The Poet (Samantha Jazz)

“What does that mean?” the captain demands.

Lang answers for us both. “We’re going through this together, Captain. That’s all.”

The captain’s expression is scathing. “Bullshit.” He motions me forward.

I grab my bag and, without looking at Lang, head in the direction the captain indicates. A few minutes later, just like on the night that little boy died, Nicole and I sit side by side while Martinez asks me what feel like softball questions. Evan, in one of his expensive suits, enters the room, arrogance dripping off him. Today he exudes vibes of the future DA with an agenda, a power grab in the air. As if defying my mental assessment, he offers Nicole a nod. “No claws needed. I promise.”

“We’ll see,” she says dryly, sensing what I sense.

He then claims the seat in front of me, his piercing blue eyes meeting mine. “He’s gone. The world is a better place. I just need to be sure I have my ducks in a row if the family sues.”

My lips press together with the evident plan in play. He was involved in taking down Newman, but he wants to distance himself and the DA’s office. He and the department here need a fall guy. That’s going to be me or Lang. “That’s what I’m here for,” I say, my tone measured and cool.

He sets a notebook on the table, opens it to a yellow pad and pen and scribbles the date down. “Why were you at the school?”

“I took a jog.”

“But you knew Newman had a restraining order against you.”

“I didn’t cross that barrier until he was dead.” It’s technically true. I didn’t step over the distance barrier of a restraining order until he was dead.

“How did you know he was dead?” Evan asks.

“Blood splattered all over his vehicle, and I ran to investigate.”

“Was there a gunshot?”

“Muted. The car was sealed, but I’ve experienced a similar incident and knew what I was hearing.”

“He just happened to kill himself when you were there.” It’s not a question, but rather an accusation.

It’s a question that’s niggled at my mind for hours. How is that even possible? “It happened. That’s all there is.”

“You hated him.”

It would seem that Lang, the captain, and Evan have been talking. “The captain’s words, not mine.”

“Did you hate him?”

“I don’t allow hate into my job.”

“That’s still not an answer,” he says.

“Did you like him, Evan? I’d be interested to hear how you felt about a serial killer.”

His lips purse. “I understand you didn’t call for an ambulance.”

“I looked inside the vehicle and he was dead.”

“The door was open?”

I hesitate. “I don’t know how it ended up open. I just know that I looked inside and it was clear he was dead.”

He studies me for several long beats. “Who opened the door? Who shut the door?”

“I didn’t open or shut the door.”

“That’s not an answer,” he snaps back.

“That’s my answer.”

“I don’t like your answer.”

“What are you getting at?” Nicole demands.

He doesn’t look at her. He looks at me. “Did he kill himself or was he murdered?”

My answer is simple and fast. “I wasn’t allowed to investigate the scene properly. You’ll have to ask the investigators involved.”

“Did you kill Newman Smith?”

The question isn’t unexpected but it still smarts. “I did not.”

“Who did?”

“Again,” I say, “I didn’t investigate the scene.”

“Did he kill himself?”

No, I think, but I won’t help him build a case that ends up against me. In other words, I say what I have to say. “It appears that way.”

He leans in closer. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Nothing I want to say to you. I need to speak to the captain.”

He narrows his eyes on me. “Why not me?”

Now I lean in closer. “Because we both know you never really cared about this case. You care about only yourself and making yourself look good and covering your ass.”

“She won’t go down for you,” Nicole interjects. “You come at her, we’ll come at you. Hard.”

He glances at her and then me. “This is not the way to earn my favor for the future.”

The decision that has lurked in the back of my mind since the captain jabbed at me over that little boy sets hard and right in my belly. “I don’t need or want your favor. Are we done?”

He closes his notebook. “We’re done. For now.” He stands up and walks toward the door.

The captain walks in immediately afterward and claims the seat Evan just left. “You’ll be off a desk and on extended leave until we’ve finished our review.”

I glance at Nicole, who knows my next move. She offers a nod of approval before I reply with, “Extended to a lifetime,” and reach into my bag to palm my badge, which I set down in front of me. “I’m done,” I say, and with that, I stand up and walk toward the door.