Chapter 19 The Phone in the Inspector’s Hand
Ryan
The spring air hit my face as we exited the hospital.
"Carlson."
I barely registered Hawley as we crossed the parking lot. My hand was already pulling out my phone. Thumb hovering over Inspector Murphy's number.
"Carlson." More firmly this time.
I ran fingers through my hair. Tried to recalibrate. Slip back into the smooth, unflappable Detective Carlson that everyone expected. "Yeah, I heard you. Just thinking."
"About going rogue?" Flat, but missing nothing.
"About keeping people safe," I corrected. Fingers already dialing.
Hawley moved closer. Positioned himself directly in my line of sight. Unmovable. "Put it on speaker."
I looked up at him. Thrown. "What?"
"Speaker phone." His tone left no room for argument. "Whatever you're planning, I'm not being left in the dark."
I wanted to protest. This was my mess. My informant. My failed case. But the determined set of Hawley's jaw told me it would be pointless.
With a sigh, I hit speaker and held the phone between us.
Murphy answered on the second ring. "Report."
I cleared my throat. Struggled to keep my tone even. "Daniel confirmed the attack was connected to my 52 Division case, sir. The men who beat him specifically referenced his work as my informant."
"Details."
"The drug operation from 52 is expanding into 51's catchment. They've been setting up distribution channels through local clubs for months. Daniel believes they're ready to launch, which is why they're eliminating potential threats. Like him."
A pause on the other end. When Murphy spoke again, his voice was carefully neutral. "Why 51 specifically?"
"Just a theory, but the timing suggests someone wanted me positioned where I'd have minimal credibility if I started noticing familiar patterns."
"You're suggesting a mole."
"Yes, sir. Daniel's attackers had information only someone inside the Service would know." I hesitated. Then pushed forward. "Given the sensitive nature of this case and the potential for internal compromise, I believe it would be best if I pursued this investigation independently."
I deliberately avoided looking at Hawley as I spoke. But I could feel the temperature between us drop several degrees.
"To avoid putting Hawley in a compromised position," I added. The lie transparent even to my own ears.
Murphy's laugh was short and humorless. "Nice try, Detective. You two will work this case together, under my direct supervision only. We keep this between the three of us until we know what we're dealing with."
I opened my mouth to protest. He continued before I could speak.
"Additionally, you'll need to coordinate with 52. This crosses jurisdictional lines and involves your previous investigation."
My heart sank. "Sir, with all due respect..."
"This isn't a negotiation, Carlson. Whoever this mole is, they've already made a statement by attacking your informant. They're expecting you to react, probably by running back to 52 alone. We need to be strategic."
I stared at the phone. Trapped. Cornered. "Yes, sir."
"Keep me updated. And Carlson?" A deliberate pause. "No cowboy shit. That's an order."
The call ended. Heavy silence between Hawley and me.
I pocketed my phone. Couldn't meet his gaze. For a moment, I dropped the act completely. I knew he could see everything I was trying to hide. The dread of returning to 52. The anger at being manipulated. The shame of having failed Daniel once already.
The fear of failing again.
"So." Hawley's words cut through my thoughts. Low and controlled but with an unmistakable edge. "I was right. You were planning to ditch me."
Not a question.
I finally looked up at him. Surprised by the intensity boring into me. He wasn't just annoyed. He was genuinely pissed.
"I was trying to protect you," I said. The defense sounded weak even to my own ears.
"Bullshit." Hawley moved closer. His height forced me to tilt my head up to maintain eye contact. "You don't trust me."
"That's not..."
"Then explain." His voice dropped dangerously low. "Explain why your first instinct was to go solo instead of working with your partner."
The word partner hung between us. Weighted with meaning beyond our professional relationship.
I exhaled slowly. Searched for words that wouldn't sound like excuses.
"Someone who trusted me with this case ended up in that hospital bed," I finally managed.
Gestured back toward the building. "And others disappeared.
Or died." My throat tightened. "I've seen how this plays out, Hawley.
These people have resources. Connections.
They destroyed my career at 52 and nearly killed Daniel.
I'm not..." I stopped. Swallowed hard. "I'm not adding your name to the casualty list."
Hawley studied me for a long moment. Expression unreadable. "That's not your call to make."
"It is if I'm the one who dragged you into this mess."
"You didn't drag me anywhere." His voice softened fractionally. His gaze remained intense. "We're partners, Carlson. That means we face threats together. Not just the easy ones."
His words landed somewhere I hadn't braced for. A tightness I hadn't realized was there began to loosen. But the fear remained.
"You don't know what we're up against."
"Then I guess you'll have to tell me, won't you?"
I stopped abruptly beside our car. Palm on the handle but not pulling it open. The weight of what lay ahead pressed down on me. Not just the case. Returning to 52. Walking into that division. Facing the cold stares and whispered comments.
"They'll eat you alive at 52." I turned to Hawley with uncharacteristic directness. No charm. No deflection. Just raw truth. "It's not pretty there. Especially not for me anymore."
Hawley held my stare steadily. Dark and unflinching. "It's not me they want to devour."
The statement hung between us. Heavy with meaning.
He was right, of course. I was the one with the target on my back. I was the one who'd failed. I looked away first. Unable to maintain that intense contact when I felt so exposed.
I leaned against the car. Suddenly felt every hour of missed sleep. Every ounce of stress I'd been carrying since my transfer. The smiling, flirtatious Detective Carlson who brushed off every slight with a joke. He slipped away completely.
I was so fucking tired.
Hawley didn't offer empty reassurances. No it wasn't your fault or you did your best. Instead, he stood there. Solid and present. Just... waiting.
"What do you need to prepare for tomorrow?" Practical. Focused. Cutting through my spiral of guilt and dread.
The question caught me off guard.
Not are you okay? Not you did your best. Just: What do you need?
Oh.
I looked at him. Really looked. At the way he stood there, solid and immovable, like 52 couldn't touch him. Like it couldn't touch me as long as he was there.
"I don't know," I admitted. First honest thing I'd said all day.
He nodded once. Started walking toward the car.
I followed.
And for the first time since Murphy said Daniel's name, the knot in my chest loosened.
Just a fraction.
Just enough.
Tomorrow, we'd walk into 52 Division together. Back into the station that had chewed me up and spit me out. Back into the case that had destroyed my career.
But this time, I wouldn't be alone.