Chapter 20 The Records Room
Ryan
"So this is where the pretty people work." Hawley squinted up at the building.
He studied me. "You ready for this?"
I flashed him my trademark smile. The one that had charmed witnesses and suspects alike. "Born ready. Just try to keep up and don't growl at anyone important."
Hawley snorted. His focus lingered as we approached the entrance.
My body changed with each step. Spine straightening.
Shoulders squaring. Chin lifting. The transformation wasn't conscious, but it was complete.
By the time we reached the glass doors, Detective Ryan Carlson of 51 Division was gone.
Replaced by the ghost of 52's former golden boy.
Air conditioning hit us first. Then silence. Conversations died mid-sentence as heads turned toward us. Hawley tensed beside me. His natural instinct to prepare for confrontation kicking in.
"Easy, Bear." I kept my composure firmly in place. "They can smell fear."
The bullpen stretched before us. Twice the size of 51's.
Sleek workstations and state-of-the-art equipment.
I led Hawley through the maze of desks with practiced confidence.
My attention never stopped moving. Cataloging exits.
Tracking the movement of former colleagues.
Noting which faces hardened at the sight of me.
"Carlson," someone called out. Voice dripping with false warmth. "Back to grace us with your presence?"
I turned. Brightened my expression. "Detective Lyle. Still working the same desk? Some things never change."
His mouth tightened as others snickered. Small victory. Hollow satisfaction.
We continued walking. The file from Inspector Murphy clutched perhaps too tightly in my hand. Dozens of stares bored into my back. Whispers followed in our wake.
"That's him?"
"Can't believe he has the nerve to show his face here."
"Wonder how many more informants he'll get killed this time."
Hawley's jaw clenched. He remained silent. A looming presence that somehow made breathing easier. I'd nearly made it to the Drug Squad office when Detective Marsh stepped directly into our path. Her shoulder connecting with mine in a collision too deliberate to be accidental.
"Traitor," she hissed, just loud enough for those nearby to hear.
I didn't break stride. Didn't let my composure falter. "Always a pleasure, Marsh."
My knuckles whitened around the folder. The only outward sign that her words had landed. I'd expected this. Prepared for it, even. But anticipating the blow didn't make it hurt any less.
What I hadn't expected was Hawley's reaction. He shifted almost imperceptibly. His broad frame positioning itself slightly between me and the rest of the room. Not obvious enough to seem protective. Hawley was too skilled for that. But his presence settled at my back like solid weight.
The movement didn't go unnoticed. Several officers exchanged glances. Reassessing the dynamic. I'd returned with backup, it seemed. Not just any backup, but the kind that stood six-foot-something and could bench press a car.
"Your new partner?" Marsh asked. Contempt clear as she sized him up. "What happened, Carlson? They couldn't find anyone willing to work with you?"
Before I could respond, Hawley stepped forward. Neutral but somehow more intimidating for it.
"Detective Hawley. 51 Division Violent Crimes." He didn't offer his hand. Just stared down at her with those dark, unblinking eyes. "We have an appointment with Detective Sergeant Voss."
Marsh held his stare for a moment before looking away. "Down the hall. Last door on the right."
Something unexpected surged through me as we continued walking. Not quite pride. Not quite gratitude. A warmth that settled in my chest. Hawley hadn't raised his voice or made a scene. He'd simply... been there. Solid. Present. The Bear of 51, standing guard without being asked.
"Thanks." The word came out quieter than intended as we approached Voss's office.
Hawley glanced down at me. One eyebrow slightly raised. "For what? I just want to get this over with and go back to real police work."
But there was understanding in his expression that told me he knew exactly what I was thanking him for.
Detective Sergeant Voss emerged from his office just as we reached the door. His tailored suit hung perfectly from broad shoulders. His face hardened instantly when he spotted me.
"Well, if it isn't Toronto's prettiest snitch," he drawled, loud enough for the entire floor to hear. "Didn't expect to see you dare come here again."
I forced my mouth to stay curved. Though it felt brittle enough to crack. "Good to see you too, Voss. How's that promotion treating you? Still pretending to solve cases while others do the actual work?"
His mouth thinned. A nerve, hit.
"This is Detective Hawley." I continued smoothly. Gestured to the mountain of silence beside me. "My new partner."
Voss's focus flicked to Hawley, then back to me. His lips curling. "51, huh? Quite the fall from grace. Trading designer suits for piss-stained alleyways."
"At least in those alleyways, we catch actual criminals. Not just whoever looks good in a press release."
I fought the urge to beam. The Bear had claws today.
Voss's mouth turned sharp. "And they assigned you a guard dog. How thoughtful."
"We need access to the original case files," I cut in. Getting to the point. "The drug trafficking operation connected to Daniel. Inspector Murphy's orders."
I handed over the authorization papers. Watched Voss's features narrow as he scanned them.
"Those files are restricted. Division policy after the leak, which I'm sure you remember well."
"I wasn't accused of anything. I was transferred, not terminated. I'm still a cop."
"On paper, maybe." Voss snorted. "Some of us still uphold standards."
"And some of us solve cases. Which is what we're trying to do, unless you have a reason to obstruct an official investigation?"
Alarm flickered across his face before settling back into disdain. "Fine. I'll escort you to records myself. Can't have any more... unfortunate leaks."
The records room smelled of dust and old paper. Despite the digital archives that had supposedly made physical files obsolete. Some things never changed. The division's distrust of technology chief among them.
Voss hovered uncomfortably close as I pulled files from the shelves. His cologne overwhelming in the confined space. "Careful with those. Career-ending mistakes happen so easily."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Just looking out for what's left of your reputation. Loyalty matters in this division."
"Loyalty to what?" Hawley suddenly positioned his large frame between Voss and me. "The badge or the bullshit?"
Voss's smile didn't reach his eyes. "There's no difference in my world."
"That explains a lot."
"I'll be back." He glanced at his watch. "I have actual work to do."
When the door closed behind him, Hawley immediately moved to block it. Wedged a chair under the handle.
"He's nervous."
I nodded. Rifled through more files. "He's hiding something. The question is whether he's protecting himself or someone else."
I leaned over the stack of evidence files. The knot in my stomach tightened with each document I examined. This was wrong. Seriously wrong.
"This doesn't make sense." I compared the report in my hands to my mental record of the case. "This surveillance log is completely different from what I remember."
Hawley glanced up from his position by the computer terminal. "Different how?"
"The dates are shifted. According to this, we had surveillance on the Silver Lotus club for three nights, not five." I flipped through more pages. Frustration mounting. "And these dealer profiles have missing information. Names removed."
I pushed aside that file and grabbed another. Scanned its contents with growing alarm. The knot twisted tighter.
"Look at this." I slid a document across the table. "The list of officers with access to the CI database during the operation. There were fourteen names on this list originally. Now there are eleven."
Hawley examined the paper. His face darkening. "Someone's sanitizing the records."
"Not only that but rewriting history." I ran a hand through my hair. Fought to keep my voice level. "These changes are deliberate. They're removing specific information about who had access to informant identities and which clubs were primary distribution points."
"The clubs Daniel mentioned."
"Exactly." I pulled another file. My fingers trembling slightly with anger. "I know this case inside and out. I lived it for a year. These reports are wrong."
I ground my teeth. Clutched the falsified documents.
What's the point of even reporting this?
My word, the word of 52's fallen golden boy, against an entire division of officers who've already decided I'm the traitor. With my transfer to 51, my credibility is worthless.
"They've buried it." I spread the altered files across the table. "Systematically erased key connections. And who would believe me if I called it out? I'm the guy who fumbled a major drug bust."
Hawley stopped scanning documents. He watched me instead. "And if we inform the higher-ups?"
"Even if I march these files up to Internal Affairs, they'll just see a desperate cop trying to save his career by pointing fingers. My transfer is basically an admission of guilt in their view. No one's going to take my word over doctored reports and the testimony of respected officers."
I moved to his side. His closeness momentarily distracting as I leaned over his shoulder. On the screen was security footage from a street near where Daniel had been attacked.
"Watch." Hawley pointed to the timestamp in the corner.
The grainy footage showed an empty street. Then a police vehicle slowly cruising through the frame.
"That's three minutes before the estimated time of the assault." His words came low and measured. "And look at the location. Exactly where Daniel claimed his attackers emerged from."
My blood ran cold. "A 52 Division police vehicle."
"Can't make out the plate or who's driving, but the timing is too convenient to be coincidence."
"They used a police car." The whisper escaped me. The implications hitting like a physical blow. "The mole isn't just leaking information. They're actively involved."
Hawley nodded grimly. His shoulder brushed against mine as he pulled up another video file. "I've been tracking the vehicle's movement through different cameras. It disappears for twenty minutes, then reappears heading back toward 52."
Twenty minutes. More than enough time to deliver a brutal message to my former informant.
I straightened. A chill settled over me. "We need to..."
The door to the records room swung open. Detective Sergeant Voss's smirking face appeared. "Finding everything you need, Poster Boy?" His focus flicked between Hawley and me. Calculating.
Hawley tensed beside me. I kept my demeanor neutral. "Did you need something specific, Voss? Or just stopping by to reminisce about nonsense?"
Behind Voss, I noticed another officer passing by the window for the third time in ten minutes. Lingering a beat too long. Through the glass, several others gathered at a nearby desk, occasionally glancing our way.
"Just making sure you're not... disturbing anything. Some of these files are sensitive."
"I'm aware. I created half of them."
Voss swung the door wider. His predatory satisfaction deepening. "Oh, and by the way, good timing, Carlson. We've got a suspect in custody connected to your informant's assault."