Superbia (Book One of the Superbia Series) (9 page)

“We’re in the
middle of a huge drug bust and you’re screwing around with this bullshit?”

One of the
mothers shot a glance at Vic.
 
Frank shook
his head and said, “I don’t know this person, ma’am.
 
I apologize for his offensive conduct, though.”

“You didn’t even
tell me you were heading out here!”

Frank ripped off
his hat and threw it on the ground like a baseball coach.
 
“Just because you don’t have to play by the
rules that everyone else does, doesn’t mean I don’t!
 
I like working with you, Vic.
 
I really do, but when push comes to shove,
I’m going to be back on the street and if I don’t want to have a miserable
existence, I need to keep the Staff Sergeant happy, the Chief happy, and
whatever else it takes.”

“That guy Paris’s
for real,” Vic said.
 
“I called Dez Dolos.
 
He runs the FBI drug taskforce.
 
They think Billy is in real trouble.”

“Know what I
think?” Frank said.
 
“I think you need to
move your car so I can cross these kids.”

***

Vic Ajax walked
into the Staff Sergeant’s office without knocking.
 
He did not salute.
 
He put both hands on the edge of Erinnyes’s
desk and said, “I need Frank to be exclusive to me until further notice.
 
We’re working on something important.”

Erinnyes’s eyes
twinkled with delight at the opportunity to deny the request.
 
“I’m afraid that just isn’t possible right
now, Detective.”

“Oh, it’s
possible,” Vic said.
 
“I wasn’t asking
your permission.
 
I was just giving you
advance notice.
 
I’m going to talk to the
Old Man right now.”

Erinnyes leaned
back in his chair and ran the palm of his hand over his bald head.
 
“Do you know why a permanent Detective
position was never created in this police department, Victor?
 
It’s because there never has, and never will
be, any need for a full-time investigator here.
 
Let alone two.
 
I told the Chief
that when you insisted on taking a raw Academy recruit and thrusting her into
undercover work.
 
I told him what would
happen.”

“Leave her out of
this,” Vic snapped.

The Staff
Sergeant reached into his desk drawer and slapped a packet of brand new traffic
citations on his desk.
 
“Do you know what
that is, Victor?
 
It’s your future.
 
I keep them in my desk set aside specifically
for you.
 
I suppose you have nothing to
fear as long as Midas is here to protect you, but always remember, that is your
fate.
 
It waits patiently.”
 

Vic left the
office without responding and walked down the hall to the Chief’s office.
 
The door was closed but he heard the Chief
speaking.
 
Vic knocked gently.
 
“Come in,” the Chief said.
 
The Old Man was sitting at his desk talking
on the phone.
 
He covered the mouthpiece
and told Vic to close the door behind him.
 
“Right.
 
Well, I don’t want to
come down there and have nothing to look at.
 
Two-bedrooms, minimum.
 
Nothing in
tornado country, either.”

The Chief hung up
the phone and Vic sat down in one of the chairs.
 
“It’s a good time to pick up an investment property
if you can swing it, boss.
 
Looking for a
vacation rental?”

“Looking for my
new home!
 
I’m heading for life on the
open range, buddy.
 
Can’t wait to get the
hell out of here.”

Vic shifted
nervously in his seat.
 
“When do you
think that will be?”
 

“Could be
tomorrow, could be whenever.
 
The Township
can’t seem to make sense of the numbers I gave them for my pension.
 
As soon as their accountant makes the
corrections and they cut me a check, you will have seen the last of me.”

“Oh,” Vic
said.
 
“Any word on that promotion?”

The Chief cocked
his head in confusion, then his eyes lit up.
 
“Of course!
 
I’m working on that
too.
 
You have my word, before I leave,
you’ll be at
least
a promoted
detective.”

Vic breathed out
and said, “Great.
 
I appreciate it,
sir.
 
I know you must have your hands
full.”

“I take care of
the people who take care of me,” the Chief said benevolently.
 
“So, what can I do for you?”

“I need Frank to
be exclusive to me for the time being, boss.
 
I can’t operate not knowing where he’s going to be on any given
day.
 
We have a big job coming up, and I
can’t have him running off to direct traffic every five minutes.”

The Chief pursed
his lips and thought on it without speaking for a moment.
 
“The Staff Sergeant told me Frank wasn’t that
busy yet in Detectives.”

“The Staff
Sergeant is wrong,” Vic said.
 

The Chief finally
nodded and pressed the intercom button on his phone, ringing Erinnyes.
 
“Staff Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir!” Erinnyes’s
voice said over the phone.
 
There was a bursting-with-cheeriness
to his voice that made Vic’s eyes roll.

“Until the
Detectives have wrapped up this case they’re working on, Officer O’Ryan is not
available for other details.”

There was a pause
where nothing but the sound of labored, gurgling breathing came through the
speaker phone.
 
“Excellent, sir.
 
If they need anything from patrol, just let
me know.”

The Chief hung up
the phone and looked at Vic.
 
“Problem
solved?”

“Until the day
you walk out the door, it is.”

“Try not to make
too many enemies, Vic.
 
I won’t be around
forever.”
   
  

***

Frank parked his
patrol car in the station lot and started peeling off his sweat-soaked uniform shirt
before he even reached the door.
 
There
was a spot on his back that itched mercilessly under his bullet-proof vest that
he could not reach.
 
He ripped off the
vest and pushed up against the nearest corner of the building, scratching his
back against it like a cat.
 
It felt like
the wall’s stucco was ripping the skin right off but he did not care.
 

He limped into
the locker room, favoring his knee.
 
His
tee-shirt was stuck to his body and he pulled it away from his skin and fanned
himself with the fabric.
 
The locker door
opened behind him as Frank sat down on the bench and rested his leg.
 
A pill bottle rattled in his ear and Frank
turned around eagerly, frowning when he saw it was just a bottle of
Tylenol.
  

“Did you use the
last of the pills I gave you?” Vic said.
 

“About fifteen
minutes into the detail,” Frank said.

Vic unscrewed the
cap and dumped two more into Frank’s hand.
 
“Take these.
 
It will take the
edge off.”
 
He watched Frank swallow the
pills with obvious dissatisfaction.
 
“I’ve got good news.
 
The Chief is
giving you to me exclusively.
 
No more
interference from the Staff Infection.”

“Do I still need
to request the unmarked car?”

“You’re just like
my wife, you know that?” Vic said.
 
“I bust
my ass to give her what she bugs me for, and the second I do, she turns around
and asks for the next thing.
 
It’s like
she has a list and her only job in life is to eliminate the next objective.”

“Like the
Terminator,” Frank said.

Vic’s eyes lit
up, “Exactly!
 
You made your first movie
reference, Frank.
 
I’m like a proud
dad.
 
But anyway, I didn’t ask for the
car.
 
I figure we can just double up in
mine.”
  

Frank shrugged
and slid his arms into his sleeves.
 
“You
realize I don’t have much faith in anybody’s ability to stick to their word
around here, right?”

“Does that
include me?” Vic said.

“That includes
everybody.”

A loud,
high-pitched tone blared from the overhead speaker.
 
Both men stopped talking and cocked their
heads toward the ceiling.
 
“Attention Seventeen cars, be advised
there’s a one-vehicle traffic accident.
 
Witnesses are reporting entrapment with multiple injuries.
 
Fire rescue is en route.”

“Shit,” Frank
said.
 

“Not our
problem,” Vic said.
 
“We’ve got other
things to do.”

“County to Seventeen cars, caller is
reporting a Class Five inside the vehicle.
 
Two juveniles are involved.”

“Shit!” both men
said.
 
Vic turned and raced through the
door with Frank at his heels, desperately trying to buckle his pants.
 
Vic hit the door so hard that it cracked the
cheap stucco wall with its handle.
 
He
tried digging in his pants pocket for the keys to his car as he ran.
 
“Where are my keys?”

“We’ll take my
car,” Frank shouted.
 
“You don’t have any
lights or siren.
 
We’ll get there faster.”

Frank unlocked
the patrol car and Vic leapt into the passenger seat, squeezing against Frank’s
patrol bag and the plastic caddie hooked onto the seat.
 
“Move that stuff,” Frank said.
 

“Screw it, just
drive,” Vic said.
 
He fumbled with the
microphone, trying to get it free of the radio.
 
“County, we’re enroute.
 
Any
further details?”

Frank threw on
the lights and sirens, drowning out the radio dispatcher.
 
Vic frantically pressed the volume button,
trying to make out what was being said.
 
“Just go,” he said, sinking the radio back into the holder.
 

Main Street was
thick with traffic along all four-lanes.
 
Frank pushed the cars out of his way with the wail of his siren and threat
of his front bumper.
 
“Christ, don’t let
it be a kid,” Vic whispered.
 
“I just had
a dead kid two months ago, and I can’t take another one.”

Frank looked at
the detective and saw that his face was white.
 
Vic’s lip was trembling.
 
“It’ll
be okay, man.
 
Just calm down.”

“I just don’t
want it to be a little kid.
 
Please,
God,” he muttered.
 
“Please.”

Frank peeled
around the corner to see a crowd of people standing around a car in the middle
of the road.
 
A massive tree branch
dropped across the roof, sunk below the door windows.
 
People parted, except for the ones who were
trying to rip open the rear doors.
 
“Oh,
Christ, it looks bad,” Vic said.
   

Frank slammed his
foot on the brakes so hard that the tires smoked.
 
Vic flung his door open before they came to a
stop and was nearly thrown headfirst into the crowd of onlookers, hanging onto
the doorjamb by his fingertips.
 
Vic
scrambled out of the car and charged through the crowd, sticking his face
against the window to see two little girls sitting in the backseat.

Both of them,
blonde haired and beautiful.
 

Six years old at
the most.
 

Both of them, sheet-white
and staring back at him with blank expressions.
 
The smaller girl had a large shard of glass sunk deep in her cheek, an
inch beneath her eye.
 
The roof was
crushed directly in front of them, blocking their view of the front seat.
 

Both silent.
 
Wide-eyed.
   

Alive.
 

A mangled hand
was stretched across the steering wheel, fingers curled and intertwined.
 
It was the only thing visible under the massive
bulk of crushed aluminum.
 
Frank came
running up to Vic’s side, shouting, “How bad is it?”
  

“Two girls in the
back,” Vic shouted.
 
“They need an
ambulance, and they need to get the hell out of this car.”

“What about the
driver?”
 
Frank stopped running when he
saw the damage.
 
He looked at the hand
and crushed roof and said, “Oh.”

“Help me get the
back door open,” Vic said.
 

“The fire
department’s almost here.
 
They’ve got
the tools to-”

Vic stuck his
fingers into the door crease and started pulling.
 
He put his foot against the rear fender and
screamed with effort, pulling so hard that his face turned purple.
 
“Come on!” he screamed.