Redemption (2 page)

And then there was that little detail of dealing with her addiction to booze. She hadn’t touched a drop of liquor for nearly six months, earning three sobriety chips from her AA group. She kept the chips in her left pants pocket, nervously rubbing them against one another whenever her nerves spiked. Hearing Weyler’s name yelled across the bar caused Jane to start rubbing the hell out of those chips. Jane knew that Denver PD was concurrently pursuing the same powerful cocaine ring. She had taken on the intimidating sting independently—partly to prove herself as a legitimate investigator away from Denver PD and partly to show up Headquarters for what she perceived as inept management. But in the past two
weeks, Jane had been approached by the FBI in relationship to the drug ring. After nearly three months of working the case, she was making good headway and was so close to nailing the top players, she could taste it. The FBI, in turn, was working its own angle, but it became clear to the Bureau that Jane was better positioned within the inner circle. She was promised a large financial payout from the Bureau once she delivered concrete evidence to them. She agreed to turn her wires and all documented one-on-one proof over to the Bureau as long as she could continue to have complete anonymity. The Bureau agreed to all of her demands but stipulated that Jane quickly wrap up the case.

Jane surmised that the Bureau’s desire to move forward had to do with DH’s simultaneous investigation of the drug ring and
their
desire to be the first to nail the group. DH was still smarting from the fallout of the Stover family murder and subsequent Lawrence double homicide that had left nine-year-old Emily Lawrence as the sole witness. The further complication of a DH cop’s sinister involvement in both cases had not exactly been a shining moment for Headquarters. The apparent race between the Bureau and DH to successfully apprehend the movers and shakers of the ring had far more long-range implications than just scoring an important case. Jane knew that if she aided the Bureau, she could help herself to a lucrative future of independent law enforcement that would be on
her
terms. However, if she screwed it up, her connections with the FBI would be cut, and with it, any real chance of establishing autonomy.

And Jane
knew
that Sergeant Weyler was fully aware of it all.

Weyler’s ability to know everything that was going down was uncanny. He had friends everywhere—in every jurisdiction and in almost every state. Underneath his quiet, reserved demeanor, was a man who could move mountains with a single phone call. He didn’t accumulate friends and acquaintances, nor did he respect every cop he supervised. However, his respect for Jane was evident and that respect had never once waned after she chose to leave DH. In fact, Weyler had called Jane at her home on many
occasions, but she never returned his phone calls. Her reluctance to talk to him was partly due to her desire to create distance between herself and Headquarters. At least that’s what Jane told herself. The bigger reason was that she knew her desire to show up DH by infiltrating the drug ring and handing the group over to the FBI was a blatant slap in Weyler’s face. While Jane’s intention was never to disrespect Weyler or make him look bad, reconnecting with him would be professionally awkward.

“Weyler’s on his way over!” the investigative cop yelled back to the cocky detective.

“I gotta put a topical antibiotic on your lip,” the paramedic informed Jane.

“Whatever. Just make it quick,” Jane said, feeling the need to get out of the bar.

The barmaid crossed to Jane, hovering nearby with a piece of paper in hand.

“Hey, Rose,” Jane said, slightly uncomfortable. “I want you to know that you did everything I asked you to do and you did it well. Tell Jerry I’m sorry everything got fucked up, okay?”

“Jerry left. He asked me to give this to you,” Rose said, handing Jane the piece of paper.

The paramedic was just about to apply the topical antibiotic to Jane’s lip when she read the note. It was a bill made out to “J.P.I.” for damages totaling $3,000.

“What the hell?” Jane yelled, drawing the attention of several crime scene investigators. “What’s Jerry smoking?”

“The pool table’s got a rip in it, we gotta get a new light fixture, hire a crew to clean up the blood,
and
we gotta plaster the wall ’cause of the gunshot hole.”

“Like you’ve plastered all the
other
gunshot holes? And blood? This is
The Red Tail
! The
same
dive that’s known as ‘Slaughterhouse Central!’ You know as well as I do there’s more blood pounded into the cracks of this floor than any other bar on Colfax!”

“I’m lucky to still have a job after what I agreed to do for you,” Rose nervously whispered. “Jerry says it’s $3,000 and that’s what it
is. And he wants the money in three days or he’s pressing charges against you
and
contacting the media, which, as Jerry said, is not gonna do much for your ‘Larry King reputation.’”

Jane turned to the paramedic. “Give us a second?” The paramedic tossed the antibiotic ointment tube into his portable medicine kit and walked away. Jane turned to Rose and spoke confidentially. “I thought we made a deal! I don’t give a shit about some ‘Larry King’ reputation! But I
do
give a
serious
shit about protecting my future ability to work undercover. If Jerry talks and exposes what went down here to the media and uses my name, he’s putting both my business and my safety in jeopardy!”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Rose offered with the slightest hint of compassion. “He said three grand in three days or he talks. And he means it.”

Rose started to walk away, but Jane stood in front of her. “I don’t have $3,000. Every penny I have went into building my business and working this case. We’re talking thousands of dollars. I had to think up a lot of creative angles to make things happen. And I mean
creative
.” Jane realized she was sounding too desperate. She dialed her tone back a notch in intensity. “Look, a lot of the pieces of this case fell apart tonight. But I’ll figure out how to make them come back together. And when I deliver those assholes to the people who want them and see some cash, Jerry will get his money. But it won’t be in three days!”

“You know Jerry as well as I do. It’s his way or...his way. Maybe you can sell some stuff...”

Jane stared into the distance. “Yeah, well, the thing is, Rose, the only thing I’ve got that I’m willing to sell is my ability.”

Rose shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Jane.” Jane reluctantly stepped aside, allowing Rose to walk away. She turned to face the bar and caught her shadowed reflection in a large whiskey bottle. It was moments like this when the desire to numb her senses hit hard. Her head started to pound in a syncopated beat. She wasn’t sure if the pain in her head was due to the beating Carlos had given her, the stress of the case, the anxiety over a $3,000 bill
she couldn’t pay, or the prospect of being revealed by a two-bit bar owner. Her vision began to blur as a distorted face warped into the whiskey bottle, awash in a purple glow. Jane’s heart raced and she quickly clamped her eyes closed.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Jane spun around, startled to see the paramedic. “Leave me alone, would you?”

“How many fingers do you see?” the paramedic asked, holding up his thumb, first finger, and middle finger.

“Two,” Jane said, collecting herself. “Your thumb’s not a finger!”

“Well done!” a male voice chimed in. Jane turned to find the cocky PD official standing next to her. “Looks like you got your ass kicked,” he said to Jane.

Jane regarded the paramedic. “Give me the ointment and leave us alone.”

The paramedic obliged and walked away.

“You sure you don’t need stitches...Jane?”

“Excuse me?” Jane asked, surprised this guy knew her name.

“I recognized you under the wig. Nice try.”

Jane touched the blond wig to make sure it was still securely on her head.

“This is awkward for you, isn’t it?” he said, a self-satisfied smile pasted across his face.

“Why?” Jane said, trying her best to remain stoic.

“Come on, Jane. I’ve heard enough about you through the grapevine at DH to know this whole scene is hard on your ego. By the way,” he said, extending his right hand, “my name’s Kenny Stephens.”

Jane let Kenny’s hand dangle. “What do you want, Kenny Stephens?” she replied with a mean edge to her voice.

Kenny broke into a wide grin that exposed his whiter-thanwhite teeth. “Well, for starters,
Jane
, I’d like to know where you scored that big envelope of cash.”

“Yeah, I bet you
would
be interested,” Jane replied, turning away.

“Seeing as one of the perps got away with the envelope, minus the three hundies that fell out,” Kenny said, revealing three crisp one hundred dollar bills, “I’d think you’d be alarmed. Or maybe, those who
fed
you the cash would be alarmed?”

“Nobody fed me the cash.”

“Really? Shit, we’re talking, what? Thousands?”

“Fifteen thousand, Kenny,” Jane replied matter-of-factly, wishing Kenny would let her leave.

“Fifteen grand of your
own
money? I’d be slitting my wrists if that happened to me!”

“Easy come, easy go,” Jane said, attempting to get past him.

“You act like it was Monopoly money.” Kenny eyed Jane with heightened precision. His brow furrowed. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me.” He abruptly turned. “Hey, Bobby!” Kenny yelled over to one of the crime scene investigators, “you got that pen on you?”

Jane’s gut clamped down. She knew what was coming but maintained her poker face.

Bobby tossed the pen across the bar to Kenny, who slapped one of the hundred dollar bills onto the bar. He drew a mark across the bill and turned to Jane. “You gave those guys counterfeit?”

Jane was aware of the tenuous predicament she was in, but kept up the front. “Guess so.”

“I don’t get it. Are you trafficking on the side with a counterfeit operation?”

“No, Kenny, I’m not making extra cash by
making
extra cash. Where I got the money is none of your goddamn business!” She wasn’t about to tell Kenny that she’d secretly stashed a box of “cash” from the counterfeit operation she successfully bagged for the Denver bank. Jane knew it was legally wrong, but she figured that Denver PD used confiscated counterfeit cash in undercover operations in order to trace its subsequent destinations, so why couldn’t she? The phony money had turned out to be her saving grace when she started her undercover drug investigation.

“I’m curious, Jane,” Kenny continued with a perverted sense of professional muscle, “what’s a lady like yourself doing hanging in a Colfax bar with a bunch of lowlifes during the holiday season? Have you sunk that low since you made that decision to turn down the sergeant’s job at DH?” Kenny moved closer to Jane, whispering. “I’d think with your little alcohol problem, you’d want to stay away from dives like this.”

His words cut through Jane’s heart. She didn’t know anything about him, but
he
knew of her achingly private battle. That was a deep, unforgivable violation. A raw vulnerability enveloped Jane, but she was damned if she was going to show it. “Where in the hell did DH find you? Was it online at assholecops.com?”

“Funny,” Kenny responded dryly.

Jane snatched her coat. “Excuse me,” Jane said, moving away from him.

“If you’re worried that Carlos, your date, is talking, he’s not. But that’s okay. We know he’s just a lackey.”

Jane turned to Kenny. “He’s not my date.”

“Did I say ‘date?’ I meant stooge. Right? Only a fucking idiot wouldn’t check to see if you’re wired before setting you up with some of the top guys.” Jane stopped. “Wasn’t that what Camerón was grabbing for right before he turned and aimed his gun at Carlos? By the way, nice little
Matrix
move you did in deflecting the gunshot.
Classic!
”

Jane couldn’t understand how Kenny knew how everything had gone down. She was tired of his arrogant manner and decided it was time to play hardball. “I’m not giving DH my wire.”

“We don’t need your little wire. We’ve got tons of audio of these guys. We just needed two things to wrap it up: fingerprints and a good, clear video of them in action. You wouldn’t think that a dump like this would install video cameras, would you? And once we get the prints off the two guns they dropped and you kicked out of sight, it’s a slam dunk! Give us a few a more hours, and DH will go on the books with this collar!”

“This is
my
collar, you son of a bitch!” Jane said with venom. She stood within inches of Kenny’s face. “I’ve been inside, working alone for three months.”

“And DH has been working it for eight months. But you knew that, right? Did you actually believe you were gonna show us up? I don’t think so. Guess you wasted three months for nothing. God, that must totally suck for you.”

Jane stared at Kenny, feeling her entire world crumble beneath her feet.

“Oh, and by the way, Jane. DH didn’t find me on the Internet. I applied for the job ... after
you
turned it down. So when you see the name
Sergeant
Kenny Stephens under my mug when the media shows me announcing the collar, you can appreciate the irony.” Kenny capped his statement with an arrogant smirk. “Ain’t life a bitch?”

Jane felt a feverish rush. Even though Kenny was built like a weight lifter, she knew she had the power at that moment to pummel his head into mush. But since she was looking at losing everything she had worked for, certain bankruptcy, and the possibility of being revealed by name to a drug mob...well, she figured that an additional charge of murder wouldn’t help. She turned and walked to the exit.

“I’ll give Weyler your best, Jane!” Kenny yelled out to Jane.

Jane kept walking toward the exit without a word, except for thrusting her middle finger backward in the air before slamming the bar door shut and walking into the bleak December chill.