Intimate Relations by Rebecca Forster (most popular ebook readers TXT) 📕

sparked, and she smiled. It was tight and fleeting, but Finn counted that a victory.

"You can do without the haircut, and you'll have to wait for lunch," she said. "To be clear. I don't care if God himself took videos of those folks and angels are vouching for them. You will not stand down in any quarter. We have our job; the mayor has his delusions. I'm simply telling you to watch your butt because it's a hard time for cops."

"Sure, that's an understatement, captain."

"And you're doing double hard time. I have no prejudice one way or the other on the matter. Nor am I unaware that my guys from last night are feeling a little raw." She held up a hand when she heard Finn's intake of breath, and saw him poised for a rebuttal. "I'm not saying you were wrong. They should have gone in. There might have been a chance to save the victim."

"There wasn't," Finn assured her. "But..."

"All I'm saying is that for every person who is happy to see us there are ten that would like to take us down. Don't blame those officers for their caution, and make sure you and your partner aren't the ones in line for friendly fire. Don't forget the mayor can play hardball too. Do you understand me?"

"I do, captain," Finn said.

"Good, because I would like there to come a day when I send you and Detective Anderson back to Captain Fowler in one piece as much for your sake as mine."

"Detective Anderson and I would like nothing more," Finn said. "Not that we haven't enjoyed our time here, Captain Smith."

The woman was not charmed, only satisfied by his assurances.

"Pass along our conversation to Detective Anderson," she said. "I want to know all there is to know, every step of the way. I'm not fond of being called on a politician's carpet or finding my division on the front page of the newspaper."

"I'll speak to Detective Anderson when she gets in. She's swinging by The Brewery again, wanting to check one more thing."

"Good work. Both of you."

Captain Smith picked up her pen again, simultaneously reaching for a thick folder. Finn stood up, but didn't leave the office. Captain Smith raised her eyes, but she kept the posture of someone already on to the next task.

"Something else, O'Brien?"

Finn looked at the woman a moment longer. There was something else. There was his ex-wife.  He should tell Captain Smith about Beverly. He should, but he didn't.

"No. Thank you, Captain."

"You're welcome, O'Brien."

Finn walked away, convinced that he would tell her when and if there was a need to know. By the time he got back to the bullpen, he was convinced that the connection didn't matter any longer. He was wrong on one count. The connection did matter to everyone but him.

13

"Anderson, you are dumber than a brick."

Cori threw her head back, shook out her hair, and put her hands on her hips. She took a long deep breath both out of frustration and an attempt to inhale the clean air above her, not the stench beneath her. Actually, Cori wished she didn't need to breathe at all.

She stood knee deep in trash in a huge dumpster.  Her brilliant idea to run through the garbage at The Brewery had been half-baked. Much as she hated a pun, this one seemed apropos. She had found any number of half-eaten, half-cooked, half-digested meals in this stinky metal box. She had also found paper, glue, a huge wad of gum, and a bag of sand. She had rifled through banana peels, apple cores, dog poop bags, and empty shampoo bottles.

She was reaching for a paint can, chuckling at the folly of thinking she would find a smoking gun in the trash, when she was attacked from above. Cori threw her arms over her head, yelped, and fell forward as she tried to duck out of the way of the stuff that was raining down on her head. Whatever it was, it felt as hard as rocks. She must have cursed pretty loud because the next thing she knew she had company. A young woman was hanging over the side of the dumpster. She smiled and asked:

"Are you throwing yourself away?"

Cori righted herself, swiping at her hair as she glowered at the pretty girl who was watching her. The girl's face was pierced with hoops and studs: ears, nose, lips, and temple.  Whatever hit Cori wasn't just hard, it was sticky. It clung to her teased hair like burrs on a hunting dog.

"Am I what?" Cori said.

"Throwing yourself away?"

The girl's head rotated. She looked over her shoulder and then turned her face up.  She swiveled her head side to side before looking at Cori again. Finally, she pulled herself further over the rim of the dumpster to look inside.

"Is there a camera in there? That would be such a cool piece. I mean, wow. Making a video about how it would feel to throw yourself away. I am totally down with the concept."

The girl, tired of holding herself up and slid down an inch or two. Cori swiped at her shirt though she doubted it would ever come clean.

"No, I'm not throwing myself away," Cori said. "But at this point I might as well. I stink like a pig."

Cori swung her purse to the front of her body, wiped away something on the clasp that looked like raw meat, and took out her ID. She showed it to the girl.

"LAPD," Cori said.

"Oh." The girl raised her chin as if she understood everything now. She did not.

"Well, if you're not taping, can I? It would be awesome. Cop in Garbage. What a title. Or Garbage Cop. Pig in a Bin. Would you say you stunk like a pig on camera? That would be even better."

"Not gonna happen, honey," Cori said.

"Okay."

The girl crossed her arms in such a way that Cori thought she might be swinging on the edge of the dumpster. She wasn't, of course. Cori had