Page 9 of Zero Divergence
“That fucking sucked,” Carnegie said afterward.
“It doesn’t get easier,” Royce replied. “And it never should. I have several hard and fast rules I will never break. First, you treat all victims the same. Sometimes they have a list of convictions as long as their arm, but you have to shove the knowledge aside. Right then, the only thing that matters is a family has lost a person they loved. I treat the victims’ families how I would want to be treated if I were in their shoes. Dignity tops the list. I’d expect the detective to recognize my loss as deeply personal. I wouldn’t want false promises or platitudes. I would want them to speak plainly and not use confusing language. You never tell the next of kin their loved one has passed. Passed where? They didn’t pass. I didn’t tell the grieving mother her son died today. Died how? I told her that her seventeen-year-old son was killed and left no ambiguity. I would want to know as much as they could tell me. My approach may sound simple in theory, but it’s much harder when you’re facing a grieving family member in the field.”
“That’s good advice, Sergeant Locke. Thank you,” Carnegie said.
Thinking of Sawyer’s selflessness, he added, “Never allow this job to steal your humanity, fellas.” Royce recalled the second rule to survival on the force. “Never lose your sense of humor either.” Then he made one last stop to pick up a gift to their new chief from the unit.
“I’m not so sure it’s a good idea,” Fuentes said when Royce returned to the Charger and showed them his purchase. Carnegie just laughed.
“Oh, should I have purchased a gift bag too? This reusable shopping bag is probably tacky.” Carnegie laughed even harder. “He thinks it’s a great idea,” Royce said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder toward the back seat where Carnegie was wiping his eyes.
“Fuck no,” Carnegie said. “I want no part of this.”
Chief Mendoza stepped out of his office the minute the trio entered the bullpen. He glowered and crooked a finger at Royce, silently demanding Royce’s presence in his office.
“I’ll hold on to that for you,” Fuentes offered, reaching for the shopping bag.
“No,” Royce said. “I got this.”
Carnegie made some strangled sound in the back of his throat. Such rookies.
“Do you recall anything we spoke about this morning, Sergeant Locke?” Mendoza asked once they were in his office. His voice was clipped and brisk.
“You’re big on leadership and communication, sir,” Royce replied.
“Was dragging the rookie detectives to the county jail to harass Humphries your idea of leadership?”
“Chief, I didn’t say one word to Franco Humphries. Not even when he got in my face and gloated about my partner’s suicide.” That seemed to take a little starch out of the man, so Royce pressed on. “I did not harass him.”
“Just your presence could be viewed as harassment,” Mendoza countered angrily. “The mayor was just informed that Humphries is filing a civil lawsuit against the police department, the DA’s office, and the city of Savannah. Hear what I’m about to tell you, Sergeant Locke, because I will not repeat myself. If we are forced to have a similar discussion about Humphries again, it will be at a suspension hearing. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Chief.”
Mendoza took a deep, steadying breath, reminding him of Sawyer in their early days. “I will not allow the sick fucker to kill again, so we need to find other ways to tie him to those homicides. I’m putting you in charge of finding out what the fuck happened to our evidence and who took it. I need your skills in solving those problems, but—and this is the most important detail—do not get caught. Stay away from Humphries. We are going to keep eyes on the man, but they won’t be yours.”
“Who, then?” Royce asked.
“Leave that to me,” Chief replied gruffly. “Find Babineaux solid evidence to take him to trial.”
“Again, you mean? I found the evidence to put the bastard away once, but someone stole it before he made it to trial.”
“Yes, again. I know Rigby talked to you about finding the traitor amongst us. Can you do that?”
“And train the rookies?”
Mendoza’s dark brow shot up. “Too much?”
“I love a challenge, sir. I will get it done.” Knowing they would have surveillance on Humphries helped relieve the pressure in his chest, which had started building the moment the sadistic bastard stepped out of jail as a free man.
He knew just the person to help him sort through the files. If there was a needle in the haystack, Sawyer would find it.
“Good to hear.” Mendoza looked down at the bag in his hands. “What’s that?”
“Oh, um…” Royce thought about Fuentes’s warning. Maybe it was a horrible idea at the moment. He debated discussing it with the rest of the unit first, then nixed the idea. Mendoza expected leadership from him, so Royce would give it to him. He held out the bag toward his new chief. “I got you a little gift to welcome you to the team. It’s from all of us, sir.”
“Oh,” Mendoza said, sounding surprised and a little pleased. He took the bag but didn’t look inside it right away. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Locke.”
“I try, sir.”