sweetener though," Roger said.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to use no cal sweetener," the blond said.

"I don't hun. I use it because the ants won't touch that shit," Roger said with a laugh. "If you are going to drink my coffee, you need to tell me your name."

"Sorry my name is Rose, just Rose," She said.

"Okay Rose Just, you have been sketching, so what have you got?" he asked.

"Most of the time we do a threat assessment based on who the likely attackers will be. Your threat is from Cops and Gangs, so it has to be for the more sophisticated of the two, the cops. The up side is the cops will likely be working in no more than groups of two. They know the more people who know, the greater the risk someone talking. A gang might come in a car full probably four or five," she said.

Roger listened and said, "Sounds like a good guess," he said.

"I don't think it will be pros, since your damage has already been done. It might be vengeance, but your information is worthless." Rose said.

"You seem to know a lot about me for a contractor," Roger said. 

"It's my job. I read your file after the fire bombing. So shall we discuss your security plan.

"No thanks, I don't want to live in a fortress," Roger said.

"It's either that or get lost," Rose said. 

"Those aren't the only options. If you want to put a CCTV with a view of the drive and the house that would be good. I would need an Internet feed, so I can see what is going on here when I'm away A couple of bring outdoor spot light with motion sensors would be good as well. I beeper would be good as well." Roger said.

"Go with one more thing I can recommend it. A pressure pad in the drive to alert you of a car if you aren't monitoring the computer," Rose suggested.

"Okay do it then," Roger said.

"It will all be up and running tomorrow when you get home for lunch," she said.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Roger said.

"So what are you doing for dinner," Rose asked.

"I'm going to open the freezer and head a frozen dinner. Why do you have a better offer?" Roger asked.

"To be honest I don't know how much better the offer is, but I will take you to dinner. Hell you can even spend the night with me," She said.

"Why would you do that?" Roger asked.

"I need to keep you alive at least until I get paid. There is also that lost puppy look in your eyes. My roommate will find that attractive, I'm sure," Rose answered. "Okay but pizza first." 

Roger's response was, "Man does not live by bread alone, but pizza that's another story entirely.



Internal Affairs Ch. 05



Rose decided that she should use her cell phone to order take out pizza. She also decided that they could stop to pick it up on the way to her apartment. After roger retrieved the pizza, she drove straight to a tall concrete condo building near the Governmental plaza.

"Nice place," Roger said upon seeing the inside.

"Corporate welfare," Rose explained. "It's owned by the company. When someone higher up the food chain comes along, I can be asked to move out. In the meantime we can enjoy the view. I never get tired of looking down on the little people," she said with a laugh.

She went into the galley kitchen before opening the pizza box. The Pizza Place had included paper plates with the order. The only thing for Rose to do was open the Gulf Coast boutique beer. 

"It's really good pizza, but most any pizza is good. Three months on the farm left me with a high regard for familiar junk food," Roger explained while waving a slice around.

"Those three months probably saved your life," Rose replied.

"Yes I agree. Of course I'm not sure what to do with the rest of it. Like they all say, I'm just climbing the mountain one rock at a time, or is it moving ahead one mile at a time?" Roger asked.

"I get it. You are a walking cliché," Rose suggested. 

Two pieces of pizza and Roger was through. "So where is this roommate that might like me?"

Instead of answering Rose went to one of the bedrooms to open the door. A black cat jumped up at her repeatedly. It was the way a small dog would have greeted her.

"Roger Everhart meet Bella the cat," she said. "She is good company and she doesn't empty my refrigerator."

"That would make her the perfect roommate alright," Roger agreed.

"She has on occasion stolen the heart of a boyfriend," Rose suggested. "Now that we have eaten, I'll show you to your room, while I design your system."

The bedroom was half the size of his tiny house. It also had it's own bathroom. The bathroom connected to the hall hallway as well. That feature allowed it to be either a private bath or the main bath depending on which door was locked.

"I'm going to order up your security, so watch TV or something. I don't care what you do just leave me to it." she demanded.

"Does this building have wifi," Roger asked.

"Of course its stream is called 'the building' Password is 'bluesky'," she informed him. 

Roger went to his room to check his email, and to answer Hillary's inquiry as to his health. After his decision not to purchase 'the little blue pills' online, he move on to check the name Acme Security. He found several entries but nothing with a local address. She could be a local contractor with no official status. She could also be an agent with any of a half dozen government agencies who were tasked with keeping tabs on him. They would be one step closer to him for sure with their own cameras in place. His plan was simple, allow them to put all the hardware in place, then hijack the software.

He was up late watching a TV show from the night before. The show was an international phenomena. It was a very off beat cop show. It was so off beat it ran in three different versions, in three different languages. 

The show had exactly the same plot line, and even the same characters, but somehow each version was a little different.

He watched the latest two episodes because he had missed the previous episode. That was the beauty of the online TV shows, they were all there waiting for me. That and the variety of the offerings. there was everything from gold mining in Greenland show to a show about chasing big foot. There were docudramas, as well as the scripted TV shows from all over the world. 

"What are you doing in here all alone," Rose asked peeking in his door.

"Internet porn," he said.

She walked over to see the screen on his laptop. "So you find house renovations erotic?" she asked.

"Well you have to admit there is something sexy about a building contractor with her boobs hanging out," Roger said.

"I will admit that it is not something you see everyday," Rose commented. "So are you going to be okay?"

"I would be better if you would come to bed," he said.

"The idea was to keep you safe, not to entertain you," Rose said sternly but without any trace of anger.

"There I will watch contractor porn till I fall asleep," Roger said.

"I usually watch some wilderness docudrama till I all asleep," she said leaving the room. "By the way I lock my door and sleep with a 10mm pistol."

"I usually sleep in a Kevlar vest, just so you know," he said with a smile.

It was 6:30am when he heard dishes rattling in the galley kitchen. He stumbled out of bed, took his clean underwear into the bath, and then stepped into the shower stall. He stood under the stream of hot water for only a couple of minutes before he turned off the water. He wore the jeans from the day before, but with a clean black tee shirt. He would be tempted to wear his gang vest, if he had it with him. Instead he wore the light weight jacket that marked him as a cop. It was an old style cotton bush jacket. the kind with lots of pockets.

"So are you going to run in that," Rose asked.

"I didn't bring my running suit and shoes, so I'm going to walk two blocks to work," Roger said.

"If you want I can scramble you an egg," Rose suggested.

"No thanks, I have to have a cop breakfast," Roger explained.

"What's that?" Rose asked.

"A bagel and bad coffee at my desk," Roger said.

"Okay, come by after work and I'll give you a ride home. I can explain the workings of your new security system," Rose suggested.

"That's fine," Roger said turning toward the door.

Once he arrived at work, he found the bagel on his desk just as he expected. He took his coffee cup from the drawer, then to the break room to rinse it before filling it with bad coffee.

Hilary enter their office space with a file in her hand. "I got the employment records for Ellie Smith. I looked them over. Now I want your opinion," Hilary said.

"Sure why not," Roger agreed. After Hillary handed him the file he began reading it. According to the file Ellie was twenty five years old. Her previous work experience was clerk in a convenience store. She did it at night while she went to the criminal justice course at the community college.

Her college scores had been excellent. She was most likely on the fast track to being a detective herself. "She sure looks good on paper," Roger said.

"I thought so as well, but something bothered you about her story. Have you decided what it was?" Hillary asked.

"If you wanted to kill a cop why one bullet through a car door. I can see emptying a clip at her then running away, but why only one. Was she a random target of opportunity or a set up just for her?" Roger asked.

"The shooter couldn't have known she would be the one answering the call," Hillary said.

"Come on he knows what sector she is patrolling and what shift she is on," Roger said.

"Okay so there are three cars patrolling that area," Hillary said.

"Scanner and he knows here call sign. If someone else gets the call, he disappears without shooting or leaving a trace. If she gets it he fires the one shot in her door to frighten her," Roger said. "If it wasn't her it was a friend or relative who doesn't want her to be a cop."

"We need to look at her mother, father, sister, brother, or boyfriend," Hillary said.

"And her, nobody heard the shots so we can't tell if it was just the one shot or if she returned fire after the door hit," Roger said.

"Even if she did return fire, she couldn't have had a good site picture. Shooting into the dark was a bad idea," Hillary said. "If it was someone trying to scare her, it would account for the fact that they shot an empty car." Hillary said.

"Yes but did they target her or just a random cop shooting. We really need to know that. Let the detectives work on the random theory, we can work on the Ellie angle." Roger suggested.

"Okay what is left of today and tomorrow then we walk away," Hillary said.

"Fair enough," Roger said. He got the name of Ellie's next of kin from the file. "We need to talk to her mother."

The meeting took place before lunch. "Mrs Smith, I'm Hillary Bridges," Hillary said to the woman sitting on the small patio outside her apartment at the Village.

"Hello Hillary, are you my nurse?" the older woman asked.

"No ma'am we are police officers," Roger said.

"Oh my, is my son in trouble again?" she asked.

"We don't think so," Hillary said.

"He hasn't shot out more street lights has he," the older woman asked.

"No ma'am we are here about your daughter, Ellie," Roger suggested.

"Ellie comes to visit me everyday," she said. 

Of course they couldn't put much faith in what she said. The head of patient welfare had warned Hillary that Mrs. Smith drifted in and out of dementia. She sure seemed to do that, Roger thought. The same lady had informed Hillary that the daughter was the contact for her care decisions.

"Mrs Smith where is your son Edward these days?" Roger asked.

"Did Eddie cut school again. I promise I will talk to him when he comes home," Mrs Smith informed them.

Once they were back in the car, Hillary began. "So are you thinking the son?"

"I'm thinking it is a possibility," Roger said. "As long as he doesn't get caught there is no downside to the indecent. His sister is taking care of his mother, so if she quits she can get a normal safe job. If she doesn't, she gets a career boost."

"I don't think that is the case. It just seems awfully dicey," Hillary said. "To many things left to chance."

"It isn't murder so if the plan fails nothing is lost. He didn't shoot anywhere near his sister," Roger said. 

"If it was the brother. Let's take a look a the boyfriend then we can come back to the brother Eddie if the boy friend doesn't look good for it." Hillary said.

"Let's find the boyfriend and rattle his cage," Roger said.

It took almost two hours to run him down. In the end it was Hillary who tracked him down through a neighbor of Ellie's. He turned out to be a wimpy Realtor. 

If Roger had met him without knowing anything about him, he would have thought the Harold was a hair dresser. He seemed awfully effeminate. They found him setting up shop for an evening open house event.

After the introductions Roger began the questioning, "So Harold how do you feel about Ellie being a cop?" Roger asked. "I mean it must be a constant concern that something will happen to her."

"Of course I think about that, but it's what she wants and I want her to be happy," Harold said.

"Would you like for her to change jobs. You know just give up police work and go into something less dangerous." Hillary asked.

"I think anyone would like to see his fiancee safe," Harold said.

"You know she is getting good reviews so she will probably be here as long as she wants to be," Roger said. "Harold do you own a rifle?"

"Yes my grandfather was in Korea. He bought a.30 caliber carbine back with him. I have it at home," Harold said. 

He was getting a little worried Roger could tell. "Would you mind if I took a look at that weapon?" He asked.

"Do I need a lawyer," Harold asked.

"I don't know do you. How is it going to look to Ellie if you lawyer up," Hillary asked.

"I want a lawyer," Harold said.

"I'm going to turn this interview tape over to the detectives," Roger said. 

"I expect they will be at your house this afternoon with a warrant for the carbine," Hillary said. "If they go through that trouble, they won't be in a forgiving mood. Those guys are only in the numbers, they don't see the people behind the numbers. So you can leave now Harold."

After he had gone Hillary said, "I'm going to get stake out to be sure he doesn't destroy evidence before we can get a warrant.

"Do you need me to go along to the magistrate," Roger asked.

"No why are you so hot to get off early, do you have a date?" She paused a moment to look at Roger. "My god you do have a date."

"Not really there is a contractor doing some work at the burnout. I need to go meet with him." Roger lied.



Internal Affairs Ch. 06



He met Rose in the park across from the headquarters building.‭ ‬She brought‭ ‬the‭ ‬Walmart bag with his clothes from the previous day.‭ "‬So do I kiss you,‭ ‬or pretend we didn't have sex last night‭?" ‬he asked.

‏"‎We didn't have sex last night,‭" ‬she said‭ ‬emphatically.‭ 

"Okay,‏ ‎if you feel like you need to deny it,‭ ‬I will play along,‭" ‬he said.

‏"‎You might not want to talk like that with most people.‭ ‬They might have you locked away in a padded room,‭" ‬Rose said seriously.

‏"‎Ah well,‭ ‬no cerebral sex for you,‭ ‬I can tell.‭ ‬So did you finish at the house‭?" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎almost,‭ ‬I think you are going to like what you see,‭" ‬Rose said.‭ 

"I'm sure I will.‏ ‎Of course I'm going to have to assume that you are going to be monitoring my every movement and word,‭" ‬Roger said.

‏"‎Is that more of the drug induced paranoia‭?" ‬she asked.

‏"‎I don't need the drugs for that.‭ ‬You do remember the smell of burned dog in the air yesterday‭?" ‬he asked.

‏"‎Not really,‭ ‬wood smoke yes,‭ ‬but burned dog no,‭" ‬She said.

‏"‎I guess if you didn't know the smell included Wendy,‭ ‬then you wouldn't know,‭" ‬he said knowing that she was way to literal thinking to understand.‭ ‬Hillary would have understood,‭ ‬or at least known he was playing at being an amateur philosopher.

They drove in silence until they reached his drive.‭ ‬The large SUV belonging to the professors sat in his drive.‭ 

"Let me out here and wait for me,‏" ‎he said.‭ ‬He walked to where the deck had once been.‭ ‬It seemed to be recovery central.‭ ‬Both professors were loading those large black plastic bags with crockery.

‏"‎Professor,‭ ‬I am so sorry.‭ ‬I had no idea this would happen.‭" ‬Roger said.‭ "‬I hope it wasn't about me.‭ ‬It might have just been an act of senseless destruction,‭" ‬Roger said.

‏"‎Or it could have been someone with a grudge against you,‭" ‬His wife said.

‏"‎Or someone you gave a bad grade to,‭" ‬Roger said.

‏"‎To Whom,‭" ‬she answered.

‏"‎Okay someone to whom you gave a bad grade,‭" ‬Roger said.

‏"‎I don't think so,‭" ‬her husband said.‭ "‬There was a voice mail at work for me yesterday.‭ ‬It came in after the story broke.‭ ‬He left it in my voice mail at the University.‭ ‬I gave it to the Deputy working the case.‭ ‬The man said he was sorry and that he thought it was where you lived.‭"

"I see,‏ ‎well I'm sorry you got caught up in my drama.‭ ‬If there is anything I can do please call on me,‭" ‬Roger said.‭ ‬The professors ignored his outstretched hand.‭ 

Roger got back into the car.‭ "‬You will be lucky if they don't get a lawyer and sue.‭" ‬Rose said.

‏"‎I am indemnified against any lawsuit arising from my actions as an undercover cop.‭ ‬First by the fact that I was acting as an agent of the federal government,‭ ‬and secondly by the newspaper coverage.‭ ‬The professors can claim they didn't know about the risk,‭ ‬but they were living in town when the story broke.‭ ‬It ran off and on for almost a year.‭ ‬The newspaper even had pictures of me in uniform.‭ ‬So if they didn't know who they were renting from they were idiots.

As far as the court is concerned they knew at least as much as I did.‭ ‬The only thing I didn't do is have them sign a waiver.‭" ‬Roger suggested.

‏"‎Roger,‭ ‬you really should go into witness protections,‭" ‬Rose said.

‏"‎Ah another of Satan's advocates‭ ‬heard from,‭" ‬Roger said.‭ "‬Let's go around the professor's car and take a look at what you have done.‭"

The first level of protection was a lighted sign.‭ ‬It read,‭ '‬Warning you are being recorded‭'‬.‭ ‬There were two cameras mounted on the sign post,‭ ‬which rose ten feet above the ground.‭ "‬Those won't last long,‭" ‬Roger commented.‭ 

Rose pointed to the pine thicket about ten yards down the drive.‭ "‬I don't see anything,‭" ‬Roger said.

‏"‎That's the idea.‭ ‬We have the real camera there.‭ ‬The other two are girl friend cameras.‭ ‬The hard core killer cams are less visible.‭ ‬They are motion and sound activated.‭ ‬We have a camera on each side of the cabin as well.‭ ‬Then one inside.‭ ‬You can access any of them with your cell phone.‭"

"I have to admit that is a cool plan.‏ ‎So what is the plan for when I am asleep inside.‭ ‬That's when they will most likely come,‭" ‬Roger said.

‏"‎Motion detectors in the pine thicket,‭ ‬along with barbed wire strung six inches off the ground.‭ ‬That's a little old school but it gets their minds off the real shit.‭ ‬A couple of sound mines with a half dozen fifty pound release triggers.‭ ‬A bear or dear might set them off once,‭ ‬but not likely.‭ ‬All this shit is Solar powered,‭" ‬Rose explained.‭ ‬There is one thing we still have to erect.‭ 

We‭ ‬were forced to go with a custom gate.‭ ‬They couldn't‭ ‬have it‭ ‬ready‭ ‬until next week.‭ ‬I will be back with a crew to install it.‭ ‬To open and close it you will have to go to the INTERNET.‭ ‬The good news is that it can be activated with a pass code online.‭ ‬That is also the bad news,‭ ‬so don't give it to anyone.‭"

"So how about my flood lights‏?" ‎Roger asked.

‏"‎Four mounted on the cabin and they are also solar battery powered.‭ ‬Anyone cutting the power would have to get to the cabin and they would be on your camera files,‭" ‬she said.

‏"‎Well Miss Rose,‭ ‬you obviously know what you are doing,‭" ‬Roger said.

‏"‎Yes I do.‭ ‬So here is the number to call for service and your temporary password,‭" ‬she said.

‏"‎You have to be kidding me.‭ ‬My password is Donut6175‭?" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎Donut for your cop status and‭ ‬6175‭ ‬for your height and weight.‭ ‬You‭ ‬will need to change it.‭" ‬Rose replied.

‏"‎No shit,‭" ‬Roger replied.

‏"‎The password has to be at least five letters and four numbers,‭" ‬she informed him.

‏"‎Right,‭ ‬so are you coming in‭?" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎Why,‭ ‬our business is complete‭" ‬she said,‭ ‬then added just to be absolutely sure‭ ‬he‭ ‬would never‭ ‬call her again,‭ "‬Nobody likes a snitch.‭"

"Nice,‏ ‎I figured you were a snake,‭" ‬Roger said with a laugh as he exited the car.

Roger went into the tiny house‭ ‬he had‭ ‬built inside the shell of his storage shed.‭ ‬Inside the house he fixed himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.‭ ‬He also poured himself a glass of all chemical ice tea made from a dry mix purchased at Walmart.‭ ‬He bought most of his groceries there.

He rode the scooter up to the store at least three times a week,‭ ‬then filled the milk carton tied onto the rear with groceries.‭ ‬Well what passed for groceries for him.

That night he watched day old TV shows on the computer as he also checked the perimeter.‭ ‬It was kind of a fun thing.‭ ‬Of course after a couple of hours the novelty wore off.‭ ‬He didn't want to use his wifi connection to check anything,‭ ‬since he felt sure Rose the Snake had piggy backed‭ ‬a signal to‭ ‬monitor his browsing.‭ ‬He could wait till the next day at work to do his research.‭ 

He slept better knowing the house was fairly secure,‭ ‬but he also knew he needed a shotgun.‭ ‬The pistol and even a rifle would be‭ ‬of‭ ‬no use at night.‭ ‬At least they would be no use to him.‭ ‬Roger wasn't an expert marksman with either.‭ ‬He added the purchase of a twelve gauge trench gun to his list for the next day.

Roger awoke the next morning at‭ ‬6:30‭ ‬am.‭ ‬He had a hard time believing that he missed the exercise program from the rehab facility.‭ ‬He felt lethargic and fat even thought everyone else thought of him as too thin.‭ ‬Probably because almost everyone was ten to twenty pounds over weight and those were the ones who described themselves as fit.

Roger hated to run,‭ ‬even though he knew it was the best form of exercise.‭ ‬He couldn't even imagine running five to ten miles every morning.‭ ‬There was no room in his tiny house for gym equipment and the thanked god for that.‭ ‬He knew he had to figure something out even it if was joining a gym.‭ ‬Not one of those fancy things,‭ ‬but maybe an old style boxing gym,‭ ‬he thought.‭ ‬Then he decided it would never happen.‭ ‬He was too much‭ ‬of a loner.

Roger finally got our of bed.‭ ‬He showered then dressed in his jeans and bush jacket.‭ ‬Before leaving for work he checked the weather on his computer.‭ ‬He did that every morning.‭ ‬He did it even though he parked his scooter in an enclosed parking deck.‭ ‬He also stored one rain suit at the office and one at home.‭ ‬He didn't care for the idea of being wet all day.‭ ‬He realized that the Lieutenant hadn't had his driver's license returned as of yet.‭ ‬It had only been two weeks,‭ ‬so maybe he shouldn't worry so soon.

Once he made his way into the office,‭ ‬he found Hillary all excited.‭ "‬What is happening Hills,‭ ‬did you get laid‭?" ‬he asked.

‏"‎I wish.‭ ‬When the detectives went to the boyfriend's house with a search warrant,‭ ‬they found the thirty caliber carbine.‭ ‬Since he didn't know the slug we have was broken all to hell,‭ ‬the detectives let him believe that it was only a matter of time till they matched it with the riffle.‭ ‬The little freak went belly up.‭" ‬Hillary said.

‏"‎So was it what we thought‭?" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎It was indeed.‭ ‬Officer Smith knew nothing of it.‭ ‬The boyfriend hoped that it would scare her into running home to him with her tail between her legs.‭ ‬You know he must have a ten inch prick‭?" ‬Hillary said‭ ‬thoughtfully.

‏"‎Now that is a sexist thing to say,‭" ‬Roger‭ ‬replied.

‏"‎You going to report me Mr.‭ ‬Snitch‭?" ‬she asked.

‏"‎No,‭ ‬but really Ellie could easily be a fag hag,‭" ‬Roger said to get even with Hillary.

‏"‎Now that is a sexist remark,‭" ‬Hillary said with a laugh.‭ "‬For that you can write the report.‭ ‬Be sure you give Internal Affairs a reasonable amount of‭ ‬the‭ ‬credit.‭ ‬The detective bureau will get the collar,‭ ‬but we should be sure our report reflects the work we have done.‭"

"Of course comrade,‏" ‎Roger said.‭ "‬You know all that vanity doesn't help.‭ ‬Good work is it's own reward.‭"

"I know that you sound like an idiot,‏ ‎when you try to wax philosophical,‭" ‬Hillary advised him.‭ ‬The phone rang just then.‭ "‬It's for you.‭"

"Hello,‏" ‎Roger said.

‏"‎Michael Peters here,‭" ‬the voice said.

‏"‎Yes Mr Peters‭?" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎I'm a senior patrolman and training officer with D squad,‭" ‬the voice said.

‏"‎Okay,‭ ‬what can I do for you‭?" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎I am also a contractor who uses off duty cops to do work.‭ ‬Some of these young guys need the extra money.‭ ‬I also have a two ton dump truck,‭" ‬Peters said.

‏"‎Is this about the fire damage,‭" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎It is.‭ ‬The county will be serving you a notice soon explaining that you need to clear the lot of the damage.‭ ‬It's a breeding ground for rats.‭ ‬I can put a crew on the ground out there and get it done in a couple of days,‭" ‬Peters said.

‏"‎Peters do you know who I am‭?" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎I know you are going to have an insurance check,‭ ‬and money doesn't have a home,‭" ‬Peters admitted.‭ "‬I can write you a fair estimate.‭ ‬You can turn it in to the insurance company.‭ ‬After they approve it,‭ ‬we can do the work and get paid.‭ ‬No sweat off your balls.‭" ‬Peters replied.

‏"‎I'll have to think it over.‭ ‬Give me your number,‭" ‬Roger demanded.

The one thing the call had done was to remind Roger that he hadn't reported the fire to his insurance company.‭ ‬With that in mind he dialed his mortgage company to get the insurance company's name.‭ ‬It turned out they were carrying the insurance for him as part of his mortgage payment.‭ ‬So he was transferred to the lady in charge,‭ ‬he explained it all to her.

‏"‎Get the contractor to give you an estimate for cleaning the lot and we can go from there,‭" ‬she said.

‏"‎Good plan,‭" ‬Roger agreed.‭ ‬After thinking it over all morning roger decided to go with Peter's estimate.

‏"‎Good,‭ ‬that was quick,‭" ‬Peters said.

‏"‎Like you said,‭ ‬long as it is done right,‭ ‬I don't care who does it,‭ ‬The weekend is coming,‭ ‬so can you get the estimate to the First Bank of Belmont's insurance department on Monday‭?" ‬Roger asked.

‏"‎You got it Mister Everhart,‭" ‬Peters said.



Internal Affairs Ch. 07



Roger worked up until 5pm on Friday, reading complaints and writing follow up reports. Most of them were simple 'complaint unfounded' type reports. Sometimes when he felt there might be some misconduct, but it was so minor as to be insignificant, he would make a 'lack of hard evidence' report and move on. Roger had to be careful because all his reports, regardless of the findings, moved up the chain.

As Roger left the office Friday night, Hillary suggested they go to dinner. Not at a greasy spoon, but dinner at a really nice restaurant.

When he agreed, Roger tried not to think of it as a date. After all she was the boss, he told himself. Also there was that ten to fifteen years age difference.

Hillary suggested that she pick him up at home. He needed to change and still didn't have a car or driver's license. Neither of them wanted him driving the scooter at night. That's how she came to be on his security camera footage at 7pm on a Friday night.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he climbed into her car.

"I thought we might try that new Steak house out by the South Mall," she suggested. "All men like steak, don't they?" 

"Of course," he replied. He did enjoy beef now and then, but he really didn't care for big chunks of steak. None the less he was happy to go along with her. Since he didn't have an alternative plan, Hillary's would have to do, no matter what it was.

He waited to allow Hillary to order before he did. He didn't want to discourage her from her steak and potato. Dinner for him consisted of a giant bowl of lettuce with bacon, hard boiled eggs tomato and onions with fruit piled one top. 

"I feel bad eating all this food, while you graze on lawn trimmings," she suggested.

"You shouldn't, since I ordered what I wanted. You should only feel guilty if you deprived me of what I really wanted," Roger explained.

After dinner while walking to her car, Hillary asked, "So what do people do on dates these days, when the date isn't really a date?" 

"I have no idea. I used to go back to the apartment and get high," Roger said.

"That isn't an option is it?" she asked. 

"No it isn't. I can't see you getting high," Roger said.

"Nor can I see you,. That is a compliment by the way," Hillary said.

"Good, so what are we celebrating. Our first complete week without a murder?" Roger asked.

"Sure why not. I think I have shown remarkable self control. I might have felt like strangling your skinny ass, but I did resist," Hillary said.

"In that case we should go dancing," Roger suggested.

"I think not, I don't dance," she said. 

"So what do you do on dates, that are not dates?" Roger asked.

"You don't want to do that either," she said.

"Oh well if it involves the sacrifice of small animals, no I don't." he said.

"You are implying I'm a witch," she said with a serious laugh. "I like that."

"If the broom fits," he said.

"Usually we go home and have sex," she replied simply while looking away. "If we did that, I assure you, it would be nothing personal."

"Then on a strictly logical note, it would be a stupid thing for us to do. We work together and as of right now, I would jump in front of you to save you. If you turn out to be terrible in bed, I might sacrifice you," Roger admitted.

"Don't worry, I would sacrifice you either way," she said without a smile. Roger felt like it was the truth.

"So, if we are going to do this, do I need to stock up on condoms," Roger asked.

"Always the boyscout," Hillary said. "I use a very secure birth control method."

When they arrived back at his tiny house, Hillary hadn't changed her mind so she entered the house. "Let me see if I can shut down the camera," Roger suggested. Since he had a couple of days to fool around, he found the camera controls and killed the camera inside the house.

"I might have preferred the camera to continue. I could always use a sex tape later. Just in case one of us should become famous," Hillary said.

"The problem is that I'm not sure who is watching them," He whispered in her ear.

"Should I be careful what I say," she asked in a whisper as well.

He nodded his head. "Do you still want to do this?"

"Now more than ever," she said accompanied by what could have passed as a giggle.

The two of them made a very odd couple. He was skinny as a rail and Hillary was soft all over. She wasn't chubby, she just had a round body with no sharp angles.

She started to undress, while Roger went about closing the roll down shades over his two windows. He also pulled the drapes over the slightly narrower than normal sliding door. 

He was more than a little surprised that they both were able to fit on the day bed. He was forced against the wall, but it wasn't all that uncomfortable. 

After it was over he said, "I have to admit, that was absolutely adequate."

"I felt the same. I think you need more practice." Hillary told him as she pulled him back down for another kiss.

"I'll make note of it," Roger said burying his head in her ample breasts. 

"So what was your plan for the day?" Hillary asked the next morning.

"The plan is to start on a walking track along the perimeter of the lot," Roger admitted.

"Why don't you walk on the country road like everyone else," she suggested.

"Then I should wear a giant name tag on my back, just in case the fire bomber is still upset. I couldn't face the anger of another neighbor," Roger said.

"Good point," she said.

"Well I have some exciting things to do myself. Want to take me to breakfast?" she asked. "I only require a fast food breakfast. It won't delay you more than a half hour." 

"Sure the track isn't going anywhere," Rodger said.

After the not so romantic breakfast, Hillary dropped him at his tiny house. Roger immediately put on his boots. He didn't really need boots other than for a small creek which ran behind his tiny house. He was concerned that he might have a close encounter with a snake. Roger hated and feared snakes of all kinds.

Since Roger contracted with a landscape company to cut his grass all the way back to the stand of pines, he needed only to clear a path through them. His neighbor on the right was a dairy farmer, so there was barbed wire marking their shared property line. On the other side of his property there was a wooden rail fence. It wouldn't keep anything in or out, but it to marked the property line.

Roger carried a machete for use in clearing the brush beneath the pine trees. Since it was a walking path, he didn't feel the need to cut down any trees. He didn't even clear the fallen trees. He simply move then a few feet to clean the path he was making. 

"Stepping over a fallen tree is not a good idea. There is no way to know whats on the other side. Not to mention the trip hazard. It is more than a hundred yards from here back to the house. I can't imagine crawling that far with a broken ankle," he muttered to no one at all. 

Roger had expected to clear the stand of pines in a few hours, but it was well after lunch when he decided to take a break. He had managed to clear the path as far as the creek and along the bank until it left his property. 

He decided to leave the rest of the space until the next day. He was tired and filthy. He needed a shower and some food.

Roger was making it a habit to check the cameras at his home before driving there. He also checked them randomly whenever he had a few minutes to spare. Which he did while finishing his large iced tea in the McDonald dinning room. Since they had free WIFI, it was easy to make a quick check before driving to the Walmart store. The Walmart superstore was located in the same parking lot as the restaurant.

In the Walmart store he found what he wanted in the sporting good department. He bought a short barreled, though entirely legal, 12gauge shotgun. He also bought a box of shells. The gun would need to be assembled by him since Walmart obviously thought selling a working shotgun and shells to the same customer was a recipe for disaster.

It struggled to get the shotgun home. He went slowly and juggled it until he got it into the tiny house. Roger spent and hour assembling, then oiling and loading the gun. Most of that hour was spent trying to decide where the shotgun would be secure yet easy to reach. The floor to ceiling kitchen cabinet was meant to serve as a pantry and broom closet. It also seemed to be the best available spot to store a shotgun.

Roger watched TV on his computer for the next couple of hours. He was tempted to call Hillary, but resisted the urge. He was pretty sure she would make the next move, if he allowed her time to do so. After watching a movie, he just drifted off to sleep.

On Sunday morning Roger began work on his track again. He found the work easier since there were fewer vines once he left the creek area. He had to use the machete a few times but mostly he was able to just pull the vines from the trees to clear a path. The one thing that did surprise Roger was the paper littering the pine thicket. Evidently trash had blown into the thicket and become trapped there. Roger had two large plastic bag filled with paper napkins and the like.

At 3pm Roger was ready to declare the path open for business. His fancy phone recorded and updated his movement on he path. With that phone he was able to determine the length of the trail. He did all the math in his head and determined that it was 1/3 of a mile in length. 

He was tired from all the work, so he just had dinner, watch some delayed broadcast TV, then went to bed. He actually had a dream about Hillary, but was unable to remember the details.

When Roger met Hillary after his six laps around the track, he was actually embarrassed. He wasn't sure whether it was the dream or the sex. The dream, even though he couldn't remember the details, was much more erotic than the sex with Hillary had been. Sex with Hillary was almost an extension of his work in the office. That wasn't a bad thing, just not as pleasurable as one would expect.

"Are you quite alright," Hillary asked as she noticed Roger staring off into space.

"Yes I am fine," Roger said.

"Then answer the questions. Do you know a woman named Rose from Acme Security?" Hillary asked.

"Yes of course she had all the camera's installed," Roger explained. "Why are you asking."

"She called and left a message. She says the gate will arrive on Wednesday," Hillary informed him.

"Good," Roger said turning away. He really didn't want to discuss it with her. Roger forced Hillary from his mind, then turned to the cold complaint files. An hour later he stumbled on a complaint about an officer parking his patrol car in front the downtown branch of an insurance company. The car was parked there every Wednesday night for an hour. There were no other details.

"Hello," Roger said into his official cell phone.

"Mike Peters, I just called to let you know I gave our estimate to the bank's insurance department. They were okay with it, so we will do the job Wednesday when we have the day off. It is just a one day job." Mike said. 

"Fair enough let me know if you need anything," Roger said.

"Okay," Mike said and then hung up. He obviously wasn't thrilled to be working for Roger.



Internal Affairs Ch. 08



He still had the patrol car parked outside of the insurance agent's office at night on his mind. He should bring in all the officers, of the squad on duty at the times of the complaints. He had a feeling that since it was a morals issue that would never happen.

He could get a general warning about girlfriends and sex on the job issued, but he wanted to target it a little closer. He also wanted it to come from the desk cops, if they felt the brass badge group felt it had to come out at all. Since he was on everyone's shit list, he decided that the information needed to come through Hillary at the very least.

"Hills, I got these old complaints from that box of cold files you wanted me to read. Take a look at this one please?" Roger asked.

"Okay," she said. "I thought you might want to see this. It's a report from the state police lab. It was forwarded by Deputy Sykes with a copy to the volunteer fire department." she said.

While she read the file on the mysterious patrol car, Roger read the file from the forensic lab. They identified the fire starter used in the fire at his house. 

It was no shock to Roger that it had been a glass bottle filled with gasoline. Where anyone found a glass bottle by that time was hard to fathom. The burn pattern was consistent with a shattered container. They also found a piece of colored glass on the floor under the window. Probably because the suspect glass was green the lab concluded that they were not consistent with the window pane. It also had no prints.

They also determined that the liquid in the bottle was a mixture of gasoline and oil. Weed whacker, everyone in the area owns one, Roger thought. He just filed it away in his mind's file cabinet.

"Some cop is screwing an insurance agent at work," Hillary said. "Nothing criminal there. It is a breach of department policy, but do we really want to open that can of worms."

"Hillary did you learn nothing from the last two years of my life. If you want to get a cop, you start out slowly. Then you start increasing the pressure on him. It might be nothing now, but it makes him vulnerable. We don't have to do more than identify him, check him out for other things, then call him in for an interview. Get it on record that it happened, but we couldn't prove it. Then we either scare him straight, or we know who to look at later down the line" Roger suggested.

"You know for a guy with a week on this job, you understand it. I mean you really understand it," Hillary said.

"Hills, they have had a chance to regroup. It's like a cancer, you have to get it all and keep testing for it," Roger said.

"Sometimes cancer kills the patient," she said.

"That sounds a little like a threat," Roger said.

"Not at all, I think you have had plenty of those over the years. So there is nothing to take to the bosses right now. Put some names to this, then we can kick it upstairs."

Roger turned away, then turned back. "You got any thoughts on the fire bomb?"

"Two cycle engine fuel and what the hell comes in a glass bottle these days?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Roger agreed. "I wonder why the cop car complaints ended."

"Damn, do you always change subjects without any warning?" Hillary asked.

"I guess so," he said.

"They lost interest, or one of them got caught. Wives are a lot smarter than cops, so I'm told," she suggested.

"So there wouldn't be a trail, since he wouldn't have stopped seeing the woman, if his wife threw him out. If he did stop seeing her, maybe his wife caught him and he gave up his piece on the side to save his pension." Hillary looked at him curiously. "The wife would get half of it, even if he wasn't eligible at the time. If she had a good lawyer anyway."

"Then again maybe it was the husband that caught his girlfriend," Hillary said.

"Either way the complaints placed the car there at or around dinner time. He was there at least twice a week for a couple of months. You know it could be still going on. Maybe he just wised up and changed were he parks the car," Roger suggested.

"I can get the gps data for all the cars. They installed those things in there last year. I bet you that it was the same time the complaints stopped," Hillary said.

"If that was the case, the cop changed his pattern, but didn't necessarily clean up his act. So let's go at it from the other end. Who is the woman?" Roger asked.

"She is someone with a key to the building," Hillary said.

"All the staff most likely have keys. They probably have nothing in there of any value," Roger suggested.

"We are overlooking another possibility. The cop got rolled up in your investigation and is doing time," Hillary suggested. "The timing is right."

"So do you want to drop it?" Roger asked curiously.

"Not till we know. There may be no satisfactory ending here for several reasons. Put it on the back burner and work it when nothing else is pushing us. That is the same with the fire bomb," Hillary said.

"So how do we get a list of the employees of the insurance company?" Roger asked.

"They all have to have licenses. It might take a while, but we can get them," Hillary said. 

"Or we could walk in and flash the badge and ask real nice," Roger said.

"I knew it. That's what you wanted all along. All right let's go talk to the officer manager," Hillary agreed. "I do enjoy being played, as long as it's on the job. You do understand?"

"Yeah, I got it," Roger said.

"Detective Bridges and this is Detective Everhart," Hillary said giving the receptionist a card. "We are with the internal affairs section of the police department, and we need to see the manager."

"You really should have called first," the receptionist said.

"What's your name miss," Hillary asked. 

"Sara Jones," the twenty something girl said. Roger noted that she was very attractive. He wrote her name in his notebook. That was one name down, he thought.

"Miss Jones, I think your boss might like to speak with us. It will short circuit an inquiry, which we will otherwise have to take up with the insurance commissioner's office," Hillary said.

"Wait right here," she said.

After she had left the room Hillary turned to Roger and spoke softly. "Notice all the empty desks. They seem to be paring down the work force."

"It's a recession hadn't you heard," Roger said quietly. It was a sarcastic answer and Hillary recognized it as such.

The office manager came out with the receptionist following. "Hello Herman Hartley. I'm the office manager. Also I'm the senior agent."

Hillary went through the introductions a second time. "I would like to have a list of all your agents employed over the last six months, even those who are no longer employed by Great Northern Insurance Company."

"To be honest Sara and I are the only employees here. We have a phone bank. Most of Great Northern Insurance is sold by phone, or on the internet. I'm the agent of record for all of it. Believe me it's all legal," Hartley said.

"Then give me the names of your phone operators for the last six months. Also explain to Sara that when I call back to ask for more information, it would be a very good idea for her to cooperate," Hillary said.

"I will cooperate completely," Sara said. 

Hillary looked at Roger as if to say don't trust anything this woman says. "Email those names to me," Hillary said. "My email is on the card you were planning to toss in the trash."

When they were outside she said, "Something is wrong in there."

"Do you reckon?" Roger agreed.

"When we get the files, we are going to start cross matching them with the personnel on D platoon," Hillary said. 

"I don't think the name of our mystery man or woman will be in the names she sends us," Roger said. "My guess is they are busy destroying files as we speak."

"Sometime you just have to give them enough rope," Hillary said.

"I have heard that bullshit before," Roger said.

"You are so pessimistic," Hillary said. "Shall we go find out where the Insurance company does business. We should probably get the bank records for either Great Northern or Mister Herman Hartley or both," Hillary said.

"Oh I like that," Roger said. "Maybe as a byproduct of our search for the love sick cop, we can clean Mister Hartley's clock," Roger suggested.

"You do know how to turn a phrase Roger dear," Hillary said. "Before we do anything else, I have to call in a favor." Hillary made the call but Roger was told to leave the office while she did it.

All the next day Roger and Hillary chased around looking for bank accounts in either Great Northern insurance or Herman Hartley's names. At the end of Tuesday they had nothing. As far as the state banking commission was concerned The Great Northern Insurance company had no complaints and were licensed as an insurance broker. It took a while for Roger to wrap his head around the difference between an Insurance Broker, an Insurance Agent, and an Insurance provider.

When you think insurance company, it can be a provider, or a broker, or an agent who works for one or the other. If two clients bought insurance from Herman Hartley, he would assign the policy to Great Northern Insurance company, which was a brokerage company. The two people might have different insurance providers depending the information on their application. Great Northern would handle his payments and claims, but the money would be provided by the provider company. It was a screwy arrangement designed to avoid liability. The broker had no liability, but the provider company had no official standing in the state. Neither was regulated by the insurance commissioner. As Hartley had said, there was no law against it. It was a scam but a legal one.

It was 4:45pm when a black man in work clothes and a hard hat stopped by the office. Roger was alone in the office so of course he asked, "Can I help you."

"No, I don't think so," He moved to Hillary's computer.

"Hold on there. I can't let you mess with Miss Bridge's computer," Roger said.

"You better back off white boy," the man said.

"Who you calling white boy?" Roger asked. He was trying to decide whether to laugh or toss his ass against the wall.

"Hillary come in here and straighten your white boy out," the back man shouted toward the break room.

"Roger leave Jerome alone," Hillary said. "He is doing me a favor."

Roger put up his hands and backed away. After some pings and beeps the job, whatever it was, seemed complete.

"Tonight at 8pm." Jerome said as he walked out the door.

After he was gone, Roger asked, "What was that all about?"

"Jerome works for the cable company. If you or me were to climb the pole across the street from Herman's office, there would be hell to pay. Now who would expect this from a cable company?" she asked bring up a video feed showing the front door to Herman Hartley's office. 

"Now we know if anyone, who isn't on our list, comes by for his or her final check," Hillary added.

"Beautiful, remind me to never, ever doubt you," Roger suggested. Roger also went back and pulled the video from the day before after the camera was first installed.

"I got the pictures, you get to stay and transfer them to a file for the computer lab. Have them run them against the DMV picture file and mugshots file," Hillary said.

"And what are you going to do while I do that?" Roger asked.

"Pay for them, of course," she said.

They were right in he middle of the grunt work on the Herman Hartley investigation, so it was a good time to take a day off. Roger had more than enough compensatory time. His plan was watch the off duty cops clean up his house fire site. Since he didn't give a crap what they thought, he wanted to inspect the job site before they left. He also planned to be tough on them.

Roger also expected to have Rose's fence crew showing up. After her last remarks to him, he had no love for her, or her crew. They were going to get a hard look as well.

He was a little paranoid, but as he told Hillary on his first day with internal affairs. "Being paranoid don't mean they weren't after him. Since she was another cop, it was easy for her to believe. It had been proven that his security concerns were justified.

He had walked the cleared area along the perimeter of his property for the last couple of days. So it was no big deal for him to do so that Wednesday morning as well. As much as he hated it, he ran the first two laps then walked four more. He figured two miles on the first day was a good start. It was hard to continue past two miles without an instructor threatening him. Roger laughed at the thought of hiring a teenager with a knife to chase him around the track.

After that two mile walk/run Roger showered then dressed for the day. He wore his cut off jeans since the weather as still mild.

The cops arrived about nine. He watched them pull up on his camera aimed toward the street. Two of the men came in the dump truck for trash and two more in a pickup truck. Roger waited until they got past the walking around looking phase. Once the men started picking up the trash and tossing it into the dump truck, Roger walked to the front of the lot. 

Most of the men he recognized even if he couldn't put a name to the faces. He spoke to the man who was operating as the foreman.

"Good morning, how is it going?" Roger asked.

"We just got started, but it doesn't look as if there are going to be any problems. We have a couple of more guy and some other equipment coming in a few minutes. Once we get the trash, we will start on the standing structure." 

"Good, it sounds like you know what you are doing," Roger said. "I did tell the boss that I wanted to leave the standing walls, if they are not in danger of collapsing. I know the roof structure has to come down so do what you have to. I'll be around if you have any questions."

"Good," the man suggested. Roger saw him join the others clearing the trash. Roger walked back to the house to get his notebook. His plan was to ride the scooter to Mcdonald's for coffee and a quick check of his super secret email. 

Roger really didn't have any secrets. The account was for people who didn't want to be monitored. The small notebook had no hard drive at all. The bios was hard wired to the machine. The machine booted and ran from a flash drive. It either stored information in an online hard drive substitute or on a second flash drive. It also ran a heavy duty encryption program when the notebook shut down for any reason. The power for the notebook was provided by three alkaline AA batteries.

Roger kept an eye on the work while he researched the Great Northern Insurance Company. He went all over the net chasing information, but found nothing useful to his investigation.

After two cups of coffee Roger left the dining room. He resisted the urge to buy donuts on his way out of the parking lot, going directly home instead.

He waited until noon before the fence crew arrived. The gate proved to be a lot more complicated than he expected. The gate ran on large motorized wheels. Because of that it didn't need tracks. The camera had been mounted close enough to the gate post so that no changes were necessary. The sign on the fence gave instructions for using the intercom on the gate post. The activation of the intercom actually rang his cell phone.

It was well after six when the cop crew finished the cleanup. The second crew had brought a bobcat with them, so that they could safely collapse the roof.

The gate installation had taken only a couple of hours. They were all gone well before dark. There was no plan for any of them to return.

"Hello," Roger said into the cop cell phone.

"It's Hillary. I have spotted a woman who is not on the list. She appears to be a college student. The names of those provided to us were mostly unemployed men and women, who were hired as contract employees. Why her name was not included is a mystery. One that is going to require some further investigation. I think I will wait for you, so are you going to be back tomorrow?" She asked in a rush.

"Yes, everything is done. Are you still at the office?" Roger asked.

"Yes, but I'm headed out the door," Hillary said.

"Okay, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Roger suggested.

"Well I though I might pick up a Pizza and come see you unless you have something else on for tonight," Hillary suggested,

"I have no plans, but let's do it at your place," Roger suggested.

"Oh I was sorta hoping for another movie," Hillary said.

"Then use your fancy telephone," Roger suggested.

"All right I need to get out of the house," Hillary admitted.

"In that case meet me at the Pizza Pit, and then after dinner we can come back to my place." Roger suggested.

"That will work. Are you going to ask why I need to get away from my place," Hillary asked.

"Not unless you have an assassin after you," Roger said.

"Nothing like that," Hillary said.

"Then I don't need to know," Roger suggested. He spent a couple of hours at home watching a TV show from the night before. Roger mostly watched reality shows, even though he knew most of them were anything but reality. The were more situational docudrama. Most where interesting enough, if you could forget that the man alone in the wild had a camera man with a gps device standing beside him. He was hardly a man lost and starving, in the wild. After his fake reality show set in the north woods, He checked and again and found all the worker's still gone.

Pizza at the pit was good, it always was. Hillary was all about work, which was the same as well. 

Over a glass of wine, and a slice of pizza, She filled him in on the facts of the Herman Hartley investigation. At least the facts as she knew them to be at the time.

"I hate to turn this one over to the limp dicks," she informed him. "But we have no choice. We can't tie the insurance scam to cops. The cop car parked there proves nothing. The cop could have been off duty and stopping for coffee with his girlfriend. We have the camera set up and if he is still going there we will identify him.

"So another investigation ended too early," Roger said. "It's almost like you don't want us to do our job, but I know you are passionate about the game. My guess is someone is stopping you."

"You really shouldn't be doing that," Hillary said.

"Doing what," Roger asked.

"Guessing, surely I have taught you better," she said. 

Roger noted that she didn't deny any of it. "So there are only two official bosses above you on the food chain. The Deputy Chief and the Chief, so which one is it. Either way the deputy chief is in the loop. He either told you on his own, or he passed on an order he knew to be illegal," Roger said.

"We have done nothing illegal. We just don't want to give the department any more bad press," Hillary said.

"It doesn't matter why. You are covering up cop misbehavior," Roger informed her.

"So are you going to the DOJ?" she asked.

"No, but I am going to roll over on you guys. I snitched on cops before, so it will be just another day at the office. I didn't risk my life and lose all my friends to have some paper pushing politician continue a hundred year old tradition of looking the other way," Roger said.

"They will kill you, if I tell them you said that," Hillary said.

"No hey wont Hills, they will order you to do it. Just like they ordered you to firebomb my house. You knew where I would be and you knew where I lived. You tossed the gasoline filled wine bottle through the window and drove straight back to the office. Tomorrow when I run the gps trace on your car for that day, I will have your ass." Roger said standing to walk toward the cash register.

"I knew no one was home at the house. I didn't know about the dog." Hillary said to his back.

"You need to do what you do best. Cover your ass," Roger said without turning back. He had of course recorded her on his smart phone. So it wouldn't be his word against hers. Too bad she hadn't fingered the Chief. Even so after even more bad press, he likely would be forced out.




Internal Affairs Ch. 08



It looked as though the DOJ would get what they wanted after all. The ouster of a questionable chief of police, Hillary would get at least a slap on the wrist and be on the street. They also would get his ass out of law enforcement permanently. For Roger the burning question was what next.



Internal Affairs Ch. 09



Roger had given it a lot of thought. All he had was Hillary's vague confession to him. There was no real evidence against her. It was just the time line. I was the wake up call he needed to convince him it would take years to be safe, if he ever managed it at all. Having the cops that pissed off at you wasn't like having your neighbor pissed. Cops could do all kinds of things to a guy. They weren't likely to kill him, but they would likely have no problem killing his dog. He didn't have a dog but he might one day.

For the moment they would have to settle for trashing his car and his life. So the DOJ's offer looked better all the time.

The best he could do was tell DOJ about the Hillary Bridges and hope they could investigate. They might be able to turn her to get whoever had convinced her to burn his house.

"Hello, ID 737PDS," He said to the voice who had answered the phone simply hello.

The digital transfer took only Milliseconds. "What can we do for you Roger?" the female voice asked.

"I saw your advertisement in the Times. I would like to see the house," Roger said.

"We can arrange that, is there a time that would work best for you?" the voice asked.

"Anytime at all is fine. Probably the sooner the better," Roger said.

"You will be hearing from us later today." The voice suggested.

Roger remember only parts of the briefing since he never planned to run. He knew he should leave everything in place. He would be picked up by an Airport Limousine. Everything up to that point should appear natural. 

He didn't even bother to call in sick. He just didn't show up for work. He trashed his cell phone immediately after the call. 

He packed a small backpack with some clothing and some cash. Cash was always good, when one was going on the run. He also packed about ten Mark Daggers. Since Roger made his own they were totally untraceable. He had made them from eight in pieces of a bright orange driveway marker stake. It came from Home Depot so they were easy and cheap. He had simply cut them, feed them though a piece of automobile vacuum line for a handle. He sharpened the tip with a pencil sharpener. During his time as a junkie he had become a master of the shank. If worse came to worse, there was always the Bic Ballpoint pen. 

Roger dressed in clean clothes after his shower. Since he had no idea when he would have the chance to shower again, he was very thorough. He emptied his pockets of his keys and any identification. He didn't have much besides his driver's license and his police ID.

Roger was going to be in the wind. He could have faked his own death, but he didn't bother DOJ would surely swoop down to investigate. Everyone knew he had a connection with them.

He was ready to leave at 9AM, so he sat listening for his burner phone to ring.

"The limo is on the way. The debrief will be in DC." A different mysterious voice delivered the message. Before he could acknowledge the message the phone went dead.

When the limo pulled down the drive it wasn't a limo at all. It was a minivan with the legend 'Airport Limo' on the side. He knew it was kosher because no one else could have thrown it together so quickly.

Roger was in the cab with his back pack very quickly. The limo was in his drive no more than five minutes. Once they cleared is property he said, "It's a little chilly today." He pulled on a very lightweight nylon parka purchased in the Thrift store. The big appeal for Roger was the hood. The limo dropped him at the terminal. Roger wore his large mirrored sunglasses and raised the hood. Sure he would look suspicious, but that wasn't proof of anything.

He walked to the ticket counter and picked up his ticket purchased at the last minute. He found a blind spot in the CCTV system and waited. There was always a blind spot, so it didn't take any spy craft to find it.

When they called his flight, Roger went to the boarding gate. They confiscated his daggers, but it wasn't a big deal. He would just find a drug store and buy a pack of Bic pens. Once he was on the plane, he removed the glasses and parka. He carefully place both into his small backpack before storing it beneath his seat. Since there was ten grand cash inside it, he wanted to keep it close.

After a couple of more hours waiting for the plane to make a half hour flight, he was out the door of the much larger terminal.

He had no idea when or where they would kidnap him, so he took a cab from the airport to the Lincoln Memorial. He had the driver go through a McDonald's drive threw window before dropping him at the memorial park. 

Roger had a pleasant lunch before the call came through. "A black Buick will pick you up in ten minutes at the west entrance gate," the mysterious voice informed him.

"I do hope you will be in the car. You seem to by my only friend at the moment," Roger said.

"I am working in a call center, so no I won't be in the car. Have a good day."

The driver of the black Buick was definitely not the female voice. "I'm Bruno and it's my job to deliver you safe to the debrief."

"You are in for a boring day," Roger said. "Nobody knows I'm in the wind, or where I went."

"I'm used to boring," he replied almost friendly.

"Good are we going to the office?" Roger asked.

"We decided to use a safe house for the debrief," Bruno said.

"Okay, you are the boss for now," Roger agreed.

First thing we need to do is close out your old life. We have an agent in there now moving money around, and selling all your property."

"I guess, I expected that I wouldn't be going home. It just seems so final when you say someone is down there selling and donating my stuff," Roger said. "How about stopping to let me buy some personal items. You know shampoo and stuff."

"Sure we kind of expect that kind of thing," he said.

"Any place in particular?" he asked.

"No any drugstore will do," Roger replied. 

"Just don't draw attention to yourself," Bruno said.

"Then you shouldn't dog me. You don't look gay enough," Roger said.

They stopped at a Walgreen drugstore. Roger bought a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo, as well as a back to school pack of the rigid Bic Pens. Roger also picked up a few candy bars.

"Why the candy bars," Bruno asked.

"The 'take out' food only goes so far," Roger said.

"You done this before?" Bruno asked.

"Oh yes, so you haven't read my file," Roger asked.

"I just got the assignment this morning. I don't need to know much, since my only job is to make sure you stay alive during the debrief." Bruno said. 

"Then our goal is the same," Roger said.

"Then let's get you out of the open," Bruno said. Roger sat back to watch the changing landscape. It went from the touristy part of town to the suburban commercial areas in just a few minutes. Then to an almost vacant industrial park.

Roger was a little concerned when Bruno pulled the Buick into the drive of a deserted plant.

"This would be a great place to kill a cop and then dispose of the body. You wouldn't have to go outside at all," Roger suggested.

"Or to hold off an army of thugs trying to kill a cop," Bruno suggested.

"How would it be against an army of cops?" Roger asked.

"Thugs, rogue cops none of them have artillery," Bruno said.

"Hopefully," Roger added.

Bruno showed his ID to a camera at the gate to have it mysteriously slide open. He drove the Buick to the loading dock where again a door opened automatically for him. He drove inside the building before the door closed behind them.

Roger swung the heavy passenger door open, then climbed out of the car. Roger had noticed that the doors seemed a little to heavy. He also noticed that the car had no pickup at all. He was sure it was because the Buick was bullet resistant. 

"Is this bitch armor plated?" Roger asked.

"Inside The doors, and under the roof it has a special laminate of steel and Kevlar. It will stop most anything smaller than a fifty cal," Bruno said. "Under the floor is a real blast plate."

"I hope that is how we travel everywhere. So how is the gas mileage?" Roger asked.

"Sucks, but who cares we ain't paying for it, at least not directly," Bruno admitted.

Roger followed Bruno to the second floor. There was a good view of the parking lot from what had once been the plant manager's office. They had turned it into the communications center. Not the kind you find in a call center. It was more about computers, and video screens. 

Roger had no idea how modern the CCTV system was, but it was well designed. The cameras covered almost every inch of the building inside and out. Bruno gave Roger the video tour.

"The building had been a plastic molding operation until the Obama administration," Bruno said. He pointed to a monitor showing a long empty room. "That was the manufacturing area, now it is where we park our cars." 

He walked to the phone, and with out dialing said to someone, "Tell the man that we are here." If the shit comes rolling down, you pick up that phone and say domino, that's our code to call in the troops."

"I don't think that you are going to have that problem," Roger said.

"I hope not. I generally only work with high risk targets. That is why we had a car with armor and why I stopped at the Walgreen's. It is one of the securerst sites in the city," Bruno said.

"Is it also why we had a tail car?" Roger asked. "It was so obvious that it had to have been ours."

"Very observant, I bet you were a good cop." Bruno suggested.

"I was but I was also a paranoid junkie. I'm not sure which made me look behind us." Roger admitted.

"Well I have called in the pros from HQ to do the debrief, so that should start in a couple of hours," Bruno said. "Your room is through that door. It ain't much but it's only for a couple of days."

Roger walked through the crude hole in the wall into another office. That office held a bed and desk. There was another raw hole in the wall which lead into a bath room. The bathroom even had a cheep plastic shower stall, a toilet, and a small sink all crammed into what had previously been an executive bathroom. The previous entrance doors were all nailed shut no doubt

"I see you spared no expense," Roger said just before he stretched out on the hard cot. He tested it because he had slept with one eye open the night before. Since he hadn't killed Hillary, and since he knew that he could not trust the town cops, he slept poorly even with his Glock 9mm on the night stand. It was somewhere toward morning when he made the decision to run. Then an hour later, he decided to call the DOJ to advise them they hadn't finished with the police cleanup. "Since they still held a large chunk of his money, he felt obligated to go along, which is what led him to the empty plastic plant.

Roger didn't realize that he fell off to sleep until Bruno woke him. "Get your head out of your ass roger. You are about to have company."

"Oh yeah, who is it going to be this time?"

"When they get here, they will tell you. The first car just passed through the front gate. So come get a cup of coffee and get your head right," Bruno suggested.

"Okay," Roger went to the bathroom then washed his face and hands before going into the observation room. He found the coffee pot on a small table well away from the equipment. He had smelled the coffee before he found it.

Roger looked at the monitor showing the man and woman outside their car obviously talking while waiting for someone or something.

They waited long enough so that he was on his second cup when he heard a voice. "Sam Abraham," the voice said. Bruno did something because the gate opened for Sam.

Sam had managed to keep him working even when Roger was lost in his addiction. Sam had seemed to have a friendship with Roger. Once he was clean for a month, Roger realized that it was just a job with Sam. For a while Roger felt betrayed, but he eventually came to understood that it was just business. He supposed that's what a hit man though as well before he pulled the trigger. When Sam joined the others, the three of them entered the stairway and headed up.

"Hello Roger how you been?" Sam asked falling back into his handler persona.

"Since I got clean, I have been fine. Thanks for finally asking," Roger said.

"To be honest, I never thought we would meet again," Sam said.

"Life's just filled with surprises," Roger said.

"This is Lois Miles and Devin Reese," Sam said.

"There are four DOJ people here to interview one runaway cop. Sounds like overkill." Roger suggested.

"Well you know, it's our slow season," Devin suggested warm smile.

"Look Dev, I went to all the interrogation classes and I sat through a debriefing that lasted for two weeks. So, let's not pretend we give a shit about each other. I'm just here to give you a heads up. You didn't kill the snake after all. When I have emptied my head of fact and suppositions, I'm going to head for parts unknown. Well unknown to everyone but the people who wire my reward check," Roger admitted.

"How about we stop playing whose is bigger and get on with it. That way we all can leave as soon as possible," Lois said. 

"Sounds like a plan to me," Roger said.

Roger knew that he was a little out numbered. Since he seemed to always be holding the short end of the stick, he decided to make the best of it.

Bruno held out his hand, "Good luck Roger." Even that seemed scripted.

"Thanks Bruno, you will see to those changes back home for me?" Roger asked.

"It was started, when you explained you wouldn't be going back," Bruno replied.

Roger shook Bruno's hand, then turned to the others. "Lead me to the water board," he said without a smile. 

Where they led him was to a room just past the bathroom. Roger entered first. It was a typical interview room. There was a wooden library table in the middle, and the recquiset three chairs. As usual there was a single chair on one side of the table and two on the other. 

Roger took the chair on the left side. He noticed the hand cuff ring on the edge of the table. 

"What, no cuffs?" Roger asked.

"Not this time," Lois said. "Today we are all good cops."

"That remains to be seen," Lois was close to Rogers age maybe a year or two less. She was obviously not a field agent. She had to be more into the administrative area. She lacked the poise of a field agent. Psychologist. Roger thought.

Devin on the other hand was filled with quiet bluster, just like every FBI agent he had ever met. There was something different about Devin though. He didn't seem to have the 'stick up his ass' FBI mind set.

"Shall we begin," Loise waited until Roger Nodded. "For the tape, this interview is with Detective Roger Hartman of the Capitol City Police Department. It concerns an arson investigation being conducted there. We are interviewing Detective Hartman as part of our ongoing investigation pertaining to elements within the Capitol City Police Department."

"So Detective how long were you undercover with the Capitol City Police." Lois asked.

"It isn't that simple. I worked for them starting when I was twenty one. I was two years on the beat, before I was approached by the DOJ investigators. They wanted someone inside. So I agreed to watch listen and report what I found.

I reported to my handler for two years working inside the department. There were many officers inside the department providing security service to drug dealers. They weren't just looking the other way. They actually drove patrol car up to the drug deal to provide security." 

"Yes, we know all about that. There was a time when you became a dealer?" Lois asked.

"Yes, several of us sold drugs from the squad cars. I am told the information I provided led to arrests that led all the way back to Mexico."

"Give the kid a pat on the back," Devin said.

"That is Detective kid to you," Roger snapped at Devin. "Who the fuck are you anyway."

"I told you my name," he replied.

"You told me your bullshit name. Try telling the real one," Roger demanded.

"You know I can't do that," Devin said. "Let's cut to the chase. What happened."

"A cop set fire to my house. The head of internal affairs to be exact. When I was reinstated, I was assigned to internal affairs division. It was their way to keep me under the chief's thumb. The head of internal affairs for some reason set fire to my house."

"So you think it was on the orders of the Chief of police?" Lois asked.

"Well Hillary wouldn't act on her own, unless my testimony would put away one of her friends. My thinking is she did it for whatever reason, when she knew no one would be home. She just drove up and tossed a Molotov cocktail through a side window and drove off." 

"Very neat and clean," Devin said. "Since you worked it out, and she didn't deny it, she might have been making a cry for help." Lois said.

"Either way she knows now that she is on he bubble. When I didn't show up for work today, she at least knows the shit is over," Roger said.

"So you are saying, we need to send a team to interview her," Lois suggested.

"I frankly don't care what you do with her. You obviously didn't get them all. I just decided that it was time for a career change. I'm telling you because you promised me a new identity. Now I need you to hold up your end."

"We are going to provide you with that," Lois said. Give us a day to check out what you have told us, then we will talk again."

"In the meantime, do I stay in this beautiful resort?" Roger asked. 

"What you don't like the accommodations?" Devin asked. 

"It's little like a jail, and before you ask, I have indeed spent time in a jail." Roger said.

"What was it five days, to establish your street creds," Devin said.

"It seemed longer," Roger said.

"I promise, you will be out of here the moment we make sure no one is after you. It most likely was intent on running you off, which they have done. Leave it to us. We will investigate this matter. In the meantime we will work on relocating you. A US Marshall's service rep will be to see you. We just need to assess the threat level. To decide on our plans going forward. Bruno will stay with you here or in a Motel, until the Marshall's team shows up. Then it is a matter of relocating you. Do I need to warn you that there are no goodbyes," Lois said.

"Yeah that's why I didn't do this earlier. I thought I wanted my old life back, but I guess I was wrong." Roger said.

"The good news is the local cops were the only ones involved. If it had been Paco Gomez, you would have been killed with no warning or mercy." Devin said.

"Thanks for that, but I think it was too much information," Roger replied. "Now when do I become someone else?"

"Soon," Lois said.

The three of them just left after the brief information gathering interview. In their car Lois and Devin didn't speak for the first few minutes. After a thick silence, Lois spoke. "You really tried to get under his skin," she said.

"You knew that is what I do when you asked for me," he replied.

"He really is too smart to allow that. He did his undercover work and stood up. He wasn't going to rise to your bait. Like he said he knew all the tricks." Lois suggested.

"Do you believe that the investigators missed something?" Devin asked.

"Of course they did. We followed the infamous Judge Knapp model. We thought we could rehabilitate some of the existing cops. We should have just taken over the department and fired everyone of them," Lois said

"Yeah there would have been so many civil law suits we would be in court till we retired. But that is hindsight, we need to go forward. Let's go down to Capitol City and Interview Hillary Bridges," Devin suggested.

"Of course, Hartman isn't going anywhere," Lois said. "The geeks will still be building the ID for a few days. Have your people heard if there is an open contract on him." 




Internal Affairs Ch. 09



"Not an open contract, but the cartels use terror to keep people in line. They will always be looking. One day if he lets his cover slip, they will make an example of him."

"Yeah, I kind of feel the same way. At least getting him away from Capitol City will get him away from the 'friends of friends' revenge," Lois said.

"I agree, it will at least buy him some time," Devin said.

"So do you need anything," Bruno asked Roger.

"Just to find out who I'm going to be," Roger replied.

"I can't help you there. How about dinner what should I order?" Bruno asked.

"I don't care," Roger said. He took the laptop Bruno supplied to his tiny bed. He leaned against the wall and tried to check his messages. He had been blocked out. He didn't even try a second time. Instead he read the news on the Capitol City Record's website. While he checked on the outside world, Bruno's shift ended. A tall man with red hair brought the take out with him. 

It was almost midnight when Roger became bored with the internet and went to bed. He knew that he was being monitored, so he slept comfortably in what he hoped was a secure environment.

"Time to wake up and great the new day," a very blond older woman said. "I'm Jan Brewer with the US Marshall Service. I'm going to be helping you move on. I'm going to start by moving you to a more comfortable place."

"Okay," Roger said. He decided on the spot that Jan was competent. Snap judgments are usually wrong, so he planned to continue being careful.

"First of all, do you have a preference for breakfast?" she asked.

"None," Roger said. "I can find something on any menu."

"Since it is Saturday morning let's try waffles. My kids love waffles on Saturday." Jan said.

"I'm easy as far as food goes, so let's do waffles," Roger said.

"Bring your backpack, we won't be coming back here," She said. "After breakfast we will find you a more comfortable place. It will take a couple of days to build an identity."

Roger knew that she wouldn't be finding him a place, she would simply drive him to the preselected place. He didn't care as long as it had a more comfortable bed. The cot was designed to be uncomfortable. In a real interrogation situation the interrogator would want the victim sleep deprived and disoriented.

The waffle restaurant had a lot more class then the Waffle House truck stop style roadside restaurant where he usually went for waffles. 

"So is someone working on the office computers today?" Roger asked.

"If you were an emergency situation, there would be. The boss thought we could give everyone their regular days off. So if there is anything you want to do speak up."

"You aren't going to like it," Roger warned.

"Try me, I'm pretty flexible," Jan said.

"I would like to get some coffee to go, and sit by a lake somewhere alone. I would like some more time to adjust to the idea that I just walked away from my old life."

"I have had stranger requests," Jan said.

"I'll bet, but I won't ask you to be a pimp or to sleep with me." Roger said.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Jan said with a smile. "So first we will get you settled into the new nest. Then we can either go shopping or give you some alone time, your choice."

"Thanks Jan, and I promise to be good," Roger said.

Since she was on an expense account, Roger allowed Jan to pick up the check. Roger also felt the government owed him.

The first stop after their breakfast was a large square three story building. It was a people warehouse covered vinyl siding trying to make it appear less so. The sign beside the entrance stated that it was an all suite hotel. Also according to the sign, it offered free cable TV, HBO, and high speed internet services. It was a place for the out of town business traveler to relax between meetings. Most of the rentals were to people like himself, Roger imagined. Well not exactly like him. He expected they were people needing a place for less than a week. He couldn't imagine staying there long term.

Roger dropped his back pack in the suite which had obviously been previously booked. Hell it might even be a permanent rental as a safe house. Jan drove him to a big box department store where had purchased more underwear and a few more tee shirts with logos on them. He also purchased three pairs of Dickie work pants. The pair he wore were stained from coffee and food. He hadn't had many meals recently that weren't on wheels.

While he was shopping he notice one of those fishnet bags. The kind the European shoppers carried grocery shopping. He bought one thinking it would make a good folding laundry hamper. Those items went on the company credit card. Which company he wasn't quite sure. 

Some of the items were items that Jan tossed into the cart. She added soap, shampoo, tooth paste, and deodorant were in the checkout as well. 

"I brought my own toothbrush," Roger commented seeing a new one on the conveyor belt.

"I didn't," Jan said simply.

With their purchases stored in the trunk, Jan started the car. She didn't leave the parking lot right away, because there was a McDonald's restaurant in the parking lot. She drove through the take out lane where she ordered the large cardboard coffee cube.

The sign on the entrance to the park read, 'County Reservoir No Swimming'. It was one of those green highway signs which struck him as being a little unusual. Nonetheless Jan parked the car beside an office building. "The coffee is for both of us, so take a cup. When you need more come back I'll be here playing my music," she said.

"You won't be bored?" Roger asked.

"Probably, but the alternative is to talk to you, You don't want that and I don't either to be honest. I'm not your friend. I'm not sure what the job is, but it's what I do. I really do a little of everything."

"Well I hope your number one priority is to keep me alive. I guess you don't have to be my friend to do that." Roger took a coffee cup and filled it. She had asked the girl working the drive through window for the, so he planned to carry two cups to a picnic table.

"See that empty table. The one straight ahead ten yards and off to our left about twenty. You can watch the water from there." Jan said.

"And you can watch me," Roger said under his breath before he turned his back for the walk to the table He carried a coffee in each hand. He sat for some time with is coffee and though about his future. His plan was to take the new ID then just walk away. He had the reward money, so he didn't need to work, if he lived sensibly. He didn't want to draw attention to himself, so the money would last long enough.

So where am I going to go? he asked himself. The wanted warm weather, but that wouldn't be a good idea. All those gulf coast states were cartel territory. Most of the northern states had become a battlegrounds for Urban gorillas. The mid Atlantic was the most likely place for him to be recognized a former acquaintance.

Canada was a possibility as was a Caribbean island. Canada was cold and the Caribbean was too close to South America, so they were all less than a perfect choice. There was also the fact that he would go nuts trying to sit home and do nothing. He had all these thoughts earlier, but then so did the DOJ, he knew.



Internal Affairs Ch. 10



The night sitter replaced Jan Saturday night at 9pm. They spent two hours watching the TV provided by the Residence Hotel. He was an opinionated prick, Roger thought.

At 11pm Roger went to the bedroom showered then went to bed. He left Tate watching the late news shows. Roger didn't want to discuss politics, which was why he left.

Roger slept pretty well. He felt like he knew what was going on. The had him to disappear pretty well. They were also hiding him just as well. Roger seemed to relax completely Sunday. He relaxed enough to be bored.

Not even the change of shift at 9am helped. since neither of his babysitters could say anything interesting to him, it was obviously his problem. 

Monday was a repeat of Sunday more or less. Jan informed me that sometime during Monday, we would be meeting with a man from the DOJ. One who would actually begin working on the new ID. The plan was to begin the serious immediately after the meeting.  

"Be nice to him Roger, he is going to make your new life possible," Jan said.

"I'm always nice," Roger said.

"Sure, never a bit sarcastic," she replied with a laugh. "Just be careful what you ask for. They have some pretty extreme lives they would like to put you onto. I think they pull them off the shelves every chance they get."

"I always thought I would like a house boat, or maybe to be a pot farmer," Roger said.

"He has read your file, so stay away from jokes like that one. He does his best work when he is motivated. Stay away from any indication that you might be ambiguous about drugs," Jan suggested.

"How about a park ranger by day and super hero at night," Roger suggested. "The possibilities are endless."

"You have been warned, so just keep what I said in mind." Jan repeated.

She turned to the TV, so Alex let his mind run free. He seriously could be a game warden in South Dakota or something like it. I might like that, Roger thought.

It was 11am when Jan came to the bedroom door. "The meeting is for noon at a picnic shelter at an Arlington reservoir. Let's stop by and get some fried chicken for a picnic while we talk. I sent a message to see how the creator felt about that. He agreed so, we are providing lunch." 

"Isn't there some rule against that sort of thing?" Roger asked.

"Probably, but you are the one who insisted. Didn't you?" she asked.

"Of course," Roger agreed.

"Roger Hartman this is Seth, your new best friend," Jan said.

"Hello Seth," Roger said.

"Hello Roger and that was an exaggeration. I hope to be a friend but I won't be involved in your life that often. So let's get down to it." While Seth set up his computer, Jan unpacked the food, and Roger looked at the sail boats on the reservoir.

"So I read your biography from when you were working undercover for DOJ. Is there anything you would like to add before we begin the in depth Q&A?" Seth asked.

"Nothing," Roger said.

"Okay then Janet wouldn't you like to go up on the office deck. There is a great view on from their balcony," Seth commented.

"In order to keep you safe no one will know all there is to know. People will stay in their own compartment. If anyone ask you to reveal anything about your new identity call me immediately. Do you understand?" Seth asked.

"Yes, I have it," Roger said.

"You will remain Roger Hartman till you leave DC. When you do leave, you will be someone else entirely. You must completely break ties with your past. No phone calls, no email nothing unless you have a death wish," Seth said being dramatic.

"I understand Seth," Roger said.

"I'm going to lay out your background and you tell me if there is any part of the fiction you can't maintain. 

The best fiction is one based on a real person with a real past. At least up to a point then we just fill in the blanks until we reach the present."

"Do you mean I am going to assume the Identity of someone else. Does that mean I going to bump into my self one day." Roger asked.

"Maybe in heaven or hell. Your doppelganger is dead. He served in Afghanistan when you did. He had no family, so when he died there will be no mention of his death in the records once we doctor them. To keep it simple we chose someone who is your age." 

"Okay I can understand that. So now what?" Roger asked.

"You were a Marine sniper, so the new you drove a truck." Seth handed me a flash drive. "Take this home and memorize the content. Call it homework. It contains all I could do alone. It doesn't contain anything except what you did prior to 2005' That is when you were discharged after your enlistment ended. That is where the fiction begins. I will have that ready for lesson two by Wednesday," Seth informed him.

"Thanks Seth," Roger said.

"Nobody sees that file, not even our people," Seth reminded him. "Now let's find Janet, so I can say my goodbyes."

"So how did it go?" Jan asked.

"It went just fine. How about we stop on the way home to get a milkshake. If you have kids, you are bound to know somewhere that has good milk shakes," Roger suggested.

"I do," she said. "The problem is I have a fitness evaluation in a month."

"So?" Roger asked.

"So I need to lose a minimum of five pounds," Jan suggested.

"Ah, well I hope that isn't going to be part of my life. I have been eating like a horse recently." Roger said. "Reformed junkies do that." That's the kind of thing I have to stop doing, he thought.

"Okay tell you what since I don't have a car, I will drink it in my room. If you can find a drive through milkshake restaurant, you wont even have to see it," Roger Everhart- Hartman suggested.

My kids love the donut barn, they sell milk shakes and they have a drive through window.

After the ice cream and donut Roger spent the evening in the toilet. It was a large price to pay for a couple of donuts and a milk shake, he decided. Jan packed up and was waiting impatiently for her relief several minutes early. 

"What's up? Do you have a date?" Roger asked.

"That is none of your business," Jan replied nervously.

"Oh my god, you do have a date. Must be another Marshal." Roger guessed. "Did you tell your husband?" he asked.

"Of course not," she replied. "I will thank you not to mention this to Tate

"Why would I and who is Tate," Roger asked.

"Tate is your night babysitter," she said.

"Is that his name? I wonder why I didn't remember that," Roger said. Roger had an urgent need to use the toilet again, He was in the bathroom when Jan left and Tate arrived.

"Goodnight Roger," Jan said through the door.

"Goodnight Jan," he replied.

When Roger went back into the bedroom, Tate was in the living room with a take out coffee cup on the table beside him. He wasn't drinking from it. He wouldn't be drinking designer coffee ever again. Tray was extremely dead. Roger had no idea what protocol was in a case like that. His protocol was to hide the flash drive in the toilet tank, then to take Tate's weapon, Only then did he dial the Marshall's office after which he dialed 911. He wanted bodies between himself and the bad guys asap. He figured the more the better.

When the cops arrived first, Roger surrendered with his hands on top of his head. He for sure knew the drill. He told the first officers on the scene that Tate was a US Marshall. He also told them he knew nothing about it. They would need to call the Marshall's office to find out what was going on. 

"So you aren't going to tell us anything?" the black detective asked. "You don't have any ID on you, so who are you?" he asked.

"I am going to have to refer you to the US Marshal's Office but the Marshall's service should be here any time," Roger said. Roger heard voices in the hall, so he figured the feds had arrived.

"What happened here?" he asked the detective.

"Well Deputy Tate was stabbed at the door, then it looks like he was dragged to the chair. Other than that we know nothing. Seems this gentleman isn't talking." The detective said.

"What a cluster fuck," the deputy said.

"My thoughts exactly," Roger said.

"You shut the fuck up," the detective said.

"Back off, he is only following protocol," the deputy said. "We need to get him away from here, out a back door or something."

"You want to put a block bag over his head" the detective said.

"We don't have black bags in the trunk of our cars,' The deputy asked.

"I have a hoodie and some big reflective sunglasses," Roger said.

"Get them and get ready to move," The deputy said.

"Bull shit, he is a material witness in a homicide." the detective said.

"Listen closely. I'm going to take him to your station, where he will go directly into the interview room. We can both talk to him. You don't need to arrest him and he will cooperate. But we have to be there, and he has to be protected at all times. Is that clear, or do I need to call your chief?" the deputy US Marshall asked.

"Yeah, you do need to call him, and do it before he goes to bed," the detective suggested.

"Dial him," The deputy said.

The local policeman moved away with a cell phone. He went into the hallway, while the Marshall stayed behind to talk to Roger. "This never happened to me," he said.

"Well don't feel too bad, it never happened to me either obviously. It is really strange," Roger said.

"How so?" The deputy asked.

"Stop right there," the detective said. "We are going down to the station. The chief and some more feds are going to meet us there. Then we are going to find out what happened."

"That's was our first offer," the deputy marshal said.

"Could we just get out of here before world war three starts." Roger asked.

Roger didn't say another word until he was in the police station. He found himself in the interrogation room with a cup of coffee while he waited for them all to assemble.

"Okay so what do we call you," the detective asked.

Roger looked to the deputy federal attorney general. She just nodded. "My name is Roger."

"That's all," the deputy US Attorney said. "Roger here is involved in an undercover operation. That is why we are taking custody of the interview tape."

"We have already agreed to that," the detective from the crime scene said.

"I want both you and Roger to know what we are doing to protect him," the chubby blond said.

"Okay then just Roger, what happened in that motel?" the local detective asked.

"I ate a couple of Bavarian creme donuts and a chocolate milk shake earlier today. By the time Jan was packing up to leave, I had been in and out of the bathroom for some time. At 9pm I was in the bathroom. I heard Jan say goodnight and then the door close. I didn't hear anything for a few minutes then a commotion. When I came out of the bathroom, Tate was dead and the door was open. I bolted the door and called 911 and the marshal's emergency number. The police arrived first, then the detective here showed up and finally the Deputy. I have a feeling your next question will be, if this was a hit why I am still alive? I've been asking myself that since I walked out that bathroom door." Roger said.

"So, you were there, what do you think happened?" the city detective asked.

"With the timing and the fact that I could hear everything, I think whoever killed Tate came in with him at shift change. 

Why and how I don't know. They somehow incapacitated Jan, and then they kidnapped her. They didn't even know I was in the place. That's my number one theory. Why they wanted her is anybody's guess. So, what are you doing to find her?" Roger asked.

"You don't get to ask questions." The local cop demanded.

"She isn't answering her cell. Did she see the secret file?" The deputy asked.

"If the cops didn't find it, the flash drive is still secure. I dropped it in the toilet tank. If these clowns have decent lab people, they have it now." Roger said.

"If you found that drive, you need to return it, without viewing it." the deputy said to the detective.

Roger decided that they were serious about keeping him safe. He had seen the contents of the flash drive and knew there was nothing of value to anyone else on it. 

"There are patrolmen still on the scene. I will call one of them," the detective said.

He made the call on a radio that he carried every where. He put everything on hold until he finally reported, "We have it."

"Good, have them bring it here. The contents are classified." the deputy said.

"So are you finished with me?" Roger asked.

"Not quite, stick around." The detective said as he arose from his chair and left the room. 

"Tell me if they found Jan and her family, and I'll tell you something I didn't tell them," Roger whispered to the deputy.

"Her apartment was empty but there was no sign of a struggle. Do you think she killed Tate?" the deputy asked.

"I don't know," Roger whispered. "What happened to the fancy camera you had in the living room?"

"It went out just before shift change. The techies were trouble shooting the system before we called to alert Jan. Your call came before they finished," the deputy said.

"How convenient," Roger said.

"The last tape does show you on the toilet and her walking to the door. It shows nothing after that."

"Did the whole building's Wifi system stopped working, or just your cameras?" Roger demanded.

"You know we do know how to do an investigation," the deputy said.

"So?" Roger asked.

"You are officially a suspect," the deputy replied.

"You have images of me sitting on the toilet when your cameras failed, but I somehow get my ass of the toilet, and over powered Tate, and Janet then make her disappear. Damn I need to take that show to Vegas." Roger said.

"Yeah, there is also no answer on her cell phone," The deputy said.

"That's not good," Roger stated the obvious. "That puts me back in the jackpot. I don't understand what they want with Janet. She doesn't know anything."

"It may not be Paco, she has worked on other things," the deputy suggested.

"If that is not the case it's good news for me and bad for Janet. Well, I'm sure you can figure it out," Roger said. In his mind it was related to Paco. What surprised Roger was that Paco didn't have her give up the motel's address. He could then come in after she left and just kill them all. He could also have waited till he had a new ID and been relocated, then come for him. It just made no sense. Roger believed that Janet knew something was about to happen. She might not have known what, but she knew something. 

It was also possible that she killed Tate for some other reason. They might find out at any minute that Janet was a family annihilator. That didn't sit well but it was possible.

It was just as likely a Paco Gomez hit gone wrong. Those guys weren't criminal masterminds. What they were was a bunch of super thugs more vicious than the other thugs. Which didn't look good for Jan. 

It was after midnight when Roger appealed to the camera in the empty interrogation room. "Hey could I get some coffee, a glass of water and some Tylenol, and some Aleve. I have a terrible back ache," He waited but no one appeared to help him. It was as he expected, he was just being detained not interrogated.

When he knocked on the door a uniformed cop said, "Yes?"

Roger made the same request to him. The cop just nodded his understanding then closed the door with the click of a lock. Roger didn't like being at the mercy of anyone. Least of all the local police in a town he never heard of before a few days ago.

It must have meant sending someone out for the drugs. Most likely it was a Deputy U S Marshal who went for the drugs. It was at least twenty minutes and might have been more, Roger thought. Since he had no watch and there was no clock on the wall, he suppose that there absence was part of the plan. When the drugs came, it was fifteen minutes of more before I got even the slightest relief. It wasn't real relief, but it did feel better. Roger had his head on the table and was near the sweet oblivion of sleep, when the man entered the room.

"I'm agent Pelham with the FBI, and I'm here to help you," the tall thin man suggested.

"You know Pelham, I'm beginning to understand what they mean when someone says, I'm from the government and I'm here to help you, you should be very afraid." Roger said.

"Wow now that is original. Would rather I not be here," Pelham asked.

"Right this moment you could hand a Glock and give me a five minute head start and I think I would be just as safe," Roger said.

"I'll put your request through to the Bureau. Where should be mail the new ID?" He asked.

"I'll drop you a line with the address," Roger said. In his heart he knew they would never go for it.

"I think not. If you want the new ID you cooperate," Pelham said.

"I kind thought you might feel that way. So does the Marshal's service have the drive now?" Roger asked.

"They do and somehow they know it hasn't been opened, since it went into that toilet tank," Pelham said.

It was password protected, so they would have had to crack that. I doubt that the local cops had either the time or the expertize to do that," Roger guessed.

"That to," Pelham suggested. "So you ready to get out of here?"

"Several hours past ready," Roger answered. 

"This time you will be in a FBI safe house, and there will be no field trips so get your mind right. The people you need to see, will just show up, there will be no appointments."

"I knew it. You guys think I had something to do with it. Before you say anything, I would at least wonder about it myself," Roger admitted.

"Good, we don't see any reason you would had sold out, but someone might have recognized you. Our money is on Janet turning, but you never know.

You came in dressed in jeans and a nylon Hoodie and those silly sunglasses. It is hard to imagine anything that would draw more attention, but we probably have it. 

You are going out in a cop uniform, actually in a swat uniform. Five FBI swat team members will enter the building and five ill go out with a prisoner. The Prisoner will SWAT team member in jeans and a green Nylon parka but no silly glasses. If they can run facial recognition they can make him, but not you. So get dressed. You are going to be an FBI agent for a few hours," Pelham explained.

When you are prepared 99% of the time nothing happens, but 1% of the time it does. The move was part of the 99%. It would off without a hitch.

Roger found himself in another re-purposed building. His new home had previously been an auto storage yard, judging from all the damaged automobiles in the fenced in yard. There was a two bay concrete block building behind the fence as well. There was a keypad lock and a facial recognition system obviously. Since we had traded the SWAT armored car for a plain Chevy sedan. Pelham and Roger waited at the gate for someone to do something to cause the all clear buzzer to buzz. Once had clearance, we drove into the yard.

"Just curious what would have happened if they didn't recognize you? Would we have been vaporized?" Roger asked.

"Your family wouldn't have to had worry about a funeral," Pelham said.

"Very impressive," I said knowing it was all bull shit. I had recognized

the two foot wide break in the concrete. I was absolutely sure that it would flip automatically if not turned off. My guess was it contained spike strips, There might be a flash bang type device as well. Something to incapacitate the occupants till people from the shop could come to assault the car. 

"My guess is the car would then become part of the lawn art," Roger said.

"Something like that," Pelham admitted.

When they pulled the Chevy in a space between the junk, Pelham opened the door so roger did the same.

"Honey we are home." he said into his cell phone. Roger said when he went inside the garage. The previous office area had a large window that overlooked the mechanic's work area. The office area was being uses as the control center, while the Repair bay had been converted to a room filled with cots. 




Internal Affairs Ch. 10



"The FBI planning to sleep here with me," Roger asked. Sometimes we need a place to crash and this is it. Don't worry their wont be anybody here for the next couple of days," Pelham informed Roger. "The Marshall's deputy assured me you would be gone by the weekend."

"Since this is hardly a five star hotel, I will look forward to the improvement in my living conditions," Roger said.

"And I will look forward to your smart ass moving on," Pelham said with a smile.

Roger spent two days with the FBI on a very short leash before the ID guru showed up. He had only a five minute warning, but it was enough since the only thing to do at the garage was to memorize the details of his back story.

"Roger how are you?" he asked. "They told me about the excitement you were involved with. I'm sorry you wound up in the middle of a domestic issue."

"What are you talking about," Roger asked.

"It looks as thought Janet and Tate were far more than colleagues. Janet planned to run off with him to the Caribbean. Something happened because Tate called it off. Janet killed him then went to the Caribbean alone. They picked up her trail in Miami as she tried to board an international flight," Seth informed him.

"She just left her family," Roger asked.

"Yes Love is a terrible disease," Seth said.

"So I hear. I must be immune," Roger said. "Guess that comes from never belonging anywhere."

Seth asked roger several things about his new identity. Roger must have passed because Seth handed him another flash drive. "This is your new life from 2006 to present. Seth said. "You memorize it while I figure out where to drop you. Do you have any preference?"

All of Roger's ideas where not to go, so he answered, "Not really."

For a couple of weeks life was pretty miserable. Pelham kept him inside the garage until Seth returned. 

"Hello Roger I am glad to see you are alive and well. I would hate to think I wasted all this hard work," Seth said after twelve days absence. He passed Roger another flash drive.

"I had no idea it took so long to create a new ID," Roger said as a criticism. 

"Life is life that. You can do it fast or you can do it right. Since your life depends on how good this ID is, I thought you might prefer it done right.

"Truth is I do want it done right, or I would have paid a couple of grand for some papers that would stand up to a quick online search. It would have been much less trouble."

"Yes but you probably could never work again. At least not at any anything you would want to do," Seth said.

"You know the first thing I'm going to research is my last run in with the law, so why not tell me what happened?" Roger demanded.

The official story is that Janet was having an affair with Tate. He tried to end it but she didn't want to have any of it. She had already decided to kill him and walk out the door, so she contacted Paco before she killed him, then left the door open for Paco's men. His hit team got delayed at the front desk. Before they could get up to the room, you called the cops and had Tate's gun. The whole time the cops were on the scene Paco's team was in the hotel. It was truly a cluster fuck. Now you know more than anyone outside the investigation team."

"She had to contact Paco to sell me out. He couldn't have known I was in town otherwise."

That's right that was why it was so poorly planned. Paco had less than a day to arrange it. His team were street thugs. She passed on the name of the hotel and the suite number. Ther she left the door ajar for them. They were supposed to be waiting in the stairwell and rush into the room and shoot the place up.

The problem was by the time the information got down to the junkie thugs, someone had lost the suite number. That's what they were trying to get from the clerk, when the cops rolled in sirens roaring. Like I said it was a cluster fuck."

"Have they got Janet in custody?" Roger asked. 

"No, but they are doing a 'calling all cars' kind of thing." Seth informed him.

"What?" Roger asked.

"Didn't you ever see an old black and white movie? Never mind," Seth said. "So are you ready to find out my plan for you?" 

"Sure give me the information. I will attempt to assimilate it," Roger agreed.

"When you leave here no one will use your real name, or your short term cover name. As of the moment you step into the terminal, you will be Peter Sims. I assume you know your background by now?" Seth said.

"It's been three weeks, of course I know it right up till today. I came back from the middle east to join the FBI. I worked there for the past eight years in the research department. I have decided to move on the work is just too detailed for me. Not to mention too boring," Roger said.

"Good, those false facts are pretty close to the real fact, except for the boring part. I expect boring would be nice right now," Seth suggested.

"You better believe it would. I'm ready to be just plain Pete Sims," he said.

"Take your final flash drive on the plane with you. You can familiarize yourself with it there. Your ticket is in the envelope. There is also a thousand dollars in there. I know you have ten thousand of you own, but that is immaterial. There is an address on the flash drive and the apartment key is in the envelope. So good luck Peter and I mean that," Seth said. "Do your shopping when you get to your new home."

Roger extended his hand, then said. "I hope we never meet again. No offense intended."

"None taken," Seth said, then walked out of the garage. 

The plan was for Roger to leave right away for the airport. He found the tube of superglue then used it to disguise his features. Cameras are not three dimensional, so a two dimensional scar, or a few painted on moles fuck up the facial recognition software. He did a nasty looking scar on his forehead and several moles. Then he wore a baseball cap and a wig all courtesy of the FBI. Roger planned to dump all of them after he arrived at his destination. He was almost enjoying the cat and mouse game. Well at least till he remembered that his life was the prize.

Roger had two hundred dollars in the pockets of his new cargo pants. He and Janet had purchased them at Walmart. Janet had purchased them two weeks before and he never worn them. He also had a new wallet, filled with all kinds of new identification papers. It was stored in one of those big pockets. In another of the big pockets he carried the mini tablet supplied by the FBI for reading, during the flight. The file was all about his new home.

His back pack also contained ten thousand eight hundred dollars. He had the money rolled inside a long sleeve sweat shirt, three sets of underwear and his tooth brush inside the back pack. 

I'm as ready to go as possible, Roger/Peter thought. The flight was very routine as far as Peter could tell.

"Please Place your seats in the upright position, we will be landing at the Detroit Metropolitan international airport in five minutes. The local time is 10pm and the temperature is twenty two degrees," the blonde female flight attendant announced.

Well the weather would almost match his clothes, Peter thought. For sure it would give him an excuse to pull the hood up on the heavy navy blue wool coat. The hood over his head, and the scars and glasses would take care of the cameras. For sure it would in a broad random search perimeter. If they pared down the search perimeter, it would be anyone's guess.

The well thought out instructions called for him to take a taxi to a suburb of Detroit. It was supposed to be a rather artsy neighborhood On the edge of the downtown area of the city. Seth's information had it well away from the many blighted areas. 

The taxi dropped me at the Don Juan Apartment building. It was a masonry building of eight floors. It neither looked like a project, nor like a nice apartment building. It was more a blue collar stop over place. It had to have been built in the World War two era. Peter went up the stairs to the third floor carrying his back pack. He easily found the door to apartment three ten. The key from Seth's envelope fit so he went in. Inside he found one large room with a tumor on the right side containing a bathroom and huge closet. There was a window over the tub. The tub had one of those European external pipe showers. The large closet area just outside the bath had numerous handing rack and shelves. Along the rear exterior wall was an area with a stove, refrigerator, sink, and cabinets. That wall also contained the only other window in the place. Both of the windows were small and seemed to have a sheet of Plexiglass over the interior to kill the drafts. Those storm windows seemed to be held into place by some type of spring clips in the corners. 

It was late and peter was bushed. Since there was no bed, or any other furniture in the place, Peter curled up on the floor. He used his back pack for a pillow and his coat for a blanket. It was actually worse than the garage by a bunch.

The next morning he hailed his very first cab ever. It was just outside the apartment building. "Take me to the nearest Walmart," he demanded of the middle eastern man. The drive took him past a long line of empty retail stores. There were a lot more re purposed stores as well. Restaurants turned in Internet gambling centers, or ethnic convenience stores.

The price for the ride was almost ten dollars for the ride so Peter decided to buy some kind of transportation at his first opportunity. Inside Walmart, he bought an air bed, a tiny TV, a folding chair, a folding table, one giant bath towel, two Deli type sandwiches and a dozen donuts. He would liked to have more but the three story climb changed his mind. He had no desire to ride in a hundred year old elevator. He made a compromise by buying an urban hand truck. It was a basket on two wheels he could get most of the items up in one trip. 

He watched the route of the minivan taxi as it drove the five miles back to the Don Juan Apartments. When he got out to load the handcart, he found that if he had a place to store his items, he could have made two or three trips up the stairs dragging the hand truck behind. That is going to be a real asset, he thought.

During the after noon he went for a walk. He pulled the and truck behind him a while then he pushed it as a care a while. He felt sure since he needed everything, the cart would be a good idea. He wasn't interested in looking cool. He passed a consignment store. With the Detroit economy he expected there would be a lot of those around.

In the dark and dreary store he bought a blanket and comforter. He decided to hold out for new sheets and towels. Since the proprietor sold dry goods as well as consignment items. Peter bought a twelve pack of soap and some toothpaste. He also bought an electric tea kettle so that he could make coffee.

By the time he arrived back at the apartment it was time for dinner. The deli style ham and cheese sandwich from Walmart won out over the roast beef and cheese sandwich also from wall mart.

After dinner he wasn't quite sure how to do it but he went in search of a wifi signal. He found a network called Don Juan. He tried and found that he didn't need a password, it was sort of like an internet cafe. His browsing was a terrible experience with only the mini tablet to view things.

According to his information file, he was supposed to go an office building in downtown the next day. Since he couldn't fine a working map on the internet that was tablet friendly, he decided to trust a cab driver. Then took a shower and went to bed.



Internal Affairs Ch. 11



The next morning Peter awoke not really sure where he was. He was still under thirty so it was more that he was just disoriented than any else. Sleeping on the floor in a totally different place left him shaky, even after three safe houses. It was just too much for his sleep drugged mind to process.

After he rolled off the bed it took boiling water poured through coffee grinds to finally remove his head from his ass. Whether it was manipulating the non electric coffee maker, the time it took to do it, or the smell and taste of fresh coffee, it didn't much matter. The result was that the reality of his life came flooding back to him. He shook his head and concentrated on the plastic coffee maker which came from the dry goods section of the consignment store. The plastic funnel came with a pack of five coffee filters, so coffee filters got added to his growing list of future purchases. The list ranged from the coffee filters to a microwave oven.

Since the room was warm, the apartment must have come with utilities. It was even more evident in the fact that the stove and refrigerator both worked. The water had been on, but he had paid no attention to that. He did note the day before that he had hot water. Hell the Marshals could have arranged it all, he knew. If it were the Marshals, who were taking care of him, it looked as though they could have arranged some furniture, Peter thought.

The flash drive informed Him that he had a job interview at 9am, so he could do his shopping on the way home.

He flagged down a taxi and gave the driver an address. The ride would have been ten minutes if it weren't for the traffic. The barely moving traffic made it thirty minutes that morning. 

Peter was surprised that the office for 'Just Act' was in a strip mall. He was pretty sure that the office had been a retail store once upon a time. The renovations had obviously been minimal. There appeared to be eight cubicles created by some kind of movable partition. They were not banking type cubicles, so Peter felt sure they were just half walls nailed to the floor. 

To get to the receptionist desk, Peter passed thought a busy waiting room. There were several men and women waiting for god only knew what. When he reached the empty desk, he stood waiting for several seconds. Then he call out, "Anybody home?"

"Patience," a female voice said.

"Sorry, I'll just come back another day," Peter said turning to leave. He would have gladly waited for someone in particular to become free. However he refused to get lost in the crowded waiting room while waiting for who or what, he had no idea.

Peter almost got to the door before a middle aged woman with really bad hair came around one of the half walls. She handed Peter a clipboard with a form and a pen, "Fill this out and have a seat. We will come get you in a bit."

"Well, I think you are under the mistaken impression that I am a client," Peter said. "I'm Peter Sims and I'm here to see the manager about a job."

The red head said, "Oh I'm so sorry. Please come on back." She led Peter back to the cubicle labeled Iva Gooding manager. "Iva the pro from DC is here," the receptionist stated.

The small plain looking woman who wore no make up, stood before she offered Peter her hand. "We are so happy to have you here." She said. "So what should we call you Peter?"

"Most people call me Deacon," Peter said. He came up with the name on he spot. He hoped that the completely different name would keep him on his toes. It was also the name of his very real uncle.

"Okay Deacon, we can really use your expertise," Iva said.

"I hope you aren't expecting a computer expert or a lab operator. I'm just an analyst." Peter said.

"Yes, but you can read the police reports and explain what we are reading," the very plain looking Iva Gooding suggested.

"I can do more than that, but yes I can do that as well," Peter said.

"I'm sure we can put your skills to work. So tell me are you settled into you new place?"

"Other than the fact that I have no furniture, I'm doing pretty well. It's a lot like camping right now," Peter explained.

"Do you need a couple of days to work on the apartment?" Iva asked.

"I don't need much, so I am good to go anytime you want. I do need something to drive around not for j just to get back and forth. Problem is I don't know where anything is and your traffic is awful." 

"A lot of us are tree huggers here, so we ride bikes when the weather is nice. The cold might be a little much for you, but it would be easy enough to get around," Iva suggested. "We have a car available to use, if you need to go anywhere. It's not for personal use, but we can work something out I'm sure."

"It's a thought. Maybe you could suggest a place where I could go browse," Peter asked.

"Let's get you introduced to everyone before we do anything else. Then you can take the day off and comeback tomorrow ready to work. Is that satisfactory?" Iva asked.

"That's fine," Peter said. Most of the desks were cleaned off. They were obviously not in use by anyone. He was going to have several desks from which to choose, when he was ready to work.

Iva led him to a cubicle near the rear door. "Trish this is Deacon Sims. He is the much heralded records analyst and investigator. Deacon this Trish on of the four volunteer attorneys working here."

Peter took her hand then said, "Nice to meet you Trish, how long have you been an attorney?" he asked.

"I passed the bar last month," she said.

"So I suppose you will be leaving when a big firm decides to offer you a job?" Peter asked.

"I sent out some resumes yes," she said honestly.

"Good for you," Peter said.

Iva looked embarrassed as she walked him to the desk of a man at least sixty years old. "Martin this is Deacon Sims. He is our new analyst and investigator." 

"How you doing Deacon. Anything I can do to help you settle in, just let me know. I am the senior attorney here."

"You could tell me what it is that you all do here?" Deacon asked.

"We try to find innocent men and woman, who have been incarcerated because of erroneous facts, or incompetent people," Iva said.

"So the 'Just Act' sign on the door is some kind of shorthand?" Peter asked.

"Our full name is The Justice Action team. We are part of a national movement started by young lawyers in New York. In the five years since it was formed, it has spread to major cities all over the country."

"So who pays the bills?" Peter asked. Martin tried give him a warning look, but Peter went on. "I may not be the right fit for you."

"We are funded by the justice department. It's their lipstick on a pig attempt at good press. There are some other groups who contribute and some wealthy patrons make contributions as well," she said.

"I see. You are telling me the clients don't pay anything for the service?" Peter asked.

"Do you really care," she asked.

"Yes I do. It goes to the splinter in the ER kind of thing," Peter said.

"Deacon, we screen these people well. Actually you will be part of the screening process," Iva said. 

She walked to a cubicle near the empty reception desk. "You have already met Helen. Helen this is Deacon Sims. Helen is our computer genius and receptionist. Helen Deacon is an analyst. He was formerly with the FBI." Iva said.

"Oh why did you decide to come to bankrupt Detroit," Helen asked.

"I needed a change," Peter said being mysterious. After he left the 'Just Act' office, Peter walked around the strip mall. He found nothing of any interest but he did note what businesses were for future reference. The businesses of most interest were the two restaurants and the grocery store.

He knew for sure he didn't want to jog five miles home, so he called a taxi. While he waited he checked for bicycle shops on the net using the office WIFI. He found one named Bob's New and Used Bicycles. Since he had no idea how he would fair with a bike as local transportation in the winter, he thought he might be better to go with used. He thought he could also fit a stop at a big box store on the way home. He wanted to go to the bike shop first, then the big box store for a microwave oven before heading home. 

Peter found nothing at the bike shop, so he went to a discount store for a dorm sized Microwave. He knew that he could carry the lightweight microwave up the stairs. Peter in just two days learned to make trips outside the house serve several purposes. 

That night he went back to the internet to order some items on Ebay, using the prepaid credit card he had purchased at the big box store. He put $1,000 dollars on it, so that he could use it on Ebay and Amazon. The trick was to put the money on the prepaid card inside the department store, then moved it to PayPal. He hoped those moves would be untraceable from either end."

He had to admit that Seth's flash drive had the double blind credit card scheme. He also had to admit the three story climb discouraged him from the bicycle idea. He still liked it but it just wouldn't work.

On the morning of the second work day Peter met his neighbor. He was an older retired man. He seemed very pleasant, so Peter asked him, "Does the building have a storage area for the tenants?"

"Didn't they tell you when you rented the place. They will rent you a ten by ten space in the basement with a chain link fence around it, They charge a hundred bucks a month. Almost all the tenants have one," Mark said.

"Who do I see about getting one," Peter asked.

"You Could call the realty office. Since they don't want to be bothered, they will assign you the space when your pay the first month's rent."

"That's just what I need. Is there an outside entrance?" Peter asked.

"Of course, you can ask for the keypad code when you pay you fee," the old man said.

"Thanks a lot Mark. You have been most helpful. I need something to ride to work five miles each way. I'm thinking about a bike."

"You should look on Craig's list. Is that all you need to store?" he asked.

It's all I'm planning for now," Peter said.

"Why not wait till you find some thing you like. Then If you wish I can sublet you half my locker for fifty a month. It you need a ride to go see something I will give you a lift," Mark said. "I'm registered with share the ride so its much cheaper than a taxi. We can help each other out. Just give me a call anytime. Well not after dark, I don't drive at night."

"You got it my friend," Peter said.

Peter was on he verge of asking him for a lift to work when the phone rang. "Hello," Peter said.

"If you need a lift to work be out front of your apartment in ten minutes," Iva Gooding said.

"I would really appreciate it," Peter said. "So what do you drive?"

"A little blue Hyundai. Don't worry I'll recognize you,"

"Fair enough," Peter said.

"Good morning," Peter said to the still plain looking Iva. "Thanks for offering me the ride. I haven't had time to arrange transportation yet. I'm really not into mass transit."

"After three years in D.C. I would have thought you would be," she said.

"I had a department car. I was always on duty," he said.

"Kind of like a real cop," Iva said.

"Yeah like that," he confirmed.

"You were some kind of spook weren't you?" she asked.

"Not at all, I just went to crime scenes to evaluated the evidence and offer suggestions on what to look for." Peter said.

"If you say so Deacon," she suggested. "Have you had breakfast?"

"No, if you are planning to stop somewhere I'll buy," he suggested.

"I was thinking we could go through a place with a drive in window. Do you have a preference?" Iva asked.

"Not at all," Peter said.

The two of them entered through the unlocked front door. The door was unlocked because the middle-aged read head with her hair cut and colored like a teenager arrive before them.

"Good morning Helen," Iva and Peter both said. 

"Heckle and Jekyll are here to see you," Helen informed Iva. Deacon, Martin wants to see you," Helen said.

Iva left Peter standing with Helen while she went to her office. She handed Peter the bag of food and coffee. "I'll meet you in the break room. Don't drink all the coffee." she demanded.

Peter walked back to the cubicle where he found Martin the day before. "Martin, I haven't had breakfast yet, so if you need to talk to me urgently come to the break room otherwise I'll be back in a few minutes," Peter said.

"I need some coffee, so I'll join you," the much older man replied.

"Good," Peter said. Two minutes later Peter bit into his bacon egg and cheese biscuit. "Now that's really good," he said.

"My cholesterol rose two points just being in the same room with you," Martin said with a smile.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Peter asked.

"Stop by my office when you get a chance, I have something that's has been on my mind for a year or more," Martin said.

"That is a long time. What is it," Peter asked.

"It was a case I prosecuted when I was with the DA's office," Martin said.

"Was it prosecutorial misconduct?" Peter asked.

"No deacon, we followed all the rules religiously. It's something we didn't know. Come by my desk get the file and do what you do," Martin demanded.

"Is this a real client, or is it personal. Martin we all have ghosts," Peter replied.

"Just look it over please," Martin said.

"Okay, are we keeping the others in the dark?" Peter asked.

"For now please," Martin said.

After his coffee and biscuit with Martin, Iva came in with two black lawyers who looked well cared for and were volunteers from the NAACP legal defense department he was told.

Peter didn't even bother to listen to their names. They became Heckle and Jekyll to him as well. One was male and one was female.

They were both well educated and he was pretty sure well off financially. They most likely had demons to deal with. It was hard to be lumped in with other people because of your race. He had dealt with Paco Gomez's men, so he knew a little about it from personal experience. Their race issues were often settled with a bullet to the brain. I couldn't tell heckle and Jekyll that.

"Good morning Mr. Sims," Heckle said. He was the male member of the duo.

"Good morning, and its Deacon, I don't stand much on formality," Peter said.

"I'm afraid I do," the black man said smugly.

"Then I suggest you go through Iva, if you need to talk to me. I really am serious formality gets in the way of what I do." Peter said.

"I have one of those awful names given to kids by poor black mothers back in the eighties, but now it's Marsha," the back woman less than ten years older than Peter, said with a warm smile.

"We are all victims off our childhood. Keeping that in mind makes me a lot less judgmental," Peter said taking her hand.

"That works for you?" Heckle said. 

"Actually it does. I have to keep an open mind, when I do what I do," Peter said. "I also have to be able to see things from both sides. The truth is a very complex thing. There is no truth only versions of the truth." Peter said. He figured he would be able to work with Heckle, since they both knew where they stood. That is if he wanted to work together.

"That's very interesting," Jekyll said. "You and I should discuss truth someday." 

"It would be my pleasure," Peter said.

They all shook hands and parted company. Iva was close enough to hear peter whisper "Asshole."

"Which one?" she asked aloud.

"Heckle," he announce showing no shame at all in the obvious racial slur.

"I allow Helen to say that because she is harmless, but you may be dealing with them. I do not expect to ever hear that again." Iva said.

"I think we need to get something strait right now. Whatever you are paying me, it isn't enough to talk to me like that," Peter said.

"Just Act isn't paying you at all," she said.

"Then I suggest we just call me a consultant and I work from home," Peter said. "I do not intend to put up with petty rules and policies for nothing. So it's either that or I'm prepared to call our relationship over. In the words of the first male in America to get a divorce, We will just split the blankets."

"You are serious. The support of those two is vital to the 'Just Act' mission," Iva said.

"Well then you need to do what you need to do," Peter said. "If you decide to keep me, I want a 50k per year salary and I don't care who pays it. When Something is free, it has no value to the receiver. It isn't about the money. Now I'm going to walk to the restaurant next door and do some research."

During his search of Craig's list he found a lightweight bicycle converted to an electric scooter. It was narrow than a tricycle and had no pedals. He was very interested since it had no visible motor. It also seemed light weight and not difficult to maneuver. There was a phone number so he used the new burner phone to call it.

He discovered the scooter had a 48-60 volt 1200 watt hub motor. It however did not come with a battery pack. He would need an expensive lithium battery pack. The battery pack in a 48v 20ah size ran about $500. Even the fact that the bike was another $500 seemed like a good deal compared to a taxi to and from the office at a cost of $20 a day, not to mention other trips around town.

Pete called for a share a ride pickup truck. The trip was from the restaurant to the man who built the bikes home. The man obviously charged a hundred bucks to assemble the scooters. Which Peter thought a fair price indeed..

By 6pm he had the scooter in the storage cage belonging to had neighbor Mark. So he went to his place with a set of batteries and a charger. The batteries were lead for the time being. He knew that he would place an order for the state of the art lithium batteries that very night. It would still take over a month to get it.

It was a little after 7am when the phone rang, "Do you need a ride to work?" Iva's voice came over the phone. 

After their falling out the plain Iva became the ugly Iva. "I thought I had been fired?" Peter made it a question.

"I called to see if you had quit," Ugly Iva said.

"Let me suggest this, You cover my expenses while I'm here for a month's trial run. If you think I'm useless we call it quits and go our separate ways." He suggested.

"With half a blanket each," Iva suggested.

"That's right," Peter said.

"Fair enough Deacon, so do you need a ride," she asked again.

I'm going to give it a try on my own. There is a possibility I will need rescuing. Tell me you will come get me if I do," he demanded.

"If I get to laugh at you," she said with a hint of laughter in her voice. 

Peter dressed in thermal underwear, a pair of dickie cargo pants, a second long sleeve tee over the thermal tee shirt, a sweat shirt, a scarf covering his face, the heavy blue parka and goggles. After he rolled the scooter out, he put on the bicycle helmet and started off carefully. He was surprised how stable the scooter was. It also fit just fine into the bike lane. The bike lane was reserved for two wheel people powered vehicles. He knew he could get a ticket but he stayed in them whenever he could. 

The five mile trip was over level ground so he made it in twenty minutes. It seemed longer because of the bone chilling cold wind which struck him in the face all the way to the office.

Peter found a dead spot in the parking lot where he wasn't taking up a parking space, but was out of the traffic flow. He chained the scooter to a light pole before removing the batteries. He carried them inside to charge while he worked.

He bypassed Iva, the Ugly's, desk in order to get to Martin's. "Martin come to the break room and bring the file." he demanded.

"Could we go next door instead. This might be embarrassing," Martin replied.

"Give me the file and I'll read over it first. Then we can meet outside the office to discuss it.




Internal Affairs Ch. 11



Don't you need some background?" Martin asked. 

"Not before I read the facts," Peter said. He took the blue plastic zip lock pouch from Martin's outstretched hand. The bag was a filled with photocopies. Martin had either collected them while working in the DA's office or he had someone photocopy them after he left. Either way it seemed complete.

Peter went to an empty cubicle and began to read them. It took all morning.

The narrative went, a call came in at 10;30Ppm on a Thursday night. The dispatcher assigned the call to Patrolman first class Samuel Waters. Waters was a five year veteran. He arrived and found a Male holding a while club arguing with his wife. When the male suspect saw the officer, he raised the club and stepped toward the officer in a threatening manner. The officer fired in self defense. One shot to the head ended the suspects life.

Since it was a white on white shooting, there was nothing to cause a media shit storm. It was just a shooting within all the guide lines. 

A quick investigation by the Internal Affairs division and he was cleared. The DA declined to prosecute the officer or even to investigate it.

The last piece of paperwork was a marriage license. The names were Sam Waters and Vickie Everette. You guessed it Vickie was the wife being threatened, the night Officer Waters shot her husband.

Peter carried the file back to Martin's desk. He threw it down then said, "He got away with murder," Peter said.

"Not exactly we declined to prosecute, we didn't dismiss it with prejudice attached. The DA can still bring charges. He will not do it without evidence. It will make every case Waters has been involved with shaky."

"Has anyone asked him about the coincidence of their marriage," Peter asked.

"His story is that he never met Vickie before that night. They became friends during the investigation.

"I noted that the victim had a rap sheet for domestic violence." Peter said.

"Slapping your wife around isn't a capitol offense. Maybe it should be, but he didn't have the right to execute him," Martin said.

"If it went down like you expect, then she is a co-conspirator at least. She might be the one who worked it all out. Waters might have been just a pawn." Peter suggested.

"So what do we do?" Martin asked.

"Hey I analyzed the file and I think there is something worth an investigation. That's what I do Martin. Get Iva to sign off and I will ask some questions." Peter said. "Did you make the decision to give the cop a pass?"

"Yes," Martin replied.

"Stop beating yourself up. Based on the facts that were available at the time anyone would have done the same. Murder or self defense the forensics could have gone either way."

"What did you notice that I missed," Martin asked.

"One shot from ten to fifteen feet away in a dimly lit room, from a presumable frighten beat cop and it goes right in his head. It's what I call a kill shot without any hesitation. I also noticed he was not a combat soldier. That kind of cool either comes from killing before, or having a plan. It is not the kind of shot an officer makes while being under attack." Peter said. "More like Sam told him to drop the bat and when he did Sam put one in his brain pan. At least that is what cames to mind after reading the fairy tales in that file. Now get Iva on board so we can use Helen."

Peter had skipped lunch while he read the files all morning. He was in the break room eating a frozen chicken pot pie when Martin entered. "Okay Iva's on board. We get Helen for one day starting tomorrow."

"Good then we need to prepare a list of things we need her to do. We need to maximize her time. We obviously aren't ready to interview Mr and Mrs Waters. First of all I want to know if Sam was married at the time of the shooting. If he was how was the marriage.

How was the victims marriage before the shooting. If she was seeing Sam they had to have met someplace. We need to get a lead of where it was. We also need to find of where she worked so we can interview her fellow employees and the neighbor where she lived the night of the shooting. We need background in order to determine where to put our limited resources," Peter commented.

"Good, sounds like you know what you are doing," Wilson said.

"You are not doing to drop a bomb like this then just sit back and watch. You should know what information is available through the courts, so check it all," Peter suggested.

It took all day but they made progress. Peter called a meeting with Martin, Helen and Iva an hour before the end of the day.

"Helen how did the background?" Peter asked.

"I just worked on the questions you asked. I found a few neighbors who remembered Vickie and her husband. I heard from two that she had a black eye now and then. There was definitely a lot of shouting going on there.

"So Helen do you think she would have been a candidate for a strong protector figure," Peter asked.

"Yes Deacon, I think she was," Helen said.

"So was Sam Waters married at the time," Peter asked.

"He was indeed," Martin asked. "A search through the files at the courthouse gave up his wife's name. It also gave the date that his divorce was final. Exactly 6months after the shooting.

"My guess was that he had been seeing Vickie the slut during the six months before he shot and killed her husband. Now we just need someone to say that. Get that and you have something to make the DA sit up and take notice," Peter said.

"You know he isn't going to let anything slip," Martin said.

"You can bet the farm on that," Ugly Iva said.

That is probably true. What we have to do is prove one instance of him lying to the investigator form IA," Peter said. "You had access to the IA report. So what do you think is the m0st obvious thing he lied about? And how do we prove it."

How about we use his credit cards to determine where he was spending his money the six months before he shot Mr. Everette," Helen said.

"Do we need a warrant?" Iva asked.

"Of course we do," Martin said, "but we aren't going to get on unless we have a witness that puts them together before her husband was killed."

"Then, I gave you your twenty four hours. Put it on the back burner," Iva demanded as she stood to leave. "Remember tread lightly this could wreck our relationship with the DPD."

After Iva the ugly left the break room, Peter asked. "Do we have a relation ship with the Detroit Police department?"

"Sure, in her mind," Helen said.

"She calls a police captain and he routes our questions to the appropriate office. Who may or may not bother to answer. After three attempts we move on. That's her idea of cooperation," Martin explained.

"Does that mean I can't call directly to a police officer," Peter asked.

"Afraid so," Helen replied.

"Do you have a list of the Detroit Police department heads?" Peter asked either or both of them.

"I can get you a name," Helen said. "It's amazing the things a married cop will do to get a blow-job. He will do even more to keep it quiet," Helen said with a laugh.

"My god, I was wrong about you. You are going to make an ideal partner," Peter said. "Find out who I need to talk to in order to get information on the Internal Affairs investigation. The things that didn't make it into the report for political reasons. Someone might have already plowed this ground," Peter suggested.

"I'll get you a name but I won't give him a blow-job for it. That was a joke." Helen said.

"Can I join the rebellion," Trish said from the door.

"There is no rebellion," Martin said. "Just a little plotting."

"You have to swear your allegiance," Peter said joking.

"Swearing means nothing, if you don't believe in anything," She said.

"She does have a point," Peter said. It seemed that nobody took Trish seriously. "If you join you have to buy the next round of coffee."

"Sure if one of you will loan me a saw buck," she said trying to sound like a 1920 gangster.

"Oh hell, she has been to the retro movie house again," Helen said.

Since Trish was almost junkie thin, she was never going to be able to pull off the tough gun moll persona.

"You need to ask Martin or Helen since I'm not on salary," Peter informed her.

Peter look at Helen, smiled wickedly, then said, "How would you feel about a judicial blow-job?" 

The question seemed to strike the other two hilarious. Martin spit coffee out rather than drown.

"You okay Martin?" Peter asked after he was sure that Martin was breathing. "I sure hope so because I am not giving a strange man mouth to mouth. It's not the image a new guy should present.

"I'm not either," Trish said. Attorneys are known to screw each other but not to swap spit. It wouldn't look good on my resume.

"As for me, I don't like you Martin," Helen said.

"I guess I better stay healthy then," he said with a smile. "You realize the conversation has gone from catching a killer to discussing blow jobs." 

"Time passes and people move on to blow-jobs," Peter said.

"You guys are blow-job obsessed," Trish.

"Somehow I feel Helen would give a first class blow-job, since she brought the subject up. How about you Trish?" Peter asked.

"I never had a complaint," She said.

"You know, I can't see any man complaining no matter how bad it was. Unless of course the girl bites," Helen said.

"On that note, I'm going to work," Peter said.

"Deke, could we talk?" Trish asked.

"Sure why not," Peter said as he looked at Helen and shrugged his shoulders. "Your cube or mine?"

"Parking lot, the cubes have ears," she said.



Internal Affairs Ch. 12



"So what did you want?" Peter asked Trish.

"I wasn't kidding. I want to be part of your group," she answered.

"Don't you get it? There is no group. I'm just looking into this case in my spare time. Which you are taking up. I had permission to work till on it till the end of the day. Anything we do after today is off the books and will screw up your recommendations from Iva. This is not some glamorous revolution. It's just a lark," Peter replied.

"Deacon, it's something that isn't just a piece of paper being moved from one place to another," Trish seemed to be almost begging. "I need the real life experience for my resume."

"That I can believe," Peter said. "Okay ask Helen to put you to work finding out how Water's really met Vickie. I'm thinking an earlier call. No one checked because no one questioned his version. Cops work in sectors. There is a good chance he had an earlier call at her house."

"Why don't we go talk to the neighbor who gave you guys the other information about shouting in the house?" Trish asked.

"That's a good idea Trish. If the cops had been called before, we might get a time line maybe even someone who saw Waters there. Helen is looking for patterns in his spending. I'm going to squeeze in a visit to Water's Ex today.

Rachel Waters was working at a call center. It was a slightly better than minimum wage job. It meant that Peter had to visit her at home. According to her neighbors she was home usually after 6pm. Helen dug out all of that for him.

"Trish, you want to help. I will take you to dinner after work, if you drive me to an interview with the former Mrs Waters," Peter suggested.

"Where are we going for dinner," she asked.

"I don't know, somewhere not to formal. Otherwise it's up to you," Peter said.

"Do you like ethnic food," she asked.

"TEX-MEX is about as ethnic as I get," he replied. He would have added Big Macs from a trash can was as far down as he ever got. He would have told her, except he knew that he would have to explain it.

"Would you try Chinese, if I order for you?" she suggested.

"As long as it doesn't have any chicken, I can do it," he said.

"The rest of the day passed with nothing new to add to the file. Mostly because Helen was put to work by Iva on the case of a black man accused of robbing a convenience store.

Peter was sure the kid was guilty after reading the files. He told Iva that the odds were about a 100 to one that there was any police misconduct or any misinterpreted evidence. 

"He should have plead to it for a shorter sentence," Peter said in conclusion.

"You don't make those decisions," she said. "Just give me your opinion on the police reports," Iva the ugly demanded in an equally ugly tone. You are still looking into the Water's thing aren't you?"

"I'm not going to lie to you. I am not," he said telling her a blatant lie.

"Good," she said.

There was some truth to his story. He hadn't look into it for over an hour, he thought.

"It was 5:45 by the time Peter had secured his three wheel scooter. To his surprise Trish showed up with boxes of take out. He had been standing by the front door for about ten minutes thinking he would be running out to the street to jump in her car. She ambushed him from the rear instead.

"I thought it might be more fun to see your apartment," she said not acting one bit different from her office persona. Cold and unemotional.

"Good, come on we will try the elevator. It is powered by a burro in the basement." he said. 

Upstairs her comment on his apartment was, "Very minimalist". She brought two sample plates from a Chinese restaurant. Each had a one serving of four different menu items. They shared them all, but only after he settled up the bill with her.

"You don't have to do that," she said.

"Sure I do. I invited you to dinner," he said.

"Okay, but you didn't really," she said. Her voice never changed. It wasn't exactly a monotone as much as a lock of emotions. Nothing showed any emotion when she spoke. She seemed to be struggling trying to find just the right word and tone. He thought she might be trying to cover her lack of emotion with some kind of intellectual decision that certain situations needed a particular emotion.

After dinner they drove to the home of Rachel Waters. The house was no doubt a rental.

"It looks a lot like the house I rent" Trish said coldly.

Rachel answered the door to their knock. "Hi Miss Waters my name is Peter Sims, this is my colleague Trish. We are would like to ask you some questions about your ex-husband."

She looked back into the house before answering, "Could we talk out here? My son is in the house. It rather him not hear all the things I have to say about his father," she said.

"Would you like to get your coat. This won't take long, but it's cold as hell out here," Peter said."

"No like you said, it won't take long," she said it as a warning.

"Okay let me get right to it then. In the months leading up to your divorce, was your husband acting any differently?" Peter asked.

"Different?" she asked.

"You know like being gone after work for hours, or any new hobbies?" Trish asked with that phony concern in her voice. "Long periods of time where you didn't know where he was?"

"Anything like unexplained charges on his credit card?" Peter added.

"Why are you asking all this?" Rachel asked.

"To be honest we want to know if he and his present wife were having an affair. We are really investigating her for the family of her deceased husband," Peter said.

"Oh I see," Rachel said. "I don't know who it was, but it could have been her. Someone rode by the house almost every time he was home at night. You know he worked rotating shifts. He was only home two out of three nights. Even then he found excuses to be gone after our son was in bed. There was always a cop who needed to move something. He also got a lot of text messages," Rachel suggested. "He even went fishing with his friends on his four day break once or twice. Just a couple of days at a time," she explained.

The boy came to the door. "If that's all? I need to fix dinner," she said.

"Of course," Peter said. Peter and Trish both said goodby and thanked her for her time.

"Well what do you think?" "Trish asked.

"Oh he was definitely having it off with someone," Peter said.

"Yes I got that impression," Trish said. "You do know that only officers or employees of the government need a warrant to get phone records. If we can get them legally, we don't need prior approval."

"Trish, they are confidential records and someone would get their ass in a sling giving them up to us," Peter.

"If we paid for them, that would be the sellers problem. If we cooperated but honestly didn't know who was providing them, we could wiggle out of the charge."

"I am going to assume that you know someone at the phone company?" Peter asked.

"I do, if he was a Nationwide Cell network user," she said with a smile.

"Get me his data for the time we are interested in and I will change my mind about you being a fluff headed debutant," Peter said.

"You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet. I know a man who knows a man who knows a phone number," she said.

"Give me the information and I won't give you up," Peter promised.

"By end of business tomorrow I will know if I can do it." Trish promised. 

"Maybe we won't need it, but better to have the number and not use it than to needed it and not have it," Peter said. 

"How about inviting me up for coffee," Trish asked when they were parked outside his building.

"Sure, but as you saw earlier, there are no comfortable chairs," Peter added.

"Well Deacon, I sure we can figure out something," she said

Once in the apartment, she sat on the folding chair while Peter made the coffee. He used a plastic measuring cup with a handle to boil two cups of water a time in the tiny microwave. The water was poured into the tall plastic funnel with a coffee filter and two table spoons of coffee grounds inside. 

The resulting coffee draining into a second plastic measuring cup. Peter poured coffee from it into a Styrofoam cup for Trish and a hard plastic delta cup for himself. His cup came from the thrift store. It had some medical clinic's advertising on it.

"That is really good coffee. I have only one complaint. Your cup is much cooler than mine," she said. Her voice was again measure and pretty much fake. He had decided early on that she wasn't talking down to him, even though it seemed that way.

"So I see you have the small screen TV," she said.

"I have to be able to carry whatever I buy up the stairs," Peter explained.

She looked at him very seriously, then out of the blue she asked, "Do you want to have sex with me?"

"I really don't know. Is that a lawyer's trick question." Pete said.

"Of course not," Trish said with almost some emotion.

"How about telling me Trish, why did you ask that?" Peter said.

"A simple no would have been sufficient," she said.

"Okay, not right now," he admitted.

"Then I should go," she said. "I'll get that number for you." 

"Trish are you okay?" Peter said.

"Sure in spite of what they say men can say no. At least they can to me," she said.

"I would say no to anyone tonight," Peter said. He was trying to be nice.

"I hear that a lot as well," Trish replied.

Screw it, he thought "Come here," he said pulling her against him. He kissed her gently the it got rough. Their clothes went away. Trish was actually quite thin without her clothes. Peter liked that about her. 

He also liked that she was obviously enjoying it, without making a sound. She was very much in control but not controlling. She just gave into it while restraining herself.

"You okay," he asked after it was over. She was sitting up in his air bed on the floor trying to determine which of her clothes were suitable to wear out. Since her bra and panties were damaged, she wore one of his recently purchased sweat shirts under the jacket of her little power suit. It was a strange looking Trish who left his apartment.

Peter walked her to her car with the intent of kissing her goodbye, but she had other plans. She got into her car and drove quickly away. "Damn," he said to no one. Then he laughed at the absurdity of the situation. 

Helen greeted him the next morning with, "He answered two previous domestic disturbance complaints at her house." She said. "Beautiful, let's ask Martin if it's enough." Peter said.

"It's a start a damn good start, but it just conjecture. He is going to say, I don't remember ever seeing her before. I might have been off those nights. The unit could have had a different driver, or she didn't make an impression." Martin said.

"Yeah, he would be too smart to fold his tent on that little bit of evidence," Peter said. "We are not going to be able to interrogate him, so it's going to have to be locked down tight for the DA's man or enough to get the IAD involved..

"Okay we need something more," Peter said leaving Martin's cubbyhole. He resisted the urge to kick a chair on the way out.

When Peter passed Trish, she didn't even acknowledge his existence. It was like she didn't recognize him. The worst thing he realize, was that she wasn't trying to avoid the truth, she just had no further interest in him.

Peter walked back to his cubbyhole to read another file looking for police misconduct. It was one which had been reviewed by both Martin and Trish for legal issues. They had found nothing. Peter review the report on the evidence and the police department's conduct of the investigation. At the time of his review DNA was the hot button. The questions were mind boggling. Was there DNA present and whose was it. Were the places where DNA should have been found, but it wasn't. If not why not. All those questions came into play in the review Peter did. His greatest value to the team was he knew what cops were capable of, so he questioned everything. If something seemed a little out of plumb, he wanted to know why. He had begun to lose my blind faith in the cops when he witnessed them selling cocaine from squad cars. The final straw was when his house was burned. Or maybe it was when he discovered a hit team was on the way. A hit team dispatched by the FBI agent sent to keep me alive.

His skepticism made him the ideal person for the job. The 'Just Act' case on his desk seemed to be both plumb and level. His recommendation was going to be, tell the kid convicted in the death of another kid whose only crime was not being a street thug, That his DNA was everywhere since he cut himself while stabbing the victim. His blood was on the victim's clothes and even in the wound. The knife had his DNA and bloody finger prints on it. The kid doing the time was lucky the cops didn't turn him over to the victim's family. The Detroit cops had a Public Relations problem more than anything else. 

"You have to face it Iva," Peter said. "Most of the time the cops get it right."

"That's not been my experience," she said.

"This time they did, so don't waste your time and reputation on this one," Peter said.

"I'm beginning to wonder about that fit thing you talked about. You have reviewed two cases and upheld the cops both times," Ugly Iva said.

"I'm not going to call a spade a heart just because that's what you want. If I do, then no one will take me seriously, and rightly so."

"I left her office at noon feeling pretty down on the whole operation. 

"Waters was careful but you can't fool all the people all the time." Helen said.

"Do we have him," Peter.

"According to his ex wife, who called Trish this morning while you were involved with Iva the terrible, She remembered a three days fishing trip Officer waters took the year before the fatal shooting. She remembered it because the fishing lodge charge on the card was for over two hundred dollars per day. She thought that was too much for a fishing trip at a lodge. 

I called the lodge and found out the dates that Waters party was registered. They even sent me the video from the hold up camera. It is the only camera inside the lodge.

I found Vickie the tramp and Officer waters checking in. I also found them on the parking lot camera several times over the next two days."

"You got his lying ass," Peter said.

"We got him," Helen corrected him.

"Truth is, you and Trish got him. Now the sad truth is we have to give it up to Internal Affairs." Peter said.

"There are two things I want for all my hard work." Helen said. One is to see Waters charged with Murder. The other is to see a comfortable chair in your living room. Trish told me that you have nowhere to sit, when we come to visit. God knows every gang needs a club house," She advised him.

"We are not a gang, and my place is not going to become a clubhouse for you fucking misfits," he Peter said with a smile.

"Maybe we could get a tax exemption as a religious order." Helen suggested.

"I know I would make a terrible monk, and most likely you are no nun," Peter suggested. 

"You know first hand that our Trish is no virgin Mary," Helen replied sounding almost jealous.

"So Trish kisses and tells," Peter suggested.

"Oh yes and you only got a 7 from her," Helen added.

"Seven, I intend to appeal that," Peter replied.

"Do you get the impression Trish has a filter on her emotions," Helen asked.

"That's a kind way to put it," Peter replied. "She may bring an assault rifle to the office and wipe us out someday," Peter admitted.@@

"Then you need to have me over for breakfast soon. First buy a chair and a bed. I can't get up and down off the floor. Bad knees, I did too much running when I was younger," she said.

"So do you have a picture of yourself in the spandex shorts and tight top," Peter asked.

"Of course I do. I even have one of me laid out on the ground with the marathon EMTs checking me for a heart attack. You can see them when we go out."

"Well then I will go buy a bed and a chair, but it will have to be a small bed," Peter replied.

Let's Meet with Iva the terrible and have her put Internal Affairs onto Waters, then you can take me and Trish to lunch," Helen suggested.

"Sounds good," Peter said. 

When He and Helen informed Martin of the information, he and Trish, Peter and Helen met in the coffee room, where Iva joined them. They braced for the inevitable ass chewing they knew was coming.

"You know you were told to drop this, so there is no need to explain that you are guilty of using our resources to conduct an unauthorized investigation. I could fire you all, and I would if you were paid employees. Since all of you, except Helen, are volunteers, of one kind or another, it would be shooting myself in the foot. So I will just say, good job everyone." 

"Who are you and were is Iva the terrible?" Peter asked jokingly.

Watch your mouth Deacon you are still on probation," Iva said with a smile.

"Of course the month isn't over yet," Peter said.

"So what's next for you," Iva said. "How about trying to look through that backlog of files." 

"I take care of them as soon as Martin and Trish finish their analysis," Peter said. 

"I will set a meeting with the IAD people for tomorrow." Iva said.

"You are about to see your working relationship change. Cops don't like people who stand up to them," Peter said.

"You do something about that bed situation tonight," Helen demanded once the meeting broke up. "I have a terrible itch and I think you have the cure. Besides Trish and I need something in common to talk about," Helen said.

"Good lord tell me you aren't thinking about trying to be girlie with Trish. As far as I can tell she has even less of a personality than me," Peter said.

"Not girlie as in switching teams. She just seems to need a friend and maybe some female advice," Helen said. "Funny, she was here when I came six months ago, I have always avoided her but today she caught me in the break room. She wanted to discuss you." 

"I have no idea what that is about," Peter replied.

"It was about her trying to fit into the 'team' as she called us. "Did you really sleep with the cold bitch?" Helen asked.

"You know what they say about men with a stiffie having no conscious, well it's true," Peter said.

He went back to reading the newest file to cross his desk. He stayed at it till five even though it took three cups of coffee. At five he left the office parking lot on his bike. He rode straight to the consignment shop. What he found there was a nylon comforter and a camp bed sort of thing. The metal bed frame with folding legs was the size of a standard bunk bed. Which turned out to be only a couple of inches narrower than his twin airbed. 

Peter paid for the comforter and two larger pillows, which he rolled together then secured it using his belt. He managed to tie it onto the frame of the scooter. It was a tight fit but as expected he made it home.

Once at the Don Juan, he stored the bike in the basement after removing the battery pack. He lugged the batteries as well as the comforter up to his apartment. When he arrived, he plugged the batteries into the charging station. He also took a moment to throw the comforter and pillows onto the floor.

He was back on the street dressed in his heavy parka but without the other two layers of outerwear.

Peter made the two block walk to the consignment shop before he got too cold. Walking double time made it a little easier to bear the cold it also kept him out in the cold a shorter amount of time. At the shop he paid twenty bucks for the bed frame it was complete with one inch wide strips of steel for springs. He paid and carried the heavier than it looked frame home. It was a cold dark and miserable trip but he made it. He stopped in the small lobby to warm by the radiator before climbing the stairs dragging the bed frame behind.




Internal Affairs Ch. 12



He pulled the folded bed ends out and locked them into place. Then he carefully folded the comforter to make a pad to cover the springs before he placed the airbed on top of it. After that he placed the sheets and a second heavy comforter on the bed. He also had a bedspread to add the illusion of a sofa. That was his only concession to Helen's demand for a comfortable chair.

After Peter slept the best he ever had since arriving in Detroit, he made coffee the way he had made it for Trish, the cold fish. The coffee was Colombian. Peter was glad that there was another product beside coca leaves coming out of Columbia.

While the water made it's way through the filter and into the second plastic cup he filled a bowl with cereal and milk. All of his furnishing and most of his packaged food came from the consignment shop or the Dollar store beside it.

Why not the dollar store and the consignment store were close and cheep. Those were two of his priorities for laying low. Don't get noticed was the issue on his mind most.

Since he had eaten a bowl of cereal in his own small kitchen, he was in no hurry to get moving. He turned on his TV to watch the morning news. Everyday someone else was bitching about the terms of the Bankruptcy. They acted as though it was an act of god. None of the whiners ever admitted that the city's politicians had robbed the city blind over the years. As long as the perks kept coming nobody seemed to have cared that there was a bill to be paid someday. The whole damn town had learned to live as if there were no tomorrow. When tomorrow came and the bills finally came due, they tried to blame the bill collector.

When the court started to sell off the assets there was bitching, moaning and gnashing of teeth about it. They city was forced to doubled the rate for a bus ride across town. That one almost caused a riot.

They cut the number of city employees which meant that the cop and fire department's response time went up. Less cops also meant that the number of arrests went down. The city was quickly slipping into a breeding ground for unrest. Peter thanked god that he wasn't a real resident of Detroit. He was just another do gooder who was most likely doing more harm than good.

Detroit had taken on the national mentality of Washington, 'just don't do anything stupid'. That meant trying to never make a decision. Detroit had lost the ability to ignore it's debt, so like Washington it whined about the only thing handy, the administrator and the judges on the Bankruptcy court.

Roger wondered what would happen next. Worst case the neighborhood watch would become the neighborhood militia. Then it would be bagdad on the lake. Hell detroit might invade Windsor Canada. The world was spiriling out of control. Peter said to the TV as if the stunning blond could hear him.

The cold ride to work after the sun came up, put it all in prospective. He would have wished for a free ride to work in a warm car. It all came down to the individual. Peter would rather freeze his ass off on the twenty minute ride to work, than to freeze his ass off in a protest march. Peter really didn't know what that made him. Maybe it made him a tourist.

He chewed on that during his ride to work in the bike lanes. He had a close call at one of the intersections. An automobile tried to jump the light as he passed through under a caution. Just another day in beautiful Detroit, he thought.

"So did you buy a bed?" Helen asked as he filled a Styrofoam coffee cup in the break room.

"I told you that I would. I always keep my promises," Peter replied. However it is small, but I slept fine on it."

"Well enjoy your sleep tonight tomorrow is Friday," Helen said. "We have a date."

"I don't remember inviting you out," Peter said.

"I invited you out," Helen whispered. "I enticed you with the promise of sex, so don't fuck it up. Well I guess I do want you to fuck it up." she said with a wicked laugh.

Helen was one of those women searching for a new identity. She had been Helen wife and mother for close to twenty years then she was Helen single mom until the realization that her kid was ready for college set in. Then Helen didn't think she had an Identity.

She just drifted into Helen the vamp. Actually everybody loved the outspoken Helen, which only served to reinforce her slightly over the top behavior. She also discovered that she loved sex.

"Hell forty is a hell of a time to discover that you love sex. I'm talking sex, just for the sake of sex. It's a time for a new direction in life, from Helen wife and mother to Helen the slut. The transition wasn't at all painful, she discovered. She just kept her home life separate from her trashy identity.

Peter's day pass reading reports while he waited for the results of Ugly Iva's meeting with the Detroit PD.

"They are going to verify that they have a case, then they will take it to a grand jury, since the current DA doesn't want to touch it. So he is going to punt it to the grand jury." Iva Explained.

"So what is IAD going to do," Martin asked.

"They will re-interview him. I asked that you and Trish be allowed to be present," Iva informed them all.

"So what did they say?" Martin asked.

"They will allow Trish to be present, Sorry Martin they think the rest of us have a vested interest." Iva said. She gave Trish a bit of a nasty look. "Don't get too excited, they expect the interview to take a week to schedule, then another couple of weeks to get on the grand jury docket.'

"The one I want to talk to, is Vickie," Helen commented. "I bet you ten bucks she is the instigator."

"I'll take that bet," Trish said smiling. The two women smiled warmly. Nobody else noticed, but Peter was disturbed by it. He knew he should not have slept with Trish and yet he was planning to sleep with Helen. I seemed like a really bad idea, had morphed into a nightmare.

For Peter the rest of Thursday was nothing short of a day filled with a string of boring chores. He read two files front to back looking for discrepancies. As usual the ones he found didn't amount to anything. They did suggest other avenues of investigation. Peter made stickup notes on the files for Iva to decide the best use of their limited resources.

At five o'clock Peter went into one of the several empty cubicles that he had designated a dressing cubby'. Where he added the several layers of clothing for his ride home. Since he had discovered the thrift store his wardrobe had more than tripped. He still bought work clothes in the big box stores, but he also bought the exterior layers at the thrift store. Those were the ones he wore over his work clothes on the ride to and from home. 

The five mile ride in the freezing weather was a pretty miserable trip. If he caught the traffic just right it was 20 to 30 minutes of frozen hell. He could also be stuck in traffic much longer, In which case he intended to just stop in a convenience store or a restaurant on the side of the road. He thanked god that the 'Just Act' office wasn't in the downtown itself.

On Thursday evening he did get cold on the way home. So he chained and locked the bike to a street light pole, then went into a convenience store for a cup of coffee to warm my hands. Even with the ski gloves they were cold and almost painful. Even though he had charged the battery pack at home and work, it was almost dead. The new and better battery pack had not arrived at that time.

He saw the kid at a shelf in the rear of the store. The kid couldn't have been more than sixteen. He kept glancing at the clerk with dancing eyes. Peter was pretty sure he was trying to build his courage to try a robbery. Peter had no idea where it came from but he knew for sure that it was going to happen.

Peter moved to stand beside him. "Son don't do it. If you do this and live, you will end up in prison with a bigger thugs cock up your ass. Not a good outcome. Just walk out the door and stay free and alive."

"I don't know what you are talking about," the kid said.

"Up to you kid, but you ain't going to turn back, and they ain't gonna' give up once they get your face on the camera there. Next stop for you is prison or the crematorium." After making sure the kid saw the camera Peter then went to the counter to pay for his coffee. He noticed the kid rush out behind him.

He got on his bike and rode it another then minutes home.



Internal Affairs Ch. 13



Friday came and went, much like Helen. Helen proved to be funny, forward, and sexy. For a woman over forty she was very attractive even without her clothes. Peter enjoyed her company as much as the sexual experience. Helen was just good fun whether in or out of bed.

Saturday morning the weather turned just plain nasty. It was snowing almost hard enough to be a white out. The twenty five mile and hour wind off the lake made it just plain brutal. 

Since it started to snow the night before while they were eating dinner, Peter had stopped at a donut shop on the way home from dinner. That made it possible for the two of them to return to bed after breakfast. Good coffee and mediocre donuts were on the menu at cafe Peter Sims. 

After breakfast Helen was on the menu. They stayed in the warm, but cramped bed until 2pm. "Get your sorry ass out of bed and lets go to that restaurant I saw in the next block," Helen demanded.

"Okay, but we should leave a note in case we get lost in the blizzard," Peter said.

"It's a snowstorm, but it isn't a blizzard," Helen corrected. "Just get your ass out of that warm bed and get dressed. You are going to have to loan me some clothes." Helen said.

"Well I'm not taking a shower then going out in the cold, so I guess this will just be a continuation of last night," Peter said as he pulled her to him. He kissed her and pulled her hips to him as he stood by the radiator. 

Peter pulled on clean underwear, but replaced the thermal underwear from the day before. He found a clean set for Helen. There were a little large on her, but the were held in place by her clothes from the night before. His jeans were way too big but she needed team to turn the snow. 

They both had the shape of a snowman when they left the apartment for the block and a half walk to the restaurant. The walk was miserable even if they were dressed for the cold. Peter wore good ski gloves while Helen wore the fancier Leather and rabbit fur gloves. In spite of how it looked the synthetic gloves he were were warmer. 

The restaurant was closed when they arrived in the late afternoon. The restaurant had obviously decided not to serve dinner that night. Prob ably because they could only get customers within walking distance of the place. The area's residence were not likely to venture out in the snow storm, since they were all older citizens or yuppies whose SUVs were not suitable for the kind of weather coming down that evening.

"If we go on another block that way, we should get to a small grocery store. We can carry enough food for a nice dinner," Peter suggested.

"What if they are not open?" Helen asked.

"Then it's going to be a long night," Peter said. We need to hurry before the sun goes down." He fully expected sundown would end everyone's day.

"Let's go," Helen said.

The store was still open only because the owner lived over it. Even though it was open almost everything was gone. "Looks like you had a hell of a day," Peter said to the middle eastern man wearing a robe. The man obviously wanted to close and go upstairs for dinner. 

Peter threw a loaf of unsliced bread into a shopping bag. He also found a can of cherries, a jar of baked beans, and a wedge of cheese. Peter paid ten dollars for groceries which were selling for five dollars the day before. There were city ordinances against gouging prices during a natural disaster, but Peter never even thought of reporting the man.

"So how did you get god to cooperate in turning a one night stand into a weekend event?" Helen asked Peter.

"I just live right," Peter said.

It turned out that the weekend didn't end on Sunday. The two of them stayed naked until Tuesday after lunch. They did dress long enough to go out to dinner and shop the neighborhood grocery once the snow ended.

When Peter finally pushed Helen's three year old Ford out of the parking space and into the drive lane, which had been cleared only hours before, it was filled with their dirty laundry. Helen had a washer dryer, so she volunteer to do the laundry for him. There was a huge amount of it. Several carefully packed plastic grocery bags filled her trunk. 

Helen dropped him in the parking lot of his building several hours later with the clothes inside the same plastic bags. By that time the clothes were folded neatly, not rolled into tight wads. After dragging all the bags up the stairs, peter was ready to meet the icy world himself.

He went to dinner alone, then returned home to watch TV. His only stop along the way was the consignment store where he bought even more sweat shirts for three dollars each.

"I need to go to the big box store," he said to the TV. He knew it would not be a bike trip until his fancy new battery arrived. Even then he had his doubts about the ability to operate in the cold. 

While he gave some thought to the new batteries which were supposedly be on a boat to the U.S. Port of Los Angeles at that very moment, He searched the TV for something half interesting to watch. He caught the teaser for Gold Diggers. According to the teaser the show had been filmed with the live cast right up to the point that person or persons unknown had killed Miles Adair the lead character while he parked on a lonely farm road. He was there preparing to head into the gold camp. 

Peter became Curious about the mystery. The video had been edited to six one hour shows. The plan was to run them over the course of six days. One new one and the one from he night before. It had become a common move for the docudrama channels to run a new and old show on the same night.

He was fascinated by all whodunit, add to that a modern gold miner, and you had a mystery of greater interest. Then toss in that he was a retired cop and you had a magnet for Peter. The trick was going to be to investigating the high profile case without blowing his cover.

There were a couple of things in his favor. He had never been within a thousand miles of any location mentioned in the Google information of the show or murder.

He really wanted to do the investigation, but he wasn't sure it would be possible. It was an active ongoing investigation, they might not want to cooperate with an outsider, no matter how smart he thought he was, Peter decided.

Peter went to bed with no plan at all. Even after watching episode one of Gold Digger. The first episode was a reenactment of what they had done up until the TV show approached them. It wasn't boring, but it wasn't a barn burner either. Peter knew that he wanted to interview the production crew, but the would mean publicity. He knew that Seth would be livid.

"Hey you going to come to work today?" Helen asked the next morning over the phone.

"Sure why not," Peter said.

"So you want a ride?" she asked.

"No I might want to stop somewhere on the way home," Peter said. "He had in mind upgrading his small tablet to a laptop computer. That would require a trip to the big box store. If he made the trip during his lunch hour, he could take it to the office unpack it then get it home on the bike. He could have done it all if he had imposed on Helen. That was something he did not intend to do. Even though he was sure she would be willing.

The day worked just as he planned. By five o'clock he had a new state of the art Dell laptop computer. The salesman convinced him to buy a wireless mouse so he was all set. 

Better yet it came in a small package. He could fit it all in the backpack which he had brought from his original home. It took up much less than half the thickness of the pack. It also left plenty of room on the sides. He piggybacked the office WIFI that afternoon to download episode one of the Gold digger show. He intended to download the show in it's entirety, one episode at a time.

"Deacon, you got a minute," Trish the fish asked.

"Sure, What can I do for you?" Peter asked.

"I'm bored," she said. "What are you working on?"

"Those files," he said pointing to the pile of blue folders on his desk. "I have to work them after you and Wilson your legal review," Peter replied.

"Come on Deke find something," she almost demanded.

"Most of the time law enforcement and I'm sure the practice of low is boring as hell. Imagine being a Real Estate lawyer," Peter suggested.

"You two are planning something I'm sure of it. So spill it," Helen said. She had walked up behind Trish.

"Watch Gold Digger on the Docudrama network tonight from eight to ten. We can discuss it tomorrow." They both knew he had ended the conversation.

"Trish call the head of internal affairs at the Chicago PD have them recheck the club that the victim was supposed to have been threatening Waters with. Check it for DNA. Be sure that they can identify everyone who handled it. Water's DNA should not be on the handle. The vic's wife's DNA may or may not have been on it. If it comes up no one's DNA is on it, then someone cleaned it after the fact and then you have a much larger problem.

"Break it up," Iva said. "Deacon, We need to talk. 

"Sure, you want to talk here or in your office?" he asked.

"Outside, I need a cigarette, so get your coat."

Deacon got his coat and went out the rear door. The rear entrance was from the alley where the retail stores and restaurants took there deliveries. Usually there was nothing to see, but that morning everybody was trying to resupply, so there were about twice as many trucks as there were empty loading docks. I made from a nasty mess in the snow covered alley. 

"You have been here two weeks and solved a murder, no one else even though of as a murder. You kept up with you files maybe it was half ass doing of your real job and maybe not. You came up with several areas of inquiry on them that I had never considered. I think it's safe to say that we need to work out a deal. This is going to be a negotiation not a capitulation," Iva the terrible said.

"So let's hear your offer," Peter said.

"DOJ has agreed to provide you as a consultant. You will have assigned duties but you would not be an employee of this office. You can assume all my communications with you are simply suggestions. We need not argue about them or have any other communications. You may not use other paid employees for your research. You report your findings to me and I will direct any follow up. The DOJ has opened a low priority line of research for me based only on your recommendations. They will do your criminal investigation research, not legal appeals information."

"It all sounds rather confusing," Peter suggested.

"It's brand new operating procedure so it is going to take some getting used to. You will not be making contact with the DOJ. Only I can do that," Iva said.

"I work for you, but I get paid my the DOJ. I get paid by the DOJ, but I can't contact the DOJ. It's all pretty silly if you ask me," Peter said.

"Tell me about it," Iva said.

Peter had no intention of telling her that he had always been accepting reward payments from the DOJ's war on drugs recovery funds. He also didn't tell her the no direct contact was to protect him not her.

"So what is the DOJ offering?" Peter asked.

"Twenty thousand a year and expenses on any out of town trips," Iva said.

Seth had negotiated it no doubt. It gave everyone something and no one got everything they wanted. It seemed to be a good deal for all. 

Hell he thought, since he never saw anything in writing from the DOJ he might be paying his own salary from the Reward fund. He didn't care he lived simply. It was necessary to stay off Paco Gomez radar, so he couldn't spend what he had at the moment.

Money had never been the issue. He just wanted her to have some skin in the game. A thing is only worth the value you put on it. Since Iva wasn't willing to pay, she lost control over him. As a consultant he could refuse to do as she demanded at anytime. He would of course lose the cover of JustAct so it was not a course of action to be taken lightly.

"So do you understand?" Iva asked.

"I have it, but do you understand?" Peter asked.

"We will just have to feel our way along," Iva said with a formal smile. She was still very much trying to be the boss.

Once he was back inside he sat in the cubbyhole to read another file. The first thing he always did was to pull the evidence inventory. He placed it to the side so that he could compare it to the incident report. He would expect to find items missing from the inventory not things added. In the case of Susan Smith there was a match book in evidence which according to all the reports was never recovered from the scene. It made for a huge break in the chain of evidence.

Peter carried the file back to Trish's cubby. "Did you review this file?" he asked.

"Yes, I did," she said with a questioning look. 

"Did you find any line of inquiry based on the matchbook?" Peter asked.

"Not that I remember," Trish said.

"Take another look please. The chain of custody is broken for the matchbook," Peter explained.@@

"If they based only line of questioning on it we can get it tossed, maybe?" she said.

"Now I'm curious to know who recovered it and why they didn't log it into evidence. It just showed up on the inventory with no name on the recovery tag. It is probably an oversight, but maybe not. Evidence is always an easy way for a cop to influence the outcome of a trial." Peter said.

"It isn't mentioned in any discovery to the defense so it must not have been used," Trish said. "We can track it down tomorrow. Time to close up shop."

Peter looked up at the large Clover Dairy clock on the wall and found that it was sure enough five till five. Well time does have a habit of marching on, the thought.

"Do you need a ride home?" Trish asked.

"No I rode the bike. I'm just going to put on my dough boy costume and ride it home," Peter said.

"How about you give me a sawbuck for your share and I stop at a restaurant and meet you at your place. We can watch your TV show together?" Trish suggested.

For his part Peter packed the new computer into his backpack and hung it from the hook behind the seat. 

He rode carefully on he icy roadway. After he had the trike stored, he walked from the basement to his third floor apartment. Since Trish knew the way he hadn't waited for her. She was waiting by the door for him. 

"I see you made it before me, even though you stopped for food," Peter said.

"Gee it's so easy when one is smart enough to call ahead," she said. Once the door was open she continued. "You have what would almost pass for a bed. You also have a porch rocker in your living room."

It's a knock together one. When I went to the big box store, I bought it and brought it home in a taxi. It's just plastic with a thrift store throw pillow," Peter explained.

"It looks comfortable," Trish said. 

"Well you have your one comfortable chair," Peter said.

"Thank you," Trish said with no warmth in her voice at all. She might as well have been discussing some point of order in a courtroom. No wonder she hasn't been hired anywhere, he thought.

It looked at though every foreign food was heavy with vegetables or pasta. Peter like most men wanted fried meat and potatoes. He ate his share of the Indian food with diet coke also brought by Trish.

"Thanks Trish it was good," he said without any real feeling. Unlike Trish it was unusual for him not to have an opinion. 

"You didn't like it," she Asked.

"It was fine. I'm just not crazy about bland vegetables," he replied hoping she wouldn't be offended.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, again with no emotion.

"You don't have to do that," Peter said. "You should buy the things you like."

"Why do you say that. Wouldn't you rather have input into what I bring?" she asked.

"Not necessarily, but that's okay," he replied.

There was an awkward silence while the two of them finished the food. Then from nowhere she asked, "Do you want to have sex with me now or after the TV show?"

"Let's just wait and play it by ear. Everything doesn't have to be scheduled," he said. "What do you want?"

"Spontaneous is fine," she said turning her attention to the small dorm sized TV.

"Oh hell we have an hour till the show begins how about we make out," Peter said.

"I would like that," Trish agreed.

The two of them kissed and groped each other until out of nowhere Trish said, "It's time for the show."

Since Peter had already seen the show he mostly watched it for the details of the uncle and his niece's life. It was hinted it at more than explained. Peter also paid attention to the backgrounds in the forest scenes. 

It seemed that Miles Adair warned the producer about moonshiners and pot farmers might be a threat. He didn't play it up any more than he did the threat of land owners having them arrested for trespassing. It was obviously not a big concern for him just something of which the producers might want to be aware.

The first show didn't tell anything about his relationship with the show's technical staff. It was something that needed to be explored with the niece. Peter made notes as the show unfolded.

"If you haven't already, make a note to find out the relationship between the uncle and his niece. They wouldn't be the first to have an incestuous relationship." Trish said.

"Of course, but I didn't get that vibe from the scene they shot of him packing up for the road trip up the creeks." Peter replied. "The feeling I got was just two family members saying goodbye.

"Since the hint of sexuality would make the show more interesting, I expect it was just as it seemed," Peter said.

They went back to watching the show. During the break between episodes, Trish said, "Helen said you were a great lover."

"That was nice of her, but I'm still not comfortable with you two comparing notes," Peter said.

"She asked," Trish said without so much as a smile. Her voice was also flat. She was just stating facts not defending herself.

"And you gave me a seven?" Peter asked with a laugh.

"It is better than just average," Trish said. "It does leave room for improvement."

"Lets save the discussion about improvement until the lights are out at least," Peter said.

"Okay, but I don't understand," Trish said. 

The second episode featured the history lady who was quite a bit older than the niece. It was also obvious that the niece and the production company were trying to throw Miles and Ada together as the show's love interest. Even so most of that episode was about the uncle in the woods. He spent his time prospecting for sites to set up a dredge operation.

Peter found that the show was mildly interesting, even without the mystery. He wondered how it played to Trish.

"Trish, how do you like the show," he asked when episode two was over.

"I like the niece and her uncle. I think the shows production company might be trying to portray the older woman as sort of a villain," she said.

"I think we need to know about this QE2 production company," Peter said revealing that he had an interest greater than simply a TV gold story. 

"The other on screen people should be easy enough to find," Trish agreed happily. The difference in her demeanor between happy and concerned was miniscule.

"Well yes, but first we need to get copies of the police file. For that we need to wait for DOJ to get it for us."

"We should be able to start work on it without the file," Trish said. 

"Trish I can't ask you to help. It would just get us both in trouble," Peter replied.

"What is Iva the terrible going to do? Since I am an unpaid volunteer she can't fire me," Trish said.

"I've been meaning to ask you. If you are an unpaid volunteer and JustAct doesn't pay you, how do you live?" Peter asked.

"I could tell you but then I would have to kill you," she said pretending to be serious and she did a hell of a job.




Internal Affairs Ch. 13



"This wouldn't look good on your resume. I mean being fired from a non paying job is pretty damning." Peter said. 

"If you cause me to get fired, I bet I could come live with you," Trish said. "Of course you would have to buy a larger bed," she demanded.

He had to kiss her to shut her up. They found their way into the tiny bed. Eventually Peter even found his way to sleep. Peter couldn't give Trish much of an alibi if she needed one. He woke up in the middle of the night and saw her sitting naked in his large plastic rocking chair. T he only light in the room was the glow of the light from her smart phone. The image was just a blur so he drifted off again.

Since it was a work day she was gone when he awoke. He skipped the cereal so that he could stop along the way to work for breakfast and warmup coffee.

The only restaurant open on the way to work was across from an auto dealer. Lots of people seemed to walk over from the dealer's building. He parked the trike on the sidewalk and went inside. 

There was seating inside for about twenty people. He could tell the building was from the fast food mold. Those kinds of buildings were all over town. High volume fast food had given way to the lower volume neighborhood cafe. He could imagine how much the rent had shrunk as well.

After breakfast he completed his ride to the office. Iva was in so he went directly to her cubby.

"Would you call your friend as the DOJ and request a copy of the Gold Digger investigation. The victim was named Miles Adair?" Peter suggested.

"What's this all about?" Iva the ugly asked. 

I know it sounds like I'm being sexist but she just looked so washed out and with her slightly crooked nose and really really bad hair it made her look like a witch. She also had a proclivity toward dark clothing.

"Are you caught up with our files?" she asked. 

"For the moment Helen is doing all the checks necessary," Peter said.

"Alright, I will forward your request. I am sure our contact at the DOJ wasn't expecting the requests from you to start so soon," she suggested.

"What better time to start testing the limits," Peter said turning to walk into the cubby with the coffee pot.

"How was your date with Trish," Helen asked as she entered the cubby we jokingly called he break room. It was larger than he others by a long shot. It also had a refrigerator with lots of bottled water. It was across from the old janitor's closet with the deep soapstone sink.

"We are interested in the same things now and then. The GoldDigger show is one of those things," Peter said.

"Be careful Trish is weird," Helen said.

"Oh," Peter said pretending he had no idea what she was talking about. "What makes you say that?" he asked.

"She called me after midnight to tell me either I had low standards or you were better with me than her," Helen said with a laugh. "I think she was probably bored."

"Bored?" Peter said. "Well maybe I fell asleep. Unlike you, she is not demanding."

"I will explain it to her when I get her alone," Helen agreed.

The two of them and the never ending files kept Peter busy as the Gold Digger marathon ended and time began to drag. 

Helen managed to track down the QE2 production company. Their office was in New York.

The unauthorized investigation now and then threw the three of us together outside of work. Since Helen's job would be in jeopardy if word got out, she was helping but keeping it quiet. Like someone had said, Peter's apartment became Catch a killer central.

While they waited for the files to arrive from DOJ, Peter finished recording all the Gold Digger series and Trish attended the IAD interview with Officer Waters. 

Trish explained that it might have ended in a draw had the facts uncovered by Peter and his crew not been introduced. After a day of questioning, everyone in the room knew that he had murdered Vickie's husband. He didn't want to give her up so he was going to take all the blame. He was still in love with her. Such were the complicated interactions of people in love. Trish never understood them.

The JustAct gang closed the file on Officer Waters and Vickie without being satisfied that justice was really done.

The files on the Gold Digger murder file showed up a few days later. Just before there was about to be a mass suicide from boredom.

Peter should have been thrilled since either Helen or Trish watched the shows with him and spent the night afterward. Truth was he was fealing cramped by the two of them.

There seemed to be a consensuses that after the file from DOJ arrived, they all would be looking into the murders.

The file arrived and it was filled with cold sterile facts. The story in that file was less than half what the Sheriff in the mountains knew. It was a start. 

Miles Adair had been shot with a .40 caliber hand gun. He was shot at close range. There was no evidence that he made any attempt to defend himself. He likely knew the killer and allowed him to drive up.

The cops surmised that it was a member of the production crew, so the camera man was suspect number one until they found he had an alibi and no motive at all. The farm road hadn't been scraped in years. Worse yet at the time it had been frozen off and on for months. There result was that there were no usable tire patterns in the packed dirt and frozen gravel surface. 

In the crime scene photos it appeared that Miles had been loading a drag sled to carry his supplies for the next part of the dig into the site. There were a set of pictures of the Gold Camp included in the file.

Peter made notes as he researched the file. He made a note to ask Louise Adair about the machinery on the work site. If she didn't know surely the cameraman did. 

He learned from the series that the gold mining operation broke even, but not a whole lot more. Louise was the only one who needed the money. Miles and Ada did it more to prove a point than anything else. 

Peter had been in Detroit for almost two months when he said to Helen and Trish, "It's time I talked to the usual suspects in the Gold Digger case."

"Not without me you don't," Trish answered.

"I would feel better if you went along," Helen said before Peter could object. "She can't protect you but she can call the cops. I would hate to think of you rotting in the mountains."

"Trish it will be diner food and cheap motels but since you aren't being paid I assume you can be gone for a couple of weeks," Peter suggested.

"Yes I can," she said with that rod up her ass voice.

"Well Helen we will miss you," Peter said.

Trish said, "Yes we will."

Helen asked, "So when you leaving."

"I need to rent a car. I have a fear of flying," Peter explained. His fear was of being seen in an airport.

"You don' t need to rent a car. We can use my car. You pay all the other expenses and we will be even," Trish said in that professor's voice she used often.

"Fair enough, how long will you need to be ready?" Peter asked.

"I can go home and pack my toothbrush and be at your place in and hour," Trish said.

"I was thinking more like tomorrow morning," Peter suggested.

"Oh," Trish said. "I can do that easily."

Peter's packing would consist of his toothbrush, some underwear, and his a wad of cash. He generally packed light, but this time it was going to be even lighter since he tended to have more dirty laundry than clean clothes.

"Why don't you come to my place tonight. If you do, we can do your laundry," Helen insisted.

"Sure, I will need to say goodbye," Peter said.



Internal Affairs Ch. 14



When Trish and Peter left on their trip to the small university town a couple of hundred miles from the mining site, they were going to be looking for Louise. The drive was eight hundred miles from Detroit to the town where Miles had lived. It took the best part of the day. Even in the big fancy sedan Trish furnished. 

Peter first found out about the big Lincoln sedan, when he met Trish in the parking lot of his place early in the morning. He stood looking out the window of the apartment building with his clothes for the trip in a larger version of his get away back pack. When she pulled up in the black Lincoln he didn't recognize her. She had to beep for him. He had expected the econobox she usually drove.

"So you are rich. I had a sneaking suspicion that you were?" he asked. He immediately flashed on the socialite parents, and a stern childhood nanny.

"I am not rich at all. I live on a small trust fund. I just have use of the family assets." Trish said. 

"Sounds like a nice life," Peter said.

"I'm twenty five years old and still live on an allowance of sorts. I have to ask to borrow the car for god's sake." she said as she pulled from the lot. "Can you imagine doing that?"

"Obviously not or I wouldn't be jealous." Peter replied.

Our plan was to ambush Louise, so we hadn't called ahead, which turned out to be a mistake. "Should we wait for tomorrow to approach her, or should we call now, or maybe just go over and risk it?" Peter asked Trish.

"Call her and ask if we can come over now," she replied.

"Maybe we should call her and Ada and try to arrange a breakfast meeting with both," Peter suggested.

"You tell me what you want to do. We can try any of those options," Trish agreed.

"Let's call Louise first, then check into a motel," Peter suggested. 

They stopped for dinner at one of the chain date night restaurants before they checked into the small older motel. Peter expected a hooker to be their neighbor, but it turned out to be a college student, and what was obviously a woman his mother's age at least.

Screwing for a better grade obviously, Peter thought but said nothing.

It was Peter and Trish's first night in a full sized bed. It was a treat. Some things just weren't possible in the cot he owned.

"They spent a lot of time enjoying the larger bed, so they overslept. They had made an appointment to meet Louise early the next morning for breakfast. It was her choice to invite Ada.

Peter and Trish had to skip their showers in order not to be late for the interview. "One of you must be Louise Adair," Peter said to the two women at the table by the window.

"I am Louise Adair, and this is our former business partner Ada Fine," the younger of the woman said. She had a stern look about her, but it appeared to be mixed with a lot of pain, Peter though. Louise looked sad but was attractive in that school girl way.

"It is good that you both could make it this morning. Trish, my associate, and I really appreciate it. Could you bring me up to speed about the last trip home before your uncle's death," Peter asked after the introductions.

"Uncle Miles came home for Christmas and stayed till New Years, then he went back to the mountains," Louise said. "There isn't a lot more to say."

"The shooting took place on a private road which led into the gold camp. Did your uncle say there had been any trouble, no matter how small at the claim?" Peter asked.

"He didn't mention anything," Louise said. "He did have some kind of hush, hush thing going on with Silvia from QE2. I thought they were dating and that it was cute." Louise said.

Immediately Ada jumped in. "It was nothing, they just spent a little time together." 

"I know Silvia is your daughter, but she and Uncle Miles were up to something. There were phone calls and whispered conversations that ended when anyone came in the room. That just screams conspiracy," Louise said.

"I'm sure it was just not wanting the crew to know they were sleeping together," Ada said.

"Did Silvia visit you Uncle at the home you shared," Peter asked.

"Who did you say you were with?" Ada asked.

"We are with JustAct. It is an independent legal advocacy group. It is authorized by the Department of Justice to act as an over site group." Trish said in her cold voice.

"Well we are done here I suppose," Peter said laying his card on the table. Call any of those numbers if you have any questions, or just need to talk." 

Peter got Trish out of the restaurant before Ada could pull out her phone and take his picture. He had knew it was risky but he had chance. When Ada started asking questions, he decided her daughter might be too much of a risk.

In the car Trish said, "We were about to find out something, why did we leave."

"We are going to have to separate them to find out anything. Their stories are different. Louise thinks something Miles did for, or with Silvia got his ass shot. Ada, who is Silvia's mother, thinks he was just screwing her. So we can figure that if Louise is right, Ada will only obstruct us."

"Okay, I can see that. So what is our next move?" Trish asked.

"We give her till lunch to contact us. If she doesn't you contact her to ask if she would like to talk just the two of you," Peter suggested.

"Deke, this is some serious shit. If one of the people offed Miles they might decide to do one or both of us," She said. 

"Yeah, are you having fun yet?" he asked. She actually smiled when she nodded her head.

Since there was no longer a production crew in town to interview, the two of them played Louise like a fish. The calls started in the after noon. First it was Ada. She wanted to talk to Peter alone. He agreed to meet her in the park on the university campus. 

He had a feeling that she wanted to interview him. She must likely wants to know what I know about her daughter, he thought.

Trish called Louise after Ada called. Louise agreed to meet her at an upscale restaurant and pub for a drink.

"It's cold on this park bench," Ada said.

"Tends to encourage people to get to the point," Peter replied.

"I suppose so," Ada said. 

"Silvia had nothing to do with Miles death," Ada said.

"You know this how?" Peter asked.

"She and I spent the day together," she said. "I told the police the same thing and they were satisfied."

"Did you also give them them the name of an independent party who could verify that?" Peter asked.

"Yes I did," she said.

"Let me guess the camera man," Peter said.

"As a matter of fact yes. She stopped in to see Silvia at my house while we were having lunch so I invited her to stay for a turkey sandwich." Ada said.

"Ada you know that isn't the best alibi, but it's better than none," Peter said. "I'm still going to New York to interview your daughter. If I find out you are covering for her," his voice trailed off when he realized the threat would not help.

"Do you know who did kill Miles Adair?" he asked Ada.

"If I did, I would tell Louise. I want her to bury this theory that Silvia or I had something to do with it," she said.

Peter decided he didn't like Ada, but he couldn't see her as the killer. Still there was the mama grizzly possibility. She would lie and probably go a lot farther if she thought she was protecting her daughter. 

Peter felt that it was most likely going to be a messy investigation. All murder investigations got messy. Unless the killer was a psychopath, there were all sorts of crap involved. He wondered how well the killer of Miles Adair had covered his or her tracks.

He walked back to the entrance to the entrance gate of the university where he was able to find a cab. The driver carried him to the motel for five dollars.

It was after midnight when Trish came in. She looked very relaxed. Peter knew the look. He had no idea what it meant since she had been with Louise for the last few hours.

"I was getting worried. What's the word on Louise?" he asked.

"She really wants to help," Trish said. She loved her Uncle. It was like you said according to her. No sex involved just two lonely people living in the same house. He left the house to her."

"Is it valuable?" Peter asked.

"Not really, it is just a small frame house outside of town. Certainly not a motive for her to murder her uncle," Trish said.

"I see. Maybe a jealous boyfriend did it. No, it was not a crime of passion. If one of the people here did it, they had to follow him four hours by car to do it. He or she would have had more than enough time to calm down." Peter said.

"Louise thinks he knew something on Silvia. She is convinced that Silvia is involved somehow." Trish said.

"So what is Louise like," Peter asked.

"I think she is telling the truth," Trish said flatly.

"Then unless something comes up, we will move off Louise. It's time for a road trip?" peter said.

"We are on a road trip now," Trish said being a little irritating.

"Alright, a side road trip," Peter replied with a smile.

They had dressed, or undressed for bed when Trish said, "I slept with her." As usual she used the same voice she used when she ordered pizza.

"I thought so. Like we keep reminding ourselves. We are not cops," Peter said. He fell asleep in Trish's arms.

Peter spent most of the night trying to figure it out. His wild imagination and knowledge of the facts told him that he didn't have enough facts.

He plugged the case file into the DOJ tablet, which he suspected was hardwired to the NSA. The idea was to read the police interview reports on all the participants.

Since Miles had been killed in a rural county after the crime scene investigation the sheriff's office turned the investigation over the State Police. Under the new organization there were regional detective offices. That being the case, Peter planned to move his review after reading the regional file yet again. He needed to determine if there was any reason to meet with the state Agents.

The state people had met Ada and Louise shortly after the shooting. They both started out on the radar because Miles had a .38 revolver which he hadn't tried to use. It appeared that he watched the other car drive up and park. The locals and the state men expected that he knew his killer. Since he didn't know anyone locally, they turned an eye on his partners.

Louise was interviewed and then eliminated. Since she had been with her parents for several days. Her alibi was solid. The investigators liked Ada for about a day, then decide to move on to Silvia. She alibi was the same as her mother's. It wasn't a perfect alibi but the cops couldn't break it. 

The other two possibilities were the camera people. One was part of the Alibi for Silvia and Ada. She had been in town waiting for Filming to restart after the holiday. The police hadn't known about her affair with Louise until they ran the names past Louise. Louise immediately admitted to the affair. 

According to Louise it was just sex not love. "Miles was cool with it," she said there was no reason for either of us to kill him." At least that was the quote from the report.

The male cameraman was interviewed while he was still in the area. According to him, he was supposed to meet Miles at the cabin in the gold camp. Unlike Miles he pulled a small camper along. His plan was to commute from the camper parked about two miles away on the fire road. The farmer who owned the land where the gold camp stood discovered the body while he was stile on the road. He had a credit car receipt for gas purchased two hundred mile away a half hour before the murder. The camera man genuinely liked Miles and there was no motive of any kind for him to end his life. 

The gun used for killing Miles never showed up so the case went cold after a few weeks. There were too many jurisdictions to really do an adequate job. If Miles had been a movie star or had caught the public attention it might have been different. Hell it might be different now that the TV series had been released. 

Peter couldn't decide where to go looking for the missing pieces of the puzzle. He needed to talk to the QE2 players. A quick call to New York confirmed that the camera people and the producers were in the field.

"So what now," Trish asked.

"Now we go back to Helen," Peter said. "We need her to do the computer search or Miles and the other' financial records.

When the two of them arrived back in Detroit the work week was almost over. Peter went into the office.

Since he had a stack of files to review he went through them quickly but carefully. Believe it or not the two things are not mutually exclusive. Just doing his job and ignoring the larger context cut the review time in half. 

Peter explained to Iva that he was still going to be coming and going for the next couple of weeks, then he cornered Helen to solicit her help with the records check.

"You know the cops did all this, why not just get copies of their reports?" Helen asked.

"I could kiss you," Peter said to Helen.

"Later," she said. "Like after dinner tonight. As a matter of fact. Why don't you pack up your laundry and we can do it after you take me to a nice dinner. Even better we can do it all day tomorrow it is Saturday." 

"You don't have to do that," Peter said.

"Hey Trish is younger and prettier, but I'm more useful." she said. "Not to mention more comfortable."

"No comment," Peter said. "I'll take off early and be waiting for you, clothes in hand, after work."

"Good you can use my machines, but tomorrow you are going to have to do the work. I am going to be busy reading the financial information for all the parties," Helen suggested.

"Fair enough," Peter agreed.

They had dinner and then each other. Peter slept very well in Helen's big comfortable bed. Like she had said Helen was like Trish's big sedan, comfortable.

After breakfast Peter retrieved the files from his DOJ furnished pad. It had the heavy encryption programs on it. Even though it was not a national security matter the information came from a huge research project DOJ ran. 

Seth had moved Peter's request along through channels probably because he felt needed to make up for almost getting him killed. Peter had bypassed Iva's clear directive that all DOJ requests had to go through her. It was getting pretty clear that the partnership between the two of them was finished. 

It also seemed fairly obvious that their days as employer and employee was wearing thin. He expected that if he didn't solve the mystery on the gold claim they were through.

"Well here is your smoking gun. Silvia made cash withdrawal from her business account. She made the five $9500 withdrawals, and one $5000. Even you can figure out that she paid for something more than a manicure," Helen said.

"Maybe she paid for someone to shoot Miles, while she at turkey sandwiches with her mother." Miles suggested. "So I'm going to go over the case notes again. Just to see if anyone picked up on it. Since she had an alibi, even if the people were all connected to her somehow, they might have given up on her as a suspect."

The police did what anyone else would have, they ran the best leads first. They most likely felt that Ada was the better lead. Hell, Peter even thought so.

Motives ran from jealousy. To secret gold deposits. it just depended on the time of day. Silvia's motives could also have been the same.

The fifty k added a new dimension. Miles didn't seem the type to be blackmailing her. His financial records were in order. At least according to Helen. No one seemed to have received the money. It looked more and more like hit man money.

Peter swore to himself that Silvia had some explaining to do, when he arrived in New York. 

The production staff from the Gold Digger show were busy working on a new show called 'Homefront'. That show was a family living in a Trenton NJ block of row houses. The family was doing a reenactment of how it was to live the 1939 life style. They had found a row house the had restored. The TV show money was going to be used to retire the dept. Peter was pretty sure that the show was going to require some creative editing.

Helen and Peter had amassed a hell of a lot of information that Saturday evening. They had also washed, dried, and folded a lot of clothes. By 6pm they had a line of inquiry and a place to start.

"I'm here for my update," Trish said as she entered the rear door of Helen small house.

"Well the DOJ did a dump on Helen. She has been organizing it since I downloaded it," Peter said. "She was able to find a money trail."

Trish turned her attention to Helen. It wasn't so much a trail as a bump in the trail. DOJ found a series of suspicious bank transactions that the state police missed for some unknown reason." Helen said.

"It's more like they didn't recognize the importance of them to their case," Peter added. "Police coordination between agencies is terrible. Access to the federal data base is essential for crimes covering multiple jurisdictions, It like the DOJ says. They gather info and store it, but without an investigation asking the right questions, the information just sits there."

"You are thinking she paid someone to shoot Miles Adair?" Trish asked.

"Unless she can explain it away, that's exactly what I think," Peter said.

"So are we headed for New York?" Trish asked. 

"No first we are headed to Philadelphia," Peter said. "I want to ask the camera people some pointed questions."

"I thought all your questions were pointed," Trish said.

"I'm sure it seems that way," He agreed.

After it was all explained to Trish, Helen brought out a bottle of wine. Peter stayed with coffee while the women began to relax. 

"So I hear you interviewed Louise Adair. What was she like?" Helen asked after the wine bottle was half gone.

Trish looked at Peter, he shook his head just a little. It was to reassure her that he hadn't told Helen any secrets.

Helen could tell she had hit an interesting vein of information. "A college girl living with a single uncle. There must have been some sexual tension there," Helen suggested.

"There was no indication of anything other than them sharing a house. She kept the place clean as payment for her rent," Trish explained. "I think she is a committed Lesbian. I'm not sure if she is bisexual as well, but she is lesbian for sure."

"Oh and how come you are so positive. Did you sleep with her?" Helen asked laughing.

"Yes," Trish said. Then she went on without a second's hesitation "Should I go for more wine?" 

"Honey, you are one twisted girl. I like that," Helen said.

Peter awoke Sunday morning to find Trish naked and with her back to him. He also noted that Helen was snuggled against his back side. Each of them had consumed the equivalent of one bottle of wine. He had no such excuse. He had been drinking only coffee.

He was not sure how they all ended up in bed, but he did remember the conversation leading up to it. Helen confided, "For all my big talk I have never slept with a woman."

"There has to be a first time for every thing. I can tell you from experience, it is only hard the first time," Trish said.

"So Louise Adair wasn't your first?" Helen asked.

"Yes she was my first, but what I said is still true. Doing each new thing with her was difficult. But it did get easier the next time." Trish explained in her emotionless voice.

The two of them began comparing experiences while peter surfed the internet. he went from one news site to the next for two hours while they drank. he had spent the night with Helen the night before. She stood behind him as he sat on the sofa then said, "You are invited to come to bed with us, if you can handle it."

Trish was already naked covered only by a sheet. The sheet was pulled up to her chin. Peter knew that she wasn't shy. So he figured she must be cold. It didn't take long for her to warm up.




Internal Affairs Ch. 14



Peter pulled Helen close only because she stirred. While he was busy caressing her from behind, Trish said, "I want pancakes." Helen and Peter both broke into laughter. Trish spoke again, "What?"

"Come on, let me take a shower and we can go to the IPD for pancakes," Peter suggested. 

Half an hour later, Peter looked across the table at Trish. She wore the same jeans she had worn to Helen house. Helen loaned her a much to large sweat shirt for the skinny ass Trish. They were separated by a ten years difference in age. There body types were totally different and so was there attitudes. 

While they ate their pancakes, Helen was all giggly and Trish was serious as a heart attack. Peter wondered again how he came to be sitting across from the two of them in a booth. Helen looked as if there might be something going on under the table. Trish looked as though she was enjoying the pancakes. She did make a quiet growling sound now and then. Peter had heard it before, so he realized she was sexually aroused.

The night before they had the 'boy was I drunk last night' excuse. Peter's had no excuse, except that he was just a dog

"Alright you two, one of you needs to drive me home." Peter said in the parking lot outside the pancake house. Peter had been the one to pay since he was the one with the most disposable income.

"I can do it," Trish said. She looked at Helen to see the disapproval in her eyes. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing, I just thought we would all hang out?" she asked. 

"You two hang out, I have to stop in the office to clear my back log. If I don't Iva the terrible will have a hissy fit, and rightly so."

"You are right. I should go in as well. I haven't touched a file in almost a week. I would rather go to New York and I hate New York," Trish said.

"I have plenty of exciting house work to do," Helen said with her face all screwed up in pain.

"I should get some cleaning supplies and work on my tiny little place as well," Peter said, "But I choose to read files instead."

"Iva will appreciate it, I'm sure," Helen said. Your cubicle is over run with files, none of which has your signature pink post it note attached."

"Okay Trish drop me at my place and I'll vacuum while I have the energy," Helen stated with a smile.

"Tell me something Trish," Peter said as they drove toward his place with her trunk filled with his laundry.

"Sure what do you wish to know?" she asked.

"I have never been to your place. You live with your parents don't you?" Peter asked.

Trish didn't answer for a couple of seconds which seemed like minutes. "Yes," she said simply.

"You have a maid don't you?" he asked not letting it go even though she seemed uncomfortable with it.

"Yes the family has maid service. I don't have a maid," she said.

"Oh do you do your own laundry?" he asked thinking about the bags of his clean clothes in the trunk of her car.

"No someone on the household staff does it. Peter before you go on, I know you don't approve of our lifestyle. My father wouldn't approve of yours either," she said.

"That's fair enough," Peter said and stopped talking. That short Q&A did explain why he had never been to her place. Why she would make love oh a tiny cot rather than a larger bed at her place. She had no place of her own. She was the dorky nerd from high school who hadn't moved on, at least in her head.

She had rejected her parent's life style, as we all do, but she couldn't force herself to leave the comfort and safety of the lifestyle either. In other words she was just as fucked up as everyone else, he thought.

Peter managed to drop his laundry in a couple of minutes. Since Trish was waiting in the car. he simple didn't put anything away. Actually she was on the cell phone when he returned. He caught the last few words. 

"Mother, I really have to go. I just wanted to let you know Peter isn't a serial killer." She gazed over at Peter when she said the last. "Love you to mother." 

Peter thought that it was too formal even for the rich and famous, but he said nothing. The drive to the office was short once they were back on the road.

"Let's call it a night. I'm tired of reading police reports. Besides Helen's in basket runith over," Peter said.

"Good idea, I have finished reviewing all the files that Heckle and Jekyll didn't get around to reading," Trish said. "So when do we leave for the east coast?" she asked.

"I plan to give Iva another day tomorrow, while Helen works out the details, then we either head for Philly or The Big Apple," Peter said. "Is it time to rent a car yet?" 

"Not unless there is something wrong with the Lincoln," she said.

"Not at all, I just didn't want to take anything for granted. So how about dinner?" he asked.

"I know you think I'm weird but how about take out. We can stop bye and pick up a pizza and a salad," she suggested.

"Sure," was his reply. He probable meant sure I think you are weird, but it wasn't what he said.

After dinner they watched a couple of week old TV shows streamed from the Web. Then they went to bed. They slept on the small cot all piled on top of each other.

"Tomorrow after work we need to buy another one of those things," Trish said pointing to the cot. "I want one of my own."

An hour later they stood in front of the boss's desk. "Well I see you rose from the dead. You two look awfully good for Zombies." she said.

"What? Did you expected us to check in with you," Peter said just before Trish apologized.

"Well, it would have been nice. So, are you back to stay?" she asked.

Actually I am trying to make contact with a company in New York called QE2. Once I talk to them, I will try to run them to ground," Peter said it trying to keep Helen out of it.

"Can I assume from the files in Helen's basket, that you will catch up on them all before you leave again?" Iva asked.

"I will review what I can before I leave again. I'm getting faster at it, but I will do what I can even if I don't finish," Peter said.

"Well since it's more than we had before, I guess I can't complain," Iva said clearly biting her tongue.

Peter hardly spoke to Trish. He did managed to find her in the break room a couple of times.

"Helen found the production crew. She got the location from the TV network. Then called the QE2 office. They agreed to set up interviews in Trenton New Jersey for us. I didn't know that Trenton was across the river from Philadelphia," Trish said.

"I did. I think I read it somewhere. So when do we need to be there?" Peter asked. 

"Wednesday Morning. Sylvia is even coming down from New York," Trish said.

"She is going to be there to make sure their stories match," Peter said.

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Because it is what I would do," Peter said.

"Yes I guess it is," Trish said.

"Helen wants us to have dinner with her tonight, since we will be leaving tomorrow." It was a simple statement of fact, since she knew I would not say no.

"Should we pack the car before we go to her place?" Peter asked. Trish nodded without showing the least bit of emotion.

It's going too be another nightmare of coordination, Peter thought. Trish dropped him at the thrift store first. He bought another cot, just like the first one. After walking it home in the cold he waited for Trish to arrive, then rode with her to buy an air bed before heading to Helen's for dinner. She had made a casserole from a good brand Mac and Cheese. Since her version had extra cheese and bacon, it was delicious.

After dinner neither of them pretended they needed alcohol to sleep together. Peter was sure that they had included him just so that he wouldn't complain. It was obvious that the two of them were experimenting. There was a hell of a lot of touching and feeling going on. He had to admit that it was nice to just stay turned on for several hours before falling asleep. 

They made for a strange looking group. There was Trish the mid twenties skinny blond with hardly any boobs. Then there was peter early thirties male who was carrying about twenty pounds of soft living on his once junkie thin frame. Last but not least was the 'around forty' Helen with her barn red hair, and voluptuous body. They weren't traffic stoppers by any means, but they were each mildly attractive and if taken as a whole an interesting mix.

When they were finished using Helen's one shower, thank god there was a half bath in the older house, They left the house in two cars for the drive to a family style restaurant for breakfast.

"Nobody knows me here," Helen said when they were seated.

"Why does that matter?" Peter asked.

"I am definitely going to want to kiss you both goodbye in the parking lot," she said looking at Trish with one of those ' stupid men' expressions.

The drive to Trenton put them on the outskirts at 8PM. The motel was an economy version of a commercial traveler's motel. It might still be a bit below what Trish was used to, but Peter didn't care. She could check them into a fru fru place when she paid the bill. 

Peter had the cell number for Silvia so he called to make arrangements. He had to leave a message. "This is Peter Sims of JustAct. I need to firm up a time for the interview of your production crew. Call me I think you have my cell number." Even so he left the number on her phone.

The call from Silvia at 10pm. "Hello," Peter said into the phone.

"This is Silvia from QE2. I think you want to talk to me?" the voice asked.

"Yes Ma'am," Peter said. "We would like a time that would be convenient to visit the Homefront location to interview your production crew."

"According to our schedule the father is going to be home at five tomorrow, but the wife will be in the row house all day."

"So what does that mean?" Peter asked.

"Jerri will be with the mother shooting all the things she does during a typical day. Mike will be at work with the father," Silvia informed him.

"I need an address for the father's work place. You could also warn the house camera person that we will be dropping in on her. We are hoping to finish with the two of them before noon."

"Certainly, but I was hoping we could get it all done before end of day. I know you want to talk to me as well as the production crew. If we arrange a meeting for say one, will you be finished by five. If no I will be forced to stay another day?" Silvia asked.

"I hope to be finished with the questions tomorrow as well," Peter said. "But we will have to wait to see."



Internal Affairs Ch. 15



Peter awoke with a terrible need to use the bathroom. There was absolutely no schedule in his life of late. I didn't help that he was unable to sleep through the night for some reason. It might have to do with two women in the bed with him moaning all night.

He had at least slept well the night before. He went to bed early and even Trish fell instantly asleep. Neither of them seemed to have missed their goodnight kisses. 

They took turns in the bathroom that morning beginning with Peter. After his shower he dressed in very casual clothing. He wore very cheep work clothes from Walmart's house brand line. 

After the shower he used the ten dollar electric hair trimmer on his hair and beard. When he had finished every visible hair on his body was the same length.  He looked like an egg which had been dropped on a the floor of a house with a short haired dog.

He and Trish left the motel room with their luggage. He hoped he would have no need for the room at the end of that day. Since they only had one car the decision to work together had been easy. They could work together on the interviews, if they didn't step on each others toes. The first decision to make was where to start. Their first decision of the day was to decided, not to decide till after breakfast. 

Since Trish was driving, she found a fast food joint for breakfast. From the drive thru window, her GPS directed them to a neighborhood park. The two of them sat in the park and ate breakfast inside the small car. The view was of a few mothers watching thier small kids play on the jungle gym.

"So which of the camera crew do we go for first?" Trish asked. 

"Let's get Jerri first. She, Silvia and Ada Fine share a common alibi. Hers is going to be the least likely to have changed. That is if she was telling the truth and can remember it." Peter said.

"You know Miles was shot. so either of the women could have managed it. I'm sure there was conflict, since Miles wasn't likely unhappy with Jerri. After all, according to Louise, Miles knew that Jerri was the one who turned her on to women. Her uncle was mostly likely old school." Trish said.

"True, but that seems like a pretty weak motive," According to Peter.

"If she is a radical feminist, she wouldn't need much of a motive," Trish said.

"Well we can assess her probability, but my money is still on Silvia somehow," Peter repeated.

"Trish when we get to the house you make the introductions," Peter demanded.

"Sure boss," she said.

They rang the twist bell handle sticking out a hole in the door. That handle was attached to the bell hanging inside the door. It might have been more turn of the century than the forties, but it was old for sure.

"Good morning," Trish said to the plain looking woman dressed in a kind of smock over her dress who answered the door.

"Come in, we have been expecting you," The very modern looking woman holding the video camera said.

"I assume you are Jerri," Trish said. "I'm Trish and this is my associate Peter."

"Nice to meet you both," she said.

"We need you to concentrate, could you put that camera down please?" Peter asked from behind the thick rimmed glasses he wore.  The glasses had been supplied by the DOJ equipment room. They were tinted just enough to distort the color and shape of his eyes. He also wore a hard rubber molar guard in his mouth which distorted the shape of his teeth and cheek bones. Both items were uncomfortable, so he hoped they could finish the interview with Jerri Quickly.

"Sure, so what do you need," Jerri asked aiming her question at Trish.

"How did you and Miles Adair get along?" Peter asked. He was trying to ruffle her feathers just a little.

"I had very little to do with Miles. I knew him of course and I filmed him a very few times when Eddie couldn't. Mostly Eddie did the out in the woods filming and I filmed the office work and the planning." Jerri said.

"We are going to see Eddie after we leave you," Peter said.

"How did you and Louise get along," Trish said.

Jerri looked at her a long time probably trying to decide what she knew. "Louise and I got along fine. So did Professor Fine and I."

"Did Miles get angry when he discovered you had seduced his niece?" Trish asked.

"Not at all," Jerri said. "I stayed with Louise several night, and he never said a word. You really don't think I killed him do you?" she asked.

"Right now everyone and no one is a suspect. You know it does seem strange that three people, who had close contact with the victim, all have the same alibi," Peter said.

"It might seem strange to you, but that's just what happens sometimes. As Freud once said, 'sometimes a turkey Sandwich is just a turkey sandwich." she said.  "Sometimes it just happens."

"Not as often as you might think," Trish said.

"So, do you have any idea who might have wanted Miles dead?" Peter asked.

"I thought that they had about decided that it was a moonshiner or pot farmer," Jerri said.

"I don't think so, but it's possible. We are going to give it a few more days then call it a lost cause," Peter said. He stood abruptly then added, "Thanks for your help."

In the car Trish said, "So is she a suspect."

"Everyone is. On a scale of one to ten, she is about a three based on motive and alibi. Maybe we will have better luck with Eddie, but I doubt it. We are just covering all the bases."

"They are fully invested in the Moonshiners/pot grower theory," Trish said.

"It has an appeal on many levels. It is a better TV angle than mistaken identity. Of course no one wants it to be one of the crew. That would be really bad for business," Peter said.

"I guess. So where too," Trish asked.

"According to Silvia, Eddie is filming the removal of a tree. The star of Homefront is a landscape contractor," Peter said. When thy arrived on scene he added, "He doesn't use reel type mowers or hand saws I see. So he isn't all that authentic." 

"Eddie," he said to the man holding the camera.

"Yes you must be Trish and Peter. Silvia said you were coming to talk about Miles." he suggested.

"Yes we are," Trish answered. "So what can you tell us. Did Miles seem to be worried about anything near the end?"

"No he seemed confident, but careful. He mentioned that there were strangers who might be dangerous. I was surprised when someone managed to get close enough to shoot him," Eddie said.

"Yes we are working on the theory that someone he knew pulled the trigger." Peter.

"Could be anyone," Eddie agreed. 

"It's a good thing you were on the road when it happened. Since you were spending a lot of time with Miles. All retired cops think they know everything," Trish said. She was getting the feel for the interrogations.

"He was very knowledgeable about the gold mining. He also kept me in the loop, so I didn't have to drag shit out of him. He was one of the better people I have worked with," Eddie said.

"So who killed him?" Peter asked.

"Just some random moonshiner," Eddie said. "That's what I think. Miles always said that if we had trouble it would most likely be from moonshiners, pot farmers, or a pissed off land owner. Since he had paid the land owner for the mining rights, it seems likely to be one of the others," he said. 

A few more questions and Peter gave up. Eddie knew very little it seemed. Since he was a video man he might be able to doctor his alibi file, but he just didn't seem to be hiding anything. Besides he thought Miles was still at his house. They were suppose to drive up together the next day, but Miles left early.

"So Silvia is the next one for us to interview," Trish said.

It was almost time for dinner when Peter and Trish arrived at the hotel room belonging to Silvia. She most likely realized how the interrogations were run. Being on her home field, even if it was a rental, made it much easier to refuse to cooperate. 

The first thing Peter did was to move the interview to the coffee shop. It was empty enough inside the coffee shop so that they could sit alone far from the other customers.

"Now you have your coffee, can we get on with it," Silvia demanded.

"Did you kill Miles Adair?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said. She stopped just as soon as she answered. She obviously intended to volunteer nothing.

"So, do you know who did kill him," Peter asked.

"If I knew who killed Miles, I would tell you. I really did like him," Silvia. It also cost us a lot of money. We had to take a dead loss on all the cost of production. We managed to salvage the first shows but we won't have a second season. That's a big deal.

"Do you have any idea who we should look at?" Peter asked.

"Not a clue," Silvia said.

"Well, there is one thing I need to ask you about. I'm hoping we can solve the problem before I need to get the Police to look into it," Peter said.

"Are you threatening me?" Silvia asked.

"Yes," Peter said then shut up.

"What do you think you know?" Silvia asked.

Well I know for a fact that you drew 50k from the bank. You don't seem like a drug salesman, so I have to assume it was most likely to pay someone to kill Miles. It wasn't found because the timing was all wrong for the local police. Once I put them onto your finances it will all unravel," Peter said.

"You can't prove I had anything to do with Mile's death, because I didn't." Silvia said. She also opened her purse and showed him fifty k in cash. It was for a business investment that got canceled. I was going to produce the show's second season myself.

"Well, I'm going to have to let the DOJ or the local police figure out about the money. No cop likes that much cash in a handbag. They are going to turn your life upside down looking for that money. The reason they will do that is I am going to claim you are giving aid to a terrorist organizations."

"Do I have your word that if I tell you, you will keep it in confidence," Silvia asked.

"Of course," Peter said.

"Like you said Miles was a former cop. I asked him to pay a man to keep a secret. He did that and a few days later he was killed. The man he paid lived three hundred miles from where Miles lived. He also lived seven hundred miles from where Miles was killed. I don't see how he could have had anything to do with Miles' death," Silvia said. 

"Write down where I can find him. I don't need to know what you were paying him to keep quiet, just tell me where to find him. I will try to interview him and if it checks out, you have seen the end of me." Peter said.

"Then I'm sure I won't be seeing you again," Silvia said.

"Did you know Jerri and Louise were sleeping together. She seduced Louise," Trish said.

"That has nothing to do with me," Silvia said.

"Unless you planned to use her as a way to add drama to the show. Louise told me that you guys were all about the drama." Trish added.

"What has that got to do with Miles' death?" Silvia asked.

"Truth is you just never know," Peter said. He had no idea what difference it made, but he was not going to allow her to intimidate Trish either.

Trish was back behind the wheel of the Lincoln when she said, "I think she is lying."

"Hell they are probably all lying. This trip was all about gathering information. What we do with it once we analyze it, is where the art comes in," Peter said.

"I have a feeling that you aren't kidding. You have a feel for this shit don't you?" Trish asked.

"Well I have some unique incidents in my back ground that makes it possible to weigh all the possibilities," Peter said.

Two hours into the drive home they stopped at an economy motel. The owner seemed to be Persian. The motel itself seemed to be more upscale than the mom and pop version of a middle eastern motel. The lobby didn't smell of exotic food for one thing, thank god.

Peter and Trish finally made love that night. Since the mission was accomplished, Peter wasn't nearly as wound up. Relaxing was the secret to making love, at least it was for Peter.

The next morning they took turns in the bathroom. With Trish it took over an hour just to get her in and out of the bathroom. Since the interviews were over, they were in no hurry to get out the door of the motel and on the road.

On the way back to the highway they almost passed a Waffle House. Instead of driving by it Trish did an abrupt turn into the parking lot. Peter found the food adequate, Trish on the other hand ate like a lumberjack. She usually did he active sex mused.

"At least you have a good appetite," Peter commented.

"I like breakfast, after sex," she said. 

"I'll bet you love the Sunday brunch in those fancy places in your usual world," Peter said.

"What do you mean by that?" Trish asked.

"Go into any breakfast restaurant, especially high end ones, on a Sunday morning. You well find several couples where either the man or the woman is in jeans. The other half of the couple will be in his or her fancy date outfit. " Peter said with a laugh.

"Ah I see. I will have to remember to carry a pair of jeans and sweat shirt when I go out henceforth." Trish said very seriously. "So now do we go home?" 

Trish often changed subjects abruptly. The new subject never failed to catch Peter off guard.

Well it's either that or we push on to the south-land again. The murder site is two hundred miles closer than the university was. Unfortunately both are almost a thousand miles from Michigan," Peter said. "We can go home and rest up and help Iva with the work for a while. We can also make better plans after I have digested this latest stuff. There is almost certainly something I'm Missing," Peter said.

"Something we are missing, I'm a full partner," Trish said angrily.

"What has got your cage all shaky?" Peter asked.

"Oh, Just the blank future after all this time. For some reason nobody wants to hire me," she complained.

"I certainly can't understand that," Peter said looking out the window. "You do know your people skills need work."

"I know but I'm just not good at that kind of thing," she said.  They began their drive for home late that morning. The two of them spent one more night in a trucker's motel along the interstate highway.

Peter held her all night the night. She didn't give up a thing, but he knew she was hurting. She cried but it was very ladylike. Tears leaked from her eyes but she remained calm.

Since Peter's plans for the investigation's future were very fluid, he allowed himself to over sleep. The two of them left the motel around 10am. They had coffee in their room from the brewery machine supplied with the room. It made one cup of coffee at a time, so it was a time consuming process for Peter. 

"This coffee in this wasn't bad just a lot of trouble," Peter said to no one at all.

"This from the man whose coffee ritual is more labor intensive than the whole gold digger operation was," Trish said. 

"True, but I make several cups of coffee at a time. This is the whole thing for one single cup of coffee," Peter explained to her.

"Yes but each cup is fresh," Trish said defending her position.

"How stale can your coffee get in ten minutes," Peter said.

"We should decide to disagree before world war three breaks out," Trish said in her dead voice. Even that harmless comment was out of character for her.

"Fair enough we have a long drive home, so let's get to it," Peter suggested. The drive wasn't all that long at all for a trucker, but it was for them.

They drove most of the day to arrive in Detroit in time to advise Iva in person that they would be returning to the office the next day. They also really wanted to see Helen.

"So did you miss us?" Peter asked Helen.

"Let's see. I had time to clean my house, So not really. You have only been gone a couple of days. Now I might have gotten horny, if you had been gone longer," she said with a smile.

"Do you want to go out for dinner or should we bring something over?" Peter asked.

"Let's eat take out," Trish suggested while standing in front of Helen's desk. She looked like a kid called into the principals office.

"Find something other then pizza and you have a deal," Helen agreed.

"I need to go by the apartment to be sure it hasn't been broken into or anything," Peter said.

"Then you two do your little thing, whatever that is, then come be a geek bearing gifts. I will throw the junk in the corner to make room for our feast. You Peter Sims can play with your computer and plot after dinner. Trish and I will find some way to amuse ourselves," Helen said smiling at Trish.

"Have I just been told to sleep alone tonight?" Peter asked with a smile.

"Not at all, just to allow us some girl time," Helen explained.

"We need some structure once this case is finished," Trish said.

"What kind of structure, like a schedule?" Helen asked.

"Yeah, am I allowed to be here on odd days of the month," Peter asked with a laugh.

"Nothing like that, I just think we don't need three separate apartments," Trish said."

"Trish you don't even have one apartment," Helen said.

"Well I want one now," Trish said. "I passed the bar, I'm sure I will get a job soon. In the meantime I have a little trust fund income. I would pay my share of the expenses. I just think we should all move in together. We can get our itches scratch safely." 

"Well it would solve that awkward first date thing," Helen said. "I don't know about Peter?" 

"Yeah what about Peter. What's in it for me." Peter asked.

"Clean clothes, hot food, and hot and cold running sex, what more could any man ask for?" Trish commented.

"Well, I have to admit it sounds good. It's not like I'm giving up my dream apartment or anything," Peter said. The truth was that it was a small upgrade. The downside was he would be expected to fix the dripping sinks and her house badly needed painting. He would also likely need an automobile to get around. For him it would be a lot of trouble for sure initially, but it did have the washer and dryer. The move also had the hot meal thing going for it. Peter decided to leave it to Helen, he would just go along.

Helen said, "The problem is that there is only one full bath."

"If we are all going out to dinner at the same time, that could be a problem," Peter said reasonably.

"There is that half bath in your bedroom," Trish said to Helen. "So there won't be any accidents."

"You are persistent, but if we do this we are going to need rules," Helen said.

"My god do you intent to have a no shoes in the house rule. If you do it's deal breaker," Peter said.

"No but one rule is you keep your shit in your own space. You also must clean up after yourself," Helen informed Peter sternly.

"Oh I see," he agreed. "So what do you think?" 

"I don't know it will probably work," Helen said. "But you two get this straight I'm your lover, not your mother." 

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Trish said.

"So sit down and figure what it's going to take to make this work money wise," Peter demanded. 

"I can tell you right now the fixed expenses run just under $1,500," Helen said.

"Part of the appeal was home cooked meals," Peter said.

"It might have been home cooked meals, but there was nothing about me being the one who cooks them. You can use my kitchen, if you want. But only if you clean up after yourselves," Helen said.

"Why are you being such a hard ass Helen?" Trish asked.

"Because I have raised two kids and now I'm free. I am willing to have you two as roommates, but like I said I'm not going to be your mother."

"Works for me," Peter said. 

After a week Peter enjoyed everything about his new living situation. That only thing he didn't like was giving up the apartment. He had a feeling that he would be regretting it. He might even have kept it except that the women talked about a lack of commitment as if that were a bad thing.

The three of them lived and worked together for several weeks mostly because he couldn't seem to catch a break at work.  The volume of new cases was just awful. Since he didn't have a clue where to go next on the gold digger murder, he just kind of drifted along until deep in February.




Internal Affairs Ch. 15



All that changed when Helen came to his cubicle on the last day of that short month. It had been over two years since the murder. "I found were that dude who was blackmailing Silvia can be found," she said.

"Well give it up," Peter said.

"The not so gentlemanly friend of Silvia's was killed in a holdup gone wrong, He was only twenty two at the time. The convenience store clerk must have looked like easy pickings to him. When demanded the clerk give up the money he didn't expect the clerk to resist," Helen said.

"Let me guess," Peter said. "He wasn't a clerk at all, he owned the store?" 

"Exactly and he made up for his inability to fight, or chase down mischief makers in other ways," Trish guessed, since she was standing behind Helen.

"You two take all the fun out of giving you the news. The seventy year old man Said, and I quote. 'I whipped out my piece and shot the punk,' "Helen explained.

"Good for him, but bad for us," Trish suggested. "Dead men tell no tales."

"I didn't have much faith in him as a suspect anyway," Peter revealed. "He would have no way of knowing when, or where he would find Miles. I think our best bet for a next move is to visit the scene of the crime."

On Friday Peter dropped the news on Iva. At the end of the day he would be leaving for a visit to the spot where Miles' body had been found.

"You know, you really need to decide whether you want to work here or not. I mean, you just take off for a week or two at a time," Iva said.

"Okay, I'll give it some thought during this trip," Peter promised. He did not change his plans.

Trish came walking out of her cubicle at the sound of their voices. "What is going on?" she asked.

"Are you going on the road trip as well?" Iva the terrible asked.

"As a matter of fact I am. We aren't sure how long we will be gone. The good news is after this one, we don't have any idea when or where we will go next," Trish said honestly.

Iva walked away in disgust. If Trish's family were not so connected to JustAct, she might have given Trish the veiled ultimatum as well. Instead she made noises as she walked away.

Peter and Trish had worked diligently since their return a couple of months before. That being the case, Peter didn't feel any guilt at all, and if Trish did, she didn't show it.

Since Helen's kids were on the way home from college for the weekend, she wanted the three roommates to take at least at least a couple of nights off from their relationship. She planned to spend to spend the weekend with her kids in her house.

Trish agreed to attend a fancy dinner party at her parents mansion on Saturday night since she had to be away from Helen's. She grudgingly agreed to allow Helen's son to sleep in her bed Friday and Saturday nights.

"Trish can be so strange," Helen admitted with a smile. "I had to agree to clean her room completely after the kids left." 

"Well, they can use mine and won't even need to clean it when they leave. Hell they can even leave a couple of their stray girls behind," Peter said.

"Easy Peter," Helen said with a grin. "Term will be over in a couple of months," 

"Well I can find a place for the summer," Peter said. "Trish can always move home for a couple of months."

"I was hoping you would might do something like that. You do know you are the bestest," Helen replied.

"I will probably need a break from all this free love by then," Peter said trying to downplay it. It actually played to his benefit, since he was trying to keep the relationship as casual as possible.

Since Peter and Trish had gone to Helen's during lunch to pack, after work they went directly to the Days Inn to check Peter into the motel for the weekend. 

The plan was simple. Trish and Peter would spend Friday night in the motel. Then go to breakfast Saturday morning before Peter dropped Trish at the mansion on the hill. He would have the use of the car until Sunday, when he would pick her up again for the road trip.

Since Trish was a bit of a clean freak, Peter drove to a real restaurant Saturday night. If there were going to be any take out stains in her car, they would be hers not his. He also no longer drank, so the car was not likely to have any serious damage, he rationalized. 

When he left her at her house, he realized that he hadn't driven a car in several months. It was nice to just drive where ever he wanted without doing any calculations about how far he could make it. Gas engines were good for that at least. They had even come a long way as far as reliability. Even so the small engines were still basically unreliable.

After dropping Trish Peter went to the hardware store. There were several other errands he used it for as well. Finally he ended with a trip to Helen's. Once there he had dinner with Helen and her children. He willingly submitted himself to an interrogation.

The boy and girl college students spent most of their time sending and receiving text messages or checking on their facebook pages. It was ridiculous and he decided right there to never go out if public with them. It also didn't help that he had nothing to say to them after "Hello".

Peter was in bed by 11pm. It wasn't the first time he had slept alone since 'the arrangement' but it was one of the few. 

He was surprised how easy it was to sleep knowing Helen and Trish weren't in the house. The three of them seldom shared a bed. There was usually a random pairing based on nothing at all.

After lunch on Sunday Peter drove to the mansion on the hill. He called her while on the road, "So you ready to return to the great unwashed?" he asked.

"I am so ready," she said. "However there is a problem."

"Oh?" Peter asked.

"My dad insists on meeting you," Trish said.

"I don't do 'meet the parents'," Peter said. It had as much to do with his personality, as it did with protecting his cover. The cover ID was the important consideration.

"Peter, if you don't do this he is going to hire private investigators to research you. It would be best to just meet with him and convince him we are just work colleagues," Trish assured him.

"Five minutes, no more," Peter said as he pulled into the drive.

It was twenty minutes later when he placed a suitcase into the trunk of her car. "What's that?" she asked pointing to the closed box.

"It's my coffee making kit from the apartment," Peter explained. "I thought I would take it on this trip. If you don't have some warm clothes packed, you should maybe pack them."

"You told me that already. That's what is in the suitcase which you just put in the trunk," Trish explained.

They were almost at the motel when she asked, "So what did you think of my father."

"He was what I expected," Peter said. 

"I'm sure I will hear his opinion of you whether I like it or not," Trish admitted.

"Of course you will. You are his daughter after all," Peter explained.

The plan had always been to leave for the mountain where Miles died immediately. They were well on the road when Trish got the call from her dad.

"Peter watched her make faces as she listened to his opinion of their relationship. Her father didn't like it of course. Peter wonder how her father would react, if he knew the extent of Trish's depravity.

"It's official he hates you," she said.

"That's strange it usually takes at least two meetings before people hate me," Peter said with a smile.

"No, that's a good thing," she said with a giggle.

"If you say so," Peter agreed.

"They drove until midnight, then checked into a highway motel. They slept in the same bed but kept their distance. It had been a long trying weekend."

Over a late breakfast the next morning Trish asked, "I wonder how Helen's weekend went?"

"The kids seemed curious about our relationship," Peter explained.

"So what did she tell them?" Trish asked. 

"She told them that, I was in Detroit temporarily to help review cases for the DOJ. I asked to be a housemate for a while and she agreed." Peter replied.

"What about me," Trish said.

"You, she explained. Needed to get away from your parent for a while. She explained to the kids that she knew us both from work, so she was sure we were harmless. She needed the help with their college expenses. I think she added that god knows their father was no help," Peter explained.

"Yeah, that sounds like Helen for sure," Trish said.

They rode in silence for a long time. The introspection passed too quickly for Peter. It was interrupted by Trish's speaking.

"Iva the terrible gave you an ultimatum didn't she?" Trish asked.

"Yes she did," Peter said. "It wasn't quite that strong, but it pretty much was. She just lacked the courage to deliver it with the strength needed. It is what it is though."

"What are you going to do," Trish asked.

"No idea at all," Peter replied.

"My dad had a long talk with me over the weekend," Trish said.

"Oh yeah, is he going to spring for the personality transplant," Peter said cruelly. He had no idea why he had done that.

"Not funny Pete," she said knowing he didn't like to be called Pete. "You do know you can be a dick?"

"Your language has really gone down hill since you began hanging out with me," Peter said with a chuckle.

The mood in her econobox was not at all contentious, but it was cooler than usual. Something was hanging over them like a sword.

They stopped for dinner then drove a couple of more hours to get to within fifty miles of the highway exit for the gold camp. Peter smiled everytime he thought of the operation as a gold camp, but he had to call it something.

Since Trish drove, Peter used the tablet attached to her wireless carrier to research the area. He found that when they turned from the interstate onto the state road they would come upon a local motel. From the motel it was still an hours drive, on a state road, to the site of 'Gold Camp'. The motel staff would surely know where the local residents could be found.

It was well after dark when Trish pulled onto the exit ramp which led to the state road. The motel was not one of those quaint places with local charm. It was instead a two story concrete block warehouse for people. Most likely it began life forty or so years before as an econlodge, or some such thing.

The parking lot restaurant was still operating at an average small town diner level. After they checked into their barely adequate room, they went to the restaurant to have an only adequate dinner.

Though the motel owner seemed to be an immigrants, the restaurant owner seemed to be a local businessman. At the time he was working the register so Peter tried to engage him in conversation.

"So did you know any of the production people for the Gold Digger show?" he asked as he checked out.

"Yeah, the cameraman stayed at the motel. Also when the producer came to look over the site she stayed as well. They also seemed to come in every couple of days to sleep in a bed and to shower," The owner said. "The waitresses talked to them more than I did. Come back in the morning and talk to Jill, she got the camera man to film her. He promised to show her film to the producer when he got back to New York. I don't know what she promised himin payment." The manager said with a smile.

"Any other strangers hanging around when the miner got himself killed?" Peter asked. 

"We get a lot of strangers here. Jill will know better than me." The owner said looking past Peter since there was a customer wanting to check out.

Peter and Trish went to their room for the night. Since Peter had seen the small microwave in the room he unloaded his box of coffee making materials.

He set about making coffee two cups at a time. Trish waited until the first of the foul brew was made before she spoke. "So what are you thinking?" she asked.

"We need to hike into the Gold Camp and take a look. Most of the police effort was spent on the crime scene. We should talk to the sheriff's office to see the evidence and determine what they did, but we should also hike into the camp to see what, if anything is there."

"You know the murder was over two years time ago. "Since it happened so long again I bet the passing of time has wiped away every trace of Gold Camp," Trish said.

The fact that Trish called the place by his nickname didn't get by Peter. "Maybe but even that might tell us something. So which do you want to do first," he asked her.

"Is this another of your subtle test questions," Trish asked.

"Of course," Peter replied.

"Cops first, then the scene, then the Gold Camp," Trish commented.

"Very good, was it a guess?" he asked.

"Not quite, I thought we should know as much as possible before we visit the scene and the cops have most of the available information here." Trish said.

"Excellent thinking," Peter said. "I want you to drive by the road to Gold Camp before we go to the sheriff's station. Just so we know what to ask."

"Fair enough, So do you want to have sex with me tonight?" They were getting to be friends again, but she was still so cold. 

"Sure, how do you feel about it," Peter said.

"Of course, or I wouldn't ask," she acknowledged.

It made sense. It was almost like a teenage boy asking a girl, If I kissed you would you be upset, Peter thought.

The next morning the two of them left early for the Gold Camp road. They did stop at the restaurant in the parking lot but found Jill wasn't working and no one else knew about the production crew. They didn't stay for breakfast. 

They also didn't see another restaurant during the drive to the Gold Camp turn off. It made Peter think his decision had been a poor one, when he decided to wait for a place closer to gold camp. They found nothing of interest near the Gold Camp turn off either, so they began to followed the GPS's instructions to the Sheriff's substation.

They did find a crossroads dinner near the Sheriff's office, which sold sandwiches of all kinds. The diner also sold breakfast biscuits all day along with their several sandwiches. He and Trish ordered coffee and a biscuits, then they talked to the waitress and grill cook.

"Did any of those TV production people eat here a couple of years ago. The ones making that Gold Digger show?" Trish asked.

"That camera man and the one who got himself killed ate here a few times, not toward the end though," the grill cook said.

Then a few minutes later they found themselves at the Sheriff's substation.

"So, you are the guy from DC. What can we do for you?" the chief deputy asked.

"I want copies of everything you have on the Gold Digger murder," Peter said. Oh yeah all the 911 and dispatch taped to and from the deputies around the time of Murder all the way up till the body was found," Peter said.

"Why do you want that?" the chief deputy asked.

"That is an incomplete record of that night, but they are the only things available. You never know what might turn up." Peter said. 

"Sure, I will have the 911 and dispatch calls sent to you. I have the case file copy for you now." He said that handing Peter a flash drive.

Since Peter had called the day before, even though it had been a Sunday, the word had managed to filter down. Actually there were several words. He wanted to see the Deputy who handled the crime scene investigation, as well as any evidence list, and all the paperwork. 

Deputy Silas presented herself to Trish and Peter. "Would you like a cup of coffee?" Peter asked. He made it obvious that he wanted her alone for the interview. He just didn't want it to happen in an interrogation room. The female deputy agreed to meet them in five minutes at the same diner where they had breakfast.

"You back again?" the grill cook asked.

"Coffee was so good, I couldn't stay away," Peter said.

Both tables were so the three of them carried their coffee to the one farthermost from the door for their talk.

"So Deputy Silas what time did your start shift that day," Peter asked.

"I was working 7a to 3p," she said.

"Remind me what was the victim's time of death?" Peter asked.

"The time of death was about noon but the body wasn't found till just before 3pm. I got the call and was pissed I had to work over. According to the man standing by on the scene, he was supposed the cameraman and was supposed to meet the victim in the afternoon for the trip in, but the victim arrived way early. When the cameraman arrived he found the vic had been dead for some time," the deputy explained.

"So he had to leave home around 6am to get to that spot near noon. Why would he leave home so early, when he wasn't supposed to arrive till later in the afternoon," Peter asked aloud but to know one. "Maybe it was nothing but a wild hair up his ass to get moving."

"I have no idea. There was no indication why the Victim was in the woods at the time. His sled was half loaded when he was shot." Deputy Silas replied even though Peter didn't aim the comment at her.

"Tell me something," Trish asked. "Miles mention moonshiners and pot growers were in the mountains, were they really dangerous,"

"More so in the summer than in January. The pot farmers would be in grow houses so not likely to be in the woods at all. During the summer yeah they are a problem."

"How about the shiners?" Peter asked.

"They are active when the foliage covers them from the drones," Silas said.

"Is there anyone else in the woods who might be dangerous?" Peter asked.

"If your man walked up on a grow operation or one being set up, it could be dangerous. Our deputies have been fired on in the woods more than once," Silas said. "One was even hit."

"Tell me this, did the TV show advise you that Miles was going to be in the area?" Peter asked.

"If they knew, nobody ever told me," she said. 

Peter got a chill. She had just parsed her words. She could have been covering her own ass, and knew nothing, or she could have been covering her ass because she suspected something. Peter didn't answer he just looked at her hard.

"I guess that's all," Trish said.

After Deputy Silas left Trish asked, "What now?"

"We do what we do best. We start to research. You find out who all was on duty with the Sheriff's department that day," Peter demanded.

"You have a theory, don't you," She asked.

"No, I have some questions. You find out who was working for the Sheriff that day. I'm going to walk the ground where the Gold Camp was located. Oh yeah find out who those deputies are who were shot at during their tramp in the woods," Peter said.

After breakfast the next morning Peter left Trish working on her research tasks while he stopped for coffee at the diner nearest the Gold Camp. Peter make a call while he drank coffee. 

He was in the field when he got the call. "So you got my answers." he asked.

"Look for a pump in the creek, and some hose leading up from the creek. If there is a cabin and some metal tables around, it might look like someone preparing the ground for a grow plots when the trees fill out in the spring. 

"If I have all that it could look like someone is getting it ready to plant when the weather breaks?" He asked.

"Yes it could," the voice on the phone replied. 

As Peter said thank you, he was staring at the pump used to carry creek water to the small metal tray used to wash rocks. He was also looking at the generator and Propane tanks used to keep the miners shack livable in the winter months. Peter had that bad feeling again. He didn't like what he was thinking, so he was sure the others weren't going to like it either.

"Can you get me that Satellite feed from Jan two years ago," Peter asked the DOJ voice.

"I will have it for you tomorrow," the voice said. You know you are going to owe me big time."

"Okay, but you know secrecy is important." Peter replied.

"I know Peter, don't worry. You just remember to hide behind that lawyer that you drag along," the voice said.




Internal Affairs Ch. 15



Peter got back to the motel in the late afternoon. He began to school Trish in what he suspected happened. She verified one of the Sheriff's investigator who had been shot at was working the day Miles died.

"So Deputy Diggs killed Miles," Trish asked.

"It's just a theory with not even circumstantial evidence backing it up at this time," Peter said. 

The two of them made love that night, then fell asleep exhausted. The time drifted by until the commotion in the parking lot woke the two of them. There was a sunset type glow in the sky over the parking lot at 2am.

Peter rolled from the bed and walked naked to the windows. He saw Trish's econobox burning across the parking lot. He was glad he had taken Witness Protection 101 in DC. Seth's people had stressed never take a ground floor motel unit, and never park your car overnight in front of your motel unit or apartment.

He resisted the urge to rush outside and catch a bullet for his trouble. Instead, while keeping as calm as possible, he walked to the sleeping Trish and said, "I think you are going to want to see this." 

It was time she realized it wasn't just an intellectual game in which they were involved. He waited beside the bed until she was awake then led her to the window. He restrained her as the fire truck finally arrived.

"What the fuck happened?" she asked in a voice most women would use to advise her husband that she was going to the store. Her words were emotional but the tone was just dead.

"Glad to see you aren't going to get all gushy about it," Peter said.

"Why should I. It's insured and even if it weren't, it's just a car," she said, way to logically.

"Most women would feel violated," Peter said, then changed the subject. "We need to see the parking lot CCTV tape before the cops do." After he spoke Peter dressed quickly then slipped the .38 wheel gun into his belt under his parka before leaving for office. The whole family was present in the lobby and looking out the window.. 

"I'm staying in room 213. That is my car that is burning out there in the parking lot. I want to view the surveillance tape," Peter demanded. 

There was something in his voice which made the motel owner comply. The old man gave him the security code to view the tape online. It showed a full sized SUV pull through the parking lot. When it reached Trish's econobox, the passenger threw a liquor bottle filled with gasoline on top of the smaller car. The bottle was followed by a road flare. The small car went up with a whoosh. There was no sound but Peter remembered hearing the sound in his sleep. Maybe he just imagined that he had heard it. 

Peter sent Seth at the DOJ a link to the tape, before it got 'lost'. Then he went back to their room to await the local police. He found Trish on the phone at 2am. "Who are you talking to?" he asked.

"Daddy would never forgive me, if I didn't call," Trish said.

"Well, give the old bastard my love," Peter said.

"My insurance company's claims agent?" She asked genuinely confused.

"Sorry, I forgot," Peter said shaking his head. Peter heard only her end of the conversation, so he wasn't sure of the timing, but it appeared that the agent was going to arrange for a car to be delivered to the motel. She also seemed to agree to forward copies of the police report and pictures of the burned out shell to the company.

While Trish did all that, Peter made coffee. He even gave her one of the cups while they waited for the cops. "I bet you never hear the end of this," Peter said.

"I bet you are right. Daddy will try to have a body guard accompany me every where," she said.

"That might not be a bad idea," Peter said. He said it even though he knew it would be overkill.

"Don't you get all protective of me," she said. "It's the things I like best about you. That you expect me to pull my own weight."

A knock on the door prevented any further discussion. The two cops came into the room. They gave their names, which Peter ignored. They got all the fact while giving nothing away. Standard police bullshit, Peter thought.

"So any ideas what happened?" Peter asked.

"Since you don't have any enemies, it's hard to say. Maybe a case of mistaken identity," the older cop said. "Probably all over now, still it might be a good idea to at least change motels."

"Sounds like good advice," Trish said in her cold flat voice. Peter knew that she was being sarcastic. She waited until they left then said, "Fucking cops."

"At least that," Peter agreed. "So do we go home and do the rest of the research from there. We can have all our ducks in a row when we come back to spring the trap."

"Are you that confident," Trish asked.

"Not at all, but the odds just shortened a little. If we were miles off base, no one would bother to try to scare us off. The cops are the only ones who knew where we were staying. They had the access to the DMV records to recognize the car. The problem is there were two people used in the Bombing." Peter explained it patiently.

"So they were cops," Trish said.

"Either that or cops provided the information they acted on," Peter explained.

"Do you trust anyone?" Trish asked. "Or do you doubt everyone... No don't answer that."

"Trish, I will rent a car to finish this. It is getting to be dangerous," Peter said.

"No hell you don't. You don't get to drag my ass all over the eastern seaboard, then dump me at the finish line," she said. It came out just as unemotional as everything else she said.

"Very well," Peter said. "But I'm sending your father a text message."

"Go ahead, believe it or not I do say no to him quite often. If I didn't, I wouldn't have met you. He wanted to buy me an internship in Craven and Craven," Trish said.

"And they are," Peter said.

"I huge, corporate practice," Trish informed him.

"Well I'm glad you didn't let him. You are a great friend," Peter said.

"Friend? Why you ass. I hope we are more than friends," Trish said.

"If we are more than friends, what does that make you and Helen?" Peter asked.

"I guess that is another thing we need to work out when we get back to Detroit," Trish suggested.

"As I keep telling you, you need to go back now," Peter said.

"I'm staying at least till you figure out how to proceed. I am not leaving you stranded here," Trish said.

Things started to pop just before lunch. At eleven the rental car was delivered. While Trish returned the driver to his office, Peter sent a text message to Seth at the DOJ. He explained his theory to Seth. He didn't know if Seth would take his hobby investigation seriously or not.

The text he received later that day was simple. Book one room at the motel for a DOJ investigator.

Even Trish knew they were about to get hijacked. Unlike Peter she was livid. Peter had messaged Seth because he could not afford to have his cover blown. Which it would be, if the TV News cameras got wind of the story. It was most likely that they would.

"Paris Henson," the woman at the door said. Then she added, "I'm from the government and I'm here to help you."

"At least you have a sense of humor," Peter said with a smile.

"Oh, you thought I was joking," Paris said. She waved an FBI ID card in Trish's face.

"Well, I'm Trish and this is Peter. What makes you think we need help?" Trish asked still not happy by the intrusion.

Young lady, I am here on orders, if you have a problem have Mr Rabbit here send a text to the boss," she said it before Peter could explain.

"What does Iva have to do with this?" Trish asked.

"She didn't mean that boss, I have a friend at the DOJ from the old days. He is her boss not mine."

"Whatever," the older, heavier, Paris said. "Whoever you are Mr. Rabbit, you are supposed to walk me through the so called evidence, then we can make a plan to try and prove it."

First Peter reeled off the players from the TV shows and their positions in the list of suspects. "That is only for background, since we pretty much eliminated them." He also gave their alibis to explain why they were eliminated.

"That missing blackmail money needs to be looked into," Paris said.

"We researched it, but never could find what Miles, or the Blackmailer did with the unaccounted for portion of it. It is just a dead end." Peter explained.

"Okay so what do you think happened. I'm told by my boss that you have a bazaar theory," Paris said.

"We do," Trish said.

"Okay Blondie, what is your theory?" Paris asked.

"I wouldn't make fun of her," Peter said. "Her daddy plays golf with the president when he is in Detroit."

"Oh my, I should be careful. He might have me reassigned from this plum job," Paris added.

"How about we all try to get along? With a break or two this won't last more than a couple of days, and you will be a heroine."

"Why not stop all this pussy footing around and just tell me what it is you're thinking," Paris said.

Peter went on to lay it out complete with charts and satellite images. He also explained that some of the information wasn't really open and above board.

"Marvin Diggs is who I suspect. He is a detective sergeant on the vice unit. When it comes to moonshine and pot grower convictions, he has a reputation as the best of the best, 

He was also shot at a couple of years ago by a pot grower protecting his turf."

Peter pulled up the patrol sergeant's report describing the scene. Peter handed the tablet he was using for his presentation to Paris.

"Okay, it looks like he knew his assailant since he had a pistol still holstered and he surely saw them pull up." Paris said.

"That's what I thought, along with everyone else. We all wasted a lot of time on that theory," Peter said. "What I think now is that Miles recognized him as a cop. Truthfully, I think it was the hero cop."

"Tell me why you think that," Paris demanded.

"Motive, means, opportunity, and he knew how to cover it up. I did some research," Peter said.

He pulled up the satellite image from the week before Miles was killed. "See this tiny cleaning on the stream. That was were Miles had the pump and the hose carrying the water runs up that path to the miners cabin. It's clearly shown there. Now The miner's shack viewed from the air could be a grow house, a still house, or a cook house. All kinds of things are possible. It's clear that something is going on there.

I think Marvin wanted another gold star, so he waited until he could catch Miles at the site before he went up to check it out. I believe he used a webcam on the road to catch him coming in. So he would have arrived after Miles started to load the sled. Miles wouldn't have pulled a pistol on a cop, even if he pulled up on him.

"But why did the cop shoot a man for no reason?" Paris asked.

"He might have though he had a reason. Remember this is a man with a history of being shot at by a drug gang," Peter replied.

"How much of this can you prove," she asked.

"Not a lot at the moment, but if you start to look officially, I think you can," Peter replied.

Give me a copy of your research and I'll recheck it after dinner. Then tomorrow I will have a long talk with Detective Marvin Diggs. I will interrogate him only if I don't find any holes in your research. He is going to have covered his tracks better than the average bad guy."

"Can you take Trish along for the meeting with the Sheriff," Peter asked

"I expected you to ask to go along. The boss said to be sure you didn't tag along, but he didn't mention Blondie. Sure why not she can distract them while I prod for information. 

"We will talk at breakfast," Peter said.

"I don't like her," Trish said once Paris left the room.

"Why? because she is a wise ass?" Peter said.

"No because she is a homophobic bitch," Trish said with a smile.

"Ah, so if you can't charm them, they are homophobes?" Peter asked.

"Of course," Trish agreed.

At breakfast the next morning Paris said, "I looked it all over and you don't have enough."

"What do you need?" Peter asked.

"Some reason to get a search warrant for his computer," she said.

"Why don't you check the ballistics on his service weapon," Trish asked. "That weapon has to be available for testing at any time." 

"Are you going to make the accusation that Marvin shot Miles?" Paris asked.

"Damn right I am," Trish said.

"Then we have Marvin brought in and I asked for a weapons check. That is when the shit begins to go rank." Paris said.

Peter watched the two of them leave the parking lot in both cars. It looked as though he would have a chance to run around the internet while he awaited their return. Which was just what he did at least until he fell asleep. 

"Honey we are home," Paris said.

"What time is it?" Peter asked.

"6pm and all is right with the world," Trish said. "You should have seen Paris bully those guys. First the Sheriff wanted to stall, but Paris informed him that he didn't want to stonewall the DOJ. It was an official complain brought by a member of the bar and therefore an officer of the court. 

She convinced him that he would be out in a second, if the DOJ pressed charges for aiding and abetting Marvin Diggs against him. The Sheriff called the Homicide investigator, then Marvin Diggs.

When asked for his service pistol Marvin turned it over. Paris was sharp enough to ask if Marvin carried it on the morning Miles died.

"No," Marvin said. "I dropped it in the river during a boat chase that spring."

"I thought Paris was sarcastic toward me. She showed him the tape from the motel parking lot. Then she identified the car as his son's. There was no tag, but there was a high school bumper sticker. When the DOJ got through with the video, one could even see the damaged corner on the sticker."

"Nice, did you ask him how he though his son would like bubba as his next prom date?" Peter asked Paris.

"No, but I will next time," Paris said. "The homicide man said I needed to keep quiet."

"You know it's all just fill in the blanks now." Peter said.

"Yes, we seized his computer and he lawyered up. If he refuses to cooperate tomorrow, we go at him on federal charges." Paris said. "It might take a month but we are going to get his smart ass."

"Then I think I am going to let you take over," Peter said.

"That was the understanding I got from the boss. Well Peter Rabbit you done good for a cowboy. Best of all nobody else died."

"Sometimes things just work out right." Peter said.

Paris stayed on, while Peter and Trish went back to face Iva the terrible. In the car on the drive back Trish asked, "What next?"

"I have no idea." Peter replied. "I expect Paris will call to update you as time goes by, but like she said it will take a least a month to her him arrested. The gun is never going to show up.

"Not the gun no, but guess what, Diggs was involved in another shooting the remember. He had to give a sample of his bullet for comparison to the recovered rounds from the drug dealer. If they match, he may just start looking for a deal." Trish explained.

"Damn, you learn quick," Peter said.