CHAPTER NINETEEN
Mitch ordered an Uber while walking to the elevator, and it was waiting for him as he exited the hospital. He asked the driver to hurry and ended up arriving before Adam and Maggie.
Lance was chatting up the receptionist but made a beeline for Mitch as he walked in. “Hey. You hear the news?”
The receptionist looked relieved and quickly returned to her typing. Mitch ignored Lance, not wanting to start a conversation.
“So, have you found out anything more in your investigation?” Lance whispered, putting air quotes around “investigation.”
He gave Lance a deadly look. “You’d be the last fucking person I’d tell. Get lost.”
Lance retreated quietly just as Adam, Maggie, and a handful of uniformed officers came rushing through the doors. Mitch’s mood changed immediately. He slapped Adam on the back and smiled. “Son of a bitch. I can’t believe we might be getting close.”
“Yeah, wait till you hear what Maggie saw. They called in Honeycutt to get the sketch done ASAP.”
Maggie looked dazed, taking in all the commotion as if she’d never been in a police station before. Eyes wide, she wandered off.
Once she was out of earshot, Adam turned to him. “From her description, I’m almost certain it’s Manuel, but I don’t know why she wouldn’t recognize him. His face was everywhere for months.”
Mitch thought about it for a second. “She stayed with Jenny for a couple of months after it happened. I’m sure they didn’t watch the news.
Then she returned to North Carolina where the story had probably died down to nothing by then.
It’s entirely possible she’s heard of him but never seen him,” he speculated.
“That makes sense. Well, I let her know it was possible she’d IDed someone we’ve been searching for, for a long time but was purposefully vague. I don’t want to taint her thoughts or memories before she talks to Honeycutt.”
“Hey, guys. You can call off the sketch artist,” Maggie called out. She was staring at a wall of outdated, worn-out wanted posters and pointed straight to Jimmy’s killer. “That’s him. No doubt in my mind.”
“Fuck me. He is here. I knew it!” Mitch was torn between excitement and absolute rage. That fucker was still in town, and Mitch hadn’t found him. But he’d fucked up, and now he would pay. This would put his ugly mug back on everyone’s radar, and sooner or later they would catch him.
A thought struck him. “If he knows we’ve IDed him, it’ll drive him further underground. It might be months before he resurfaces. He could even leave town again.”
“You’re right,” Adam agreed. “We should talk to the brass about keeping his ID under wraps with the press for now. If he thinks he got away with it, maybe he’ll become complacent and make more mistakes.”
Mitch was pumped. He’d been searching a long time for this son of a bitch.
Recently, feelings of guilt had been nagging at him because he’d let his after-hours investigation wane.
Then again, that might be what made Manuel decide to come out from hiding.
Maybe he thought no one was looking anymore, and that’s why he had the balls to rob the bank again.
“Maggie, how would you feel about keeping this quiet?” he asked. “We’ll get your statement tonight, and then you just go home and pretend like you didn’t see anything more than any other person in that bank. Even if reporters ask you directly.”
“I can do that,” she said.
Mitch was in full detective mode now, mind racing with the implications. Manuel was in the city, had men working for him, and was still living his life of crime. So much for learning his lesson.
When he finally looked up, he noticed Adam was wearing a baseball jersey and hat, identical to what the boys had shown him as their uniform. “What’s with the baseball get up? Jenny’s boys have that same uniform.”
After a brief look of panic, he squared his shoulders and stood straight, thrusting out his massive chest. “I’m coaching the boys’ baseball team,” he said. His casualness seemed forced.
“What? You don’t even know them. How’d that happen?” Suspicion crept into Mitch’s voice.
“Well, I left my sunglasses at Jenny’s the night of the barbecue. When I went back to get them, I found out the boys’ coach had to quit, so I offered to step in. We’ve, um, we’ve been hanging out a lot lately.”
“Define ‘hanging out.’” Mitch was dangerously close to losing it.
Adam looked him straight in the eye. “We’re dating. We’re together,” he amended. “I know it sounds crazy, but I love her,” he stated matter-of-factly.
The punch came from nowhere, catching everyone by surprise. Maggie gasped as Adam went down hard. “Stay the fuck away from Jenny,” Mitch growled at his unconscious body. He spun on his heels and stormed out of the station amidst gaping mouths and “Oh my Gods.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Speed walking to nowhere, his thoughts raced.
Now he’d gone and done it. As soon as the LT heard about him punching Adam, he would be up shit creek.
It wouldn’t matter that he was standing up for Jenny.
Maybe if he told the LT about Adam’s reputation, he’d take Mitch’s side on this. The LT had a soft spot for Jenny.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID. It was Jenny. Decline. That was a conversation he wasn’t ready for yet. What if she really liked him? How was he supposed to tell her that the first guy she dated was only looking for another notch in his belt?
Speaking of sleeping around, he noticed another missed call from Veronica.
She’d called multiple times over the last few weeks, only to get his voicemail.
Her messages vacillated between anger at him for not calling and desperation from needing to see him.
They’d only slept together a handful of times, and he thought she knew going in that this was a casual thing, but she wasn’t getting the hint that he was done.
He wondered if he might have to actually talk to her to end it.
Mitch had been tiring of Veronica, and after meeting Maggie, Veronica had lost what was left of her appeal.
Maggie was the exact opposite of Veronica in almost every way.
Short, brown-haired, na?ve, clumsy, and a total goody two shoes.
But she was also funny, smart, sexy, and kindhearted.
Something about her had crawled under his skin, and she was like an itch he couldn’t scratch.
Maybe he should scratch that itch with Veronica one last time. Lord knew he needed to get laid. That would help him relax. Then he could focus on finding Manuel. On impulse, he called her.
“Can you be at my place in thirty minutes?” he growled without preamble.
“Hey, Mitch. It’s so good to hear from you,” she cooed. “Finally. How’ve you been, sugar?”
“Thirty minutes or no?”
“Geez, grumpy pants. Sure, I can come by then, but I…”
He hung up and kept walking. Getting laid and then drunk would help. Then he could think about all this other bullshit.
“Yes, yes, more. Give it to me, baby. Harder. Harder!”
“Mitch, what the fuck is that?” Veronica stood staring in horror at Harold. “Whose voice is that?”
“That’s Harold, my new pet. And that’s nobody I know. He came like that.” He didn’t want to deal with a jealous tirade on top of everything else.
“Scotch?” he asked as he poured and downed his first glass.
“Oh my God. He’s disgusting!” she whined. “I was hoping we could have a romantic dinner, and he’ll ruin it.”
A romantic dinner? Alarm bells rang out. Maybe he hadn’t fully thought this through.
What was he thinking? Of course he hadn’t thought this through.
He never thought anything through. That was his whole problem in life right now.
Everything he did was on impulse, and most of it got him into trouble.
He was a total fuck up and calling Veronica to have sex was a stupid mistake. One he had to fix ASAP.
When he turned to face her, she had moved up behind him and was an inch away from kissing him.
She had covered Harold’s cage, and he was blessedly quiet.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her surgically enhanced breasts against him, and closed the gap.
He got lost in her for a moment, but then thought of Maggie’s soft, natural, normal-sized breasts and compared them to Veronica’s hard, perfectly round double Ds.
Veronica kissed differently, too. She was forceful and demanding.
Maggie was eager and unrestrained, but not sloppy.
Veronica’s kiss didn’t make him crazy like Maggie’s did.
He broke the kiss. “Listen, Veronica. I asked you over to tell you something.” He needed to let her down gently yet leave no room for hope.
“We’ve never really defined our relationship.
I mean, we’ve only gone out a couple of times, but I feel like I should tell you that I’ve met someone. We can’t see each other anymore.”
Stretching the truth a little would spare her feelings. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable way to end their practically nonexistent relationship.
“What?” she screamed. “I knew it! Is it the bitch Harold is mocking?”
So much for reasonable. She screamed, she cried, she cussed, and even tried seducing him one last time. When he stood firm, she said her final “fuck you” and left.
After Veronica left, Mitch poured another glass of scotch, sat down heavily on the massive leather couch, and began the oft-repeated and well-known task of berating himself.
One stupid punch, and all the progress he’d made in the last few weeks went flying out the door. His budding friendship with Adam would be history. He would no doubt ask to be reassigned first thing after regaining consciousness. Starting over with a new partner was a depressing thought.
This might also mean that his whole file would be turned over to IA. That was a complication he didn’t need. He wanted to be in on the hunt for Manuel, but if they suspended him, he wouldn’t get to work on the search at all. He’d really fucked up this time.
And what if Jenny truly did like Adam? She’d be pissed as hell. Maybe she’d finally write him off for good. He would deserve it. Every day he wondered why she hadn’t done that two years ago when he’d made her a widow.
Once Jenny cut ties, Maggie would lose interest, but that was just as well. Getting involved with her wasn’t a good idea anyway. She wasn’t casual fling material, and since that’s all he had to offer, he would eventually hurt her. He was no good for her. She deserved better.
God, his life was a shitshow. He needed to get it together and fix all of his fucking messes. For now, though, he’d just drink and wallow. Fixing things could wait until tomorrow.
***
“Boss, that was amazing!” One of Manuel’s goons was counting money and putting rubber bands around each stack of five hundred dollars. “The police never even showed up. What a bunch of assholes.”
Manuel and his buddies had been celebrating since returning from the heist. “Not a bad haul for five minutes of work, eh?” Roughing people up and breaking shit felt good. He needed to do it more often.
They’d all laughed at the latest news report, which showcased crying victims, hugging each other, thankful to be alive. The news reported that the police had no leads on the identities of the culprits. The TV remained on but muted in the corner.
They were waiting for Jose, who’d gone to get takeout and a few bottles of tequila. They were getting drunk tonight.
Manuel’s phone rang. After a glance at caller ID, he stepped into the empty hallway to take the call.
“You have news?” He didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“We’re with him now. He says he doesn’t have the money,” Carlos said. “I’ve already broken one finger, but he isn’t budging. He says he has information that is just as valuable, and he’ll tell you if you forgive his debt and let him out of the deal.”
“Put him on,” Manuel ordered and then waited until he heard whimpering from the other end. He knew how badly getting a finger broken hurt.
“Why would I make a deal with you?”
“They know the bank robbery was you,” a man’s voice whispered.
“How?” Manuel was at full attention now. “You guys didn’t even show up this time.”
“I’ll tell you what I know, but then we’re done. You consider the rest of my debt paid off, and I never speak to you again. Deal?”
“You’re in no position to tell me when we’re done. You owe me a lot of fucking money. Not to mention the trouble you would get into if I told everyone you’re a rat.”
“There was a witness. Someone who can ID you. I have the name but won’t tell you unless we have a deal.”
Manuel froze. “I don’t believe you. No one saw me well enough to identify me. I had a mask on for hell’s sake.”
“You walked behind a column and pulled it up to fix your face, you stupid fuck. Someone saw you and identified you at the police station from a poster on the wall. If you want a name, our relationship ends. Now!”
Manuel remained silent, thinking. His informant had never been defiant before, and he wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that he’d suddenly grown a pair.
It had been weeks since he’d had any valuable information from him, and it wasn’t like Manuel would ever get his money back.
A cop’s lifetime salary wouldn’t be enough to cover what this idiot owed him.
Perhaps the relationship had served its purpose, and he should cut him loose.
He also couldn’t risk this guy turning on him.
The man on the phone stayed silent.
“Fine. Deal. Who’s the witness, and where can I find him?”
“I’ll give you the name only. Once I do, we’re done. You don’t come back later asking for money or any other information, agreed?”
“Agreed. Name?”
“Margaret.”
“Well, what’s her last name, asshole?”
“You have to promise you won’t hurt her.”
“I don’t have to promise you anything. What’s her last name?”
When there was no answer, he yelled for Carlos to get back on the line.
“Yeah, boss?” Carlos listened quietly. “Will do,” he said before disconnecting.
Manuel stared at the phone. A chick? This would be easy. Carlos would get the last name, and then they would make sure Margaret kept her mouth shut.
This added some excitement to his life, and hadn’t that been what he wanted? If Margaret was young and hot, this might even be fun.