He’s always had a nasty habit of destroying the things he covets.
“Look, if you really don’t want to do this, I won’t force you. I can do it on my own. But… You’re the best player I’ve ever known, Reyes,” Chris says, calling my attention back to him. He’s standing by home plate with a bat slung across his shoulders, hands dangling over either end. “I know you can’t pitch anymore. Not like you used to. But it’d be a shame to let all that talent go to waste, in my humble opinion. Especially when you could share it with some kids who probably need a bit of inspiration.”
“I’m not exactly a motivational speaker. Kinda doubt I’m cut out for coaching.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. Half the time, Coach Hamm used to let you lead our warm-ups and drills during practice back at Exeter.” He stares at me, a pleading look on his face. “Come on, Reyes.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
“Fine? As in, you’ll do it?!”
“I’ll do it.”
“Fuck yeah!” Chris grins, drops the bat, and hauls me into a back-slapping hug. “Thanks, man. Knew I could count on you.”
Some of my assurance wavers at the thought of anyone counting on me. It’s been a long, long time since someone did. But I shake off the self-doubt and, with a grin that feels out of place on my face, push my way out of Tomlinson’s arms. “All right, all right. I agreed to be your co-coach, not to give you one of my kidneys. Don’t go overboard.”
“Oh, admit it. You’re excited too, Reyes.”
I roll my eyes. “Now that you’ve effectively conned me into a coaching position, can we please get back to important things? I asked you to meet me for a reason.”
“Right. The mysterious favor.” He shoots me a curious look. “What is it?”
I reach up to run my hand through my hair, a nervous habit, and am startled to find there’s no hair to run through. My arm drops uselessly back to my side. “It’s my brother.”
“Jaxon?”
“Mmm.”
“Let me guess — he’s causing trouble again.”
“Trouble might be an understatement.”
“So when you asked to meet me… you didn’t mean as your pal. You meant…”
“As a policeman.” I nod stiffly. “Yeah. I’d like your advice, if you’re up for it.”
For the next few minutes, I tell Chris about my last two run-ins with Jaxon at the docks, along with Tommy’s theory that they’re running drugs up the coast with the old trawler. As I talk, my old friend’s typically playful demeanor drops away, replaced by intent concentration. In that moment, I can see the officer he’s on his way to becoming; the man whose shoes he’s on the precipice of stepping into. And I know it wasn’t a mistake to bring this to him.
“Long story short,” I say, sighing as my story winds down. “Jaxon is paranoid. He’s also violent, especially when he’s on drugs. He’s unpredictable. Worst of all, the bastard isn’t entirely stupid. He’s got some kind of sixth sense for knowing when shit is about to hit the fan and somehow manages to Houdini his way out of the crosshairs every time.”
“I sympathize, I really do. But I’m not sure how I can help.”
“Your father is the police chief. You’re an officer.”
“This isn’t really our jurisdiction. The MBTS force is more accustomed to parking tickets and traffic details than taking down local crime syndicates.” His brows lift. “Why not take this to Jaxon’s parole officer?”
“You mean the same parole officer who did such a great job watching him last summer?” I snort. “Let’s just say, I don’t have the most faith in his abilities to track down my brother, let alone take him into custody. If I call him and he goes strolling up the docks to confirm my story for himself…” I shake my head. “Jaxon’s crew will clock him a mile away. They’ll just cast off their lines and disappear. And then…”
“He’ll come after you. Jaxon. He’ll know you dimed him out.”
“I don’t care about me,” I mutter. “I care about...”
“Valentine.” Chris swears lowly. “I get it. I do. But, setting my pride aside for a moment, I’m not sure I’m qualified to help you here. You could take it to the state police or the local FBI bureau, I’m sure they’ve got a crime division for cases like this—”
“Last summer, I was nearly arrested for something I didn’t do. Since then, I don’t have much faith in law enforcement. But I trust you, Chris. I trust you more than I trust some random desk agent who looks at me and sees a kid with a recent arrest for drug possession—”
“Those charges were dropped,” he interjects. “Your record is clean.”
“And the fact that I share the same last name as they guy I’m accusing? You don’t think they’ll pick apart my story? For all I know, they’ll toss me in jail right along with my brother as a co-conspirator.”
“Now who’s being paranoid?”
“Look, I—” I swallow down my stubbornness, my pride. Bury away my natural instincts to do everything on my own, to handle every problem in my life without admitting I might possibly need a little bit of assistance sometimes. “I can’t do this by myself. I tried that last summer, and… it didn’t exactly turn out in my favor.”
Thoughts are working in the depths of Chris’ eyes. “If we could get a warrant for the trawler, we could raid the docks. Take them by surprise. Call in Coast Guard support to block the channel. A coordinated strike to make sure Jaxon can’t slip through the net again and ensure that no more drugs move through our harbors.” He’s silent for a long moment. “The main issue is, it’s a bit of a Catch-22 — we can’t raid the docks without a warrant. Can’t get a warrant without some evidence of wrongdoing to bring to a judge.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Could be anything. Pictures of illegal paraphernalia or weapons, video of them loading drugs on or off the trawler, an audio confession—”
“I can get a confession.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“You get me a wire to wear, I’ll get you my brother’s confession.” I pull in a breath. “I’ll get enough evidence for them to send Jaxon away — for good, this time.”
“Hell no, Reyes. You’re not putting yourself in danger on the off-chance Jaxon is dumb enough to talk to you.”
“Oh, he’ll talk to me. He loves to brag. And he’s convinced himself that our brotherly bond is strong enough to make me forget that he ruined my life.”
“If he realizes you’re there to record him, there’s no telling how he’ll react.”
“I’ll be fine, Tomlinson.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. You just have to make it happen.”
“I’ll talk to my father. He’s got some connections at the District Attorney’s office we can reach out to, who’ll send this info up the right channels. When I have a more concrete plan, you’ll be the first one in the loop.”