This could be over sooner than I thought.
7
Theresa
My head was still spinning a little bit from everything that had just happened. I hadn’t ever made choices like this. And I couldn’t be sure that it wouldn’t blow back on me in some terrible way.
Yeah, sometimes you needed to step outside the law to get justice. I knew that. I wasn’t naive. But the flip side of that was when you step outside the law, you’re also not protected by it any more. And that’s when things could get dicey.
I walked into my office and plopped down behind the desk, thinking. There were a lot of things I was going to need to get together on my end, to make sure that any convictions would stick and to make sure that I would be protected in case things went south.
I pulled out my paperwork and tried to concentrate on it, but… it was proving elusive. Instead of work, thoughts of Fixer kept running through my mind.
Fixer. Who knew what his real name was? It occurred to me at that moment that I didn’t really care.
The intensity of his stare, the way his eyes just looked right through me…no wait. Not through me. Into me. I’d never seen anything like it. Never felt anything like it. It was like his hands were gliding all over me as he looked.
And speaking of hands…
Strong. Firm. Powerful.
Those were hands that moved with confidence, without hesitation. Those were hands that knew what they wanted.
I sat back in my chair, my mind suddenly far, far away from all the cases that I had pending, the pile of paperwork on my desk like it didn’t even exist.
It seemed like his scent was in the air all around me, filling me. I could breathe it in. I didn’t know much about this mystery man, but I knew that I wanted him.
It couldn’t possibly be the smart move. I mean, I knew that. I wasn’t stupid.
That didn’t stop the wanting.
In my mind, he came striding into my office, banging the door open as he did so, without even saying a word. He came to the desk, lifting me up out of my chair with those strong hands, sitting me up on the desk. Leaning into me, he tilts my head back and lowers his mouth to my neck. I can just feel the slight graze of his teeth against my skin…
My phone rang suddenly, knocking me out of my reverie. I fell back forward to the desk.
Reality. Never showing up at the right time.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Picking up the phone, I tried to find an even tone.
“Branigan,” I said.
“Theresa,” a male voice barked out my name.
It was the District Attorney, Russel Cohle. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Hey Russ,” I said. “What’s up?”
“What’s up? What’s up is that you’re way behind on your caseload and I’ve got lawyers and cops calling me wondering when their cases are coming down the pipe.”
Fuck, I thought. Just what I needed.
“I know, sir, and I’m on it, I give you my word. Just got a little held up, that’s all. I’m processing some right now as we speak.”
“You’d better be, Theresa. I know there’s a lot on your plate and I know that you’re upset with the latest Larroca ruling, but you’ve got to let that go. We’ve got other things that need attention. You understand me?”
I wanted to tell him to shut the hell up and not to patronize me about what was important here, but I bit my tongue. The truth was…he was right. Cohle was a good boss overall and a pretty dedicated public servant. Fair. Honest. Maybe a bit of stickler for the rules, but a good guy overall.
And I didn’t want to let him down.
“Yes, sir. I hear you. Loud and clear, I promise. I’m on it. And will have some updates for you soon.”
There was a brief pause. I could tell he was weighing whether or not to say something further.
“All right, Theresa. Sounds good. Keep me posted, ok?”
“You got it.”
He hung up and I put the phone down, sighing again as I did.
No time for fantasy role play. Got to get back to work.
I reached for the first file on top of the stack of them, pulling it down and opening it when my phone rang again.
“Russ,” I said as I picked it up, “forget something?”
“Who’s Russ?” a smooth voice as dark as the night said.
It was him—Fixer.
“Sorry about that,” I said, “thought it was someone else. How are you?”
“I’m very good indeed. Have information for you.”
Damn, I thought. This guy lived up to reputation, that was for sure. “You have something already?”
“That’s what you hired me for, wasn’t it?”
“It sure was. Just didn’t think you’d have results so fast.”
“This is what I do,” he replied, cool and comfortable.
I couldn’t help but wonder what else he could do… but I pushed that out of my mind for the moment. “What do you have?”
“Two names for you: Daniel Ox, his money launder and O’Neill, his off the books medic. Track them down and sweat it out of them. From what I’ve learned, neither will be particularly loyal. It’s more about blackmail and fear with them.”
“You’re confident they’ll flip on Larroca?” I asked, doubtfully.
“I am. And if I’m wrong, I’ll give you a money-back guarantee.” I heard the smirk in his voice.
“Ok. Sounds good. I’ll track them down, get some warrants.”
“Excellent. Let me know when you do. Afterwards, maybe we can find some time to… discuss it in person. Compare notes.”
I swear to God, his voice was almost purring. And it was driving me wild.
“That’s a plan,” I said. “See you soon.”
“I look forward to it,” he said and hung up the phone. I made some calls for those warrants and tried to… collect myself.
8
The Fixer
The “Horse’s Head” was the kind of dive bar that gave other dive bars a bad name. Located just half-a-mile from the rail yard, it was the sort of place even the dirtiest hookers avoided.
That was because it was a place where the worst of the worst of the criminal underworld gathered. I’d heard that there were bars that stayed open late to cater to people in hospitality, giving them a place to gather. An “industry bar,” they called it.
The Horse’s Head was sort of like that. Except, this clientele hadn’t just gotten off a shift slinging food and drinks for below-minimum-wage hourly and shitty tips. These folks were more likely to have come from committing a murder. Or a robbery. Or a “rough” day hitting the pavement getting protection money from poor business owners beholden to the mob.
They gathered at the Horse’s Head to get drunk enough to forget what they’d done. Or brag about it. Maybe both.
I didn’t like going there. But I wanted to see what sort of dirt I could dig up on Larroca. And I had a contact.
Theresa was right, after all. Larroca was as slippery as an eel. I wanted to come through for her. Because Larroca was scum. And because it was my job.
And because it was for her.