Maybe Antonio had said the wrong thing when Hayes showed up on his doorstep, but Zach didn’t think so. He believed Hayes had gone there with every intention of beating the crap out of him, at the very least. Showing him who had the power.
Bobby Ketchum, thank God, didn’t work Zach’s shift. Bobby, everyone knew, was a friend of Hayes’s. He’d have been leaving his current graveyard shift at the right time to have deposited the rabbit in Zach’s locker.
Bobby had never been in the locker room at the same time as Zach, which meant there was at least one confederate in the department who’d watched and memorized the combo for Zach’s lock. Not knowing who that was could drive him crazy, if he let it.
Half the guys on his shift and a few on other shifts who didn’t know him at all had taken a moment to slap his back and say something like, “You hang in there” or “Don’t let the bastards get to you.” That support—and Tess—was all that kept him going.
Yeah, okay. Bran, too.
He’d just parked Saturday morning and was walking in when he almost bumped into someone coming out the door. Wouldn’t you know? Bobby Ketchum, whose face darkened at the sight of him.
“Feel good about destroying a man’s career?” he snarled.
“You think a guy who killed an unarmed man because he’d had the nerve to talk to his girlfriend deserves to be a cop?” Zach got right in Ketchum’s face. “If he’s kept on in this department, it will shame everyone else who wears this uniform.”
“He’s a good cop. Who are you to talk? You’re a newbie who doesn’t know jack shit!”
“I’m a twelve-year veteran of a major police department. I’ve seen more violence than you’ve ever imagined. I spent two years working Homicide—”
“And couldn’t cut it.” Ketchum’s lip curled.
Zach leaned in, his lips pulling back from his teeth. “So, being Andy’s good friend the way you are, do you get a charge out of terrifying a woman who lives alone? Imagining her shaking in her bed as you threaten her? Or was it you who rapped on her bedroom window? And, hey, did you have a really good time hammering on my truck? Guess you’ve got to get your fun where you can, ’cuz the prison term you’re facing won’t be much fun at all.”
Ketchum’s jaw slackened and he took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?” Zach let his gaze rake the other man head to boots. “I saw the three of you, you know. Couldn’t make out faces, but your height, your build...oh, yeah. You were there.”
“I was where?” This guy was seriously freaked.
Zach had to wonder if Bobby had taken part in the destruction, after all. “Well, here’s a tip,” he said, “if you weren’t there, you might want to find out what Hayes and your other buddies have been up to. Decide if you really think any of them should be carrying a badge and a gun.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ketchum repeated. His back was pressed to the brick facade of the public safety building.
Zach put his hand on the doorknob. “Guess you’ll find out. I’m sure Detective Easley from CCPD will be in touch. Since your name is on his list of Hayes’s good buddies.” He shook his head, dismissing Ketchum, and opened the door.
A hand caught it before it could start swinging closed. Zach spun to find a detective he’d barely met had come up behind him. He groped for a name.
Something Warner. No, Warring. Chuck Warring? Charlie, he corrected himself.
Warring was the other young detective in the department. Bran hadn’t commented on him one way or the other, but Zach had seen the two coming and going together, as if they had been assigned to work together.
The guy was thin, no more than average height, brown hair cut to regulation length. His badge was hooked to his belt and he was wearing a polo shirt with khaki chinos. He had the kind of face you forgot quickly. But his eyes told Zach he was smart, cynical. He had a cop’s eyes.
And right now a smile warmed his face. “Well, you scared me,” Warring commented.