30. ~ Journey ~
thirty
“Answer the fucking phone!”I scream as your voicemail comes on for what seems like the millionth time. I know you”re upset, Sir, but you have to see the difference. I went from not calling to absolutely blowing up your phone, and now you”re sending me straight to voicemail. Can’t you see that something is wrong? Can”t you feel the urgency? Are you on the job site, or have you already been arrested?
Turn your phone back on and fucking answer it!
I slam my cell onto the seat next to me as I take the exit for Strawberry Mansion, hoping that when I get there the scene is calm and quiet. No flashing lights. No units surrounding the property. No Summers. Fucking Summers.
Why the fuck is he doing this? He has been obsessed with Winter, Sierra Cross, and you since he became my partner, and I just don”t understand it. There’s no reason I can think of for someone to keep pulling at the same thread like this. I have no answers to his reasons for doing things, but I do know something for sure—I should have fucking killed him after the first time he asked about us.
Since we hung Winter from his ceiling, you and I have gone out of our way to make sure no one in the precinct knows we’re together. Yes, we moved in together, but we did it quietly. No one knew. I don”t know why we made the mistake of telling Summers, thinking he would just be the cool partner meeting my boyfriend. That was a mistake I wish I could take back. No one should have ever known about us. Look where trying to be nice and friendly has gotten us.
I turn onto the street that I haven”t been on since you moved out of this neighborhood, my heart pounding uncontrollably. Beads of sweat form on my forehead as the house you grew up in starts to come into view. From down the road, I can already see unmarked cars parked in front of your place.
“Oh, god,” I whisper as I get closer, approaching slowly so I don”t draw attention to myself. Once I reach your house, I quickly realize that no one is in the front. Summers isn’t standing at your front door. You”re not on the porch with your hands cuffed behind your back. No one is at the front because everyone is in the back.
I bring my car to stop in front of your mailbox, then put it in reverse so that I can get a better view of the backyard. From here, I see Summers in gray pants and a white button-up, and a small group of men in gray and black suits standing in the exact spot where we reburied the footlocker containing Sierra Cross’s body. Two men have removed their blazers and tossed them aside, and they’re holding shovels, plunging them into the ground over and over, pulling out copious amounts of dirt at a time.
“Fuck,” I whisper in astonishment, because I know what this means. Whatever hunch Summers had about Sierra Cross was right, and unless you came back and moved the body without me knowing, they’re about to discover the corpse of the woman who started all of this.
I’m horrified watching it, but the fact that I don”t see you makes me feel a bit better. You are nowhere to be found in the backyard, so I search the empty cars parked in front of your house. You aren”t seated in the back of any of them, which means you haven”t been detained. You”re not here.
Just as I’m about to breathe a sigh of relief, I hear commotion in the backyard. I glue my eyes to the group of unknown men and watch as the two with shovels quickly drop them next to the large hole, and reach down. They struggle a bit, but eventually they pull out the black footlocker, its padlocks rusted and dangling but still intact.
I can’t do anything to stop it. I have no choice but to sit here and watch as they use a shovel to break off the rusted padlocks and slowly open the box. I see the moment the smell hits them and they step back. I never saw how you put Sierra into the case, so I don”t know exactly what they’re looking at, but I see when Summers steps forward. He kneels next to the box, reaches inside, and looks to tear something open. I assume it’s plastic, and when he gets it open, I know that he has exactly what he has been looking for. He steps back and pulls out his cell phone.
Game over.
I quietly put the car in gear and drive away, knowing that my entire life just changed. I’m stunned into silence because words won”t fix this. Nothing will. I worked so hard to keep Winter from finding out anything about Sierra Cross, and to see it all being pulled up out of a shallow grave and presented to my new partner is beyond heartbreaking. Everything I worked for has been ruined, and I don”t know how I’m supposed to protect you now, Sir. What am I supposed to do?
I try to call you again, but it’s all the same. You don”t answer, and I’m mocked by the outgoing message to your voicemail. It’s unbearable hearing your voice but not being able to speak to you. I have no idea where you are or what you”re doing, and there’s nothing I can do. I have no control over this situation, and I fear that everything is about to come to a screeching halt.
As I lift my phone to call you again, it rings in my hand before I can dial. For a half second I think it’s you, but Captain Saunders name quickly pops up. Against my better judgment, I answer on speaker.
“Yeah?” I say, all need for respect gone completely out the window.
“Monroe, where are you?” Saunders immediately asks.
“I’m … uhh … checking out a lead for the diner fire. What”s up?”
“Are you driving right now?”
“What difference does it make, Captain? What’s going on?”
Saunders exhales into the phone, preparing himself to say something big that even he can’t believe. I grip my steering wheel, holding onto it to brace for impact.
“I just got a phone call,” Saunders says, sounding completely defeated. “A call that knocked me back into my seat in my office. I mean that literally. I couldn”t hold myself up while I was on this call. So if you”re driving, you may want to stop.”
“Captain, can you get to the point?” I say, anxious for the hammer to drop.
The captain sighs again. “Your partner … Detective fucking Summers … is Internal Affairs.”
In the middle of a residential street in Strawberry Mansion, I slam on my brakes and come to a stop just like the captain said I would need to. The cars behind me begin to honk for me to move, but I don”t fucking care. I stay there, no hazard lights, no eye contact with the people giving me the finger as they drive around me. My entire world skids to a stop as I listen to Captain Saunders tell me that my life has just been set on fire.
“The call came from the commanding officer of the Professional Standards Bureau , whose name I didn”t even bother to remember,” Saunders goes on. “He informed me that they sent Detective Summers to the Seventh Precinct to investigate you for misconduct pertaining to your handling of the Sierra Cross missing persons case. They’re claiming that they now have evidence that you falsified findings in the Evan Godric investigation and subsequent search warrant obtained by Detective Sam Winter.”
I don”t respond. I can”t. My throat is closed off to any words. All I can do is sit in the road, my fingers squeezing the steering wheel so hard my hands shake.
“Journey,” Captain Saunders continues. “They’re also claiming that Summers has found evidence that suggests you are now cohabitating with the suspect of an ongoing investigation. They say you”re living with Evan Godric, the one and only suspect in that missing persons case. Journey, is any of this true?”
I don”t answer as tears sting my eyes.
“I guess it doesn”t matter,” Saunders says. “They want you to come in for questioning, Journey. Right now.”
I still don”t answer as the tears begin to flow.
“Oh, and one more thing,” says Saunders, tearing my existence apart brick by brick. “They”ve issued a warrant for Evan Godric’s arrest, for the murder of Sierra Cross.”