Archer
ARCHER
T he next morning, I stalk into the precinct and weave my way through the bullpen until I arrive at the war room Fletch and I set up long before our team was assembled. There are too many of us now, too many boxes of files, too many opinions, and not nearly enough room to stretch our arms.
Which means our squad runs out of a boardroom now, with crappy leather chairs and an uncomfortable table one might find in a Fortune 500 office… well, except for the melamine finish on ours and the chairs with torn leather, scratching our thighs.
That boardroom is where we have to be, but for right now, before everyone else arrives, I take myself back to our humble beginnings, pushing the door wide and stepping in to find Fletch had the same idea.
He turns from the board and lifts his chin when our eyes meet.
“Hey.” He jerks a thumb toward the table and a pair of to-go coffee cups. “Got you fuel, since you got me last time.”
“Appreciate it.” I set two file boxes on the table and pick up both coffees instead, weighing them to find the fuller one. Figuring out which is mine, I set Fletch’s down and bring the steaming cup to my lips. “Been here long?”
“Five minutes.” He tacks a picture and a name to the board. Both of which I recognize. Neither, though, belongs to our perp, considering they belong to a guy currently taking up residence over in Leavenworth. “Not surprised you came here before you went to the boardroom.”
“This is where we think best.” Tugging out a chair and plopping my ass down, I check the clock on the wall and know, already, Minka will be in the courthouse. That three-hour time difference means her world starts far, far sooner than mine. “Mia get off to school okay?”
“Yeah. Penny’s taking her today, then they’re heading over to the aquarium for an afternoon thing. We’re pulling long hours on this one, and I don’t want my baby sitting at home with nothing to do.”
“How’s Penny handling life now that she’s not required full time for Mia? Is she pissy about the pay cut?”
“Nah. She’s about thirty years past retirement age. I think she hangs with my baby because she likes it. The money is extra.” He spins and glances toward the boxes I took home last night. “Solve our case yet?”
“No. But I noticed Mercer and Wright were on record as arresting officers for this dude, Jerry Roone. His case interests me.”
He grabs his coffee, folding one arm across his torso, and considers. “Okay. What about Jerry Roone?”
“Small to mid-level drug runner. Had a reputation for dealing pills mixed with fentanyl. One too many O.D.s connected to him, which is when Mercer tracked him down. Went to a shootout, because Roone didn’t like the idea of iron bars and slop for lunch. Roone took a slug in the belly, but survived and currently spends his time playing chess in Lompoc.”
“So if he’s in prison, you’re gonna need to work harder to convince me he’s our perp.”
“Didn’t say he was. I said he’s interesting. His brother, Maxwell Roone, has a reputation for black-market arms dealing. He’s spent more than half his adult life behind bars. But his current residential address is right here in Copeland.”
“Big brother Maxwell is settling the score with our vics, payback for popping Jerry?”
I cross one leg over the other, resting my ankle on the opposite knee. “It’s an angle worth investigating.” Then I nod toward the board. “Casey Steele. I know for a fact that asshole is in Leavenworth, so why is his name on our board?”
“Because, just like Maxwell, Casey is known to run firearms around Copeland. In fact, that’s partially why he’s in prison. Turns out, Wright and Mercer were on the squad that put him away. I see our vics, and I see guns… makes me wanna take a closer look.”
“Detectives?” Officer Clay knocks on the war room door and pokes his head in, gulping when our eyes lazily come around. “The team is all here. So I figured?—”
“Time to assemble.” Fletch takes a sip of his coffee and nods toward the door. “Line ‘em up and have them ready to report. Malone and I will be there in about two minutes.”
“Yes, Detective.” He dips his chin once, twice, three times as he backs away, then he spins and leaves to warn the troops.
“Kid can get so fuckin’ nervous,” I chuckle. “Don’t know why. He’s the best in the bunch.”
“Bit of humility never hurt anyone.” He comes around to my side of the table and smacks my shoulder, right where a bullet tore me up earlier this year. He knows it, because he quickens his steps and practically fucking dances out of the room before I can retaliate. “How’s Delicious doing over in New York?”
I peel myself out of my chair and stride through the door to catch up. “She’s okay. Felix kidnapped her, so that’s a contentious issue I’ll have to discuss—at length—eventually.”
“Yeah?” He snorts. “Kidnapping seems to be his M.O. He’s unaccustomed to being told no, so on the off chance it happens, he resorts to stealing instead.”
Come to dinner, Arch.
No.
Come to Thanksgiving, Arch.
No.
We’ll come see you, Arch.
No.
“Seems that way.” I sip my coffee and weave through desks. Some overflowing with paperwork, and others suspiciously empty. Some have detectives sitting at them, and others, coffee rings and food crumbs. “I’m not sure what time Minka’s being called to the stand, but it’s going on noon over there now, so I know she’s been sitting a while.”
“Noon probably means lunch break, right? Can’t say I’ve ever known a judge to skip a meal.”
“Maybe.” I snag my phone from my pocket, the device vibrating with a text, as though she sensed us talking about her. Unlocking the screen and opening our chat, I find hours and hours of constantly exchanged rocks. She sends one to me, and then I send one back. If I go more than an hour without replying, her rock turns to a, ‘ Where the hell are you, Malone? Check in ! ’
Hitting reply, I merely copy the rock, paste it down, and hit send. Then I type quickly, knowing I have seconds before I walk into our larger, crappier war room. ‘ I love you. Heading into a briefing now. Don’t forget to eat. ’ Hitting send, I slip the phone back into my pocket and bring my eyes up to find Fletch’s burning the side of my face. “What?”
He shakes his head, smirking as we stride through the door. “Nothing. Good to have us all back here again.” He makes his way to the board at the head of the room. “Thank you all. We’ve had surveillance placed across the city overnight and eyes scouring old case files. Detective Malone and I each have fresh theories we’d like to follow up. But first, we want an update.” He looks at Clay, since his will have the most substance. “What have you figured out since we split last night?”
“Raymone Terrabone. Drugs connections. Guns connections. And he made a public threat toward Detective’s Wright and Mercer late last year when his wife died.”
Curious, I rotate the warm cup in my hand and attempt to puzzle this connection out. “Did our vics kill Terrabone’s wife?”
“No, Detective. But they had him in custody at the time she died. He claims they detained him unnecessarily, and while he was away, an enemy swooped in and gunned her down. That enemy is behind bars already, but Raymone made his threat and has those connections. So I consider it a viable avenue for investigation.”
“Definitely viable,” I agree. “Let’s add him to the board.”