Chapter 23
CALLUM
“Hey, dude, you’re on fire lately,” Sully said, skating behind my net at practice a week later, after failing to score on me.
I waved my blocker at him. “It’s all about the focus.” Which was truer than I’d realized. I’d had no idea how much effort I put into acting straight until I didn’t need to anymore. I felt like I’d ditched a backpack full of rocks.
A week of practices and two wins against the Cardinals had helped settle me in my hockey skin after coming out.
I hadn’t heard from my agent again, or from the Foxes’ management, and I was fine with that.
A couple of the guys gave me wide berth in the locker room, but they were the same guys who were shitty to Docker, so no surprise.
They didn’t hate the rainbow enough to screw up in our games, which was all I cared about.
So far, my queerness hadn’t made it into the press, but the big reveal was a matter of time. The next game that Zeke made it to— fucking shift work— I was going to kiss him in the arena parking lot. For now, I could just be me without any announcements or fanfare.
“Fitzpatrick, you want to put that focus to work here?” Coach asked. “We’re running two-on-ones, not gossiping, remember?” He waved to where the next trio of players were waiting.
“Sorry, Coach.” I positioned myself, determined that Yabby wouldn’t get the puck past me.
I hadn’t let him score on me all week even on penalty shot drills, and while he was a defenseman, that still pissed him off.
I gave him an evil-eye glare he couldn’t see behind my mask, and when he and his partner failed to score, I flipped the puck at his backside. Hard. Oops.
Coach sighed. “What did I do to get saddled with you, Fitzpatrick? Quit abusing your teammates.”
We finished a good, loose practice and the mood in the locker room was cheerful.
A couple of the guys began talking about meeting up for drinks, since we had the evening off.
I thought about joining them, because Zeke was working from five o’clock on, but when I got my phone out of my locker, I saw that I had a missed call from Iverson at the GREC. I pulled up the voicemail.
“Please meet me at my office at three p.m. sharp, so we can discuss some developments in the case against your uncle.”
I glared at my phone. “What if I can’t make it at three?” I muttered. I had a bad feeling about this.
“Can’t what?” Sully asked, coming up to me half-dressed with his shirt in his hands. “Who are you trying to incinerate through the phone with those laser-beam eyes?”
“You read too many comic books.”
“No such thing. What’s up?”
I made an effort to shrug casually and stuck my phone away. “Just an appointment rescheduled. Message me if you guys do go out tonight.”
“I probably won’t join in. Hannah has a thing she wants me to take her to. How’s Jos doing? He and his friend seemed to get a kick out of the comic store.”
“He did. I owe you a big one.”
Sully grinned at me. “Hannah figured you and Zeke needed some alone time.”
“Yeah. I owe you for that too.” I slipped on my jacket. “Hey, if we ever go axe throwing, you think Hannah would like to come?”
“Are you kidding? Throwing sharp objects around? Hell, yeah, she’d be into it.”
“I’ll let you know.” I clapped him on the shoulder and headed outside.
Once I was clear of the building I called Zeke. I wasn’t sure if he’d be awake yet, but I needed to talk to him. The clearness of his voice when he answered suggested I hadn’t woken him.
“Hey,” I said. “Are you up?”
“I am now.” When I didn’t snort, he added, “Have been for about fifteen minutes. Are you done with practice? Heading home?” He lowered his tone. “Jos is in school.”
“Damn, I like the sound of that, but I just got a text from Iverson ordering me to come in and talk to him. Did you get one too?”
“Let me check my phone… nope, not seeing anything. What did he say?”
“Just that it was about my uncle and to be at his office at three.”
“Could be anything. Follow-up questions.”
“I don’t like it.” I was pouting but couldn’t help it. I so wanted to be done with Uncle Wayne. “Will you come with me?”
“Iverson didn’t ask for me.”
“He didn’t say not to bring you, either.”
Zeke hesitated a moment. “Okay. Sure. Come on home and have your lunch and we’ll go together.”
I sighed in relief. “Thanks. See you soon.”
Three o’clock found us outside Iverson’s office— me dressed down in jeans and a band T-shirt because being commanded to show up rubbed me the wrong way, Zeke in his uniform, ready to head straight to work if this ran long.
Iverson opened his door a couple of minutes past the hour, and gestured to me. “Fitzpatrick. Come in.”
Zeke got up when I did.
Iverson eyed him. “I don’t recall asking for you.”
“No, sir. Callum did, though.”
“Ah.” Iverson stepped back. “All right, come in, both of you. Have a seat.” He went around behind his desk, while Zeke and I took the two chairs across from him.
“I did you the courtesy—” Iverson raised an eyebrow at Zeke. “—of bringing you in here, Fitzpatrick, to let you know that the GREC will not be proceeding with your case against either Wayne Fitzpatrick or Ronald Shoemark.”
“What?” I jumped to my feet, despite Zeke’s grab for me. “Why not? Zeke and I got you all the evidence, wrapped up with a bow. They’re guilty. What more do you want?”
“Relax. Sit down.” Iverson stared at me silently until I dropped into my chair.
“You are correct. We have the makings of a good case against them. That was very useful, in fact. Regarding your uncle, the additional charges will be dropped as part of a plea bargain in which he agrees to testify against Shoemark.”
“So Uncle Wayne just gets away with, like, extortion and stealing and everything?” My gut lurched at the thought of him walking free around Vancouver again.
“Not entirely. He’s pleading guilty to the stolen car charge, which is a parole violation. He will serve out the remainder of his original sentence, in parallel with that. There will simply be no other charges. That puts him behind bars for four more years, I believe.”
That was something, but the unfairness burned inside me. “And Shoemark? Don’t you want to convict him?”
Iverson smiled, a curve of his lips that was small and tight and somehow vicious.
“Your case was very useful, because it got us subpoenas we’d wanted for a long time, to get into his business dealings.
We have far more serious charges coming for Mr. Ronald Shoemark than bribing a minor league goalie. ”
I didn’t mind GREC viciousness aimed at Shoemark-Smith, but I hated being brushed off like I didn’t matter. “What he did could’ve derailed my career. Millions of dollars in earnings. That’s not minor.”
“Believe me, Fitzpatrick, he’s going away for a long time. We don’t need your charges. Although we aren’t destroying any evidence. If, by some disaster of a mistrial, he goes free on the current charges, we might be speaking with you again. We can always reopen the case.”
“Oh, good, so I get to hang around forever, just in case you might screw up badly enough to need me later?”
Zeke nudged my knee with his, probably in warning.
Iverson looked at me like I was a bug on his windshield. “You should be pleased. As long as the case stays under wraps and no charges are laid, you don’t have to explain yourself to your bosses, or the press.”
I was pleased in a way, I guessed, not to have to testify. But I was pissed too. “At least, if I testified, all the truth would be out there. Now, if rumors start, I can’t point at the evidence. Will you give me a document saying that I made the complaint and was the victim here?”
Iverson laughed. “No, we won’t give you a note for your teacher excusing you. If we need your help later, we’ll be in touch. I consider that unlikely. Thanks for stopping by, gentlemen.” He stood and gestured at the door.
Acid burned in my gut, but I didn’t see any way to change things. I threw, “Thanks for nothing,” over my shoulder as I strode out, and gritted my teeth to hear Iverson laugh behind me. Zeke shut the office door before I could slam it.
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand, tugging me forward. I got a sour kick out of walking past the GREC people in the hallway and reception holding hands with my cop boyfriend.
That kick wasn’t enough to keep me from coming to a stop in the parking lot, staring up at the sky, and shouting “Aaargh!” I let go of Zeke to shake both fists toward the building.
Zeke laid his hand on my back. “I’m sorry. I’ve made clean arrests and seen the perps walk on a technicality, or bargained down to a slap on the wrist. It sucks.”
“Maybe you should get into a line of work that sucks less!”
“Maybe I should.”
I’d just been taking my frustration out on Zeke, but that threw me out of my tantrum. “What?”
Zeke gestured toward his truck, and I followed him.
Once we were inside, he said, “I’ve been thinking for a while that police work isn’t what I hoped it would be.
I mean, it’s necessary, but I’m hurting people, more often than I’m helping.
Yeah, cleaning up society, if you want to look at it that way, but… I don’t know. Just a nagging thought.”
“What else would you do?” I’d listened to Zeke complain about his job, but I’d figured it was just bitching, like I did about bruises and travel and stupid opposing forwards, while loving my work. I hadn’t realized he’d meant it.