“What happens to Chantel?”
“She’s being offered the job of her choice within the department. She’s a great cop. And will make a great leader within the force, too. I look forward to many years of having her on my team.”
“She’s agreed to that?”
“I’m sure she has. They were meeting with her this afternoon. I’d have heard if there was a problem.”
Johnson might have agreed to the deal. To protect others.
He had to believe that Reynolds was bluffing on that one.
Harris would never agree to it. She knew that hiding, pretending that pain didn’t exist, hurt more than anything else.
If she’d been a woman who would take a deal, she’d never have fought for Julie in the first place.
She’d had his back even when he hadn’t known she had it. His and Julie’s. She’d risked her life for them.
And who had her back?
Ever?
“I’m sorry, Paul, but I can’t do as you’re asking. Julie and I have already spoken about going public with this. And if Chantel wants to pursue the matter, she will have our full support.”
Paul Reynolds stood so quickly he knocked the table onto two legs. It teetered and fell back to place. “You’ll regret this.”
“Possibly. But I don’t think so. I’m willing to consider another deal with you, Paul. One I’m sure I can get Chantel to agree to.”
“And that is?”
“You resign. For whatever reason you deem appropriate. Pack up your things and go quietly, and you go with your reputation intact.”
Paul’s thrumming fingers on the table was the tell he’d needed. “And one other thing,” he said, doing not half-bad on the fly.
“What’s that?”
“I’ll want the names of anyone else in the Santa Raquel Police Department who had any involvement in allowing criminals to run free.” He was thinking like Harris.
And he didn’t hate the feeling.
“I’m not going to...”
“Think about it, Paul. Julie and I plan to have something ready for the press by the end of the week.”
“Give me through the weekend. I need to speak with Patricia.”
Colin stood. Held out his hand. When Paul shook it, he knew he’d won. The commissioner would be a fool to refuse him. He came from money and had enough of it from the investments he’d inherited to live in style for the rest of his life. He also was in a perfect position to crawl farther up the political ladder—as long as there was no scandal attached to him.
“Oh, and one other thing, Paul,” he said as the two of them were walking out together.
“Yes?”
“It’s about Patricia. Just out of curiosity, why was she suddenly showing up on every committee Julie was on?”
He had the man dead to rights then.
“Because you two were worried that, with the new information surfacing about the Morrisons, Julie and Leslie together might decide to revisit the past?”
“I’ll make an announcement and give you those names by Sunday,” Paul said and strode away.
* * *
CHANTEL WAS SITTING with Wayne in the interrogation room, listening to him talk about all of the reasons why she needed to rethink her position, when Captain Reagan came back to the door.
“Chantel? There’s someone here to see you.”
“Who is it?” she asked, but the captain had already turned away. He was not happy with her. Yet she had the impression that he wasn’t all that unhappy with her, either. Captain Reagan was a good man. Maybe she’d have an ally in him somewhere down the road.
Still in uniform, though she’d been off shift more than an hour, she rose. Wayne made good points. She respected him.
But she wasn’t going to change her mind.
She also had no idea what she was going to do. Taking down the police commissioner without any help was not going to be easy.
Neither had kneeing a man two hundred pounds heavier than her been easy. But she’d done it.
Heading out front to the lobby, she saw Colin before he saw her. And almost turned back. She could send out word that she was busy. Didn’t feel well. Change and escape out the back.
She was Harris, not Johnson. She didn’t run from trouble.
So she boldly walked right up to him—uniform, holster, Taser gun, hiking boots and all.
“You wanted to see me?”
He stepped back. Looked her up and down. And then grinned. “I could get used to that,” he said. He leaned forward, his mouth to her ear. “In my bedroom. Especially if you bring the handcuffs.”
She wanted to slap him. But then she saw the seriousness in his gaze.
“What’s going on?” she asked. People were starting to notice her standing there with a man who was clearly not one of them. They may or may not recognize him, but Colin spoke wealth from the top of his expensively cut hair down to the handmade leather shoes.