Page 43 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

MURPHY

S aturdays at the office are no different from any other day. Except I don’t recognize most of the people milling at desks normally empty throughout the week.

But I needed to get Sara’s statement and then get it typed up.

The sooner Ellis is behind bars, the better.

I still don’t understand how he got bonded out after he was arrested on Monday.

Rather than spending my time on trying to make sense of that, I need to get this done and make sure the report—the correct one—makes it in front of a judge who will throw him behind bars.

Focus, O’Connell .

Then maybe I can think about taking the rest of the day off. But what for? Days off used to be spent with Leigh. I doubt she is interested in seeing me after I blew her off this last week. It wasn’t intentional, and it wasn’t what I wanted.

It was what she needed.

It was what I needed to ensure she was safe.

Captain Overton pushes into the office, casually dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved sweater that shows off her recently acquired tan.

“O’Connell,” she says as she passes my desk.

“Cap.”

She turns then, head looking over her shoulder, and gives a slight nod at her office.

Mine is just as small, almost imperceptible, but she recognizes the movement and continues to her office. Sliding the documents I was working on into the file folder, I tap the file on the desk before locking it in my drawer.

I want to slam my chair under my desk and rush for her office. But if she wanted anyone else in our department to know she wanted to talk, she would have bellowed for me from her doorway.

This quiet request… This meant something. Something I don't want to name out loud.

I take a detour to the coffee pot for a refill before wandering toward her office. By all appearances, anyone would think it’s a casual conversation.

Only my gut knows differently.

She has something. And she doesn't want anyone else to know.

“What are you doing here on the weekend, Captain?” I ask from her doorway, keeping up the pretense in case anyone is listening.

There’s no heat between my shoulder blades, so I don’t think anyone is.

But I have no idea who’s been sabotaging me either, so it very well could be someone in the room right now.

“I just came in to tie up a few loose ends. I’d like to talk to you about your departure in two weeks. Close the door.” Her words say one thing, but her expression says something else.

Once the door is closed, I drop into the chair on the other side of her desk, hoping my pose conveys a casual conversation despite the knot in my stomach.

Is the nightmare of the last few weeks finally coming to an end?

“Cap?” I ask, bracing myself for whatever it is she has to say.

Knowing—even if it's bad news—is better than the purgatory I've lived in for the last few weeks.

She nods.

“I have the results of the IA investigation. It took more time because the more IA uncovered, the more agencies had to get involved. State Prosecutor’s Office. The FBI—not the special task forces you’ve been selected for, but our local guys."

What the fuck? What had IA found that all those organizations had to be looped in? I doubt it was anything against me since my badge is still in my pocket.

But this is big. Bigger than I had anticipated.

“What did they find?”

She sighs and leans forward, steepling her fingers in front of her chin.

“Turns out a clerk of the court was logging in after the files were submitted and changing them electronically before printing them and changing the hard copies. Your original hard copies were in the bottom drawer of her desk underneath a stack of other papers.”

I rack my brain trying to think of any of the clerks I knew at the courthouse.

“I don’t know any of them. What the hell did I do to her that she wanted to ruin my reputation?” I hiss.

Anger courses through my blood at some woman I’ve had zero interaction with who attempted to not only get me fired from NPD but also from the FBI.

I open my mouth to ask where she is and why she isn't already behind bars, but Overton holds up a hand and I snap my mouth closed, surprised the force doesn't shatter several teeth.

“She was a victim too, Murphy. She wasn’t the mastermind.”

Her words do very fucking little to assuage the anger. I've been in hell because of a court clerk. But I still don't even have enough of an answer, because there's still this shadow figure I've been chasing like a goddamn ghost for the last several weeks.

“Who was?” I grit out through clenched teeth.

Aldridge? Warren? Who hated me that much?

“Our DA had to promise her immunity from prosecution and a transfer to a different position before she would admit to it. She was being blackmailed. Apparently, there are videos of her where she’s engaged in…

let’s just say activities…with multiple people.

” Captain Overton grimaces, her disgust for whatever was in the videos obvious.

“These videos, if they were leaked, would have cost her not only her job but, according to her, also her family.”

A small part of me feels bad for her. But anger is still the primary emotion overwhelming me. Anger and frustration. Who would blackmail a court clerk to screw with my reports? Was I the only one involved? I still have more questions than answers.

And that fucking grates on my last nerve.

“Who?” I repeat, hand gripping my mug so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t break.

“Kenneth Scott.”

Of any name I had been expecting, his didn't even register. Why would he? He was nothing more than an annoyance to me even if I did still want to rip him limb from limb for what he had done to Leigh.

“What the fuck?” I roar, bolting out of my chair.

“Sit down, O’Connell,” she says, also standing and pointing to my chair.

Air saws in and out of my lungs, the red haze coloring my vision receding slowly.

Blood pounds through my veins, demanding revenge, but I finally exhale a longer breath and sit back down.

Overton takes more time to take her seat, but eventually does after scanning the room.

Belatedly, I realize my voice would have carried.

I'm surprised no one is looking this direction when I crane my neck to check the window that shows the rest of the office behind me.

“Kenneth Scott? What the fuck did I ever do to him?” I hiss.

But I already know the answer.

Leigh.

I think back to when the trouble with my cases first started. Shortly after I showed up to Leigh's office with lunch. I'd run into Kenneth that day too. And I'd warned him to stay away from her.

So he had decided to sabotage me. All because he wanted something—someone—I was never going to let him have. Payback.

“I’m sure the clerk isn’t the only one he’s got videos on,” I tell Captain Overton.

She raises an eyebrow into a perfect arch. “You know something I don't?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I do know he’s been harassing a…friend of mine.” I stumble over the word because Leigh is so much more. Or at least she was. “She’s an intern in their office and he came on to her.”

Overton nods.

“Chief Bailey mentioned personnel issues but kept them vague. He did say they released Kenneth earlier this week. The warrant was issued yesterday, but Kenneth hasn’t been back to his apartment. We’ve had units stationed at his condo since it was issued.”

I snort.

“He’s probably hanging with his BFF.”

Water always finds its own level. And Kenneth’s level is the likes of Vinny Ellis.

“Charles Vanderweel Senior?” Captain Overton asks.

What the fuck?

The record scratch echoes through my head as my gaze snaps to hers. Twice in five minutes, a name has caught me off guard.

“Vanderweel? I didn’t realize he and Scott were close.”

But even as I say it, I remember Kenneth's presence at the charity launch. And as the pieces click together, I realize he and Vanderweel tend to run in the same circles despite Scott only making the salary of a public defender.

“What's the connection?” I murmur, but it’s loud enough for Captain Overton to hear.

“Scott comes from family money. Apparently he and Vanderweel became friends as teenagers. We had to find the connection when the court clerk told us there were several times when Vanderweel would be at Scott's condo.” The pointed look she gives me says more than her words.

The reasons for Vanderweel being at Scott’s condo were not on the up-and-up.

My mind and my stomach are reeling as I try to process this latest information.

Charles Vanderweel is an upstanding citizen. He is a friend of the city. He cares about the police force. Kenneth Scott is lower than scum, helping filth get free and back on the streets.

Bile rises to my throat. If I've been wrong about Vanderweel, what else have I been wrong about?

“Fuck,” I say, leaning forward and setting my cup on the desk and putting my head between my knees.

“IA has cleared your name. In fact, they called you an example for all the detectives to follow. When I shared you were leaving, they were sad to see you go,” she says.

Well, that's a different message than the one I've been getting for the last few weeks.

Glancing up, I catch her half smile.

“I am too, you know. Right now, I have no one to keep Aldridge in line. Cocky little shit. I’m getting too old to deal with the arrogance,” she says, rolling her eyes.

The relief flooding through me is like a cool breeze when I’ve been in the fires of hell for too long.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

“For what?”

“I know you went to bat for me. I know it was your reputation on the line when you did,” I tell her.

The nod she gives me is smaller than the one that called me into her office. But it’s there.

We’d have both gone down if she wasn’t able to figure this out.

“Get out of here, O’Connell. Go enjoy your Saturday. I’ve got to review some of the paperwork from IA but then that’s what I’m doing too.”

I open my mouth to argue that I don’t want to go home, but she holds up a hand.