Chapter 18 #2
"Tried. But I was just a patrol sergeant then. No authority over traffic fatalities or Internal Affairs cases. By the time I got promoted and transferred to IA, most of the physical evidence had been destroyed according to standard retention schedules."
Parks leaned forward, voice dropping lower. "But Bram was smart. Paranoid, maybe, but smart. He kept backup copies of everything. It took me eight months after his funeral to find his secondary storage location."
"What did you find?"
"Documentation of evidence tampering going back at least five years.
Systematic manipulation designed to ensure specific defendants walked free.
The scope was staggering—dozens of cases, millions in seized assets that mysteriously disappeared, witnesses who changed their testimony after being 're-interviewed' by unknown parties.
"There's another pattern Bram documented. Financial irregularities among certain officers during that same period. We found irregular financial activity in several officers' accounts—including Detective Landry's. Pattern suggests systematic supplemental payments."
Lawson felt something cold settle in her stomach. "What kind of payments?"
"Regular deposits. Always the same amount. Same intervals. The kind of financial behavior that indicates someone was being compensated for services rendered." Parks's expression remained carefully neutral. "Could be overtime irregularities, consulting work, or …"
He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't need to. The implication was obvious.
"You've been building a case for three years."
"Building on Bram's foundation. Expanding his research.
Documenting new instances of tampering while investigating the old ones.
" Parks gestured toward his messenger bag.
"Monica Landry's murder fits the pattern perfectly.
She gets too close to the truth, ends up dead under suspicious circumstances, evidence disappears immediately afterward. "
"Why tell me this now?"
"Because you're not the only one who's lost a partner to this network. Because you've been chasing the same corruption that killed Bram. And because I think together, we might actually be able to finish what they started."
The weight of shared loss settled between them. Lawson understood now why Parks had seemed genuinely invested in pursuing the truth rather than protecting departmental interests. His motivation ran deeper than professional duty.
"The people responsible for Bram's death," she said carefully, "are they still active?"
"Oh yes. More active than ever. The network will grow bolder now since they successfully eliminated two major threats. They’ll think they're untouchable now." Parks finished his coffee, expression hardening. "Time to prove them wrong."
"What do you need from me?"
"Everything you've discovered about Monica's case.
Official and unofficial. I'll share Bram's files in return.
Two investigations that started separately but point toward the same conclusion.
" Parks stood and gathered his materials.
"Corruption doesn't exist in isolation, Detective.
It's systemic. Organized. And it's been operating in this city for years. "
As they prepared to leave the coffee shop, Parks paused, "Bram used to say that good cops die when they forget they're outnumbered. But he also said that bad cops die when they forget good cops never stop hunting."
Lawson nodded, understanding the unspoken commitment they were making to each other. Two investigators bound by the ghosts of murdered partners, ready to finish what their friends had died trying to accomplish.
Parks gathered his belongings. "I need to return to the station before my absence raises questions."
"What about the evidence?" Lawson nodded toward his messenger bag.
"Secured in a location only I can access." Parks stood. "These documents don't officially exist until needed for prosecution."
"If prosecution ever becomes possible."
"When, not if." Parks maintained eye contact. "Monica Landry documented corruption that continues five years after her death. Officers who refused participation systematically removed. The organization remains active, Detective."
"With protection from the highest levels."
"Which makes our investigation extremely sensitive." Parks adjusted his jacket to better conceal his weapon. "Trust no one inside the department. Communication through personal channels only."
Lawson nodded. "Parks."
He paused, waiting.
"Why help me with this? Your job—"
"My job is to identify corruption within the department." Parks cut her off. "Our objectives temporarily align. Don't read anything more into it than that."
He zipped his messenger bag and prepared to leave, then hesitated. "By the way, where were you last night between midnight and three a.m.?”
Lawson maintained a neutral expression while her mind raced.
Last night she'd been alone at Forsyth Park searching for the nonexistent insurance policy.
Before that, she'd been at Monica's storage unit, which she didn't particularly want to share with Parks, especially in light of his recent pronouncement about their objectives.
Hours spent in locations with no witnesses.
No alibi during Hutchinson's murder window.
"Home." The lie came automatically. "Why?"
"Standard question for all officers connected to Hutchinson." Parks studied her face with professional detachment. "Eliminating variables."
"Am I a variable or a suspect?"
"Everyone's both until proven otherwise." Parks adjusted his jacket. "Stay reachable."
He exited through the side door, checking sightlines before disappearing into pedestrian traffic. The implications of his question lingered. Parks was investigating all angles, including her potential involvement in Hutchinson's death.
The television continued coverage of the "suicide," the official narrative solidifying with each carefully worded statement. The coffee shop filled with tourists oblivious to the corruption discussion that had just occurred at table seven.
Lawson walked to her car. Morning heat pressed against her skin. The clean officers list remained vivid in her memory. Names crossed out. Systematic removal of honest cops to protect corruption.
Monica had been right to trust no one. To create insurance policies hidden in multiple locations. To document the pattern while searching for its source.
"Our place." The phrase circled her thoughts. Not the fountain. Not the waterfront. Somewhere only Lawson would recognize. Somewhere connected to their relationship yet hidden from watchful eyes.
Five years searching for justice, and the answer remained locked in two words she couldn't decipher.