Page 100 of Zero Divergence
“Are you serious, Ro?”
“Your hand jobs make everything better,” Royce replied. Then he laughed at Sawyer’s scowl. “I don’t want to be a PI. I can’t see myself doing anything other than police work.”
Mendoza poked his head out of his office. “Can I see you guys for a minute?”
Dread settled in Royce’s gut. He had a feeling Mendoza figured out they were more than partners and was going to split them up. He could tell by Sawyer’s wrinkled brow he was worried too. Neither man said anything on their way to the chief’s office.
“Shut the door behind you, Locke,” Mendoza said. “I’m not expecting anyone else to report to work today, but it pays to be cautious.
“Yes, sir,” Royce said, shutting the door and taking a seat next to Sawyer.
“First things first,” the chief said, reaching into his desk and extracting Royce’s shoulder holster, gun, and badge. “Check to make sure the magazine is full. Missing bullets will need to be accounted for, either by you or someone with Bryan County Sheriff’s Department.”
Royce emptied the magazine on Mendoza’s desk to show no one had tampered with his firearm. Then he reloaded the clip and shoved it back in his gun.
“Your car is still evidence. It should be ready for release in a few days.”
Royce and Sawyer had seen pictures of the damage to the front spoiler, grill, and undercarriage. He hadn’t been joking with Sawyer about getting a different set of wheels. Not only was his Camaro tainted, he did have plans that would require a larger vehicle. Royce recalled the tricked-out Tahoe they’d borrowed from the motor pool and thought a similar ride would make an excellent replacement for the future he wanted to have with Sawyer.
“No problem, Chief,” he replied.
“I just got off the phone with Tiffany Humphries. To say she’s relieved her husband is in police custody is a gross understatement. Mrs. Humphries told me she secured the original evidence from Humphries’s safe-deposit box in her gym locker. She will be home Tuesday morning and will deliver the evidence to DA Babineaux directly.”
“That’s great news, Chief,” Sawyer said.
Royce nodded.
“The stolen bedsheet from the Riker case was discovered in the trunk of Bonita Brothers’s car along with Vivian Gross’s briefcase, which included the Humphries file.” The chief exhaled deeply. “While searching the abandoned cabin and surrounding property for additional evidence against Bonita, they uncovered a shallow grave.”
“Oh, man,” Royce said. “Reggie Dozer?”
“Yeah. Mr. Dozer’s body was too badly decomposed to determine the cause of death on site, but it doesn’t matter unless we can prove Bonita Brothers acted on Humphries’s behalf.”
“If we can believe her, Bonita acted alone there,” Royce said. He’d put their conversation in his ten-thousand-page report, but unless the chief was a speed reader, not enough time had passed for him to have reviewed the entire thing. “They did plan Vivian’s and Tiffany’s murders together though.”
“I skimmed over your report before I called you in here,” Mendoza said. “We’ll go over it in more detail later, but I wanted to touch base on a few important things so you can get on with your afternoon.” The chief studied them intently for a few minutes before he cleared his throat. “Look, I’m the last guy on earth who wants to broach personal relationships and issues that happen off the clock, but there are times when it’s unavoidable. I’m going to pretend not to know the two of you are in a relationship as long as it doesn’t interfere with the job.”
“Yes, sir,” they both said.
“That’s settled, so moving on,” Mendoza said. “Humphries’s crime spree in multiple states makes working with the FBI inescapable.”
“With your permission, sir, I’d like to make that call myself.”
Mendoza looked suspicious but nodded. “Get out of here, fellas. See you on Wednesday.”
“Yes, sir, Chief,” they said, rising quickly and heading out before he could recant the days off.
“You’re going to dangle the Humphries evidence over the FBI’s heads until you find out what you want to know about Amber’s undercover case, aren’t you?” Sawyer asked.
“Hell, yeah,” Royce said, dialing a number. Knowing what had brought Amber to Savannah was the final piece of the puzzle surrounding Marcus. After a minute or so, Royce left a voicemail message for Agent Duffy to call him about a case that could make his career. “The least douchey of the douchebags,” he quipped, smiling at Sawyer after he disconnected the call.
“I know just what I want to do on our days off,” Royce told Sawyer on their way out of the precinct a few minutes later.
Thumbing the fob to unlock his Audi, Sawyer said, “I have some ideas too.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, GB. I was referring to car shopping.”
Sawyer laughed as he climbed behind the wheel. “I was thinking we should check out some real estate listings.”