Chapter 42
HARLAN - COLOUR OUTSIDE THE LINES
Most people think rot starts loud.
That it smells. That it spreads like smoke or blood.
But real rot?
It’s quiet.
It builds under paint. Behind smiles. Between the lines of a report written just wrong enough to look right. It doesn't scream. It waits.
And tonight, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
The weight of it had followed me home. In the car. In the shower. In the silence where Ava used to be.
It had been a month and a half since I’d had her in my arms. Three weeks since I watched her heart break in front of me in real time. Watch what we have built slowly over months wither away. Now? I had a desk full of files, and the ghost of her last words still echoed like gunshots.
I hadn't stopped calling her, trying to reach her. I even tried calling Remi. When she answered, I had a brief moment of hope, and then she cut that down with the kind of vengeance I should have expected from her. She was defending her person, and I was the enemy.
Again, that hope flickered when I saw her at the front desk talking to Reid, but when I called for her, she shot me a look that could drop someone dead and walked away, leaving a box of my things.
My things from Ava's.
I had kept telling myself that I would talk to her, get her to understand, and prove my innocence. But everything was continuing to pile up, and it felt like I couldn't breathe.
The office was dark except for the low light of the desk lamp and the screen’s blue glow. I’d locked the door. Closed the blinds. Turned off the hallway camera. Nothing would go in or out of this room tonight without me saying so.
I pulled the files I’d been stashing in my personal drawer, away from the system, off-grid, off-books. These weren’t for internal affairs. They were for me. For the man who used to spot threats in the dark long before they became a fucking problem.
I had been searching through the years but decided to narrow it to more recent events.
I started with the night Remi was injured.
911 logs. Dispatch records. Officer timestamps.
Then I traced backward. Lia’s call. Cross-referenced known clients of the clinic with incident delays, tampered paperwork, and camera malfunctions. Anything that didn’t sit right.
Erin Voss’s name kept circling back like a goddamn vulture.
Then came the rest, the officers she trained. Ones she vouched for. Ones who’d covered scenes that never made it to court. Cases that ended without conviction, even with testimony. Even with bruises.
I circled names. Tagged timestamps. Laid out the redacted statements beside the audio files we still had access to.
The picture forming wasn’t just flawed.
It was criminal.
I leaned back in my chair, every muscle in my neck tight.
And I knew it.
This wasn’t just about Voss anymore. This was bigger.
So, I locked everything away.
Every printout. Every file. Every fucking whisper.
Remi's suggestion to bring someone in that I trusted burned bright.
I left the office, drove two blocks to the corner gas station where I could park without drawing attention, and used a burner I kept stashed for calls like this.
Not on the precinct line.
Not on my department cell.
I called a man I hadn’t spoken to in over two years.
He picked up on the third ring.
“Harlan Gray,” Kane said, voice rough and unamused. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you again unless the world ended.”
“Feels like it’s getting close.”
A pause. “What the hell’s going on?”
“You working?” I asked.
“Always.”
“This is off the record.”
Kane made a low sound. “Aren’t you still a cop?”
“Not for much longer if I keep digging.”
That got his attention. “What kind of digging?”
“I’ve got corruption in my precinct. Deep. Structured. Buried under good lies and red tape. Tampered reports, botched calls, mishandled victims. And it all tracks back to one officer... but she’s not working alone.”
I heard Kane exhale. “Name?”
“Erin Voss.”
Another pause. “Not familiar.”
“Didn’t expect you to be. She doesn’t make national waves. She just makes sure local ones drown.”
“Well,” Kane said, low and cold, “ain’t that poetic.”
“I need help,” I said. “Off-the-books. Eyes and ears inside. Quiet surveillance. Someone who doesn’t scare easy.”
Kane’s voice went dry. “You calling in a favour?”
“I’m calling in the man I trust with my life.”
There was silence on the other end. And then: “You want Gray?”
“I want Gray.”
“You know what that means.”
“I do.”
“You sure you’re ready to colour outside the lines, Chief?”
I hesitated.
Not because I didn’t know the answer.
Because I’d spent my whole life convincing myself the law was the answer. That order would save the world.
But not this time.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure.”
Kane went quiet again. Then: “Does this have anything to do with those two hell-raisers I keep hearing about?”
“What?”
“People are talking. Thelma and Louise with trauma certifications. Raising hell in your state... in your town. That ring a bell?”
A grim smile touched my face. “Yeah. It rings.”
“They your problem?”
“No,” I said. “They’re the only ones doing it right. They’re the good guys.”
“Then I’ll send Gray,” Kane said. “Keep your mouth shut, your head down, and your back to the wall until he gets there. If this goes as deep as you say, you’re not going to see the knives coming.”
“Copy that.”
“Harlan?”
“Yeah?”
Kane’s voice lowered. “Don’t fuck around. If this is what I think it is, people are going to come out of the woodwork. Good people get burned in cleanup jobs.”
I closed my eyes.
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
He hung up.
I stood in that back parking lot with my phone still pressed to my ear for a full minute after the line went dead.
Then my cell buzzed.
Cole Dawson.
I opened it.
Cole
The dog you had a problem with...
The Great Dane’s no longer a problem.
Appreciate the favour, Chief.
The pigs are fed.
I stared at the screen for a long time.
Then I typed back:
Understood. Let me know if you need anything else.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket and started walking back to my car.
Tomorrow, I’d have to wear the mask again.
But tonight?
Tonight, I knew the truth.
And the rot inside this place wasn’t hiding anymore.
It was spreading.