Pulling into the police station, I look around and make sure that Lucy isn’t around. Her surprise visit earlier was sweet, if not ill-advised. While I would like to see her again, I don’t want to risk her witnessing me pulling up with another drug peddler.
“All right, kid,” I say, looking into the rearview mirror at the solemn-faced kid. “We are here. Want to tell me your real name, Chip?”
“Charles Crew,” he mutters, not making eye contact with me.
“Charles Crew, thank you for your cooperation. It is already appreciated.” I’m feeling pretty smug.
Grabbing my keys, I open my door and walk around the hood of the car to open the back door closest to Charles. I grab him by the arm to help him up and escort him into the building.
“Hey there,” I say to the woman behind the desk. “Is that lawyer I requested here yet?” I motion to the kid. “I want to get as much information as I can out of him, as soon as I can, and I want to keep this discreet.”
I gesture for Charles to sit.
“Of course,” she says smiling. “And, yes, the lawyer will be here any minute.”
“Terrific!” I say smiling brilliantly at her. “I am going to take him to the interrogation room and then I will head back there once the lawyer has arrived. I don’t want to get in trouble for talking to someone without their lawyer present, especially if Charles Crew ends up being a minor.”
Th
e idea and potential stress of it all have me shaking my head. While I like the idea of human rights, the red tape makes my job harder. Walking back to my office, I begin digging through the files until I pull out the one I am looking for: Knight, Noah.
The file is large and heavy. No one knows the Knight drug lord case as I do. I think my heart is a little heavy. The former mayor pulled a few strings and got this man off the hook, but I know he is guilty as sin. I only wish he wasn’t the father of my girlfriend.
I hope I am wrong about this, but I am rarely wrong when it comes to police work. It’s a gut feeling that is hard to describe. I won’t go as far as to say it is supernatural, however, I can admit that the accuracy can be off-putting for the people around me. There is a reason I am the chief of police. Sliding the folder under my arm, I take the short walk to the interrogation room.
For someone who likes to talk, Charles ‘Chip’ Crew sure is sitting quietly. I hope he is taking this as seriously as it really is. While, normally, I don’t like to be a bad guy, it is best for the suspects to have a healthy fear and respect for the badge.
The county lawyer sits before me, whispering in his client’s ear. The cheap ill-fitted suit is a dead giveaway. Unfortunately, this is the way it is for guys like Chip. They don’t have real connections. They are bottom feeders. These bottom feeders are the ones that are left out to dry. They have dreams of grandeur, wealth, and respect. However, these are things they won’t find because when push comes to shove, these kids are the ones who are getting prison sentences. These low-life criminals are not the real brains behind any operation. It is as frustrating for me as it is sad. I don’t like the idea of wasted potential.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Walker,” I say, reaching over the table to shake the hand of the lawyer I see too often.
“Good evening, chief,” he says with a weak handshake that tells me all I need to know about the man.
“Mr. Walker. Mr. Crew,” I say pulling out a file. “I have a list of charges here against your client, but I am willing to drop some of them in exchange for information.
“What do you think you’re gonna charge?” the kid asks, glowering.
“Well,” I say, looking back up at him from my folder. “You did lure someone under false pretenses. You pointed a gun at someone. You tried to attack someone… all of these ‘someones’ turn out to be me, by the way. Me. The chief of police. Oh! And the little matter of cocaine that we found on you. Kind of heavy stuff as I was searching for marijuana.”
“What?! It wasn’t that much cocaine! It was only—”
“Charles, as your lawyer, I encourage you to be quiet right now,” Mr. Walker interrupts, holding up a small hand.
I can’t help but smile. I know that I have them exactly where I want them. The only question is will Charles be smart enough.
“Do you take the offer? Your client,” I say, glancing back to Charles. “Made a statement about the big guy being back in town. We know that ‘big’ guy, ‘big’ man, ‘boss’ man, etc., are all things that the lower gang members call Mr. Knight.” I pause, looking back at Charles hoping for some kind of flicker of information to cross his pale blue eyes.
“I want to know if he really is back in business,” I say, looking hard at the young man before me, whose file thankfully shows he is nineteen.
The two of them sit silently, looking at each other.
“I just want to know if he is dealing again,” I say, looking hard at the boy. “Simple yes or no.”
“If I tell you anything, they’ll kill me,’’ he whispers, looking at his hands. Suddenly he’s the epitome of a scared nineteen-year-old boy.
“No one is going to kill you, Charles.”
“If I say anything, they will know it’s me. Everyone knows I was taken in by a cop. I can’t be known as a snitch. It’ll be the end of me.”