Well, not this time.
He patted his pocket, felt his pistol with its silencer, and smiled to himself.
Bye-bye, Arlo, you miserable cur.
“I need to do this on my own,” Reed said, thinking of Jamison Kittle, what their friendship meant, how deep was their bond.
“What? No!” Sol kicked back her chair and stood. “You can’t be serious! You want to go alone?”
“He’s my friend.” That did sound a little lame, like a whiney seven-year-old.
“A friend who killed his wife and went to a lot of trouble to cover it up. You can’t—”
“This is personal, Sol.”
“And dangerous.” She was already grabbing her bag. “We’ll need backup, too.”
“Jamison Kittle is an officer of the law.”
“Who has sharpshooting medals and killed his effin’ wife.” Sol was adamant. “He’s desperate. Backed into a corner.”
“He wouldn’t try to kill me,” Reed insisted, even as he thought about the fight near the pool the other day. For a few minutes, Jamison had been out of his mind with rage.
“Tell that to his wife. I bet she said the same thing. Now, come on. Let’s go.”
He knew she was right. All his training, his every instinct told him to follow protocol, to ignore the emotions running hot through his blood, to block the memories of brotherhood he’d shared with Jamison Kittle, but deep down, he had to fight this one out by himself. “I need to—”
“You need to shut up and quit being a hero. Shit, stop listening to your heart. Use your damned head!” She stopped then, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You know what? I’ve got a better idea: You stay here. I’ll go. I’ll get whoever’s on duty to come with me. I think Deputies Maddox and Freeman are on tonight.”
“No!” He wasn’t going to let her bully him. “This is my battle, Sol.”
She cocked her head to stare at him. Long and hard. “Are you out of your frickin’ mind?” she demanded, not backing down an inch. “Maybe I should have you put in a cell until this all goes down.”
“I’m the senior officer.”
“Oh, crap, Reed, don’t pull rank on me. I’ll tell everyone you’re having an emotional breakdown. That you’ve lost it. That I can’t trust you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” She started for the door.
“Do it, and I’ll let the sergeant commander know that you go to crime scenes unauthorized. Alone. To do whatever.”
She froze. “You … You’ll dowhat?” Her eyes thinned, and her face was hard.
“Look, I don’t know what you do, and it seems to work, but yeah, I was pretty sure I saw you on a bike on CCTV by Mavis Greenlee’s house. I think, if I go over all the tapes of the roads near the homicide scenes with a fine-tooth comb, I’ll find more footage of you on your bike or maybe in your pickup with a bag of some kind and then you’ll have to explain yourself.”
“Damn,” she muttered, her lips barely moving, her eyes growing dark. They both knew her unauthorized activity could cost her the badge and job she’d worked years to achieve. There would be an investigation, and what she did at the scenes would be exposed and possibly get her fired, while also ruining her chances of being hired by another department.
“You’d go down, too. For not coming forward earlier.”
“So be it.”
For a minute, she didn’t say a word, then uttered, “I’m coming with you. Don’t argue with me. It won’t work. I’ll stay in the car for a few minutes. Give you some time alone to bring him in. But if you go inside his damned house and aren’t back to the car in five minutes, I’m coming in.”
“Guns blazing?”
She ignored that. “Final offer.”