Chapter 27
HARLAN - FEMINIST CONSPIRACY TREES
The station felt wrong.
Not loud or chaotic, just… wrong.
It was the kind of quiet that meant something was about to blow, and everyone was waiting to see who lit the match.
I walked the hallway with my coffee half-full and my patience running thinner than the September light slanting through the blinds.
Every desk I passed had just a little too much posture.
Too much eye contact or none at all. Like they weren’t sure whether I was still their Chief, or just the guy sleeping with the enemy.
The fundraiser had been in March. Six months gone. A lifetime in this job. Long enough for the applause to fade, but not long enough for the memory of Ava Sinclair on my arm to stop circling the rumour mill. The longer it went, the sharper the whispers got.
Our relationship seemed to be a point of contention to some.
And Erin Voss didn’t even try to hide it.
She stood at the corner of the bullpen, arms folded, watching two rookies file an intake like she was judging a dog show. Everything about her posture said command, but the kind that doesn’t earn it, just demands it.
I didn’t stop. But of course, she followed.
“Morning, Chief,” she said with a sugar-slick smile. “You look… tired.”
I didn’t return it. “It’s been a long couple of weeks.”
“Busy ones, too, I hear.” Her boots pounded deliberately against the tile. “Seems you’ve been really busy... well, since the fundraiser.”
My jaw ticked. “Is there a question in there somewhere, Voss?”
“You haven’t been out with the crew in a while. It would be a nice show of solidarity. Optics and all.”
I paused at the coffee pot, not because I needed more caffeine, but because I needed something to keep my hands from curling into fists. The air smelled burnt, bitter, over-brewed.
“I thought I was running a precinct,” I said flatly, “not a sorority.”
She leaned against the counter beside me, dropping her voice.
“Some of the officers are starting to ask questions, you know. About where your priorities are… who’s influencing policy... It’s only natural.”
“Natural?” I questioned, still not looking at her.
She gave a mock shrug. “You spend enough time around people like Sinclair and Carter; you stop seeing the forest for the feminist conspiracy trees.”
That one landed. I finally looked at her. Really looked.
Who the hell was this woman? Or had she always been like this, and I’d just missed it?
Her smile sharpened. “Just saying. They’ve got passion, sure. But passion can be blinding. Manipulative. Especially when there’s history involved.”
I held her stare for one long, slow breath. “What exactly are you accusing them of, Sergeant?”
“Nothing, Chief.” She lifted her hands in mock innocence. “Just pointing out that not everyone has your objectivity. Some think you’re too close to see straight anymore.”
I stepped in just a fraction closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “I see more clearly than you think.”
Her expression twitched. Just for a second, a crack in the polish. Then the mask slid back. “Of course you do.”
Before I could say more, a voice rang from across the hall.
“Chief? We’ve got another intake. Juvenile. Female. Flagged as Carter’s client.”
I turned on instinct.
“Picked up on disorderly conduct,” the rookie added, shuffling a clipboard. “Downtown. Claimed she was trying to get help from a shelter.”
My pulse kicked.
I moved fast, reaching the intake room just as they were leading the girl in. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, thin as a shadow, shaking, her eyes darting like a cornered animal.
“No visible injuries, but verbal resistance,” the officer was saying. “Didn’t provide ID. Said her name was Lia.”
That name landed like a gut punch. Remi had been working to get her placed somewhere permanent. I remembered Ava telling me about her, a bright kid, quick with math, afraid of shadows.
And the arresting officer?
Voss.
Of fucking course.
“She fought the process,” Erin said, voice clipped. “We had no choice.”
“She needed a bed,” I said, stepping between her and the girl. “Not a cell.”
“Chief, she was combative...”
“She was scared,” I snapped. “And from what I’m reading, you didn’t try to de-escalate. Again.”
The girl flinched at my tone, so I forced myself to soften it when I turned back to her. I dropped to one knee, levelled my voice low.
“You’re safe now. I’ll make sure someone gets in touch with Remi, okay?”
Her lip trembled, but she nodded.
I rose, heat burning behind my ribs. “Take her to the break room. Get her water and something to eat. Don’t book her unless I say.”
The rookie nodded immediately. Erin didn’t move.
I faced her, calm as I could manage. “Your discretion is officially under review, Sergeant.”
Her jaw flexed. “Is that a threat?”
“No,” I said. “It’s a proper warning.”
I left her standing there, walked back to my office, and shut the door harder than I needed to. The blinds rattled in the frame.
My hands shook as I reached for the locked drawer, pulled out a hidden file marked Internal Review, and slid in a fresh report.
Then I leaned back, staring at the precinct map on the wall. The city lines. The case clusters. The fault lines that were already starting to fracture.
I had to tread carefully.
Because the fire was already lit.
And someone was feeding it from inside the house.